novelraw Chapter 336: Gold Dragon: Don’t Let Me Encounter Gorthax’s Descendants, Or Else......
Chapter 336: Gold Dragon: Don’t Let Me Encounter Gorthax’s Descendants, Or Else......
The conversation carried out within the mindscape gradually drew to a close.
Not long after, Garoth’s consciousness withdrew from the formless network and refocused on the physical world.
He raised his head and glanced at the sky above Needleleaf Valley.
It was afternoon; the clear heavens were cloudless for miles, the sunlight fierce yet not harsh, carrying a lazy warmth.
Golden beams sometimes condensed into pillars of holy light that pierced straight through the layered needle-leaf canopy into the forest; at other times they were chopped and scattered by the swaying branches stirred by the mountain wind, turning into countless twinkling patches of light that danced across clearings.
They fell onto the broad back of the red-iron dragon, as if gilding his scales with a shining gold leaf.
The battle-worn impression left by Crimson Lotus Form was temporarily concealed.
Garoth slowly closed his heavy eyelids, shutting out the light and shadow of the outside world.
He was resting, and he was recalibrating.
He was conserving strength for the war that was about to come.Back when the tribe had been forced into a strategic relocation, because they lacked a way to move the Geosymbiotic Pool, Iron Dragon Sorog and red dragon Samantha had both strongly recommended destroying it completely.
If they couldn’t take it with them, they mustn’t leave it for future enemies.
But Garoth refused.
Network error, refreshing, retrying.
In his view, a temporary strategic concession was not a permanent retreat but a means to accumulate the power needed to rip through all obstacles.
Leaving was a choice made so he could return stronger.
From the day he chose to withdraw, he had resolved that one day he would lead a far more powerful Molten Iron Tribe back to this land, reclaim what belonged to him.
And now, he had returned.
He brought back a Molten Iron Tribe stronger than ever; he had successfully recaptured the Serpentine Earth Rift territory and made his nemesis, the Albert family, pay a painful price.
The Geosymbiotic Pool they had left for the enemy, along with the Tempering Heights, would soon be brought back under his control by his own hand.
Huff—huff!
Garoth’s short rest did not last long.
Before the sun had set behind the western ridge and while the sky was still bright, a sudden fierce mountain wind howled into Needleleaf Valley, whipping up fallen leaves and dust, producing a shrill roar that shattered the forest’s quiet.
Garoth lifted his heavy eyelids and looked toward the distant horizon.
In his sight, a brilliant golden streak was tearing through layer upon layer of clouds at astonishing speed, barreling toward Needleleaf Valley.
The streak drew nearer, its form sharpening—agile, robust, covered in scales that gleamed like they had been forged in the burning sun.
It was Gold Dragon Alberto.
He folded his wings and descended before Garoth, habitually lifting his neck in a manner that exuded an air of dignity, full of power and sanctity.
But his next words shattered that feel.
“Here, count this payment and take good care of it.”
“I, Alberto, always keep my word. Although I cannot repay all the debt in one go, I will never be a shameless dodger.”
Alberto tried to adopt a carefree, nonchalant manner and pushed a metal box that looked heavy with his claw.
Only—
If one observed closely, they would notice his facial muscles slightly stiffened, his gaze flickering; he was clearly locked in some intense internal struggle.
Garoth pried open the lid with his claw and gave it a wary look.
Inside were rough ore chunks of various magic gems.
Uncut and unpolished, their edges jagged and still speckled with dirt, yet the pure magical radiance they contained and the naturally formed splendid colors silently proclaimed their high value.
These were plainly freshly mined from the wilderness and had not yet undergone refinement.
Under Alberto’s almost unmasked, slightly twitching stare, Garoth expressionlessly closed the box, hooked it with his talon, and held the weight in his grip.
He was silent for two seconds and said, “Alberto, I know your pace. Next time, just land directly. There’s really no need to manufacture that ‘before the dragon arrives, the wind comes’ atmosphere.”
“Fussing about in some spot flapping your wings stiffly to make a storm—seems like unnecessary trouble.”
Alberto, whose prior maneuver had been called out, abruptly paused in his breath; his lofty neck seemed to lower an inch.
But the gold dragon recovered quickly.
He straightened his spine and returned to an aristocratic, composed expression.
“I don’t know what you mean—that was just the airflow naturally generated by my flight.”
Garoth slightly shook his massive head, not interested in debating such a minor matter.
In his perception, gold dragons should be paragons of dignity, nobility, and proper conduct; his first impression of Alberto had matched that.
However, as their acquaintance lengthened, that radiant filter around the gold dragon had long since been mostly shattered.
At the same time,
Alberto’s gaze caught on the fine cracks scattered across Garoth’s dragon scales.
The Saint-Dragon’s keen sensitivity to evil and abnormal states made him detect the curse-like aura clinging to him like a malignant tumor.
Garoth’s obvious weakness and wavering breath confirmed Alberto’s judgment.
“You seem to have fallen under a rather troublesome curse?”
He stepped half a pace forward to scrutinize Garoth and said, “If you’re willing to forgive part of the debt, in exchange I can help remove this irritating curse for you.”
“Uh… wait, the root of this curse is quite stubborn, like a powerful evil’s death-throes striking back. It might be hard to remove completely in one go.”
“But with my power, I can at least greatly weaken its effect.”
“We can do it slowly, in several treatments, and eventually rid you of it. You can trust the Saint-Dragon’s talent for purifying evil.”
As a symbol of order and justice, the Saint-Dragon indeed had innate advantages in purifying curses and striking evil.
Garoth’s reply was simple and direct: “No need.”
Feeling the weak, unstable breath of the red-iron dragon, Alberto was filled with puzzlement; he had the odd impression that Garoth did not reject the curse but even treated it somewhat like a valuable thing.
“Could it be that the curse is so violent it has affected his mind, making him incapable of correct judgment?”
“Maybe I should start by purifying part of it to restore his clarity, and then negotiate a discount on the remaining treatment costs.”
Thinking so, Alberto raised a foreclaw and began to gather sanctified energy at the tip of his claw.
He intended to cast a small, head-focused purification onto Garoth.
At that moment, his gaze suddenly met Garoth’s deep eyes.
“What are you trying to do?”
Garoth asked.
Hearing that calm question, Alberto jolted and his internal alarm bells clanged.
He had an overwhelming intuition that if he cast that purification on Garoth now, no matter his original intent, his own outcome could turn very ugly.
So, after a single second of thought, he kept his claw raised but dispersed the purification energy, scratching at the base of his proud dragon horn.
“Nothing, I just flew for a long time and my horn was itchy—just a scratch,” Alberto said naturally.
Garoth scanned the gold dragon up and down, seeing through his thoughts but not calling them out.
He said, “I keep this curse for a reason, though I am indeed in a very weak state because of it and the intense training I just finished.”
Before he finished speaking, Alberto shook his head frantically like a rattle drum.
“Stop! I’m here today solely to repay part of the debt—my purpose is pure. I absolutely have no interest in using this as an excuse to challenge you, not even a little!”
He truly sensed Garoth’s frailty.
If this were the old days and given his competitive nature, he might have been impulsive and proposed a challenge.
But Alberto had already decided he would endure until his next slumber and power-up before trying to prove himself.
Until then, no matter how tempting Garoth’s state looked, he would not bite.
Besides, he subtly felt that
even if Garoth appeared weak, there was likely some terrifying, extremely powerful trump card buried within him.
A rash attack could end unpredictably.
Seeing his attempt to provoke fail, Garoth smoothly shifted the topic and asked, “Where did you get these gem ores? With the meager output of your domain, it’s not enough to support this quantity and quality.”
At the mention of gem sources, Alberto’s spirit instantly brightened!
He lifted his chin again, resuming that noble, dignified posture; his golden pupils flashed with cunning.
“Don’t forget my identity—I am a gold dragon admired by countless sentient beings!”
“All I need do is elegantly display myself above those human outposts; naturally people will scramble to offer gifts just for a blessing or a symbolic guarantee of protection.”
It turned out that his previous odd job in Garoth’s Ximu Domain had given Alberto an insight.
After several cautious trials, he discovered a virtually costless, hugely profitable way to make wealth.
For human states that maintained order, a gold dragon willing to show a friendly posture was a symbol of auspice and power that greatly boosted morale and public confidence.
On that premise,
Alberto began to selectively visit human principalities on the edge of the Ser Wilderness, even border strongholds of kingdoms.
He would circle over the guards’ watchful posts or land conspicuously and deliver lofty blessings like “May the light of order protect this place” or “Evil shall be driven away,” reassuring the garrison.
It was almost a zero-cost trade—
just show your face and say a few pretty words.
Moreover, with the wilderness growing more chaotic and evil creatures increasingly rampant, Alberto frequently fulfilled the gold dragon duty of punishing evil—destroying lairs and driving off vicious monsters—which not only earned him renown but also allowed him to seize ill-gotten gains from enemy nests.
With both approaches combined, his accumulation of wealth finally began to increase steadily.
“At this rate, it won’t be long before I can completely repay all I owe you.”
Gold Dragon Alberto said with no small pride—though exactly what there was to be proud of he wasn’t sure—his tone nonetheless smug.
Garoth neither confirmed nor denied and only nodded slightly, a small encouragement.
Paying off his debt would not be so simple.
After a brief thought, the red-iron dragon steered the conversation to a more serious matter: “Alberto, do you remember the red dragon Gorthax you mentioned before?”
“Of course I remember!” Alberto’s tone instantly turned grave.
“Gorthax—this fellow’s name is notorious, his arrogance extreme. He’s committed countless atrocities in the wilderness: burning outposts, plundering towns, slaughtering every living thing. He’s pure chaotic evil!”
“A dragon like that, utterly beyond redemption, must be eradicated!”
“If he’s allowed to live and breed, he will spawn more offspring born twisted by chaos, bringing further destruction and suffering to this already chaotic land!”
Alberto grew more impassioned, slamming a golden claw heavily on the ground.
“At his age, he has probably already ruined places and fathered malicious progeny!”
“Those who carry Gorthax’s blood will surely be seeds of disorder and must be cleansed.”
“If I ever meet Gorthax’s descendants—hmph! I will strike with overwhelming force and unrelenting brutality! I will eradicate them and remove the future threat from this world!”
Hearing those words, Garoth fell silent for several seconds.
That silence made Alberto’s rousing denunciation come across as oddly abrupt.
Finally, Garoth slowly spoke: “Alberto, there’s something I think it’s time I told you.”
Under the gold dragon’s puzzled gaze, Garoth lifted his head—his features bearing the resemblance of a red dragon—and looked straight into Alberto’s eyes, saying, “The Gorthax you say must be eradicated—that Gorthax is my biological father.”
Across from him, Alberto’s expression froze instantly.
Two or three full seconds passed before he came back to himself; his dragon eyes widened in disbelief as he scanned Garoth back and forth. Though he did not immediately reveal overt hostility or alertness, the shock and bewilderment seemed about to overflow.
His gaze finally settled on Garoth’s distinctly red-dragon features, as if seeing their meaning for the first time.
The air seemed to thicken.
Facing the speechless, nearly stunned gold dragon, Garoth inclined his body slightly forward and asked, “So, didn’t you say you would eradicate all of Gorthax’s descendants? Come on—he’s standing right in front of you, within a span.”
“And as you can see, he’s in poor condition, very weak—perhaps this is your best chance.”
“Kill him and you will gain excellent renown.”
Alberto: ...
At these words, the gold dragon went silent for several seconds.
Finally, he let out an awkward laugh: “Ha, haha! Those earlier words were just a little joke to lighten the atmosphere—don’t take them too seriously.”
“I, Alberto, as a discerning Saint-Dragon, would never judge a dragon’s good or evil solely by bloodline!”
His gaze turned resolute toward the red-iron dragon: “Garoth, you have undoubtedly demonstrated by your will and actions that you stand on the side of order. You are an ally who can fight alongside gold dragons.”
“I firmly believe that. Bloodline cannot define your soul.”
Having quickly clarified his stance, the gold dragon switched topics and asked, “But... why did you suddenly tell me about your ancestry and deliberately mention Gorthax?”
Garoth’s expression returned to calm.
He said, “Because between us, there is almost no possibility of coexisting under the same sky.”
Gold Dragon Alberto considered this and nodded his massive head as if in thought: “I almost forgot—among your Five-colored Dragons, especially between red dragons and their offspring, father-son relationships are extraordinarily unusual... memories of inheritance tell me they are often filled with betrayal, devouring, and naked struggles for power, with no affection to be found.”
Then Garoth explained the general situation.
He spoke of Gorthax’s danger, the enormous uncontrollable risk he posed, and the Ignas Dragon Cluster’s decision... After saying these things, he formally extended an invitation to Alberto.
“So, Alberto, I need your strength.”
“For a better future, and to eliminate a great scourge of the wilderness, join me in encircling and wiping out Gorthax!”
“Encircle and wipe out the Madfire Bloodflame? Excellent.”
Alberto showed no hesitation; his eyes ignited with eager combativeness.
“Be sure to bring me along. It is my duty as Alberto to uproot such evil and maintain order in the wilderness.”
Publicly and privately, he had no reason to refuse.
To take part in the hunt for such a notoriously chaotic dragon excited Alberto greatly.
After discussing possible activity areas for Gorthax, power estimates, and a preliminary encirclement plan, Gold Dragon Alberto bid Garoth farewell. He spread his wings, rose, and became a golden streak that vanished into the horizon.
Garoth closed his eyes again and resumed his repose, conserving strength and bringing his condition back to its peak.
Time passed, day by day.
Under Iron Dragon Sorog’s efficient and meticulous command, the Molten Iron Tribe’s legions awakened like slumbering beasts and began vigorous mobilization.
All the vassal families readied arms and equipment; a grim, rousing martial spirit spread across the Ximu Domain and its various strongholds.
About five days later.
When the first ray of sunlight pierced the clouds and struck the ground, fully armed legions, like unsheathed blades, surged out of their camps in mighty formations.
Their destination was the Tempering Heights.
This homeland of the Molten Iron Tribe was about to be reclaimed by its master amid a dance of iron and blood.