Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Chapter 159: A Glimmer of Hope, The Iron Dragon's Growth

The night was deep, with gusts of cold wind sweeping across the low hills where gray magnetite deposits lay.

Looking at the red iron dragon standing at the center of the centaur encirclement, Sorog felt his scales tighten slightly, as if pressed by some invisible force.

Not dragon might.

But rather some intangible, profound aura of authority that iron dragons longed for yet lacked.

He folded his wings and landed on the ground just ten meters away from Garoth, saying, "You arrived faster than I expected."

Garoth's gaze swept over the centaurs as he replied, "Dealing with them didn't require waiting overnight."

"These despicable creatures actually deceived me."

The iron dragon was visibly irritated.

Similar events had actually happened to Garoth before. When he first subjugated the gnolls at Howling Cliff, they had initially pretended to submit before attempting to ambush him.

But Garoth had seen through their scheme.Before the gnolls could attack, he demonstrated his power and changed their intentions.

The primary reason Sorog had been fooled was his relative weakness. Had he been as strong as Garoth, these centaurs wouldn't have feigned submission - they would have offered genuine loyalty.

There was also the matter of draconic pride at play.

Had it been Garoth...

Facing creatures of higher life levels suddenly offering allegiance, he would have maintained extreme vigilance, conducting repeated tests rather than falling for such simple tricks.

"Sorog, you excel at territory and vassal management."

The red iron dragon commented leisurely, "But you lack cunning and vigilance. You need to recognize this."

He didn't blame Sorog - after all, he was still a Young Dragon. Occasional mistakes were normal. Even with Garoth's caution, dangers were unavoidable and not everything went smoothly, let alone for other young dragons.

The key was whether one could learn from mistakes and grow, rather than remaining stagnant.

The young iron dragon had actually shown some growth this time - he hadn't become obsessed with battle or let the illusion of advantage cloud his judgment.

Sorog nodded without refuting his brother's words.

In a grave tone, he said, "I'll find a way to awaken spiritual energy soon and become a Mind Sorcerer. The keen insight into minds can compensate for my shortcomings here."

After a pause, the iron dragon asked, "These centaurs - their clan likely has more warriors. How do you plan to handle them?"

Garoth's draconic face showed little expression as he replied, "Simple - submit or perish. I'll give them the choice."

The borderlands were primarily flat plains.

Centaurs were natural cavalry whose charging momentum across open terrain shouldn't be underestimated. In large-scale frontal clashes, they could perform no worse than ogres, with even better overall capabilities.

They were worth recruiting as vassals.

But if they refused to recognize their situation, Garoth wouldn't force it. Instead, he would thoroughly exterminate the offending clan, leaving no roots behind.

The red iron dragon's simple yet dangerous words made all the centaurs simultaneously lower their postures further.

At that moment.

The two centaur leaders Garoth had severely wounded struggled to stand.

Garoth hadn't delivered killing blows earlier, sparing their lives.

The iron dragon looked coldly at the two centaurs who had ambushed him and left numerous wounds on his body. He stepped forward unhurriedly, baring his teeth as he asked, "Stupid, lowly creatures - does this outcome meet your expectations? Are you satisfied?"

Ironhoof and Silvermane looked pale, their auras weak.

Only after being effortlessly crushed by Garoth did they realize their grave mistake.

The iron dragon wasn't alone - behind him stood dragons so powerful they couldn't possibly resist.

Had they known, they would never have dared offend. But who could imagine evil dragons forming groups?

In centaur knowledge and experience, evil dragons like the iron dragon were always solitary - there were no records of them coexisting.

"Warriors of the White Mane Clan, rise!"

Ironhoof stood up as if with a final burst of energy, roaring.

"The glory of centaurs lies in battle! Life through death!"

With a great shout, he lifted a broken spear and charged at the iron dragon, leading the way.

The kneeling centaurs showed some unrest, wanting to follow the charge.

Thud!

Unexpectedly, before the dragons could act, Silvermane hurled his greatsword, piercing Ironhoof's chest and halting his charge, making the restless centaurs fall silent again.

"You?!"

Ironhoof collapsed, coughing blood in his death throes, eyes wide with hatred and confusion at his former companion and rival.

"Fool, you'll get us all killed. Only by surviving can we preserve glory."

Silvermane sighed and spoke softly.

Ironhoof didn't respond - his pupils had already dilated completely. Having already suffered severe injuries from Garoth's claw strike, the greatsword through his chest ended him immediately.

Garoth and Sorog watched the centaur infighting quietly.

Then Silvermane panted heavily, enduring immense pain as he knelt.

He understood there was still a sliver of hope.

"Noble Iron King, great... Lord of Crimson Wings."

Forcing a humble, ingratiating smile, he lowered his head and said, "I was blind to the truth and committed foolish acts. I beg your forgiveness and am willing to pay any price."

Garoth remained silent, simply watching him.

Silvermane endured the pain, smashing his forehead heavily against sharp metal fragments, ignoring the blood streaming down his brow.

"Our White Mane Clan has lived in the borderlands for generations, migrating across different regions. We know every water source, every mineral vein, and how to survive in these lands."

His voice trembled with pain as he maintained the most respectful tone.

"You see, our powerful forelegs can crush giant wolf skulls, our charges are unstoppable. Our eyes are sharp as eagles - our archers can hit birds hundreds, even thousands of meters away. If you would show mercy..."

With difficulty, Silvermane raised his mangled, spike-pierced arm to point at the kneeling warriors.

"These elite warriors will become your sharpest spears."

After a pause, he finally said reverently, "I wish to offer—"

The iron dragon interrupted: "Loyalty?"

"Foolish centaur, in my eyes, you've lost all credibility."

Silvermane fell silent, then gritted his teeth and said, "I made the wrong choice. I'll atone with my life - only spare the other warriors."

The iron dragon first looked at Garoth.

Garoth's expression remained unchanged as he said indifferently, "They wounded you. Their fates are yours to decide."

Silvermane's face turned ashen.

The iron dragon approached Silvermane, his body casting a moon-shadow over the centaur.

With a cruel draconic grin, he said, "Centaurs, as you said - atone with your life. After your death, I won't trouble the others."

Silvermane was silent for several seconds before forcing a smile.

"Thank you for your mercy."

He picked up a broken spear from the ground, hesitated briefly, took a deep breath, then clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, and thrust it toward his own heart.

The spear tip pierced skin and flesh.

But it stopped abruptly before reaching his heart.

The iron dragon extended a hooked claw, grasping the broken spear.

Feeling the iron dragon's intervention, the centaur opened his eyes in shock.

The iron dragon said coldly, "Your life now belongs to the Clan of Molten Iron, to us brothers Ignas."