Free Web NovelLight fell upon the layered petals, dancing among the flower clusters as gusts of breeze swept through, setting the entire field ablaze with colorful, undulating waves that stirred up shimmering, golden ripples.
“You look so much better...”
“...when you smile instead of keeping that stern face. Looks like the elves’ stories have some truth to them—even the most majestic emperor needs flowers.”
Cerora tilted her head, a hint of mischief sparkling in her eyes.
Faced with her teasing, Garoth remained stone-faced.
He lowered his head, sniffed the purple flower beside him, letting its crisp, cool fragrance slowly spread through his nostrils. He didn’t respond, nor did he seem inclined to argue with the green dragon.
“What, nothing to say?”
Cerora moved closer. “Hit a nerve?”
Garoth lifted his eyes and said, “I was wondering what else the elves’ stories said.”
“Don’t rush. You’ll find out in time.”
As she spoke, Cerora extended a foreclaw and gently poked the hard scales on the red iron dragon’s chest with her claw tip.
“You look like you’ve recovered. Majestic and imposing, just like always.”
“But that form you mutated into before was also quite distinctive. Sure, it lacked the intimidating might befitting a great dragon lord, but it was full of aggression and offense—practically radiating sharpness and edge all over.”
The green dragon didn’t withdraw her claw.
She poked a few more times, the firm muscle beneath the scales subtly tensing in response.
“Between your two forms, which one do you think is stronger?”
The red iron dragon turned his head to look at Cerora.
He mulled it over seriously for a moment, then said thoughtfully, “Overall, my current form is better suited for handling all kinds of situations and scenarios. The Rift Form is too extreme. There are times when it can deliver above-average performance, but correspondingly, some situations become much harder to manage with it.”
Without a doubt, the balanced, all-around state was the most reliable.
Garoth had always been that kind of dragon.
He had always believed that over-relying on a singular, extreme advantage would leave clear weaknesses, and those weaknesses often became fatal flaws in real life-or-death battles.
Compared to chasing the explosive power brought by mutation,
he preferred steady, methodical development, solidifying his foundation step by step.
As for mutation, he mainly treated it as an alternative form of training and a way to explore new possibilities for future adaptive evolution. He had never intended to rely entirely on mutation to make himself stronger.
Hearing Garoth’s answer, Cerora nodded in agreement.
“Makes sense. You’re perfect just the way you are now.”
With that, her tone shifted, carrying an unmistakable note of anticipation: “Still, being able to freely control and revert to that previous form would be even better. Can you still change back?”
The observer sees more than the player.
Maybe Garoth himself hadn’t noticed, but Cerora had sensed it clearly.
Back in his Rift Form, the red iron dragon wasn’t just outwardly sharp and aggressive; his personality had also undergone subtle changes. His emotions had grown more intense, his words and actions carrying a sharp edge that was usually restrained.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have directly provoked a half-divine saint.
Doing so had no practical benefit besides a bit of verbal satisfaction, only adding unnecessary risk.
In his normal state, he probably wouldn’t have done such a thing.
For those around Garoth, this change mostly brought a sense of novelty, like seeing a familiar object suddenly flipped over to reveal a side usually hidden from view.
The red iron dragon’s eyes flickered briefly, as if seeing through Cerora’s thoughts.
He said unhurriedly, “I can’t do it now. But I still retain a small part of the Rift Form’s characteristics. Maybe I’ll be able to in the future.”
Hearing this, the green dragon’s lips curled up, a delighted smile spreading across her face.
She chuckled warmly. “Since you say so, I believe you definitely will.”
Cerora hoped Garoth would acquire more mutation forms.
More precisely, she wanted to see the different facets of his personality revealed through those various forms.
Sharp as a blade, cold as ice, blazing with consuming passion... each had its unique charm, worthy of appreciation.
As she thought about it, she unconsciously narrowed her eyes and let out a few soft hums through her nose, as if she could already picture the red iron dragon adorned in his different mutated forms.
It was like being used to refined dishes and occasionally craving something spicy and stimulating.
No need to have it every day; just one taste was enough.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Your smile looks a little twisted.”
The red iron dragon’s voice pulled her back.
“Nothing, nothing.”
The green dragon quickly wiped away the drool that was nearly dripping down, blinking innocently.
“I was just thinking... your Rift Form really does look good. All sharp edges, wings completely transformed, like a divine weapon forged by a master.”
“You’ve always had high praise for my appearance,” Garoth said.
“That’s because you really do look good.”
Cerora said matter-of-factly, “I never hold back praise for beautiful things.”
With that, she stepped closer to Garoth and coiled up beside him.
The combined weight of the two great dragons pressed down, crushing the surrounding flowers with a soft crunch. Stems snapped, petals were ground into the damp soil, and the rich fragrance grew even more intense.
Cerora lay on her side among the flowers, her long neck curving slightly, her head resting on her crossed foreclaws.
Her tail lazily wrapped around her side, brushing through a cluster of purple blooms.
The red iron dragon coiled to her right, his wings folded flat against his back, crushing the surrounding flowers firmly beneath him.
His posture was just as relaxed as the green dragon’s, his head slightly raised, eyes half-lidded, as if savoring the warmth of the sun on his scales.
The two great dragons lay there amidst the sea of flowers, crushing countless blossoms beneath them.
Cerora glanced at the cluster of golden-stamened white petals flattened by the tip of the red iron dragon’s tail and spoke lazily.
“Atlan has been quite lively lately.”
“I heard that the Lord of Thunder of the Helmod Dragonflight has become a Mandate of Heaven Storm Dragon, as an apostle of the Chromatic Queen.”
Garoth’s eyes shifted slightly. “You’re well-informed.”
“The Greenwild Kingdom may be tucked away in a corner, and my territory on Arotala is far less vast than yours, but I have my channels.”
Cerora’s expression turned serious. “A Storm Dragon, a Mandate of Heaven, and an apostle of a deity... you should know the weight of that identity better than I do.”
“You’re both in Atlan. Is there any danger?”
The red iron dragon gazed at the sea of flowers covering the mountains and gently shook his head.
“Not for now. The Lord of Thunder and I haven’t directly clashed.”
His voice was steady as he spoke. “I’ve been supporting the western kingdoms of Atlan, temporarily trapping his claws and fangs on the western front.”
“The Storm Dragon hasn’t shown any signs of acting personally.”
“There’s a battle line between us. There won’t be a head-on collision in the short term.”
“Temporarily?”
Cerora latched onto that word.
“Temporarily,” Garoth confirmed. “An apostle’s mission is to spread the glory of their deity. He’ll come down to the field himself sooner or later. It’s only a matter of time.”
Cerora stared at the side of the red iron dragon’s face for a while.
“Trapping his claws and fangs doesn’t mean trapping their master,” she said seriously. “Just like you said, now that an apostle has been born, they will inevitably fight to spread their deity’s glory—that’s the meaning of their existence.”
“A Mandate of Heaven Storm Dragon...”
“Even if he can’t compare to the ancient Dragon Kings, he’s definitely stronger than most ordinary Mandate of Heaven great dragons.”
She thought for a moment, then said, “Maybe he’s even a notch above the Deep Frost Tyrant.”
Hearing that name, Garoth’s head turned slightly, surprise flashing in his eyes.
“The Deep Frost Tyrant, Claudia... I’ve heard that name.”
He recalled, then said, “But I remember that this Deep Frost Tyrant was only crown-level? And his current status is unknown.”
The Deep Frost Tyrant—an ancient Iron Hybrid Dragon once active on Arotala.
He was a chrome dragon.
This type of dragon usually belonged to the lawful evil alignment, bearing some resemblance to silver dragons. They often impersonated silver dragons to make prey unfamiliar with dragon kind let their guard down, enjoyed toying with their opponents like a cat with a mouse, and were ruthlessly cruel, inflicting as much suffering as possible rather than killing outright.
Additionally, chrome dragons were cold-aligned Iron Hybrid Dragons.
They were often compared to white dragons and silver dragons.
Most of the time, chrome dragons could easily suppress white dragons, but when facing a silver dragon, they had to be on high alert—silver dragons were generally a cut stronger.
At this, Cerora let out a low dragon roar and chuckled.
“How outdated is your file?”
“The Deep Frost Tyrant Claudia, an ancient chrome dragon, was already a top-tier crown-level centuries ago.”
“He had no fixed territory, roaming across the Arotala Continent. Every time he appeared, he brought countless deaths. Eventually, he drew the attention of Nausil, and a large-scale purge left him severely wounded.”
Here, the green dragon’s eyes narrowed, her pupils contracting into thin slits.
She speculated, “I reckon that brush with death, teetering on the edge, actually gave him a chance to break through further.”
“He vanished for many years, but there have been signs of activity again recently, like a dragon just awakening from a long slumber, re-familiarizing himself with the current state of the continent. And...”
She paused, her tone resolute. “I can say with certainty that the Deep Frost Tyrant has already broken through to Mandate of Heaven.”
Garoth fell into thought, re-weighing the title in his mind.
“Mandate of Heaven...”
He muttered, “He’s the only Iron Hybrid Dragon to have reached this level in the entire Bernardo.”
Garoth himself carried iron dragon blood and knew the state of Iron Hybrid Dragons well.
In the eyes of many dragons, Iron Hybrid Dragons were even more dangerous evil dragons than the Five-colored Dragons.
Because they were once metallic dragons, they naturally detested the Five-colored Dragons and refused to associate with them, harboring hostility. But being cast out by the metallic dragons, they also harbored a deep hatred for them.
In short, Iron Hybrid Dragons were a breed of “mad dogs” that would bite anyone.
The key point was that Iron Hybrid Dragons had no divine protection from above and were also rejected by other dragon species. This caused their numbers to dwindle, and now they no longer reached the scale of a major dragon race.
The iron dragons around Garoth, under his influence, were relatively normal.
But that didn’t represent other Iron Hybrid dragon clans.
The Deep Frost Tyrant, for example, was a textbook mad dragon.
And the word “mad” here wasn’t just an adjective—his mental state had genuine, serious problems.
Garoth said, “If the records I saw are correct, this guy suffers from an endless gluttony psychosis, is mentally unstable, and has an extremely dangerous personality.”
Cerora nodded, her chin lightly brushing her foreclaw.
“Yes. He even considers his own dragon kin the most delicious food.”
Her expression grew serious. “From what I know, the Deep Frost Tyrant was captured and imprisoned by an elven spellcaster as a young dragon, used as an experiment subject. During that time, the extreme hunger he experienced led to his gluttony psychosis.”
“He also developed an intense hatred for elves.”
“Now that Kantum has gone to war with Nausil, he’ll most likely seize this opportunity to strike against the Nausil Empire.”
“The orcs, who don’t even hesitate to taint themselves with the frenzied flame, certainly won’t mind cooperating with a mentally unstable great dragon. So I think he’ll likely side with the Kantum camp, serving as a mad blade hurled at Nausil.”
The wind swept over the sea of flowers, rustling softly.
Then, the red iron dragon let out a low, rumbling laugh that shook the surrounding petals loose, like a small localized rainfall.
“You mean I might end up crossing paths with this Deep Frost Tyrant?”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
He suppressed his smile, the tip of his tail slowly tightening, grinding a flower stem into pieces between his scales.
“There are gaps even among Mandate of Heaven. I haven’t fought a true Mandate of Heaven great dragon yet.”
“The Giant King I killed before had a racial value no weaker than a dragon’s, and he was certainly no pushover. But in the end, he was just crown-level, not Mandate of Heaven. I really want to know how much of a gap there actually is between me and a true Mandate of Heaven great dragon.”
“Many intelligent beings have already started treating me as a Mandate of Heaven great dragon.”
“But only by truly fighting can I know where I stand. Others’ opinions are always just opinions, not facts.”
Cerora looked at the red iron dragon before her and shook her head.
“What sane, intelligent being wants to deal with a mental patient?”
She said exasperatedly. “And you’re actually looking forward to it. Sometimes I really don’t understand your thinking.”
The red iron dragon remained expressionless. “Part of his strength may come from his mental illness, but that doesn’t give him an advantage in battle. It just makes his personality a bit crazier.”
“The difference between a madman and a normal person lies in behavior, not in power itself.”
“Power is power. How it’s used is a different matter.”
“But a madman’s behavior is harder to predict,” Cerora said. “You never know what he’ll do next, because even he might not know.”
“He could suddenly do something completely irrational.”
“Like ignoring his own safety to trade blows with you, or abandoning a clear advantage to attack an irrelevant target. That unpredictability itself is a danger.”
“Then that’s even more reason to fight him.”
Garoth said, “Fighting an unpredictable opponent yields the most gains.”
“If every battle goes exactly as expected, the pace of strength growth will slow down.”
“Moreover, clashing with a Mandate of Heaven great dragon will help me pinpoint my own position. The value of that information far outweighs the risk of the battle itself.”
Cerora stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words.
“What is it with you? Are you mentally unstable too?”
“Don’t misunderstand—I’m not cursing you, just stating how I really feel.”
She sighed. “Whatever you think, at least remember what I said about the Deep Frost Tyrant. Don’t let him appear from an unexpected direction.”
“I’ll remember.”
The red iron dragon nodded his massive head.
He then changed the subject. “Now that the Giant King is dead, how are you handling his territory and the giants under him?”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Cerora’s mouth, revealing a row of neat, gleaming teeth.
“Almost done,” she said.
“With the Giant King dead, the Giant King’s Court lost its sole ruler.”
“Those giants are fierce enough, but most of them aren’t too bright. Without a king to hold them down, they quickly fell into chaos.”
“Through their dreams, I planted seeds of suspicion in the hearts of those giant leaders qualified to inherit the throne.”
“Some dreamed of brothers turning blades on each other, some dreamed of their subordinates conspiring betrayal, some dreamed of their own heads hung on the gates of the royal court. The images in those dreams remained as vivid and real as if they had truly happened after waking. Within a year, those giants, unable to accept each other’s rule, began to attack one another.”
“The royal court split into seven or eight tribes, each occupying a separate territory, accusing the others of rebellion and declaring themselves the Giant King’s sole legitimate heir.”
She lifted her chin, her tone calm.
“And I stepped in, under the guise of a mediator.”
“So far, I’ve taken control of about a third of the Giant King’s Court’s land. If it weren’t for needing to save face for Nausil, I would have wiped them out already.”
“But then again, Nausil probably doesn’t truly care about the giants’ survival either—it’s just a matter of saving face. So I plan to wait a little longer before pushing further.”
“That way, the process looks cleaner and saves me effort.”
The reason dragons and giants were considered sworn enemy races, besides both being giant-sized long-lived species with high racial values, was that both were fond of infighting—from Material Plane races all the way up to the deities.
For example.
The dragon pantheon was mainly locked in a fierce struggle between the Platinum Dragon God and the Immortal Dragon Queen, with other dragon gods either remaining neutral or siding with one of the two.
The internal strife among the giant pantheon was even more exaggerated.
While the dragon pantheon at least split into two main camps, among the giants, besides the conflict between good and evil, there were also countless personal grudges between good gods themselves and evil gods themselves. Their relationships were a tangled mess.
It was said that the Giant God, known as the Father of All Things and the Creator,
had become so deeply disappointed with the giant pantheon he had created that he chose to retreat and vanish from the world.
As for the dragon race’s main god, equal in fame to the Father of All Things—
the Nine-Faced Dragon God, the World-Shaper Dragon... this powerful being had fallen long ago. The Platinum Dragon God and the Immortal Dragon Queen were nothing but the remnants of his body, representing its good and evil sides.
And the third existence, standing alongside the Father of All Things and the World-Shaper Dragon—
the Great Ring, the Cosmic Serpent.
Due to its own inherent contradictions and opposing natures, it had split apart, and its whereabouts were now unknown.
Though the sky was filled with countless deities,
the top-tier existences of the past had all vanished without a trace. If those three were still present, the countless planes of these worlds might look completely different from what they were now.
Meanwhile, after listening to the green dragon’s account, Garoth gave a slight nod.
“Well done.”
He praised. “Cerora, while your talent may not excel in direct combat, it’s still top-tier overall.”
“Causing a massive royal court to crumble from within through subtle influence isn’t something brute force alone can achieve.”
“If it were me, I’d probably just storm the giants head-on. I could still win, but the losses would be far greater, and subsequent governance would be a headache.”
Cerora blinked lightly.
“You’re making me a little shy.”
Despite her words, there was no hint of shyness in her tone—rather, a touch of smug pride at being praised.
“Still... you were the one who killed the Giant King. According to basic allocation principles, you deserve a share.”
“I’ve already marked out an area that can serve as an exclave for the Aola Kingdom.”
“It’s not huge, but the location is good, rich in mineral veins and forest resources. You can send your offspring to take over, or delegate other subordinates to manage it—either works. I can provide some initial support, like food and labor, and once things stabilize, I’ll hand it over to your people.”
Garoth didn’t refuse.
In a dragon’s dictionary, the word “polite” rarely appeared. Pushing back and forth over what was rightfully theirs would only come off as hypocritical.
“Agreed.”
“I’ll send a few more of my offspring over later. Until then, I’ll trouble you to look after this territory.”
He said.
Atlan was currently relatively peaceful, and the situation didn’t require his constant attention.
Garcro had been constantly grumbling about coming to Arotala to expand Aola’s territory. Now was the perfect opportunity to give him that chance.
“No problem.”
Cerora agreed without hesitation.
Then, as if struck by a thought, she fell silent.
She looked at the red iron dragon, the lightness and mischief in her eyes slowly fading, replaced by a more direct emotion.
“Garoth.”
“I envy you for having trustworthy descendants. You know what I mean, don’t you? I told you from the start—I want you to give me some offspring.”
Having said that, she stared straight at the red iron dragon, her eyes reflecting the countless flower shadows covering the mountains.
The red iron dragon turned to meet Cerora’s gaze.
“Then let it be as you wish.”
He said.
The sea of flowers swayed in the wind, countless petals lifted and fell. The shadows of the two great dragons stretched long by the sunlight, overlapping, crushing countless blossoms in full bloom beneath them.
