Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Chapter 83: You Go Kill the Priest

Garoth descended like a blazing meteor, a comet carrying terrifying might that made the gnolls tremble in fear, landing in a large open area within the territory.

BOOM!!!

The earth shook violently. The entire Howling Cliff trembled fiercely as rubble cascaded down, thick dust filling the air. A powerful shockwave rippled outward in a circular pattern, vaporizing the rain into dense white steam that coiled around him. The nearest wooden sheds were sent flying like scraps of paper, while gnolls were thrown off their feet by the blast wave. Warlord Bloodfang had to dig his claws deep into the ground to maintain balance.

As the dust settled, Garoth slowly straightened up.

At the edge of the impact crater beneath his feet lay over a dozen unconscious gnolls. His Explosive Scales had absorbed the kinetic energy from the fall, glowing red-hot, the intense heat evaporating the drizzle into thick white smoke that wreathed his form.

Though they didn't understand what the glowing red dragon scales signified, every gnoll instinctively sensed danger and smelled death in the air.

Their target had landed as intended.

Fight?

Warlord Bloodfang remained silent for a second before suddenly springing into action—but not to attack.

Instead, he performed a perfect full-body prostration before Garoth, forehead slamming heavily against the ground, his face obsequious as his tail wagged furiously behind him, unable to contain his reverence and fawning: "Great Dragon Lord! The Redeye Clan swears eternal loyalty to you!"This time, it was genuine.

Garoth's size was deceptive. Without demonstrating his power, the gnoll clan might have mistaken him for slightly stronger prey—a young dragon to hunt. But he was far beyond just "slightly stronger" than ordinary dragon whelps.

Now, having witnessed Garoth's might, the gnolls' innate tendency to follow powerful dragons was fully awakened. All previous schemes vanished as they became utterly awed by Garoth.

"Stand up," Garoth commanded.

When Warlord Bloodfang and the other kneeling gnolls rose, Garoth spoke unhurriedly: "Not all creature clans are worthy of becoming a dragon's vassals. You must prove your worth to earn the right to pledge allegiance."

After seeing Garoth's power, the gnolls were filled with nothing but worship and the desire to follow him, practically itching to lick his claws clean.

Except for the priest.

Fearing Garoth might change his mind and reject the Redeye Clan, Warlord Bloodfang hurriedly said: "Command us, mighty one! What must the Redeye Clan do to earn your favor?"

Garoth narrowed his eyes and countered: "Gnoll, do you believe in gods? Speak your true thoughts!"

The warlord's ears twitched in the rain, his Adam's apple bobbing as he glanced sidelong at the priest.

The Redeye Clan did worship gods—that was what he intended to say, but the words died in his throat.

Warlord Bloodfang's gaze flickered to two Gnollguards nearby.

They had once been the clan's fiercest warriors, now reduced to desireless puppets who wouldn't even mate—something every other gnoll cherished!

Rotclaw called this a "blessing."

But Bloodfang had witnessed the ritual firsthand—fifty gnolls locked in iron cages tearing at each other until only two survivors remained to be filled with black blood, receiving this so-called blessing.

Last year during the great drought, the Redeye Clan sacrificed thirty percent of their prey, praying for rain—yet received nothing.

The priest claimed the gods demanded greater sincerity.

But this would only starve more clansmen, pushing the clan toward extinction.

Warlord Bloodfang was cruel by nature—no benevolent creature—showing no pity for ordinary clansmen. Yet as clan leader, he deeply valued the clan's survival.

The losses from godly sacrifices had long outweighed any benefits, gradually crippling the Redeye Clan.

Bloodfang not only lacked faith—he harbored resentment toward the gods.

To be precise, it wasn't the gods themselves he disliked—what lowly wilderness dweller dared despise the exalted deities? What he hated was the humiliation of being deceived and ignored.

Yeenoghu had never truly protected the Redeye Clan, and Rotclaw's curses always cost more than they gained.

But this dragon before him was different.

His power was undeniable.

After several seconds of silent contemplation, Warlord Bloodfang lowered his head and replied: "Great Dragon Lord, the Redeye Clan worships gods—but this faith is like vultures' loyalty to carrion, existing only when needed."

"Now with your arrival, such faith is obsolete. The Redeye Clan's loyalty belongs solely to you."

This loyalty remained "vultures' loyalty to carrion"—such was the nature of evil creatures. But one thing was certain: so long as Garoth remained as formidable as he was now, the gnolls would obey his every word.

For a dragon, this was simplicity itself.

Dragons only grew stronger with time.

This was why gnolls so eagerly followed dragons, why gnoll vassals were practically standard for dragonkind—only creatures like dragons could endure their "loyalty," and few other powerful beings besides dragons would willingly take gnolls as vassals.

"Hodge!"

Rotclaw Priest's expression darkened as he growled: "This is blasphemy! Retract your words! The Redeye Clan's faith and loyalty can coexist! As children of the Gnoll God, we must never abandon our faith!"

Hodge was Warlord Bloodfang's name—common among gnolls, like Hogg or Hark.

Opposite him, Warlord Bloodfang didn't respond to the priest.

In his heart, Garoth carried far greater weight—his opinion mattered more than the priest's.

"Good."

The warlord's heart soared upon hearing the Dragon Lord's murmur.

Garoth surveyed the rain-soaked Howling Cliff and its drenched gnoll inhabitants, declaring: "My ranks tolerate no god-worshippers."

The ordinary gnolls stared blankly, uncomprehending.

Their tiny brains couldn't handle complex thoughts—mostly preoccupied with today's meal, today's mate, tomorrow's meal, tomorrow's mate. They drifted with the current, their faith merely slogans parroted from warlord or priest, barely understanding what "god-worshipper" even meant.

But Rotclaw Priest understood.

His red eyes blazed with fury at this challenge to his faith, fur bristling almost straight up.

"The Redeye Clan will never serve a dragon who blasphemes against gnoll faith!"

His response rang out clear and firm.

Garoth paid no mind, speaking bluntly to Warlord Bloodfang: "You—go kill him. Prove your courage, your loyalty and resolve."

Warlord Bloodfang's eyes widened as he looked at the priest.

In wilderness monster clans, roles like shaman or priest were usually held by revered elders of wisdom—Rotclaw Priest was older than Bloodfang, having practically watched him grow up.

Bloodfang had always feared him somewhat—even as warlord, he'd never dared disrespect the priest too openly.

But now, with Garoth backing him, everything was different.

Evil stirred in his heart!

Warlord Bloodfang suddenly threw back his head, a thunderous roar erupting from his throat.

"FOR THE DRAGON LORD!!!"

Pack Dominion!

A crimson halo erupted from his feet, instantly enveloping surrounding gnoll warriors.

Their muscles bulged as if pumped full of tar and crude oil, stretching their fur taut, fangs lengthening by inches, pupils shrinking to needlepoint red dots.

This was the warlord's trump card—originally reserved for battling the Bonegnaw ogres, now turned against their former religious symbol.

The warlord held greater authority than the priest among clansmen, especially warriors. Under his dominion aura's influence, elite gnoll warriors didn't hesitate—weapons and claws all turned toward Rotclaw Priest as they howled and attacked.

Meanwhile, Warlord Bloodfang remained at the rear, keeping warriors between himself and danger, not rushing forward.

Garoth noticed this and glanced at him.

Warlord Bloodfang offered an ingratiating smile, explaining earnestly: "Great Dragon Lord, my strength lies in commanding warriors, not personal combat. I beg your understanding."

"My warriors are as my limbs and weapons."

Pausing, perhaps fearing Garoth might scorn his cowardice, Warlord Bloodfang puffed out his chest and added: "But should you command it, I would charge at the very front!"