Chapter 135: The Fearful Garoth: Why Force Me?!

Raymond Duchy, Thorn Territory, under the bright moonlight.

Viscount Iron Thorn stood on the castle terrace, his gray-white short hair shimmering faintly in the moonlight.

His figure was upright like a sword, and though the years had carved several lines of authority on his sharply contoured face, they did not diminish his imposing presence in the slightest. Those cold gray eyes narrowed slightly, like two daggers drawn from their sheaths, scrutinizing the night beyond the window.

That gaze was a remnant from his youth in the border wars, now become his instinctive reaction to any threat.

The Viscount was nearing fifty this year.

But as a high-ranking warrior, his title was not merely inherited through family, and with proper upkeep, he still looked no older than forty.

“A bunch of beasts, more cunning than I expected.”

Viscount Iron Thorn sneered coldly.

His eldest son, Edmond, was also beside him.

This young spellcaster stood in the shadows behind his father, his silver-gray mage robe fluttering lightly in the castle’s draft.

He inherited his father’s tall frame, but his skin was not the warrior’s bronze, instead possessing the pale complexion typical of a scholar, with occasional flickers of light in his eyes—a trait shaped by long-term magical study.

Under his light golden short hair, a pair of pale blue eyes sparkled with dangerous curiosity and youthful pride.

“Father, why waste time negotiating with a bunch of monsters?”

Edmond’s voice was filled with disdain and contempt. “Just send the army to crush them directly. Do you think they can stand against your private troops?”

Viscount Iron Thorn narrowed his eyes, scanning the training ground outside.

There, many knights were drilling, the thorn patterns etched on their armor gleaming coldly under the moonlight.

Further away, several alchemical golems stood silently, their towering, burly forms blocking the moonlight, casting dense shadows on the ground.

“Edmond, you must remember—”

The Viscount spoke slowly, “War is not our goal. Do not seek momentary glory.”

“But when dealing with beasts, they must first understand who the master is.”

He turned and pulled out a scroll of parchment from the desk, densely covered with the trade data he had gathered about the Serpentine Earth Rift.

“Behind these monsters is a so-called ‘lord’ who unites savage clans like lizardfolk and ogres, understands trade, restrains and regulates them, and even has anti-reconnaissance awareness.”

His fingertip tapped the parchment. “This means it’s not simple.”

Edmond said, “No matter how smart, they’re still beasts.”

The young spellcaster raised his hand, conjuring a flickering flame in his palm. “Admission to the Sky Academy requires not only wealth but also spell assessment. I need an experience trip; a journey through the wilderness will strengthen my magic.”

Viscount Iron Thorn looked at his son and smiled with satisfaction.

True nobility was not the fools who hid in castles and partied every night, but warriors brave enough to challenge themselves, face danger, and fight.

He was very proud of his eldest son.

“Very well, you will go negotiate. Take the private army with you.”

“If they’re sensible, squeeze all their wealth dry.”

“If not...” The Viscount’s voice grew cold: “Then show them what a civilized iron fist means.”

Edmond gave a standard noble bow with elegance.

“I will make them kneel and offer their treasures, Father.”

His voice barely concealed his excitement as he retreated to prepare for the wilderness journey.

“Bain, accompany Edmond and guard him closely.”

The Viscount whispered.

A gentle breeze swept by, and from the shadow beside him appeared a plainly dressed, rough-skinned middle-aged man weathered by storms.

He was a traditional-style Sanda martial monk.

Generally, monks cared little for personal vanity or wealth.

They believed life itself was a trial against oneself.

No matter how many hardships lay ahead, monks happily gave their all to overcome challenges—not for show, but for self-testing.

Bain was also undergoing this life trial.

Born weak and sickly, his impoverished family abandoned him during a serious illness. Later, the father of Viscount Iron Thorn took him in and sent him to a monastery to study.

Bain did not disappoint.

Though weak at birth, his will was extraordinarily strong. Childhood illnesses forged an iron will. He gradually grew into a powerful monk, loyal to the Iron Thorn family, and later followed the current Viscount.

Master and servant, but having grown up together, they were like brothers.

Though to Viscount Iron Thorn, there were many such ‘brothers.’

“Mm.”

Bain nodded heavily, then his body flashed and disappeared.

At the same time, in the Ser Wilderness, north of Shattered Stone Beach.

Five towering black figures about three meters tall emerged gradually in the rain. Their skin looked like dried mud, covered with cracked patterns, and their deformed long arms hung down to their knees.

Behind them followed about twenty smaller black shadows.

The outpost destroyed in the previous Behemoth Frost attack had been rebuilt, with more and stronger guards stationed.

They had detected the approaching giants early; the giants were nearing territory belonging to the Clan of Molten Iron.

Before long, the garrison assembled and took the initiative to strike, surrounding the numerous monsters.

“Giants from the Permafrost Tundra?”

Garoth looked at Iron Dragon.

“Yes. They call themselves the Steelback Clan, long living in the Permafrost Tundra. But as the war between the White Frost Coalition and Warhowl Clan intensified, their lands were caught in the aftermath and destroyed by the White Frost Coalition.”

“The clan’s sorcerers, uneasy about the future, led the clan to migrate to the Ser Wilderness. Originally about a hundred giants, they gradually dwindled to just over twenty during the journey.”

Sorog explained in detail.

Such matters normally wouldn’t be reported to bother Garoth.

But due to recent Serpentine Earth Rift events, Garoth planned ahead for a fallback. The northern Permafrost Tundra was one option, so he had Iron Dragon report on the tundra.

“What’s the current status of the Steelback Clan giants?”

“Captured, imprisoned at the Shattered Stone Beach camp.”

Before the topic on giants could continue, Garoth and Iron Dragon’s gaze simultaneously stiffened, then they pulled out message stones from their scales.

An urgent message arrived.

Viscount Iron Thorn had sent his eldest son, demanding the Clan of Molten Iron’s lord appear for a formal negotiation.

In a wilderness area near the Serpentine Earth Rift, a half-collapsed ancient stone pavilion had been temporarily cleared for the negotiation site.

Led by Karu, the Clan of Molten Iron’s monsters were already there.

Fully armored ogres, mounted beast riders from various clans, and several sorcerers all stood silently, their eyes repressing dangerous light.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the horizon.

The Thorn Knights appeared first, clad in dark red armor, the Iron Thorn family’s thorn emblem carved on their breastplates. Each wore a snarling wolf head faceplate, and finely crafted alchemical longswords hung at their waists.

Though smaller and less physically imposing than the ogres, their aura was hardly inferior to those warriors.

Then came five alchemical golems.

One was the Dauntless, the other four differing in model, appearance, and size, but all tall and robust steel constructs. Each step they took made the ground tremble.

At the rear was Edmond himself.

He rode a frost giant, the silver-gray mage robe billowing in the wind.

The frost giant’s skin was pale as a corpse, its body emaciated, and its eyes glowed an unnatural blue—clearly not in normal condition, lifeless and dull.

“Seems our ‘beast friends’ value this meeting highly.”

Edmond disdainfully surveyed the ogre formation. “Too bad numbers can’t make up for the gap in civilization.”

Tax Officer Brent wore a flattering, obsequious smile, nodding repeatedly. “Young master is right, young master speaks well.”

Soon after, the young spellcaster, riding the frost giant and escorted by knights and golems, entered the stone pavilion.

The gluttonous ogre Karu, disguised as the lord, sat across the stone table.

He was clad in black iron armor specially made by Samantha, with only two flickering red lights visible through his eye slits, exuding a primal and savage strength.

“Your father doesn’t even have the courage to show up himself?”

Karu growled roughly.

Edmond elegantly flicked the nonexistent dust from his robe hem. “Negotiating with beasts like you doesn’t require my father to personally intervene.”

This man’s words dripped with superiority and pride, far more than the tax officer’s, as if he were a favored child of heaven and the world’s pet.

And indeed, that was true.

Edmond was twenty-four this year. For the first twenty-three years of his life, he played games and indulged in pleasures until a year ago when he suddenly developed an interest in magic and began studying spells.

Starting magic study at twenty-three was very late, and magic was not easy to learn.

Many thought he would give up quickly.

But Edmond displayed astonishing magical talent.

In just one year, starting from zero, he achieved what took ordinary people decades or even centuries, earning him the title of the Iron Thorn family’s rare magical genius in five hundred years.

Those obscure incantations and complicated magical principles were especially simple in Edmond’s eyes.

That year, he was surrounded by countless flowers and praises. He believed whatever he aimed for would succeed and felt he was the child of destiny.

Once he reached Sky Academy with more resources, he was sure to become a legendary spellcaster.

His future was limitless and bright.

He used to be proud of his family.

But soon, the family would be proud of him.

Edmond gestured to the golems behind him to step forward. “Let’s get to business—three thousand gold coins monthly, plus one year’s back taxes.”

“Not a penny less.”

He raised his head, resolute and indisputable.

“What kind of fool are you? Are you dreaming?”

Karu stood up and asked.

“Looks like our negotiation just ended before it began.” Edmond shook his head. “Father was right; beasts will always be beasts. You need to learn who the real master is.”

He stared directly at Karu, eyes piercing.

He intended to ignite war here, starting a battle.

First, to crush these monsters with his fists, then everything else would be easier.

The knights drew their longswords; the golems’ engine roared loudly, overpowering the wind and rain.

The pouring rain, the gluttonous ogre was about to roar in anger but seemed to receive some message and forcibly suppressed it.

It showed anger but was cautious and helpless, finally bowing its head in humiliation.

“Humans, you have won.”

“We will pay the taxes. Within seven days, the full amount will be delivered to your base.”

If you’re still alive then... Karu added silently in his mind.

Neither side fought and retreated separately in the rain.

Meanwhile, in Needleleaf Valley.

“Why are you forcing me?”

“I clearly only want a peaceful life.”

Garoth stretched his wings, his imposing figure standing taller inch by inch, soaked by the wind and rain.

He realized these humans never intended to negotiate properly; their demands, Garoth could not meet.

If that was the case, then no negotiation.