Chapter 391: Ten Years Later, The Sleeping Champion Dragon

A rolling heat wave surged and boiled off the red iron dragon’s massive body, warping the air around him with waves of scorching distortion.

High temperatures and cold air collided violently, producing faint sizzling sounds as dense white steam billowed up, shrouding his colossal form in haze, making him appear both imposing and perilous.

Garoth had just finished a long, grueling training session.

His heavy breaths eased, the flaming-red scales gradually returned to their usual state, and the intense heat around him slowly subsided as the steam dispersed.

Crack! Crack!

He gave his body a light shake. With a series of crisp, concentrated noises, the frostburst scales covering his surface split along countless tiny fissures, shattering into a carpet of fragments and revealing the black-red war-scarred scales beneath.

“Frostburst scales are gradually falling behind my current training intensity,” Garoth assessed as he glanced down at the scattered shards.

Not to mention the Crimson Lotus Form or the Bloodburst State, even the ordinary Frenzied State, if maintained long enough, generated enough heat to overwhelm this outer layer and cause gradual collapse.

Right now, the only real function these scales served for Garoth was to absorb and convert thermal energy, acting as a key to activate Crimson Lotus Form.

Beyond that, the defensive bonus they provided had become negligible.

And Garoth sensed something increasingly obvious.

With his daily brutal training, the frostburst scales had been undergoing cycles of destruction and regeneration.

Yet they were not becoming tougher; if anything, in each collapse their structure appeared to be getting more fragile, and the regeneration cycles were quietly lengthening.

By contrast, the deeper foundational scales underneath were growing steadily harder and even gaining toughness.

Beneath his scales he often felt faint tickling sensations, like something growing and reshaping itself.

Garoth understood exactly what this meant.

Although not always obvious, his body was constantly adapting to external and environmental influences, evolving slowly but steadily.

Scales that frequently endured attacks would naturally be a top priority for adaptive improvement.

This outer layer, no longer well-suited to his current power level, was being instinctively remodeled by his body toward a form more appropriate for his future path.

“Young-phase slumber—when the time comes, it hinges on the evolution of blood,” he thought.

“Still, I’ve never stopped targeted training on scale defense and wing mobility. Perhaps those will also undergo the necessary adaptive evolution.”

Garoth stretched his wings, carefully sensing every inch of his body for subtle change.

At that moment, a gust of wind whipped snow and ice toward them.

Nasha, resplendent and sharp, her golden scales glittering, landed a short distance in front of the red iron dragon.

She had planned to invite Garoth to another round of combat training, but before she could speak, her gaze was arrested by the still-warm, imposing bulk of the dragon just finished with his workout.

The black-red scales marked by battle-hardened patterns, under the daylight, looked like the hardest steel.

Every muscle line spoke of explosive power.

Instinctively, Nasha raised a foreclaw covered in gold scales and placed it against Garoth’s broad, hardened chest.

It felt warm, the scales solid, like touching a sleeping, living volcano.

“Hm?”

Garoth snapped back from his self-assessment and looked at the golden dragon who had made that move. Under his gaze, Nasha seemed as if struck by a bolt of electricity and quickly withdrew her claw.

Her face flushed; fortunately, her golden scales hid the blush.

“My training was a bit intense recently, my claws aren’t quite obeying me. I don’t know what happened, they just reached out on their own,” she blurted, offering a clumsy excuse and sounding embarrassed, while inwardly scolding herself.

Nasha, Nasha, what are you thinking? Why did your claws act on their own? Even if you had the urge, you can’t just act on it! What if they think I’m a flirtatious gold dragon?

Garoth inspected the nervous golden dragon with a faintly amused look but didn’t dwell on it. He said slowly, “If your body control is giving you trouble, take more time to rest.

“For a Battle Dragon, failing to perfectly control one’s body is a major taboo.”

Hearing this, Nasha breathed a huge sigh of relief and nodded like a pecking chick, “You’re right, I’ll be careful.”

Garoth didn’t linger on the awkward incident. He asked, “What did you come to see me about?”

Because of the earlier embarrassing mishap, Nasha gave up on sparring and changed the subject. “I wanted to ask if you’re interested in taking a tour of the Metal Dragon domains?”

Garoth didn’t answer immediately; his eyes revealed thoughtfulness.

On planet Bernardo, there were five major Metal Dragon domains, each protected by its own Metal Dragon King.

For example, the Raging Tides Dragon Domain, where brass-silver dragon Deborah’s family lives, is overseen by the Bronze Dragon King; the Vophal Domain, home to Gold Dragon Alberto and Nasha, is under the rule of a Silver Dragon King.

Garoth had never set foot in any Metal Dragon domain.

His dragon legacy records about the domains were sparse and vague.

After all, his ancestors had mostly been notorious evil dragons—there had been little friendly contact with the Metal Dragon domains.

Still, to be honest, he felt some curiosity about them.

Seeing that he didn’t immediately refuse, Nasha grew more enthusiastic and explained, “To sharpen young giants’ competitive spirit and initiative, the major domains periodically hold joint competitive tournaments.

“As long as a giant dragon has not yet entered the prime phase and has not gone through the adult slumber, they are eligible to participate.

“In the end, outstanding young giants from the five domains compete to pick the five strongest. They’ll be crowned Domain Rising Stars and receive generous rewards from the domains.

“Those five rising stars then face each other in a final, pinnacle showdown under countless eyes, to battle for the single championship title!

“The champion dragon’s reward is unimaginably generous!

“Rumor even says they might win the favor and blessing of the Dragon God’s will.”

Nasha’s intent was obvious as she spoke—she wanted to coax Garoth into joining the Metal Domain competition.

She looked at the powerful red iron dragon before her and urged, her tone provocative, “Garoth, do you want to give it a try? With your strength, you might outclass all the Metal Dragon prodigies and become the ultimate champion dragon!”

Part of her wanted to enjoy the spectacle.

Nasha thought the dragons shaken by the young red iron dragon should not be limited to herself. The proud young Metal Dragons of the other domains should also get to see this monster’s prowess.

Besides, she was curious to see the expressions on their faces if Garoth swept through the competition and crushed the young generation of all five domains.

“Can an evil dragon enter competitions hosted by the Metal Dragons?” Garoth asked, raising a crucial question.

“There’s no explicit ban in the rules,” Nasha replied. “In fact, many Metal Dragons have a habit of adopting and teaching chromatic dragon hatchlings. There are even a few chromatic dragons within the domains who choose a lawful path.

“I can bring my parents to vouch for you, to guarantee you can enter from the Vophal Domain.”

At that moment, a silver-and-warm-honey figure beat its wings gracefully and descended beside them.

It was brass-silver dragon Deborah.

Having caught part of the exchange, she interjected, “Vophal Domain? Not good, not good.”

She turned to Garoth and said, “If you want to experience a domain, you can start from our Raging Tides Domain. I’ll take you back there; it’s my hometown.

“Besides the parents you’ve already met, I have some elders who will welcome you.”

Nasha looked at Deborah with some surprise and reminded her, “Deborah, I heard there’s a fierce figure in your Raging Tides Domain known as the Wrath of Justice.

“One of the Bronze Dragon King’s offspring, Siano Sheffield.

“He’s infamous for his extreme stance against evil dragons, has killed many chromatic dragons, and even forced some chromatics who had lived peacefully in the domain for years to leave.”

She spoke cautiously, “If Garoth goes, can that Wrath of Justice suppress his urge to kill?”

Deborah hesitated, recalling, “I know the Bronze Dragon you mentioned.

“When I was young, my father solemnly warned me to avoid that elder, but he never explained the specifics.”

Nasha said with certainty, “Ask around and you’ll learn more. The Wrath of Justice’s reputation spreads widely across the domains, especially among chromatic dragon circles.”

Deborah turned away a little disheartened by the gravity of it. She looked at Garoth and said helplessly, “If that’s the case, for safety reasons it might be better for you to enter from Vophal. Raging Tides could bring unnecessary trouble.”

Garoth quietly stored the names “Siano Sheffield” and “Wrath of Justice” in his memory.

He shook his head slightly, then, with a hint of resignation, addressed the two female dragons who had already assumed he intended to compete: “Ladies, you both seem convinced I’m eager to join this contest?”

The brass-silver dragon flicked her long silver tail and showed a peculiar expression. “Don’t you want to go?”

She said as if it were obvious, “To smash through the five domains’ young generation with a single dragon’s might and claim glory under the world’s gaze—that sounds like exactly the sort of thing you’d enjoy, doesn’t it?”

My vanity so strong? How would I not know?

Garoth composed himself and explained, “I admit I’m curious about the Metal Dragon domains.

“But they are not my territory, and to be honest, I don’t have much interest in arena-style fights.”

He was speaking honestly.

Having faced life-and-death battles with the Red Dragon Father, the Blue Dragon leader, and many other strong foes, Garoth’s ambitions had surpassed point-by-point competitive clashes.

If he wanted a real fight, suitable opponents were available without traveling to domain tournaments; the time and energy would be better spent raising his own power.

Moreover, in the domains there may be Metal Dragons like the Wrath of Justice who judge right and wrong based purely on bloodline. If a powerful, influential legendary Metal Dragon also held such extreme views and was politically shrewd, seeing an “evil dragon” flaunting dominance over the young generation could make him view Garoth as a threat needing elimination.

The consequences would be unthinkable.

“Really zero interest?” Nasha persisted, still trying to tempt him. “You might not know this, but almost every champion dragon historically has managed to breach the legendary barrier in a very short time.

“The domains’ champion rewards are so lavish that even many legendary giants envy them.

“They include rare treasures that can trigger explosive growth in a dragon’s development.”

At the phrases “rapidly break through legendary,” “legendary dragons envious,” and “explosive growth,” Garoth’s eyes involuntarily flickered.

He genuinely lacked interest in the domain contest itself.

But then again… those rewards…

The red iron dragon shook his huge head hard to fling away the temptation and calm his thoughts.

“Maybe later.

“At least for now, I have no plans to head to the domains, and I will not let uncertain external prizes sway my decision.”

He paused slightly, then asked, “From what you described, those past champion dragons were not already legends, right?”

The brass-silver dragon answered quickly, “Of course not! The rules clearly state that any dragon who has already undergone adult slumber, no matter how strong, is ineligible.

“If someone had become legendary without adult slumber… what’s the point of competing?

“We’d just hand them the title and the prizes. Such monsters are one-in-a-thousand-years.”

Garoth agreed inwardly.

Becoming legendary before adult slumber was extraordinarily rare—each case a top-tier genius recorded in dragon history.

Even confident as he was, despite massive talent and relentless training, he wouldn’t claim absolute certainty of achieving that.

Yet deep down, he felt he might have some chance.

As their conversation continued, Nasha and Deborah traded anecdotes about their home domains, the mood relaxing and friendly.

After sufficient rest, Garoth dove back into training.

Scale defense, wing maneuverability, and the potential latent in his blood—these were his three main focuses, the areas he hoped would yield critical evolution during his young-phase slumber.

He also never relaxed his regimen for combating and adapting to frenzied flame.

Often during intense training he would let his anger indicators build to a certain point but would not resolve them through destructive fights. Instead, he would force himself to think complexly in that restless, inflamed state, honing the skill of staying calm within fury.

So time passed smoothly amid the howling winds and drifting snow of the convergence lands.

By now, three full years had passed since Garoth woke from his last slumber.

In only three years, he had led the Molten Iron Tribe to seize the northwestern and central regions of the wilderness, forging his own dominion.

Now the Molten Iron Tribe’s rule in the wilderness was ever more entrenched and orderly.

The other two regional kings, the Mountain King and the Fungus King, adopted similar strategies—no expansionist impulses, instead racing to convert their controlled resources into real military power and foundations.

The war of regional kings that swept the Ser Wilderness had already ended.

Now it was the harvest time, when all sides digested their spoils and rebuilt strength.

Then, in the year 278 of the new calendar, Blue Dragon Heriam lived up to expectations, leading a carefully assembled expeditionary legion north into the harsh Permafrost Tundra to open a rear area for the Molten Iron Tribe.

During those steadier days, time seemed to fly.

Meanwhile, wars among the southern nations reached unprecedented intensity.

At the beginning of the year 279, King O’Brien himself donned armor and, with legendary guards awakened from the kingdom’s heartlands, led the campaign in person!

A gaunt lion could still be a lion. The Lothrian Kingdom’s reserves were deep, and when the legendary guards appeared, their crushing strength was immediately apparent.

Even the opposing coalition pulling out its best assets could not stem the tide of kingly will and ancient power, and they were pushed back.

Over the next six years, the royalist forces surged forward with frequent victories.

King O’Brien seemed like a reborn Holy King; under his wise command and by leading from the front, the allied forces recovered all previously lost strategic positions and struck toward the enemy heartland.

However, the war’s turning point came in the year 285.

A battle erupted over control of the strategic waterway, the Becton River.

The Kingdom of Rybos deployed an unprecedented number of war machines.

Rybos deployed unprecedented war machines in that battle.

They fielded alchemical cannons capable of wounding legendary combatants, top-tier golems that could stand toe-to-toe with legends, and a host of bizarre, terrifyingly powerful new weapons.

Facing this sudden spike in enemy capabilities, the Lothrian coalition was caught off guard and suffered the heaviest losses since the war began.

King O’Brien himself was gravely wounded and trapped by several enemy legends and war golems.

Only through the legendary guards’ desperate sacrifices and cover did they manage to extract the king to safety and avert death.

The Becton River battle was the war’s turning point.

In the following four years, led by the Rybos Kingdom and backed by relentless new weapons, the opposing alliance slowly but steadily reversed the tide.

They reclaimed occupied strategic sites and began a deliberate, unstoppable advance toward the core territories of Lothrian.

By the year 289, Lothrian’s defeat was plain to see; its lines continued to shrink. Although resistance remained fierce, the situation was clearly dire.

Also in that year, the seventy-year-old Lord of Molten Iron, after a decade of relentless, obsessive training and massive resource intake, reached the limits of his body and mind and entered his young-phase slumber earlier than usual.

Typically, young dragons naturally enter slumber around eighty years old.

Time flew—ten years passed in a blink.

In the deep caverns of the convergence lands, the red iron dragon raised his magnificent head and gazed into the drifting snow.

During these ten steadier years, aside from daily training and handling tribal affairs, no great wars like the three years of conquest had occurred.

Thus time seemed to pass particularly quickly.

Scenes from ten years ago—leading the tribe into battle, fighting bloodily against powerful enemies—still remained vivid in his mind.

“The Mountain King and Fungus King’s forces have stabilized and become more active; the southern war in Lothrian is nearing its end.

“Now might not be the perfect time for slumber, but time waits for no one. I must adapt and seize the moment. Slumber and becoming stronger are the priorities now,” Garoth thought.

Soon he arranged the tribe’s affairs.

He entrusted allied leaders and Metal Dragon friends to watch over matters, delegated clear strategies to subordinate dragons and local lords, and finalized plans.

Once things were in reasonable order,

the Lord of Molten Iron swallowed his stash of black oil crystals, various rare gems, and large quantities of magical precious metals, then entered the pre-prepared resting place to begin his early slumber.