Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Chapter 390: Expanding Territory, Retreat from the Icefield

"Fifty units of black oil crystals for me?"

When Garoth's message arrived through the bloodline connection, Garoth felt a jolt of surprise. His thick tail slapped the ground, leaving deep furrows, his heart unsettled.

Still, he quickly drew in several icy breaths to suppress the surging emotions.

"Tell her I don't need that payment for now."

He replied through the bloodline connection.

The reason was clear. The Rybos main faction's strongholds in the wilderness now mostly lay within the spheres of influence of other regional kings. Continuing to attack those strongholds would inevitably bring direct conflict with the Mountain King or the Fungus King.

That conflicted with his current strategy of steady development.

The profits might be enormous, but the potential risks were high.

Garoth was not prepared to change his developmental strategy for that.

On the other end, Iron Dragon Gordon seemed to have expected this and immediately said, "I guessed you might say that.""However, Garoth, Elina emphasized that this is not a transaction, nor is it a payment."

"She made it clear this is a free gift. We don't need to do anything in return, it will be given to us directly."

A gift?

The red iron dragon fell into brief contemplation.

A gift that required no immediate return—its meaning was self-evident. And though called free, there was always an implicit price behind such things; caution was required.

After some thought, he decided to accept the goodwill.

"I understand. Convey my thanks for her gift."

Garoth told Gordon.

He knew well that the war among the southern nations was a protracted struggle with no quick end in sight.

Even if the Lothrian Kingdom ultimately failed to win, with its deep foundations it would not simply vanish; at worst it would suffer depleted national strength and declining status. In any case, it remained a vast kingdom that had stood for a thousand years.

Maintaining a good relationship with such a potential powerful ally was, at this stage, more beneficial than harmful.

"One more thing, Garoth."

Gordon's tone turned unusually serious.

He relayed, word for word, everything King O'Brien of Lothrian had said when he personally visited the training grounds.

After listening to Gordon's account, Garoth's expression grew solemn and focused.

But he did not show signs of panic or anxiety.

That the Crystal Princess and the dragon cluster's dealings were known to the monarch did not surprise him.

In the royal court, few things could truly be hidden from that iron-blooded king's sight.

As for the king's seemingly friendly greeting, its subtext was more of a benevolent reminder, or an invisible boundary: he permitted such cooperation, but hoped the dragons would maintain proper limits and avoid harming Lothrian's interests.

Beyond that, the king's attitude itself conveyed another message—he did not treat the dragon cluster's actions in the wilderness as a threat.

That was the most natural reaction.

To those who ruled great kingdoms and whose gaze extended to broader battlefields, the struggles among regional kings in the Ser Wilderness were merely squabbles among weaklings. Once the southern war settled, any victor could dispatch a legendary powerhouse with an elite legion to sweep the wilderness and restore order.

What surprised Garoth more was the news that the King of Lothrian had chosen to lead the campaign personally.

This king clearly refused to be content with defending his throne; he intended to emulate his ancestor, solidify his rule with glorious military achievements, and even expand territory.

At this, Iron Dragon Gordon couldn't help but comment, "Arrogant humans!"

"Though he is a legend, the battlefield is merciless and unpredictable; even legends can fall. Leaving a stable royal court to face danger in person is not a wise move."

He paused, then asked, "Garoth, what do you think?"

Garoth lightly stroked his snout, his gaze far-reaching. "It's too early to judge whether it's right or wrong."

History is always written by the victors.

When the Lothrian Holy King once chose to lead his forces personally, that too might have been deemed reckless early on. Yet the annals now sing only praise of his martial feats.

Time will decide right and wrong.

With Garoth's current vision and information, he could not yet tell whether King O'Brien's decision would succeed.

Furthermore, the news that the legendary guards were about to awaken caught Garoth's high attention.

Once those ancient sleepers entered the battlefield, they would greatly tip the scales and force opposing camps to bring out their ultimate reserves. In terms of historical accumulation and legendary heritage, the Lothrian Kingdom unquestionably held the advantage.

A king leading his forces with legendary guards at his side—if the front achieved consecutive victories, Lothrian's morale would soar and might even sway some wavering forces that were supporting Rybos.

Garoth guessed that this was likely the result O'Brien hoped to see: a thunderous push to break the stalemate.

However, regardless of the final outcome, the southern war would intensify sharply and enter a white-hot phase.

That was not good news for Garoth.

"The longer the southern nations' war drags on, the more time I have to develop my territory in peace. If the war concludes quickly, I lose that precious window."

He analyzed calmly in his mind.

"I can't rely solely on steady progress in the wilderness."

Garoth raised his head, his gaze seeming to pierce the snow of Dragon Valley toward the lands further north.

After a short reflection, an idea began to form.

The Permafrost Tundra.

That land was ruled year-round by bitter cold and blizzards, full of treacherous glaciers and bottomless crevasses. Its terrain was supremely difficult, its resources far less abundant than the Ser Wilderness, and extraction was extremely challenging.

Yet it once gave birth to two legendary figures who shook the world—the King of the Northern Barbarians and the Frost Giant King.

They were said to be "once" because those two mighty legendary rulers perished together in a decisive duel that determined destiny.

Today, the unending winds and snow of the convergence lands were largely the residual effects of that duel.

"The convergence lands' environment is now almost indistinguishable from the Permafrost Tundra, nearly becoming a part of it," Garoth mused, plotting. A bold thought took root.

"If so, why not ride that momentum and push the tribe's reach further north, into the true Permafrost Tundra?"

Once the idea sparked, it spread like wildfire through his mind.

The Molten Iron Tribe had long ago sent elite scouts to the Tundra. Over the years of infiltration and development, those scouts had taken root among some local clans and continuously returned intelligence about the tundra.

The duel between the Barbarian King and the Frost Giant King had not only claimed two legends.

Also buried with them were many strong high-ranking leaders and elite warriors from both sides.

Since that mutually ruinous war, the Northern Barbarians and the Frost Giants, though their mutual hatred had not faded, had to temporarily set aside their weapons and enter a long recuperation period to heal the immense wounds of war.

During that time, some new clans and tribes rose to prominence on the tundra.

But in any case, the present Permafrost Tundra had no legendary-level power stationed there.

Its overall danger level was actually somewhat lower than that of the Ser Wilderness, where rising warlords and regional kings vied for dominance. The existing forces of the Northern Barbarians and the Frost Giants were likely not much stronger than the regional lords in the wilderness.

Before long, a plan took shape in Garoth's mind.

He decided to formally dispatch a legion to the Permafrost Tundra, but the strategic objective was not to seize territory through large-scale battles with local natives.

That would be unnecessary.

Although the tundra was vast, most of its area was lifeless, barren, and frozen; its resources were not as concentrated or plentiful as those in the Ser Wilderness, and most lay hidden beneath deep ice and permafrost that were extremely hard to excavate.

Sending a legion north would primarily serve to open a potential escape route for the tribe, a strategic depth.

"If the southern war ends before I break into the legendary tier, then the holdings I've painstakingly secured in the wilderness will be difficult to preserve under the armies of whatever victor emerges."

"Prepare for the worst in advance, lay plans in the Permafrost Tundra."

"If things go wrong, at least we'll have a route to quickly relocate and preserve our strength."

"However, the key is whether I can reach the legendary realm before the situation stabilizes. If I ascend to the legendary tier, even if the southern war ends and I can no longer hide in the chaos, my holdings in the wilderness might still be preserved."

At that thought, Garoth let out a silent, small laugh.

"Ultimately, the power one holds is the foundation that decides everything."

"Negotiation, trade, cooperation—these methods only work when they are backed by strength that makes others take you seriously, even fear you."

If he never rose to legendary status, then even if the Lothrian Kingdom won and the royal court remained friendly toward the dragon cluster, they would not allow a non-legendary force to long occupy half of the wilderness.

But if he successfully rose to legendary...the situation would be entirely different.

At that point, any faction considering striking the Molten Iron Tribe would have to weigh carefully the terrible consequences of angering a powerful dragon legend before acting.

An attempt to surround and kill? Maybe possible.

Driving them out or defeating them? Also possible.

But to thoroughly and cleanly kill a dragon legend who commanded numerous followers and had many dragon allies—no one could confidently promise that.

Garoth inhaled deeply, tamped down his roiling thoughts, and regained a calm mind.

By then, Iron Dragon Gordon had already exited the bloodline connection after reporting all the information.

Garoth did not immediately sever the link; his mind turned to another blood relative.

"Sorog."

He called.

"I'm here, Garoth."

The iron dragon's steady voice replied instantly.

"The tribe's development in the wilderness has entered a stable phase. The northwest and central regions are basically secured; the other regional kings currently show signs of fortifying rather than expanding."

Garoth said, "I'm preparing to turn our development focus to the Permafrost Tundra."

On the other end, Sorog was silent for a moment, quickly digesting the news and weighing pros and cons.

Soon he replied, "We do need to plan ahead and prepare a retreat route for the tribe in case the southern front takes an unexpected turn."

He had heard Gordon's report about King O'Brien's personal campaign.

With some thought, he could understand Garoth's deeper intent.

Then Sorog raised a practical question: "So far, tribe affairs require dragon leadership; those capable of acting independently are few. Who do you intend to entrust with the task of developing the Permafrost Tundra?"

Red dragon Samantha was fierce and skilled in alchemy, but not a managerial type; Iron Dragon Sorog himself needed to remain in the wilderness northwest to coordinate the overall situation; Blue Dragon Zoraya, though outstanding, was needed to manage the newly settled central region; the other enfeoffed lords also had their duties and were hard to spare.

Garoth did not answer directly.

He countered, "Who do you think is suitable?"

After a brief exchange and weighing, the two dragons reached a consensus and a name surfaced.

"Thank you for the leader's trust and emphasis! I will not disappoint your expectations!"

When Blue Dragon Heriam received the direct transmission from Garoth, he froze in place, hardly daring to believe his ears. Even with his usual calm rationality, overwhelming excitement and a fierce sense of honor flooded him.

In the recent period, his companions—Green Dragon Ludwig and Black Dragon Seraphina—had jointly overseen the undead lair and handled the core affairs of the Dragon-Forge Modification ritual. Heriam, aside from assisting Iron Dragon Sorog with some management chores for followers, had not been given an independent, weighty responsibility.

He had longed for more trust: to be put in charge of a truly important mission of his own.

He never expected the leader to entrust him with such a critical, strategically significant task—giving it to a blue dragon not yet in the youth phase.

Opening a brand-new territory and expanding the Molten Iron Tribe's reach in the frozen world—this was far more monumental and glorious than anything Heriam had imagined.

In Garoth's calculation, although Heriam's strength was currently somewhat lacking and he was still young, his demonstrated calm decisiveness and big-picture thinking were exemplary among his peers, even surpassing many adult blue dragons.

The northern expedition to the Permafrost Tundra was not primarily for conquest, but to stably establish an outpost and a retreat route.

Therefore, leadership strength was not the sole criterion; a prudent mind and loyalty mattered more.

Moreover, the convergence lands' main base could provide support at any time; if necessary, Garoth could even personally go north to demonstrate the tribe's power to the tundra beasts.

Most importantly, Heriam had joined the tribe early and had long been nurtured by it, absorbing its principles. Compared to the newly affiliated young and adult dragons from the Dominik Dragon Cluster, his loyalty and familiarity with tribal operations were more trustworthy.

After comprehensive consideration, Garoth decided to entrust the task to him.

"You can take Kahir with you."

"Select a carefully chosen group of suitable followers to form the pioneer legion to support your foothold and development on the icefield."

As he spoke, his tone grew grave and low.

"Heriam, remember your core mission is not to fight the tundra creatures, but to plant a solid stake for the tribe on that frozen ground and carve out a strategic corridor for retreat."

"Recall that patience and wisdom far outweigh brute courage."

Blue Dragon Heriam nodded heavily.

He straightened his chest, his voice trembling with excitement.

"For the glory of the Lord of Molten Iron! I, Heriam, swear with my life and soul to do everything I can to open a new world for the tribe in the Permafrost Tundra and to achieve results that satisfy you!"

Garoth then ended the transmission.

Heriam eagerly shared the news with a few companions and immediately dove into the intense work of screening elite followers and planning the legion's composition to prepare for the northern expedition.

Garoth turned his attention back to himself.

He understood deeply that regardless of external strategic plans or who was dispatched, the ultimate ceiling for the tribe's fate still depended on the power he personally possessed.

He swished his tail, took heavy steps, and walked back to the training grounds to resume his day-after-day, endless training and honing.

This was not just for his own sake.

For the entire Ignas Dragon Cluster and the Molten Iron Tribe, the leader's strength would always be the overriding priority.