Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Arotala Continent.

In the heartland of the Greenwild Kingdom, in a quiet valley embraced by vines and ancient trees.

A green dragon lay curled in a nest lined with soft moss, sleeping.

Her massive body coiled like a winding river, the neck covered in emerald scales rested upon her tail, and her chest rose and fell slowly with each breath.

The valley was very quiet; every so often a forest bird would land on an ancient branch, tilt its head to inspect the enormous sleeper, then flutter away.

Suddenly, her breathing rhythm changed.

Her long, steady exhalations grew slightly rapid, and the rise and fall of her chest grew noticeably larger.

The green dragon slowly opened her eyes.

The scene before her had completely shifted.

The tranquil mountain hollow had vanished, replaced by a riotously colorful plain.

The sky was peachy-orange, like ripe peach flesh; the clouds were pale purple, piled in tufts along the horizon, their edges rimmed in a ring of golden light. The ground was carpeted with luminous flowers, each palm-sized, their petals glowing in neon blue, tender pink, and bright yellow.

Every color was excessively vivid.

It was as if someone had upended every paint bucket from spring and splashed it everywhere.

Amilia blinked.

She knew she was not truly awake, but rather entering a deeper sleep.

This was the sign that Cerora had drawn her into a dream, but the usual dreamscapes were forests, valleys, streams—familiar places whose tones leaned toward somber dark greens and gray-blues. They had never been glaringly vivid like this.

She turned her enormous head and indeed saw Cerora not far away.

The Green Dragon Queen maintained humanoid form, still wearing a pale green gown whose hem filtered light through the glowing grass.

She sat cross-legged in the meadow, one hand propping her chin, the other lazily fingering a nearby luminous flower. A smile played at her lips as she looked up at the intermingled peach-and-pale-purple sky, her gaze slightly dreamy.

"Amilia, you're here."

Hearing the sound, she turned her head, waved, and gestured the green dragon to come over.

Amilia stared at her in uncertainty for several seconds before slowly shifting her bulk and settling beside her.

She had long followed Cerora, holding a high position in the Greenwild Kingdom and counted among Cerora's most trusted dragons.

Though not blood-related, they called each other sisters, and Amilia was the one most often pulled into the queen's dreams for deliberations—major kingdom affairs, disputes with other powers, territorial planning… many decisions were finalized in those dreams.

But she had never experienced a dream like this.

If she wasn't already so familiar with Cerora's aura and mental fluctuations, she might have thought this smiling woman was some kind of impostor monster.

The green dragon lowered her voice and said, "Sister, your dream today... it's very vivid."

Cerora glanced at the peachy-orange sky, looked around at the glowing grass, and chuckled lightly. "Is it? I think it's fine."

Fanzhenbinya's eyes widened in surprise and asked, "Is your mood bad?"

"Very bad."

Cerora withdrew her gaze from the sky, the corners of her eyes curving into a beautiful arc. "I saw the Red Emperor."

Amilia froze for a moment, then realized. "The Red Emperor of Aola? Garoth Ignas?"

"Yes, him."

"You saw him... and then?"

Amilia looked puzzled.

So she saw him—what about being this excited?

Although the Red Emperor's renown spread far and wide, Cerora had met many powerful beings before and had never reacted like this to anyone.

Cerora propped her chin again, her eyes staring off into a place in space, the smile on her face seeming to freeze.

"Then, I will court him."

Amilia's expression stiffened.

She lowered her head, stared at her queen, doubting whether she had misheard.

"Court?"

"Yes, court."

"You mean... that kind of courting? The male dragon courting the female dragon kind of courting?"

"Exactly that kind of courting."

Amilia's mouth opened and closed, then opened again.

She looked up at the riotous sky and suddenly understood why this dream was so vivid.

This wasn't a council at all—this was being in heat!

"Sister," Amilia chose her words cautiously, "those suitors you get—local great dragons in Greenwild, even the elves of Nausil—you haven't given any of them a proper glance. We all thought you..."

"Thought you what?"

Cerora turned her head toward her. "Thought I wasn't interested? Thought I had no desire for an evil dragon? I am a dragon too. I have the fierce desires of an evil dragon as well."

"It's just that none of those so far were worthy."

The green dragon fell silent.

In her memory, Cerora always wore a cold expression—calm and decisive when handling affairs, cruel and ruthless when provoked.

She had seen Cerora tear apart foes on the battlefield, seen her lord it over subjects from her throne, seen the depth in her brows when contemplating problems.

But she had almost never seen Cerora wear a smile like today.

It was hard to imagine that the cold, ruthless Green Dragon Queen who rarely joked would display the expression she had now.

How much charm did Aola's Red Emperor possess?

Did he perhaps carry succubus blood?

No—that wasn't right. Even a high-level succubus could not possibly enchant her sister like this.

Amilia felt puzzled.

At that moment, Cerora rose and walked to a cluster of luminous flowers, lowering her head to watch the petals sway.

She extended a hand and lightly touched one; the flower trembled as if frightened and its glow flickered.

"The Red Emperor... he is different."

"His temperament, his appearance, his might, his reason, his... how to put it: that presence dragons cannot ignore."

"Amilia, my sister, do you know that feeling?"

"When he stands there, you cannot take your eyes off him. Everything else around fades—only he remains clear."

She paused, turned to Amilia, and met her gaze with seriousness.

"I want to bear a clutch of offspring for him."

Amilia: "..."

She inhaled deeply twice; her huge body trembled slightly.

"Sister, if other dragons hear you say that... they might think you are some kind of impostor."

"Do you know how other dragons talk about you in private? They call you the 'cold queen,' say your heart is made of stone, say you'll never fall for any male in this lifetime."

Cerora turned around.

Amilia coiled atop the glowing grass, casting a shadow, but Cerora standing within that shadow did not seem diminished at all.

She lifted her head slightly and fixed Amilia with her look.

"Do you think I care about what other creatures think?"

She asked calmly.

In that instant, the Cerora Amilia knew returned.

That lofty composure, the indifference to all extraneous noise, and the innate pride and aloofness.

Amilia hurriedly shook her head, her tail flicking. "Of course not. Sister is fated to stand at the top of the world, the dragon queen. Other creatures can only crawl beneath you and obey your will."

Cerora nodded slightly and turned back to watch the glowing wildflowers.

"I need you to do something."

"You name it, as long as I can."

Without looking back, Cerora said, "I need a meteor."

Amilia was taken aback. "A meteor?"

"Yes, one of those falling from the sky that carry the Fury Curse."

The green dragon hesitated and her mind raced.

As one of Cerora's most trusted dragons, she knew the kingdom's situation thoroughly and had a clear sense of the continent's current state.

"Those meteors are far from safe now."

She weighed her words. "Almost all meteor fall sites are occupied. To obtain an intact meteor would cost us dearly. And I remember those things aren't good for you."

"The curse on the meteor affects the mind; it is especially harmful to you."

"Do you forget? We once studied a fragment and your reaction was greater than anyone's, which is why we didn't bother fighting over meteors back then."

"I know."

"Then why do you want it?"

Cerora smiled slightly, turned, and clasped her hands behind her back.

"As a gift. A gift for the Red Emperor."

Amilia gaped, speechless.

"I can sense his suspicious nature."

"Although I only had a brief close contact, I can tell."

"He will resist my advances and suspect ulterior motives—which is normal. If I were in his position, I'd think the same."

"So you plan to present a meteor to prove your sincerity?"

"Yes. I read many bard's love stories," Cerora said. "In those tales, suitors always give gifts—flowers, jewels, precious things—to show their sincerity."

Amilia fell silent for a few seconds, then quietly warned, "Those stories... are still stories. Reality might be different."

She felt Cerora had suppressed too much.

For centuries Cerora had scorned all suitors, repressing desire and longing. Now that she had seen someone she favored, it had exploded and could no longer be restrained, even undermining her usual rationality.

Across from her, Cerora waved it off carelessly.

"I know, but there must be a start."

"Amilia, think about it. If we do nothing, there's never a chance."

"But if we do something, there's at least an opportunity."

"A meteor is precious in itself, and it seems to carry a special meaning to the Red Emperor. He will like it."

Amilia wanted to say more, but seeing Cerora's resolute expression, the words died on her tongue.

"Fine," the green dragon sighed. "I'll go scout where an intact meteor might be taken. But sister, I must say in advance: this won't be easy. Those fall sites are heavily garrisoned and guarded by powerful beings."

"I know it's difficult, which is exactly why I need you."

Cerora stepped forward and patted Amilia's lowered massive snout. "You are my sister, my most trusted dragon. We've overcome countless difficulties together. I'll entrust this to you with full confidence."

Amilia's tail tip twitched involuntarily.

A compliment from the queen dissolved most of her hesitation.

"By the way, sister," she suddenly remembered, "when you saw the Red Emperor, exactly what happened? How did he... make you like this?"

Cerora considered and sat down on the grass again, hugging her knees.

"Nothing particularly special happened."

"Just... he looked at me and my heart skipped a beat. Later I thought about it and perhaps it's because... he is too much like me."

Amilia frowned. "Like you?"

"That pride, that restraint over the self, that pursuit of power."

"I could tell he was suppressing his desires. The evil-dragon desires are intense, but he can hold them down. I have done the same. Seeing him was like seeing another version of myself."

Cerora raised her head and looked at the pale purple clouds.

"A stronger, colder, more rational self."

"Amilia, do you know that feeling? Like you always thought you were unique, and suddenly you discover another similar being standing at the same or a higher height, living in a similar way."

The green dragon nodded thoughtfully.

She seemed to understand a little.

If the Red Emperor were a female dragon, her sister's attitude might have been completely different.

Meanwhile, on the Atlantis Continent, at the Rhen Plateau.

What exactly was on the meteors that had fallen to Arotala Continent?

Or rather, where had they come from?

The Red Iron Dragon lifted his head and gazed at the night cloak scattered with stars.

The night sky was clear with no clouds to obscure it; countless stars speckled the deep-blue heavens—some bright, some dim, some tinged red, some a ghostly blue glow.

They were set there, quietly watching the earth, unchanged across ages.

The starry sky often signified vastness.

But beyond the vastness lay a deathlike silence and unforeseen danger.

To explore the stars is, in essence, similar to developing other planes: it carries enormous risk. For example, those falling meteors—they could not appear here without reason.

"The source of the frenzied flame most likely lies among the stars."

Garoth mused.

A legendary being already possessed some basic conditions for voyaging the stars, but that was only a foundation.

The heavens were too vast and empty.

Life-bearing planets were rare; most regions were dead and desolate. Without supplies, even a legendary being could not survive indefinitely in space.

Crucially, the material-plane starry realm hosts potential dangers.

Dangerous celestial bodies—stars that could erupt at any time; cosmic phenomena like black holes that swallow all; and...

The Primordial Wastes!

"According to the legacy records, many of the Wastes chose to take refuge in the material plane, then hide within the vastness of space to elude the gods' perception."

Garoth pondered, and many legacy teachings surfaced in his mind.

The Wastes, as described in the Dragon Legacy, were beings older than the gods—existences that predated the birth of planes and worlds. Their full title was Primordial Wastes.

They were the first rulers of the multiverse.

Countless eons ago, as gods rose, the Primordial Wastes waged an all-encompassing war with the gods across every world, and in the end the gods triumphed.

But very few Wastes truly perished.

These primeval, ancient beings were nearly impossible to kill outright.

They withdrew from the historical stage and no longer ruled the multiverse as before, but they endured,

and most hid within the primary material plane.

"The frenzied flame calamity has spread across the entire Arotala Continent."

"Even Nausil's elven empire and Kantum's orc empire possess immortals, yet they still cannot completely resolve it. For something that can make immortals helpless..."

Garoth gazed at the stars with a long look.

Although he could not be completely certain, he now had a strong suspicion.

The main material plane is the center and foundation of many planes and worlds.

It follows a special rule.

Here, the existence of an immortal is capped. If one must put a general standard on it, it would be a life level capped at 40.

No matter what you once were—gods, elemental lords, demon overlords, Wastes—once you enter the main material plane, you are suppressed to this level.

The root of this rule is unknown; the legacy does not mention it, yet it functions like an iron law.

Countless exalted godlike existences must obey it and cannot freely exert influence over the material plane.

However, differences still exist among immortals.

Even if gods and Wastes are suppressed to the same level, they can still manifest powers far beyond ordinary immortals.

Same level.

A normal immortal and a Waste that has lived through endless ages are not of the same class.

Considering these factors and current intelligence,

Garoth strongly suspected that the source of the frenzied flame might be a Waste.

The elves' exploration of the stars likely attracted a Waste's attention, exposing the entire planet Bernardo to its sight.

The so-called Fury Curse might be the Waste's response to elven probing.

"Speculating is useless. Focus on the immediate tasks."

Garoth shook his head slightly, gathering his scattered thoughts.

"If the sky falls, other empires' immortals will take the lead."

"Nausil's elves and Kantum's orcs both have immortals; they are more anxious than I am."

"If it truly comes to the worst, we retreat to the Serene Spirit Wilderness, then use that as a springboard to find another material plane and start anew."

"If Bernardo cannot be saved, we'll move on."

The Red Iron Dragon's gaze flickered as plans formed in his mind.

Some inevitable realities cannot be changed; overthinking them only breeds worry. Better to focus on what can be done now rather than distant, grand threats.

At that moment, the air beside Garoth rippled.

The ripple widened and the form of Amethyst Dragon Iseramas emerged—first his large head, then his long neck, finally his full body.

"Just from a first meeting, a dragon queen is already falling for you and planning to court you."

Iseramas said with a chuckle.

He flicked his tail and settled beside Garoth, his forepaws crossed under his chin, looking ready for a chat.

"Garoth, don't you feel proud?"

Garoth shot the Amethyst Dragon a warning glance.

He had long noticed this gemstone dragon usually kept a low profile and gave little sign of presence.

But whenever a certain topic arose, he always popped up as if he'd finally found something to talk about.

"Of course. I always lament the burden of being too charming," Garoth replied with a straight face.

Iseramas' eyes brightened. He enjoyed the topic.

"Frankly, you should just accept."

He wagged his head, speaking seriously. "Our dragon lives are long, but not infinite, and we must sleep."

"A thousand years seems long, but it passes in the blink of an eye."

"When various things come along, one should boldly experience them. Then when twilight arrives, you won't look back with regrets."

"A dragon queen's pursuit? Opportunities like that are rare."

Garoth nodded slowly.

"You're not wrong."

He fixed Iseramas with his gaze. "Want to personally experience my Dragon Emperor Interdimension? I think it would be an unforgettable experience—guaranteed to leave you with no regrets."

Iseramas' expression stiffened.

That thing, once experienced, would indeed leave no regrets—but he wouldn't want to consider his twilight years after that, because he'd be gone.

He flicked his tail, pretended not to hear, looked up at the night sky, and sighed, "Nice view tonight. The stars are bright, the moon is full."

"You handle your affairs, I'll go elsewhere and enjoy the breeze."

With a flap of his wings, he vanished inch by inch into the air.

Garoth said nothing further and, through mental linkage, called his kin.

"The Green Dragon Queen from Arotala has come here."

He succinctly recounted the events: the meeting, their conversation, the negotiation, the conclusion, and Cerora's final words.

"When the Greenwild kingdom's representatives arrive, send people to discuss the specifics. Right now the most important matter is the division of the central continent. Everything else can wait."

"Understood."

The Iron Dragon replied briefly, then continued, "Our negotiations with the other nations are basically at the end stage."

Garoth asked, "What were the results?"

The Iron Dragon measured his words and then spoke slowly: "Following the originally agreed framework, each nation will take nearby territories according to geographic position."

"The Eastern Alliance took the eastern side of the central continent, from the Oronzan region to the Cangmang Range, roughly one quarter."

"The Southern Domain extends northward, taking several fertile plains, also about one quarter."

"To the west, the Breckton Kingdom got the western swath from Sunset Hills to the Qiwa Mountains, again about one quarter."

"As for the northern quarter..."

The Iron Dragon's voice paused, then continued: "It belongs to our Romania nations, it belongs to Aola."

Garoth inclined his head slightly.

The four powers divided the central continent into four sectors according to their locations.

Fair, simple, and without much bickering.

It was the most convenient distribution and a plan everyone could accept.

No one wanted to start another war for a little more land; the Abyssal Rift had just been closed, and everyone needed rest and recovery.

"Have the boundary lines been finalized?"

"Yes."

"Using natural landmarks as borders: the east follows the main ridge of the Cangmang Range; the south is bounded by the Kara Plain; the west is Sunset Hills. Our side begins at the southern foothills of the Unir Mountain Range, extends east to the edge of the Serlan Plain, then turns north..."

The Iron Dragon outlined the boundary lines briefly.

"Finally, we use these borders and each develop their land without infringing on the others."

"Nonaggression..."

Garoth looked toward the central continent with a faint glow in his aura.

Sorog asked, "How long do you think the peace will last?"

Garoth did not answer directly and instead asked, "What do you think?"

The Iron Dragon pondered and said, "Having just finished with the Abyssal Rift, everyone needs time to recuperate and digest the newly acquired lands, but..."

He paused, leaving the thought unfinished.

Garoth finished it for him.

"Racial and ideological conflicts remain; peace is only temporary."

The Red Iron Dragon said in a low voice, "If I were the first to reach Crown-level, or the others achieve Mandate of Heaven, or if some other major incident occurs—any of those would immediately fracture the current situation."

The Iron Dragon was silent for several seconds, then said, "Yes."

"We cannot relax. What comes next is crucial—more important than war."

"Right."

"By the way, one more thing. During negotiations, the Eastern Crown-level proposed a suggestion."

"What suggestion?"

"If another large Abyssal Rift appears, regardless of where it opens, all nations should cooperate again to handle it. No matter whose territory it opens in, the other three must send troops to support and fight the demons together."

Garoth replied calmly, "The other parties agreed, yes?"

Sorog said, "Yes, no one wants to face the Abyss alone. Everyone remembers the danger last time."

There were demon lords eyeing Atlantis; that was now broadly confirmed.

This meant any large rift could produce demon legions at any time; delayed response could bring a Greater Demon.

Everyone had already witnessed a Greater Demon's might.

So far, only Garoth could singlehandedly sweep and close an Abyssal Rift and drive back a Greater Demon, but even he would need other legends to buy him time.

"However, these are only verbal commitments."

The Iron Dragon added, "We haven't signed any formal treaty or set cooperative rules—just public postures. No one proposed drafting a contract; everyone tacitly understood it."

Garoth chuckled softly.

"This promise is just talk. When the day comes, it still depends on self-interest. If a rift opens at someone else's doorstep versus at your own, will the speed and resolve to dispatch troops be the same?"

"Indeed. So you must rely on yourself."

After a moment, their conversation wound down.

Garoth showed a satisfied expression.

As suspected, Sorog was the most reliable—focused on business, not prying into trivialities. He reported what needed reporting and analyzed what needed analyzing—efficient and terse.

But then the Iron Dragon displayed a curious mental reaction.

"Garoth."

"Yes?"

"Do you think the Greenwild Queen truly wants to court you? Or is she trying to lower your guard and has another motive?"

Garoth was silent for a second.

"Uncertain."

He said, "Green dragons are known for their many schemes."

"Cerora built a kingdom in chaotic Arotala—her methods are not simple. Rather than play mind-games to determine whether she speaks truly, it's better to simply refuse and avoid trouble."

"I don't have time for such entanglements."

For Garoth, having time to be dragged into that was worse than spending that time on training.

At his age as a mature dragon, physiological desire was at its height; many male dragons succumb to temptation during this stage and cannot resist a beautiful female dragon.

But Garoth differed.

He delighted in resisting desire to temper his will.

The more something is desired, the more it must be restrained; the more impulsive the thought, the more it must be suppressed.

Such self-conflict is itself training.

As for Cerora... to be frank, when he interacted with her, Garoth was not emotionless.

He sensed this green dragon was very similar to himself.

Perhaps for that reason, a strong and strange urge to conquer swelled inside him, but he suppressed it.

"Enough about that."

Garoth changed the subject. "Sorog, you should produce some pureblood dragons to assist you in governing. Relying solely on mixed-blood offspring makes certain tasks difficult."

The Iron Dragon only had mixed-blood descendants—those dragon-blood serpentfolk.

With a human-like upper body and serpentine lower half, covered in dragon scales, carrying strong dragon-blood traits.

As the first-generation offspring of a great dragon, their bloodline concentration was high; though not as naturally talented as true dragons, they surpassed most Dragonforged Warriors and filled important roles within Aola.

However, dragon-blood beings were not true great dragons.

In Aola, true dragons are the core; many responsibilities can only be fulfilled by true dragons.

Yet, besides Garoth, neither Sorog nor Samantha had dragon offspring.

The former had peculiar preferences and was not attracted to his kind.

The latter, like the Green Dragon Queen, completely snubbed other male dragons, deeming them either too weak, too foolish, or both.

"I? Not needed."

Sorog said indifferently. "Your Emperor's sons and the young great dragons graduating from the Dragon Academy are already sufficient for me to command."

He paused. "Also, you should worry about Samantha."

Garoth showed slight surprise.

"What about Samantha?"

Sorog's tone grew delicate: "You know she has always targeted you and aligned herself toward you in all ways. She never seemed interested in other males."

"And?"

"Recently, I've noticed she has more pretty females around her."

Garoth fell silent.

Given Sorog's personality, he wouldn't bring up trivial matters unless he had truly discovered something, which implied...

Garoth suddenly realized his kin seemed a little abnormal in their kinks.

Sorog disliked same-species dragons, preferring serpentfolk.

Samantha was more enthusiastic about interacting with females and disdainful of male dragons.

Gordon... was even rare in his pure romantic preferences.

"By comparison, I'm the most normal," Garoth murmured and shook his head.

But these were minor matters.

Great dragons, with their ability to recognize beauty, often developed various strange preferences—some favored humans, some favored elves, some favored orcs, some favored elemental beings, and so on.

And because of strong bloodlines, reproductive isolation didn't exist.

If willing, they could sire offspring with any species.

Those descendants could then evolve into various dragon-blood beings depending on blood concentration.

How many types of dragon-blood creatures existed remained hard to fully count; some dragons even liked stones, metals, or specific mountain shapes...

Thinking that, Garoth considered his kin's preferences not so terrible.

At least they preferred living beings.

Enough thinking. He dismissed the train of thought, ended the conversation with Sorog, and turned to focus on himself—training his digestive and respiratory systems, developing the Explosive Qi state... he had many tasks to handle.