Chapter 453 Cold Teeth Makes Presumptuous Comments on the True Dragon's Affairs, Crimson Wings Tear Through the Sky and Open the Snowstorm
The permafrost tundra, a border base of the Kingdom of Aura.
The ancient white dragon Beskar perched on the hastily cleared ground, its dragon eyes filled with obvious impatience and scrutiny as it glared at the savage monster that dared to stand before it without flinching.
He was much taller and stronger than the other trolls and ogres, with dark gray-brown skin. His bulging muscles almost burst through his alchemical armor, and some frozen meat scraps remained on his protruding fangs.
He is Grove the ogre, the leader of this stronghold.
Before the enormous and imposing legendary white dragon, the ogre not only did not bend down, but instead straightened his thick back and dared to stare directly back at the white dragon Bescal with his copper bell-like eyes.
The gaze seemed to be appraising a "country bumpkin who has never seen the world," showing absolutely no reverence for a legendary life.
Bescal disliked the ogre's gaze very much.
However, considering that behind these lowly reptiles might actually stand a powerful dragon of the same kind, Beskar suppressed his killing intent.
He needs information.
“You, the slightly stronger reptilian leader,”
"You should know the true state of this land better than your fellow human beings."
The white dragon tilted its massive head forward, its breath freezing into frost on Grove's armor.
“Now, tell me, just how powerful is the ‘Red Iron Dragon Emperor’ you serve so loyally, and the so-called ‘Kingdom of Aura’ that he established? What kind of power do they have that makes a little ogre like you dare to praise me so blatantly and be so fearless?”
Grove did not reply.
He twisted his enormous head, striking a defiant pose of refusing to cooperate.
Even under the astonished gaze of the white dragon, he swallowed hard and spat a mouthful of phlegm at the white dragon Beskar's huge forepaw that gleamed with cold light.
The phlegm failed to touch the dragon scales; it was frozen in mid-air by the extreme cold, turning into a small ice pellet that fell onto the snow.
The white dragon's eyelids twitched, its raised claws trembled slightly, and the tips of its nails flashed with a cold light. It was almost instinctive to crush this audacious cannibal like an insect.
However, when he saw the fearless, even defiant look in the eyes of the ogre Grove, Bescal managed to suppress his impulse.
He slowly retracted his raised claws, pressed them into the ground, and dug several deep furrows.
"Don't rush, don't rush, be patient. Hunting requires patience... Don't stoop to the level of this simple-minded reptile."
Bescal repeatedly reminded himself of this.
That was the survival wisdom he had honed during his long years of hiding.
A few seconds later, the white dragon's huge eyes darted around slyly as he came up with a plan.
“Foolish ogre, you avoid talking about it and dare not mention in detail the specific deeds and power of your emperor.”
"Is it because he is actually too young, lacks a solid foundation, or is simply a weakling who is all bark and no bite, and not worth mentioning? Is that why you can only use empty loyalty as an excuse?"
He spoke in a tone that was tinged with disdain and skepticism.
These words struck a nerve with the ogre Grove, who possessed a simple and loyal nature.
"Bullshit! What do you know! You know nothing about the great Emperor Ignas!"
Grove immediately became furious.
He straightened his broad chest, and his voice became loud and clear.
"After His Majesty ascended to the legendary realm, he established our kingdom in the wilderness with strength and wisdom!"
"On the day of the founding ceremony, wow! Envoys from all nations came to offer their congratulations! Envoys from great powers respectfully presented His Majesty with praise and precious gifts! And a gleaming metal dragon flew in to witness His Majesty's coronation and to spread his glorious name!"
"The legendary frost giants who used to roam freely across this icy plain were killed on the spot by a single glare from His Majesty!"
"When the kingdom was first established, ten reckless legends of the Dragon Worship Cult tried to cause trouble. What happened? His Majesty took on ten of them single-handedly, as easily as swatting goblins, killing them all with a single claw strike!"
“Even legendary priests who are favored by the gods and whose authority is divine, are only courting death if they oppose His Majesty.”
As he listened to this increasingly outrageous series of tales, which sounded like the drunken ramblings of a bard, Bescal exhaled two visible blasts of chilling white air from his nostrils, causing the surrounding temperature to plummet.
"What do you think a legend is? A goblin? Someone you can kill with a mere glance, someone you can take on ten at once like chopping vegetables?"
Bai Long's voice suddenly rose, "Or do you think I've just woken up from the ice and my brain is frozen stiff, that I would believe such clumsy nonsense that even a six-year-old dragon wouldn't believe?"
He felt that his intelligence had been severely insulted.
Grove's eyes widened, his thick lips parted, as if the other person was questioning something that everyone knew.
"It's true! Absolutely true!"
"Although I, Grove, haven't seen it with my own eyes in the wilderness, I've heard about it from the goblin Malit who came from the wilderness!"
“Martit said it himself! He never lies, and he’d bet ten barrels of his prized mead to guarantee its truth!”
The cannibal retorted excitedly, spittle flying everywhere.
"Goblins? Mead?"
Bescal almost laughed in anger. "A goblin's oath is ten times cheaper than goblin mead, no, a hundred times cheaper!"
Taking a deep breath, Bai Long tried to crush the other party's nonsense with logic:
"According to you, your emperor has only just advanced to the legendary level, and may not even have warmed up the legendary realm yet. How could he possibly fight against and kill ten legendary opponents of the same level at the same time? And how could he possibly kill a divinely favored legendary figure?"
"Use your barren brain to think about this! Is this even possible?!"
Bai Long thought that the so-called Kingdom of Aura was probably just a tribal farce created by a Red Iron Dragon who was good at making up exaggerated stories and fooling people.
Perhaps that red iron dragon has some skill and can intimidate the surrounding area.
However, those outrageous stories are almost always lies and intimidation fabricated to consolidate rule.
"My brain works perfectly well! It works better than your frozen brain!"
The ogre Grove scoffed without any politeness, even pointing to his massive head, "You presumptuous white dragon, just because you can't do it doesn't mean our great Emperor can't! His Majesty is capable!"
The white dragon was somewhat annoyed by the cannibal's stubborn attitude.
The chill emanating from his body suddenly intensified, and visible frost rapidly climbed onto Grove's armor, skin, and even eyelashes, making him look like a snowman.
But the ogre sneezed loudly and then continued to stare with its big eyes, showing no sign of backing down.
"Alright, alright, even if he's exceptionally talented and can really kill those legends."
Suppressing his barely contained rage, Bescal resorted to an even more ridiculous lie to expose the lie.
"You just said that your emperor, a red iron dragon born of evil alignment, received congratulations from many nations when he founded the country, and that metal dragons also sang his praises?"
"Are all the nations you speak of blind? Or have they all willingly degenerated and joined the evil camp?"
"Have those self-proclaimed righteous, order-upholding, and monstrous metal dragons collectively gone mad to sing praises and bear witness to the founding celebration of a red iron dragon?!"
He practically yelled, locked in a fierce argument with this stubborn reptile, determined to expose the obvious lie.
"So what?!"
Grove's spittle flew through the frost once more.
"Your Majesty is a powerful dragon, that's true, but at the same time, Your Majesty is charismatic, like the sun, capable of making metal dragons willingly follow you and making envoys from all nations submit and offer gifts with utmost respect! Your Majesty is that powerful!"
His words were spoken with such conviction, as if he were stating a truth as clear as the sun rising in the east.
Bai Long was nearly driven mad, and said again, "You can become heroic spirits after you die? Ridiculous! Heroic spirits are beings from the realm of heroes! Is your emperor a god? Or the king of a plane? You actually believe this nonsense."
The ogre on the other side was too lazy to explain anymore.
He looked at the white dragon with disdain and said in a gruff voice, "Hmph, His Majesty is a noble dragon of red and iron. His affairs are not something you, a lowly white dragon, can understand."
White Dragon Beskar fell completely silent.
His massive body trembled slightly with barely suppressed rage, his claws digging deep into the ice.
To be judged with such contempt by an ogre he regarded as a servant and a source of food, and even categorized as a "lower dragon"... Bescal had not experienced such intense anger and humiliation for hundreds of years.
The last time he was this angry was when a frost giant stole his prey and mocked him for only being fit to scavenge leftovers in the Northlands.
The stubborn and foolish cannibal in front of him deeply enraged him.
The white dragon began to seriously consider whether to immediately turn him into an ice sculpture, freezing his expression forever, as a reminder of the price of offending an ancient dragon, a legend.
However, deep within Bescal's furious heart, a sense of unease was quietly growing.
This cannibal's straightforwardness and unwavering conviction were highly unusual.
It didn't seem like blind fanaticism born from simple brainwashing; it was more like an almost instinctive conviction.
Could it be that... behind those stories that sound outrageous and absurd, there is actually some exaggerated but true basis?
Did such an incredible king really come into being during his slumber?
Bescal has always been sharp-minded; otherwise, he would not have been able to survive and grow to this day in the perilous ice plains, and eventually become a legend.
He had a slight doubt.
However, Gu Long's pride and his newly achieved confidence gradually overwhelmed this doubt.
"Even if... even if he really has half, or even a third, of the rumored strength and influence, so what?"
Bescal thought to himself, "For over eight hundred years, I have endured loneliness and honed my claws in the bitter cold of the far north!"
"Although I have just broken through to the Legendary level, the depth of my foundation is far beyond what those Legendary players who quickly advance in their comfort zones can compare to! This is my home turf."
"And once the fire-type Red Iron Dragon sets foot here, its power will inevitably be weakened!"
"As one side gains while the other loses, the environment is favorable to me, and the advantage lies with me!"
Thinking of this, the white dragon Beskar grinned, revealing his chillingly sharp teeth.
He stopped paying attention to the cannibal's nonsense and instead spread his aura around, looking around.
“Listen, you foolish barbarians blinded by lies,” he declared in a deep voice, his voice carrying far in the cold wind, “today, I will not kill you out of mercy, but because I need you to act as messengers.”
He raised one of his front paws and pointed south.
“Go back and tell your emperor, who only makes up exaggerated stories to intimidate his subordinates, that the frozen tundra is a land where the strong are respected and there is no room for empty fame or lies.”
"I, Bescal the Ancient Dragon, the Frostblight, have returned as a legend!"
"Your emperor's empty reputation and fabricated achievements are meaningless in the face of true power!"
“If he is sensible and knows how to respect others, he will obediently relinquish control of the Northern Ice Plains, and I may consider keeping to myself and not interfering with him.”
"If he remains obstinate and tries to maintain his fragile throne with those ridiculous stories... then I wouldn't mind using his bones to adorn my new territory!"
The moment he finished speaking, an instinctive warning of danger gripped Bescal's heart.
He looked up almost without thinking, gazing at the sky, his eyes piercing through the thick curtain of howling wind and snow.
At first, nothing could be seen except for the gray sky and snowflakes flying everywhere.
But then, against the leaden sky, a small red dot was becoming clear at an astonishing speed.
It started as an inconspicuous pixel in the snowy background, but it magnified rapidly every moment, tearing away the snow and wind, and its outline quickly took shape.
"Save those words for our king!"
Grove the ogre also noticed the change in the sky. He felt no fear, but rather excitement, his face flushed red.
"Look! It's His Majesty! The great Emperor Ignas, the Fiery Death Star! He has come in person!"
The families of the residents at the outpost all cheered excitedly.
White Dragon Beskar's expression turned solemn and serious.
He had no interest in paying attention to the noisy monsters anymore; his dragon eyes were fixed on the crimson presence in the sky that was getting closer and clearer.
In just a few blinks of an eye, the red dot of light had transformed into a burning crimson meteor!
It cleaved through the sky with an unparalleled ferocity, so fast that it even left a brief trail of light behind it.
The shockwaves, exceeding the limits of sound, violently pushed aside and evaporated the wind and snow along the way.
The thick, wall-like curtain of snow in the north was also forcibly torn open with a scorching, straight wound.
In just a few breaths, the crimson meteor arrived above the base with unparalleled power.
Centered on the hovering red figure, a scorching pressure swept outwards in all directions.
The countless snowflakes dancing in the air, upon contact with this intense heat, emitted a dense hissing sound, rapidly melting and evaporating, rising into large swaths of white, scalding steam.
The swirling clouds and mist only served to accentuate the ferocity and majesty of the figure in the center.
(End of this chapter)
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