Normal human legends live only about two to three hundred years. With certain conditions and various light or dark longevity thods, the absolute limit is five to six hundred years, and their strength weakens as their body ages.
In contrast, dragons—once they beco legends—gain at least another thousand years added to their already long lifespans. After that, they remain at their peak forever. The legendary twilight dragon is actually the strongest mont in its life, and no one dares to provoke it.
Nowadays, the great empires treat the tal dragons with courtesy and dare not ruthlessly exterminate the evil dragons, largely out of fear for the twenty-four-winged Gold Dragon currently in its twilight state.
The twilight state ans death can co at any ti, yet the body’s functions are at their strongest peak.
These terrifying buffs stack almost completely.
Even if a twilight Gold Dragon does not take action, just patrolling the airspace of certain countries is enough to terrify them, fearing that being dragged down by this ancient dragon ans mutual destruction.
“Legends are the true aning of strength.”
“To a legendary life, all battles below legend level are like weaklings pecking at each other, re trivial scuffles.”
Garoth set a goal for himself: “Beco a legend within five hundred years.”
This goal was not high; it could even be considered low.
Just like the gold dragons Garoth used as a benchmark for himself— for them, becoming a legendary life at five hundred years old is sowhat difficult, but not extrely so. Outstanding gold dragons basically all beco legends before five hundred years.
Garoth did not like setting goals too high or unrealistic.
He preferred to set his goals low.
That way, when achieved early, it would give him a sense of accomplishnt.
If he set a one hundred year legendary goal but failed, he might not be discouraged, but there would still be a faint sense of disappointnt.
Garoth took a deep breath, unleashing dazzling golden lightning within himself and entering his Frenzied State.
Even lying still in this state stimulates and trains the body.
He calmly crouched in the storm, silently savoring the sting of lightning on his muscles while continuing to listen to the conversation between Frostfang and Nick.
It should be ntioned here:
The old Shaman of the Graymane Werewolf clan naturally passed away two years ago.
After the werewolves held a funeral to see him off, Frostfang inherited his will and stood in his place to continue serving Garoth.
Nick finished sharing the information he knew about the Permafrost Tundra, then took out waterproof paper and pen to carefully write down each of Frostfang’s requested items. After confirming multiple tis to ensure nothing was missed, he carefully put them away.
After setting the next trading date,
the caravan’s troll slaves began loading the goods onto the wagons.
Nick stood inside the tent watching this scene, while Frostfang led her clan preparing to depart.
Just as they reached the tent entrance, Nick suddenly spoke up: “Wait a mont.”
The werewolf sorcerer paused and turned to look at Nick.
“Is there sothing else?”
It asked.
Nick’s smile did not change as he quietly said, “Next ti we trade, I want to et that lord, to express my loyalty and respect. That lord gave new life; I am deeply grateful.”
The lord he referred to was obviously the hidden leader behind the Clan of Molten Iron.
Of course, Nick did not know the na Clan of Molten Iron.
Their dealings only took place on the trade route, and Nick knew only a little more than other rchants: that the monsters on the Serpentine Earth Rift all swore allegiance to the sa lord, but he did not know these monster clans had been consolidated.
Upon hearing Nick’s words,
Frostfang’s eyes suddenly changed, becoming cold and dangerous.
In recent years, many rchants had tried to investigate Garoth’s identity, but they all ended up disappearing without a trace. Frostfang was mainly responsible for this.
But Nick was different from those rchants.
Suppressing the urge to kill, Frostfang slowly said, “I cannot decide on this; I can only ask for permission. Once I get an answer, I will notify you through the ssage stone.”
Nick quickly nodded and showed a flattering smile.
“Thank you, thank you.”
He took out a magic gem, placed it into Frostfang’s claw, and whispered, “This is a small token of my appreciation. Please accept it.”
Frostfang took the gem, then gradually disappeared into the rain with her clan.
After a brief tidying, the caravan resud moving, gradually fading into the distance along the Serpentine Earth Rift.
Ten minutes later, the iron dragon Sorog descended from the sky, his massive wings blocking the rain and wind as he landed before the werewolves who had not yet returned to their territory.
He kept a constant watch here just in case.
“Noble Iron King, please accept this gem.”
Frostfang offered the gem, still warm, which the iron dragon took without hesitation.
“Will the Dragon Lord agree to et next ti?”
Frostfang asked.
The iron dragon looked toward the trade route, his gaze dark and inscrutable through the rain. He said, “Not necessarily. But if he refuses, we will end our trade with this caravan and find a new one we can control and command.”
Frostfang knew how to end things.
He nodded heavily.
The steady drizzle showed no sign of stopping.
The iron dragon Sorog returned to Needleleaf Valley, folding his wings to shake off the rain, and said to Garoth, “Do you intend to et that human?”
Garoth casually nodded, sparing Nick from a fatal fate.
“Let him et.” Garoth’s tail swept across the ground, leaving a trench. “Ten years of testing has proven he is a smart man who knows how to balance between profit and loyalty.”
“Besides, tis have changed. He should know exactly how grand and magnificent the one he pledges loyalty to is.”
Garoth exaggeratedly boasted about himself.
The iron dragon wanted to warn Garoth not to be too arrogant, but glancing at Garoth’s imposing physique, his eyelid twitched and he said nothing.
What Garoth said was true.
It wasn’t arrogance or conceit.
After searching through his Dragon Legacy, the iron dragon could not find another dragon as strong as Garoth at the sa age.
Then, after so thought, the iron dragon proposed, “I want to establish so taverns around the trade route, selecting intelligent individuals from our followers to manage them.”
Garoth’s gaze flickered.
“You an to use these taverns to gather intelligence?”
The iron dragon nodded and said, “We are in the wilderness, information is scarce and backward. We cannot wait until problems arise or when we need to investigate. We need better ears and eyes.”
After a pause, the iron dragon added, “Also, I want to co out from behind the scenes.”
He seriously told Garoth, “You and Samantha still remain in the shadows, while I will stand in the open as a dragon to attract more wilderness clans to pledge allegiance, allowing the Clan of Molten Iron to develop rapidly.”
Hearing this, Garoth shook his head.
“Now is not the right ti.”
He said.
Whether establishing taverns or the iron dragon stepping forward, both were too conspicuous, equivalent to exposing the Clan of Molten Iron openly.
The iron dragon was competent in managing territory and followers, but sotis too eager and unable to hide his ambitions. He also had so typical dragon personality flaws. The real decision for the future direction still belonged to Garoth.
“Why?”
The iron dragon asked, sowhat confused.
Garoth did not answer directly, instead asking, “Sorog, who do you think the Serpentine Earth Rift belongs to?”
“Of course us. It belongs to the Clan of Molten Iron.”
The iron dragon answered naturally.
“No, it belongs to the Lothrian Federation. You must understand this.”
Garoth looked south and slowly said, “The Thousand Serpent Traces trade route that crosses the Ser Wilderness, including the main and branch roads, was all developed and created by the Lothrian Federation, and they have powerful guards watching over it.”
“Our normal trade with caravans on the road is fine. Even if we are recognized as the overlords of this branch, it’s no problem.”
“But the premise is that we cannot stand openly, cannot appear on stage, cannot loudly claim to be the masters of the Serpentine Earth Rift.”
Garoth’s gaze was calm as he continued, “Do you know why the Lothrian Federation’s trade route guards tolerate monster clans operating on the trade route?”
“Because they cling to the rocks like lichens—neither obvious enough to be removed nor without practical value.”
“But if those lichens suddenly wanted to beco towering trees...”
Garoth did not finish, but the aning was clear.
The iron dragon was silent.
Yet inside, he was sowhat unwilling.
“When can we stand on the stage of the wilderness, on the world stage, without disguise?” he asked.
Opposite him, the red iron dragon grinned and said, “Be patient, my brother.”
“Never forget who we are. Ti is always on our side.”
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