At dawn, Garoth returned to Dragon Valley, covered in wounds but with eyes shining brightly.
"Such serious injuries? Who did this to you!"
Deborah, who had stayed behind in Dragon Valley, was first horrified at the sight, then flew into a rage. Her scales slightly raised as intense, icy cold air emanated from around her.
"It's nothing serious."
Garoth landed on the ground, a smile appearing on his face: "The enemy suffered far greater losses than I did. From now on, the convergence lands belong to ."
Noticing that although the red iron dragon's energy seed sowhat diminished, he was overall unhard, Deborah gradually reined in her anger.
She asked curiously: "What happened last night?"
Garoth recounted in a calm, composed tone how he had been ambushed and then nearly wiped out the enemy's leadership.
"These savages truly don't know when to quit."
"Fortunately you're strong enough, otherwise the consequences would have been unpredictable."
The brass-silver dragon gazed at Garoth's formidable, powerful physique, her eyes lingering on those wounds.
For dragonkind, scars were not ugly remnants but dals of honor and glory. Any dragon that had experienced nurous battles would have scales that beca thicker and harder through repeated breaking and healing, with subtle crack-like visual patterns on the surface that required careful observation to notice - representing their extensive combat experience, known as battle-hardened patterns.
Garoth's outer layer of Frostburst Scales existed precisely to break, so they didn't have such patterns.
But on his underlying black-red dragon scales, so battle-hardened patterns had already begun to appear.
The ergence of these patterns ant experiencing multiple intense battles, sothing that basically never appeared on young adult dragons. Even a mature white dragon like Trixie didn't have them.
"Battle-hardened patterns... Garoth, when I was in the Boiling Sea dragon territory, I never saw any young adult dragons with battle-hardened patterns."
"Only adult, mature, and ancient dragons have them."
The brass-silver dragon couldn't help but step forward, reaching out her claw to gently touch the fresh battle-hardened pattern on Garoth's chest that was still slightly bleeding.
"Does it hurt?"
She asked softly.
"I'm used to it."
The red iron dragon said indifferently, then took a few steps back, looking down at these so-called battle-hardened patterns before saying cheerfully: "The inheritance says that when these battle-hardened patterns cover the entire body, they form special channels that help energy flow faster, with the sa effect on my Dragon Qi. When they fully develop, I'll gain another ability."
Having battle-hardened patterns covering the entire body was usually a characteristic only ancient dragons possessed.
Even ancient dragons might not develop full body coverage if they avoided conflicts and stayed reclusive for long periods.
By that ti, the enhancent it provided would actually be minimal for ancient dragons, but its re existence symbolized power that made others dare not provoke them.
Across from him, the brass-silver dragon had different thoughts.
"Such severe injuries yet he remains relaxed and unconcerned. If it were , I'd probably be screaming and wailing in pain."
"Garoth... he's endured too much suffering since childhood."
Deborah felt a pang of heartache and pity.
The strong, fierce hybrid dragon before her eyes transford into a small creature needing protection in her view.
Pitiful, weak, and helpless.
The brass-silver dragon quickly retrieved from her neck scales sothing that resembled both a red crystal and a pill, vibrant and translucent as if dripping with color.
"This is a magical dicine my father refined using his own dragon blood. It can quickly heal injuries. Eat it."
Garoth's eyes lit up, saying: "Give it to first. My current injuries aren't serious, I can save it for later." His wounds could heal gradually on their own.
Such precious magical dicine would be better used during combat.
"Eat it now, or I won't give it to you."
The brass-silver dragon guessed Garoth's intention and directly shoved the dicine into his mouth.
Feeling his body's instinctive craving for this dicine and the brass-silver dragon's determination, Garoth gently bit her claw, his tongue sweeping over the dicine before simply swallowing it whole.
Upon reaching his stomach, it instantly dissolved.
Transforming into a cool stream that gently flowed through Garoth's body, bringing comfort wherever it passed. The broken blood vessels and injured internal organs imdiately felt much better, even his surface scales transmitted faint itching sensations like ant bites as the regeneration and recovery speed accelerated.
"Truly wonderful stuff."
Garoth stretched his body, discovering that all pain had vanished, and couldn't help but wish for more.
"Here's another one for you."
The brass-silver dragon took out another magical dicine made from mature silver dragon essence blood and handed it to Garoth, saying: "Garoth, keep this for use."
"How many more do you have?"
Garoth asked.
"Plenty." To prevent Garoth from doubting, the brass-silver dragon emphasized: "Don't forget I'm a tal dragon. I have plenty of similar things."
The red iron dragon nodded, then extended his claw.
"Then give a few more."
He shalessly asked directly.
"Dream on! You greedy, insatiable wicked dragon!"
The brass-silver dragon snorted lightly, turning her head away as if angry.
After waiting a while without hearing further sounds from the red iron dragon, she displeasedly looked back only to discover that the red iron dragon had already curled up on the spot, closing his eyes and fallen asleep, emitting hot, even breaths from his mouth.
The silver dragon's dicine could only relieve pain and heal injuries, with limited effect on restoring stamina and spirit.
After intense battle, the red iron dragon's relaxation of spirit combined with taking the dicine made him unable to resist sleepiness.
So ti later.
After news spread that almost all the high-ranking leaders of Dawn Tribe and Ironblood Tribe had died in the Raging River battle, the morale of Molten Iron Tribe soared dramatically.
Being ambushed yet completely wiping out the enemies made the Redwing Lord appear increasingly invincible.
In stark contrast to Molten Iron Tribe, the two major tribes were shrouded in gloom, their morale completely shattered. Humans and orcs no longer stubbornly resisted but also had no intention of surrendering, instead dispersing into many scattered groups fleeing deeper into the snow-covered, frostbitten Permafrost Tundra.
After this.
Molten Iron Tribe's subordinate armies advanced irresistibly, crushing through the northern territories inch by inch, capturing and controlling strongholds that originally belonged to Dawn and Ironblood tribes.
Unlike the previous Gold Fang Tribe situation.
Because these two tribes valued honor and combat, even after their leadership's death, when their fleeing tribesn were caught up with, resistance remained exceptionally fierce. Those who couldn't escape fought to death without retreating, with only very few individuals choosing to surrender.
Ti thus passed slowly.
Approximately one month later.
At the end of year 249 of the new calendar, while intelligent beings in the southern Federation prepared festival celebrations for the upcoming new year, the convergence lands had already welcod its uncrowned king.
By now, the convergence lands were almost entirely covered with flags belonging to Molten Iron Tribe.
Except for Venomtail Tribe, all other territories and resources belonged to the Ignas dragon cluster, belonged to Garoth.
"The cleanup work is basically complete."
"Only Venomtail Tribe remains in the convergence lands besides us. Should we wait for them to surrender voluntarily, or should I go recruit them?"
Sorog's inquiry ca through their ntal connection.
The red iron dragon paused his dragon wing polishing exercises, narrowing his eyes slightly as he slowly said: "The serpentfolk have been watching from the sidelines, trying to reap the greatest benefits. Even now they want to hold out for better terms. Heh, they're being far too presumptuous."
After brief consideration.
Garoth said: "Ignore them for now. I want to see how long it takes before they're willing to pledge allegiance."
Five days later.
Having never received the dragon's recruitnt visit, Venomtail Tribe finally couldn't restrain themselves and sent emissaries to Dragon Valley, expressing their desire to pledge allegiance and submit.
However, Garoth refused.
"Sorog, gather the armies and march to Venomtail Tribe. Crush all outposts along the way and surround Serpent Swamp."
"Then decide based on their attitude. If there's further resistance or clever sches, level Serpent Swamp too, kill all resisters, and turn those who surrender into slaves."
Like the midday sun, Molten Iron Tribe's armies once again bared their fangs, biting toward the venomous snake coiled in the northeast.
Such wavering fence-sitters - if he absorbed their entire tribe intact, Garoth would find it hard to feel secure. Such killing might waste so future subordinates or slaves, but it was absolutely necessary.
Simultaneously.
As the King of Convergence Lands issued orders to punish the cunning Venomtail serpentfolk.
The twilight at the edge of Ser Wilderness was dyed blood-red.
In the ruins of so broken duchy outpost, the last few wisps of black smoke twisted upward toward the horizon.
The dragon slowly retracted its sky-blotting wings, its twenty-eight-ter-long massive body casting terrifying shadows on the ground. Its blood-red scales densely covered with battle-hardened patterns resembled countless burning wounds.
This was a mature red dragon.
The red dragon's foreclaw playfully pressed down on the last struggling guard, savoring the sensation of human bones gradually crushing beneath his claw.
The guard's piercing screams sounded like the most beautiful music to his ears, his fang-filled draconic maw gradually splitting open to reveal an intoxicated smile.
"What wonderful sensation, what delightful sounds..."
His cruel, low soliloquy echoed through the ruins, his claw tips deliberately slowing the pace of crushing the chest cavity to prolong this symphony of death.
As ti passed.
When the final scream dissipated in the evening wind, Gorthax satisfiedly took a deep breath.
Years of exile had made the scent of this holand even sweeter - a fragrance mixed with fear, blood, and scorched slls.
Slling the wilderness air, the muscles beneath his scales trembled with excitent as years of accumulated hatred and brutality finally found their outlet.
Imdiately after, he spread his sky-blotting wings, raised his head and released an earth-shaking roar.
An invisible, scorching dragon might swept through the ruins like a tidal wave.
"Insects, prepare to tremble in dragon fla and turn to ash!"
The spikes on the red dragon's back stood erect one by one, his exhaled breath igniting nearby broken walls. Imdiately after, surrounded by countless flas, he beat his wings and soared skyward, disappearing beyond the horizon before Federation reinforcents could arrive.
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