Chapter 593: The Lord of Thunder's Signal |
Low-hanging clouds, like lead-gray thick cloth, tightly wrapped the western sky, preventing light from penetrating. The entire land was shrouded in dimness, making it impossible to tell whether it was dawn or dusk.
Reinhardt walked along a road that had once been bustling and lively.
Now the road surface was cracked, overgrown with weeds, flanked by large stretches of scorched farmland and collapsed houses.
As he passed through an area, he saw several bodies that had not yet been buried.
They lay scattered along the roadside, crows crouching on the corpses, pecking at the rotting flesh. Startled by the sound of footsteps, they flapped their wings and took flight, circling a few times under the low-hanging clouds before landing back in their original spots.
Reinhardt did not look much longer. He continued forward.
After walking for a while, he passed through a village.
Or rather, what had once been a village.
Now only a few blackened walls remained, standing crookedly, their outlines still showing traces of what had once been houses.
The corpse's neck was bound by an iron chain, the other end nailed to the top of the post. The body hung there, exposed to wind and sun, having become as shriveled as a piece of dried meat, its original appearance unrecognizable.
Words were carved into the wooden post.
"Tax Resister."
A few ragged villagers poked their heads out from the ruins, saw Reinhardt's figure, and quickly retreated back inside. Their eyes were hollow, all hope having been drained from them.
Reinhardt walked past the village with an expressionless face.
He did not stop.
He continued onward. The road grew wider, the ground began to level out, and the bodies along the roadside became fewer, replaced by more ruins and more blackened walls.
After walking for some time, Reinhardt arrived at the royal capital of the Helmod Dragonflight.
The city walls were tall and thick, built from massive stone blocks, their surfaces blackened by smoke. The city gates hung open, with no guards on duty, but several great dragons circled in the sky above the walls, their shadows cast upon the ground, sweeping across like dark clouds.
The scene inside the city was not much better than outside.
As soon as he entered the city gates, Reinhardt saw long lines stretching out.
The lines moved slowly along the streets, their ends invisible, like winding snakes. The lines were made up of humans, dwarves, halflings, and others, all bound together by heavy iron chains. The chains ran from one person's neck to another's, then to the next, stringing them together like locusts on a skewer.
Some could no longer walk and had fallen to the ground, dragged along by those behind them.
The chains tightened around their necks, their faces turning purple, their eyes bulging, and guttural sounds escaping their throats.
Those nearby remained indifferent.
Everyone's eyes were hollow, just like the villagers from outside the city.
The dragons' servants walked back and forth on both sides of the lines, holding whips in their hands, occasionally lashing those who moved too slowly. Among the servants were ogre elites, gnolls, kobolds, and others. They themselves wore collars around their necks, but they held whips in their hands, lashing those even more miserable than themselves.
How long had it been since then?
Reinhardt took a deep breath and looked ahead.
At the end of the oppressive scene stood a magnificent temple.
The temple was grand and imposing, located at the very center of the royal capital, occupying an entire block. Its outer walls were inlaid with the emblem of the Chromatic Queen, and its dome soared high into the sky, almost touching the thick layer of dark clouds.
In front of it was a vast square, where a towering statue stood.
Its main body was a five-headed dragon, with each of the five dragon heads facing a different direction. The necks extended from the same body, winding and twisting, each mouth wide open as if roaring simultaneously, looking down upon the entire land.
In the square, countless servants were busy at work.
Several great dragons circled in the mid-air, their wings spread, covering large patches of the sky. Their low, deep roars echoed down from above, shaking the very air.
Reinhardt stood in the distance, watching all of this.
His fists clenched.
Then loosened.
Then clenched again.
The rage inside him was almost uncontrollable. He could feel the blood boiling in his veins, his temples throbbing.
At the same time, for the first time, he became acutely aware of how much of the title "evil dragon" that the Romania nations had once bestowed upon the Red Emperor was actually slander and prejudice.
If the Red Emperor were an evil dragon, the Divine Kingdom of Theo might have long ceased to exist.
Under the Red Emperor's rule, the Aola Kingdom was orderly, with strict laws.
Although there were conflicts and friction between the various races, overall they coexisted harmoniously, living and working in peace, each finding their place under the Red Emperor's will.
The numerous vassal states of Aola had also eliminated war under the Red Emperor's will.
Those kingdoms that had once been hereditary enemies now sat together to discuss affairs. Though they still occasionally quarreled, large-scale warfare had never broken out again.
In comparison, what the Divine Kingdom of Theo had once considered its dark age was as sweet as honey.
"All of Atlan should be under His Majesty's rule."
Reinhardt thought slowly in his heart. "Only then will the intelligent beings of this continent usher in a better life."
His reverence for the Emperor deepened once again in that moment.
Reinhardt took a step and walked toward the temple.
His pace was neither fast nor slow. He did not hide his presence, nor did he deliberately release it. He simply walked boldly along the wide avenue, heading straight for the main entrance of the temple.
And so, he was discovered.
A massive black dragon emerged from the shadows on the temple's flank.
The black dragon was covered in pitch-black scales, each scale the size of a palm, their edges as sharp as blades. His eyes were dark yellow, his slit pupils narrowed, fixed intently on Reinhardt like a feline's, while a low, dangerous growl rumbled from his throat.
"Halt."
"Human, this is not a place for you to be. State your purpose, or I will chew your bones to pieces one by one."
Reinhardt stopped and looked up at the black dragon.
The black dragon's head was larger than Reinhardt's entire body, and his open mouth could swallow him whole. But Reinhardt's expression remained unchanged.
"I have come to see the Lord of Thunder."
He said.
The black dragon stared at Reinhardt for a few seconds, then let out a low, cold laugh.
"You?" The black dragon tilted his head, his slit pupils narrowing further. "A pathetic worm? Who do you think you are? Who do you think the great Lord of Thunder is? Does any random human who walks by just get to demand an audience with him?"
Within the Helmod Dragonflight, the behavior of the higher-ups was mirrored by the lower ranks.
In this black dragon's eyes, humans were as lowly as insects, unworthy of standing here, let alone uttering the name of the Lord of Thunder.
As his words fell, the black dragon's wings suddenly spread, kicking up a gust of wind.
His body lunged forward, his gaping maw wide open, revealing a full set of sharp fangs, ready to swallow Reinhardt in one bite.
Reinhardt remained unfazed, standing his ground.
When the distance between them was only about ten meters, the black dragon seemed to suddenly sense something.
His body stiffened, his scales trembling violently, his eyes wide, his pupils dilating. Then, he abruptly pulled upward, his body curving in mid-air, moving away from Reinhardt in shock and uncertainty.
"You should have heard my name."
"Reinhardt."
Hearing this, the black dragon's body paused in the air.
That name—of course he had heard it. Throughout the entire Atlantis Continent, any intelligent creature with even a bit of knowledge had heard that name.
The Mandate of Heaven Swordsman under the Red Emperor.
The black dragon was inwardly startled, but his gaze remained hostile.
"Wait here."
He prepared to report upward.
But at that moment, a dull rumble of thunder came from the sky, followed by a blinding bolt of lightning that tore through the thick clouds, striking the ground directly in front of Reinhardt.
Boom!
Broken stones flew, clouds of dust billowed.
The lightning left a scorched crater on the ground, its edges still smoking. The stone slabs had been melted into glass-like substance by the high temperature.
Reinhardt did not step back.
He raised his head and looked at the cloud-covered sky.
The dark clouds churned like a boiling black ocean, thunder roaring, one after another, without end.
A massive figure slowly descended from the clouds.
The great dragon's size was even larger than the Red Emperor's. His body was covered in scales so blue they were almost black, glinting with a cold luster under the lightning's flash, as if plated with metal. His dragon wings spread out, blotting out the sky, fine electric currents flowing across the membranes, crackling with sound.
The most striking feature was his dragon horns.
Three pairs of dragon horns extended from both sides of his head, winding and majestic, interweaving above his head to form the shape of a crown.
This was the Lord of Thunder.
The Mandate of Heaven Storm Dragon.
He looked down at Reinhardt, his gaze devoid of any emotion, only a condescending indifference, like a person looking at an ant.
"Reinhardt, the Aola Emperor's claw... bend your spine and kneel to me."
Reinhardt did not kneel.
"I'm afraid I cannot comply."
He said, "I am not your retainer or servant, and my master would never permit me to bow and scrape to any other dragon."
Having said that, Reinhardt slightly bowed, performing a simple courtesy, then straightened his spine, looking up at the Lord of Thunder hovering above him with neither servility nor arrogance.
The Lord of Thunder did not become angry.
His expression did not change, still that same indifference. He simply narrowed his eyes slightly and asked, "What business do you have here? To convey the Red Emperor's will?"
"On behalf of His Majesty, I congratulate you on breaking through to the Mandate of Heaven and achieving the body of a Storm Dragon."
Reinhardt said.
At the same time, his tone shifted slightly.
"However, I also have a personal question that I do not quite understand."
He looked into the Lord of Thunder's eyes and spoke bluntly, "A dragon lord like you, why would you choose to offer up your faith? To sacrifice your free will and become a puppet of the evil god?"
The air froze.
The churning of the dark clouds suddenly accelerated, as if stirred by an invisible giant hand. Thunder rumbled within the clouds, lightning weaving into a massive net across the sky.
The servants who had been busy around the temple all fell to their knees.
Their bodies trembled, their foreheads pressed against the ground, not daring to look up at the sky.
The Lord of Thunder hovered in mid-air, expressionless.
He looked at Reinhardt and said, "Insignificant human, you are not qualified to speak with me. If you wish to know, let Garoth come himself."
Reinhardt nodded.
"Indeed, a human is not qualified to discuss matters of faith and choice with a dragon."
He said, "But, as a fellow Mandate of Heaven, I have another request that may be a bit presumptuous."
"Speak."
"It is somewhat embarrassing to admit, but as a Mandate of Heaven, I lost to His Majesty, who is at the crown-level. This has left me genuinely puzzled, unclear about whether I am strong or weak among the Mandates of Heaven."
"Therefore, I sincerely wish to know how great the gap is between myself and other Mandates of Heaven."
"I wonder if you would grant my wish?"
The clouds churned, thunder roared.
The Lord of Thunder looked down at Reinhardt, a glimmer of something akin to interest appearing in his eyes, his pupils slightly dilating.
"He wants to challenge me?"
"That could be one way to put it."
Hearing this, the great dragon let out a low laugh, like rolling thunder, rumbling from his throat and echoing through the sky.
"There are gaps even between Mandates of Heaven." A few seconds later, the Lord of Thunder stopped laughing and looked down at Reinhardt. "To dare challenge me—truly foolish."
"Perhaps."
Reinhardt said, "But sometimes, foolishness can bring unexpected results."
The Lord of Thunder said no more.
He slightly raised his head and let out a low roar.
The dark clouds suddenly churned violently, like a boiling black ocean.
Thunder rumbled within the clouds, lightning gathered from all directions, leaping, winding, and weaving around the great dragon's body, making him appear like a deity descending to the mortal world.
Then, he fiercely beat his wings and shot straight into the sky.
The dark clouds split open before him, like a door being pushed open. The great dragon's body disappeared into the clouds, the gap closing behind him, completely swallowing him.
Reinhardt took a deep breath.
Two great swords, one of light and one of darkness, appeared at his sides.
The light sword emitted a soft white glow, while the dark sword absorbed the surrounding light, like a black hole. They slowly revolved around him, their tips pointing toward the sky.
Whoosh!
His body shot straight into the dark clouds like an arrow leaving the bow.
His figure, too, was swallowed by the clouds.
Immediately after, two auras of the Mandate of Heaven collided deep within the clouds, erupting with blinding light and a terrifying force that made hearts tremble. The dark clouds churned continuously but never dispersed, while the thunder and lightning within grew even more intense.
Within the small world.
The rumbling sound of mountains hitting the ground had completely ceased.
In its place was a frenzy of spells.
Aphra hovered in mid-air, dense magical runes flowing all over her body.
Above her head, a massive, multi-layered magic array slowly rotated. Each layer was densely inscribed with incantations, connected to one another by complex magical circuits.
Countless powerful spells poured down from it, like a rainstorm, bombarding the body of the red iron dragon before her.
Dragon scales shattered under the impact of the spells, bloodflame burning at the wounds.
Garoth silently endured wave after wave of spell bombardment, his body remaining as still as a mountain, only occasionally letting out a low, soft grunt.
But he never dodged, nor did he block.
He simply stood there, allowing Aphra to unleash her fury.
After a long while, the frenzy of spells gradually began to subside.
Aphra hovered in mid-air, a thin layer of sweat forming on her forehead. Her chest heaved, and her breathing had clearly become rapid. The magical energy within her body was nearly depleted, and the glow of her runes had dimmed significantly.
She looked down at the red iron dragon opposite her.
Garoth's body was covered in wounds, skin split open, with white bone visible in some places.
But Aphra noticed that all the wounds were healing at a visible rate. New flesh grew from the edges of the wounds, and scales began to cover them again.
Moreover, the more she attacked, the harder she found it to inflict effective damage on Garoth.
After all, she was a spellcaster with penetrating traits. In principle, letting such a spellcaster bombard freely without restraint, even a great dragon could not withstand it.
But Garoth was practically the principle itself.
Aphra made a rough estimate in her heart. She felt that if His Majesty's form had not recently undergone some changes, with his defense seeming slightly weaker than before, the damage she had caused would likely have been even lower.
"Your Majesty."
Aphra landed back on the ground and sincerely praised, "Your body's strength is truly like that of a god or demon."
The red iron dragon opened his eyes, feeling the stinging pain all over his body, and lightly nodded.
Pain was good.
Spell effects could also cause physical damage, which was very comprehensive. After going through this round of spell baptism from Aphra, he felt that his overall defense had improved slightly.
There was progress.
But it was still not enough.
Garoth pondered for a moment, then spoke, "Next time, bring your magic tower along as well."
With the magic tower, Aphra could cast more powerful spells at a lower cost, and the effect would definitely be much better than now.
Aphra nodded and said,
"My magic tower is almost repaired. It still needs some fine-tuning of the rune arrays. It won't be long before it can be as you wish."
Her magic tower had been blasted apart by Garoth's dragonqi bomb earlier.
After this period of intense repairs, most of the structure had been restored, leaving only the final rune debugging.
Garoth changed the subject. "How is the progress on the thing I asked you to create?"
After experiencing the effect of the Cold Sacred Spring, Garoth wanted to create a similar healing sanctuary for himself, so he entrusted this task to Aphra.
Of course, he did not expect Aphra to create something exactly like the Cold Sacred Spring.
That would be asking too much of her.
As long as it had a similar effect, even a few grades lower would be acceptable. It could be gradually improved and perfected later.
"Your Majesty, it is still in the design phase." Aphra lowered her head slightly and said softly, "I have some ideas, but the time has been too short. I need to do more experiments and research to verify whether these ideas are feasible."
Garoth nodded and said casually,
"Feel free to conduct your experiments. Do not worry about material consumption."
The Aola Kingdom indeed lacked deep accumulations of heritage, but because it occupied seven-eighths of the Atlan continent, its resources were extremely abundant. Overall, its level of development had already far exceeded that of any single dragon domain.
Supporting such research and development consumption was entirely feasible.
"I will do my best to deliver a result that satisfies you."
Aphra said seriously.
The red iron dragon said no more. He swished his tail and was about to ask Aphra to construct a super-heavy zone to begin the next set of strength training.
Just then, the mental link was activated.
It was Reinhardt.
"Your Majesty, I lost."
Reinhardt's voice sounded exhausted. "I'm sorry. I wasn't able to extract much useful information."
Garoth's gaze flickered slightly, but his expression did not change much.
"Tell me the process."
Reinhardt organized his words a little before speaking. "I first expanded the Domain of Darkness, merging with the darkness, then struck at the Lord of Thunder with my sword. Then... the storm came."
Even now, his tone seemed to carry a lingering fear.
"Countless bolts of lightning surged from the Lord of Thunder's wings, illuminating the entire Domain of Darkness and sweeping toward me. I quickly realized that the Domain of Darkness had no effect on him, so I immediately switched to the Domain of Light, using light to enhance myself. But I still could not break through the storm and lightning he had created."
"I barely escaped with my life, Nine Lives of Fortune, and managed to leave a wound on him."
"But after that, I could no longer touch him."
Reinhardt's traits allowed him to deal massive damage to great dragons with extremely high racial stats, but the prerequisite was that he had to be able to hit them.
"In terms of spell-like abilities, Lamorein... the Lord of Thunder... might be comparable to a Mandate of Heaven of the plastic-energy school."
"His lightning is not haphazardly poured out; it is like a living thing, constantly pursuing me. It is as if the entire storm itself is an extension of his body, completely under his control."
"Once again, I apologize for this, Your Majesty."
"You gave me your trust and command, but I failed to bring back much valuable information."
Reinhardt's tone was full of shame.
Before achieving the Mandate of Heaven, he had always kept a low profile, not revealing himself. It was only after achieving the Mandate of Heaven that he officially "debuted." And then, the two formidable opponents he faced were Garoth and Lamorein, who had ascended to become a Storm Dragon.
Both times, he had unsurprisingly lost.
But this could not be blamed on Reinhardt. He was by no means weak among the Mandate of Heaven level. It was just that the two opponents he had encountered were both monster-level existences.
The red iron dragon listened to his report and said, "You have already done well."
"At the very least, you confirmed one thing: Lamorein has indeed become a Storm Dragon—a true Storm Dragon, not merely one wearing a layer of lightning shell or having a similar appearance."
"This piece of intelligence alone is worth your trip."
Among the Five-Colored Dragons, Blue Dragons possess the most destructive spell-like abilities, and the Storm Dragon is the ultimate form of the Blue Dragon.
A true Storm Dragon could create catastrophic thunderstorms with a mere gesture. Reinhardt's probe this time had basically confirmed that Lamorein had indeed transformed into a Storm Dragon.
That was not good news.
"There is one more thing, Your Majesty."
"What is it?"
"When I retreated... I was prepared to ask for your reinforcements."
Reinhardt's voice slowed down a little as he said, "At that time, my Domain had already shattered, and my speed was far inferior to his. The Lord of Thunder was fully capable of pursuing me."
"I could feel that when his gaze fell upon my back, it was like a bolt of lightning had already locked onto me, ready to strike at any moment."
"If he had truly gone all out, I probably would not have been able to escape."
"But he did not."
"When I decided to retreat and turned to withdraw, he instead withdrew his storm, showing no intention of chasing me."
Reinhardt thought for a moment and said thoughtfully, "I speculate that perhaps his condition is not stable."
"Perhaps his breakthrough to the Mandate of Heaven level has not yet been fully consolidated, or perhaps his Storm Dragon form has some flaw that makes him hesitant to overuse his power."
Garoth was silent for a few breaths.
"Perhaps."
He said that, but in his heart, he did not think so.
What kind of dragon was Lamorein?
Among the Five-Colored Dragons, he was one of the rare few who knew how to use their brains to solve problems, rather than simply relying on their claws and fangs.
He was a thorough racist, yet he could suppress his true feelings to cooperate with other races. He was cunning, patient, and adept at surviving in the cracks.
A dragon like that—if he truly had any flaw, he would definitely hide it well.
If he accidentally exposed a flaw, then he would undoubtedly go to any lengths to kill the witness, burying the secret with the body into the earth.
He would not let him go, allowing him to return safely to Aola with a guess that "the Lord of Thunder might have a flaw."
This was not exposing a flaw.
This was a... signal?
"Lamorein is sending me a message," Garoth thought. "He could have killed Reinhardt, but he did not. What does he want to express?"
An olive branch?
A warning?
Or simply to show off his current strength?
The red iron dragon's eyes shimmered with traces of spiritual energy, his thoughts racing like lightning.
After considering various possibilities, he leaned more toward the idea that Lamorein was expressing that he currently had no intention of opposing Aola, or more precisely, opposing Garoth himself.
Otherwise, he would have killed Reinhardt at all costs.
Putting himself in Lamorein's shoes, Garoth himself would not let a Mandate of Heaven Swordsman return alive to the enemy camp.
After thinking for a moment, he took out a thunderball-shaped communication device.
Direct communication?
Ask him face to face?
This thought swirled in his mind for a few seconds before he rejected it.
"Lamorein is now a chosen apostle of a deity. He no longer has true free will. All his actions are influenced by the god, and everything he does is to serve the god's interests. Even if he can still make some decisions on his own, he cannot defy the god's will."
Garoth thought to himself.
The current Lamorein was under the god's watch at all times.
Directly negotiating with him carried considerable risk.
And... things had come to this, what was there to say?
Just as he was thinking this, the communication device suddenly lit up.
He had not activated it.
The red iron dragon's gaze narrowed slightly, but he said nothing.
A low breathing sound came from the other end, faintly mixed with the crackling sound of electric current. But the other side remained silent as well, neither of them speaking first.
About a few seconds passed like this.
The light of the device went out in the silence.
Then, the thunderball-shaped communication device began to tremble slightly. Crack after crack appeared on its surface, and finally, with a snap, the entire device shattered completely.
"Your Majesty."
At that moment, Reinhardt's voice sounded again. "How should we deal with the Lord of Thunder next? He is our greatest threat now. If we do nothing..."
"We will not sit idly by."
Garoth interrupted him.
"Lamorein is a chosen apostle, a Mandate of Heaven, a Storm Dragon. These three identities overlapping means that engaging him head-on now, even I do not have full confidence."
"A rash attack would carry far more risk than reward."
"But combat is not the only way to solve problems."
Flames ignited between the red iron dragon's claws, turning the fragments of the communication device into ash.
He watched the ashes being swept away by the wind, his gaze darkening as he continued, "Blood taxes, tyranny, terror tactics that raze entire cities to the ground—these can indeed subdue the western nations in a short time, making them prostrate before the Queen's altar, trembling in fear."
"But fear is a double-edged sword."
"Reinhardt, remember this: when people are pushed to the brink of terror, when living itself becomes more unbearable than death, they will pick up their weapons again and begin to resist, without regard for consequences."
"The territories of the western nations are very small. No matter how powerful Lamorein, the red iron dragon, is, his numbers are ultimately limited."
"Lamorein cannot personally suppress every rebellion that erupts anywhere. But his dragonflight cannot do it either. The flames of rebellion will spread everywhere. Draining the pond to catch all the fish will eventually leave no water to fish."
Garoth's voice was very calm, as if he were stating something that was already destined to happen.
He had always been very farsighted.
It was just that his power was too great, so much so that this point was often overlooked.
"Next, we will not engage the Helmod Dragonflight in a full-scale war. But we will turn the west into a swamp."
"Weapons, gold coins, intelligence, scrolls..."
"Whatever the rebels need will flow continuously from Aola's borders into the west."
"We do not need them to win. We only need them to live, to fight, to keep the claws of the Helmod Dragonflight trapped in the quagmire of suppressing rebellions, unable to stretch even an inch beyond the west."
These arrangements were made to buy time.
Garoth knew well that his growth rate was his greatest advantage. As long as the Lord of Thunder did not have the determination to go all out and attack immediately, then he was certainly in no hurry.
The longer it went, the stronger he would become.
Now, it was up to the Lord of Thunder's reaction.
If he did not immediately go to war against him, it meant that he might not yet have fully submitted to the god's will.
