The air was filled with a suffocating smell of char.
Within the City of the Horse King, the Dothraki Mother of Mountains, once echoing with battle cries and wild laughter, now only had towering flames burning fiercely.
Sunfyre's massive figure swept over the already burnt-out tents, and wave after wave of destructive Dragonflame descended like divine punishment, precisely engulfing a group of Dothraki warriors in the distance who were still trying to raise their arakhs in resistance.
In an instant, screams pierced the sky, then quickly faded.
The resistance of the grassland warriors was meaningless in the face of absolute power.
At the center of this living hell, the surviving Dothraki warriors stood dazed, their pride long since completely overshadowed by fear.
Watching the massive dragon swarm circling in the sky, watching the silver-haired, purple-eyed, stern-faced Dragon King on its back, a sense of powerlessness welled up in the hearts of the bloodriders.
The endless charred grassland, the charred remains of their companions, were all vivid in their minds, warning them of the consequences of opposing the Dragon King.
Looking at the invincible power in the sky, all the defeated bloodriders exchanged glances.
"Aow—"
A loud dragon roar shattered their pride!
The muscles on their faces twitched violently, and the braids behind their heads felt exceptionally heavy due to being adorned with countless victory bells.
Dragonflame had killed all the Khals who had not submitted!
Aside from Khal Drogo, almost no Khal was taken seriously by this true Dragon King.
Finally, this deep-seated despair and fear completely overwhelmed the ferocity in his bones.
A cold glint flashed, and the long, thick braid, symbolizing their lifelong honor, strength, and achievements, was severed at the root.
This was another collective surrender of the Dothraki, after the defeat of the horse tribes at the Free City of Qohor!
The braid fell to the charred ground with a heavy thud.
In an instant, a suppressed chorus of weeping broke out among the surviving Dothraki.
Immediately after, one arakh after another was raised high, swung towards their braids, which they cherished as life itself.
The severed braids were placed on the ground, like their abandoned dignity, easily trampled into the mud by the dragons' chaotic feet.
One after another, they knelt, their foreheads pressed against the hot, ash-covered ground, showing complete submission to the Dragon King in the sky.
Even so, a few still stood.
They were the most stubborn horse warriors.
Even knowing they were no match for Viserys Targaryen, they still hurled the most vicious curses at Viserys Targaryen and his dragons.
Viserys Targaryen naturally responded to their provocation: "Eat them alive!"
The next moment, Sunfyre swooped down.
Facing this group of unarmed warriors, Sunfyre found it as easy as stepping on a few noisy insects.
"Evil sorcerer!"
"Invader!"
...In the crowd, some Dothraki cursed Viserys Targaryen in broken Common Tongue.
As the once most powerful raiders of the Essos Continent, they could now only resort to cursing Viserys Targaryen in a Common Tongue they were not very proficient in.
Viserys Targaryen showed no mercy to those who refused to surrender.
Compared to wasting time reasoning with these barbarians, strength was the best proof!
"Dragonflame—"
The next moment, a scorching orange light swept across.
Only a few charred, unrecognizable remains were left there.
Viserys Targaryen deliberately left them in the struggling postures of their final stand.
Those dark, despairing statues were meant to warn future Dothraki who might contemplate rebellion!
At this moment, Viserys Targaryen intended to conquer more than just the Dothraki tribes.
He also wanted to break the backbone of their nation, to make the horse warriors serve the Dragon Kings for all eternity!
Flames danced in his purple eyes.
Looking out, on one side were warriors kneeling and cutting their braids to surrender, and on the other were charred, still standing stubborn corpses.
Viserys Targaryen sat high on his dragon's back, looking down at the grassland he had personally conquered.
"Your Majesty, a letter and a gift have arrived from the Narrow Sea and the Night's Watch, but there is no sender!"
Varys, the Spider, stood by, hands in his pockets, his expression grim, reminding him.
As a minister who had personally witnessed the growth of Viserys Targaryen, this young king, a hint of undetectable sorrow was revealed in his eyes.
Compared to the wise, conservative monarch he had hoped for and awaited, this king was more like the brutal conqueror Aegon Targaryen!
"Is it another plea for me to return and guard the Wall?"
Glancing over the envelope, Viserys Targaryen shook his head helplessly.
This great-granduncle, whom he had never met, was truly as selfless as ever!
However, when he opened the gift box in his hand, the smile on his face instantly froze, cold as ice!
Inside were a pair of hands; to be precise, the hands of an old man over a hundred years old!
"Robert—"
Viserys Targaryen's eyes practically spat fire!
The enmity between the Targaryen Family and the Baratheon Family had, in the end, burned upon innocent people who had long since left their ruined families.
Aemon Targaryen was not only Viserys Targaryen's great-granduncle, but also Robert Baratheon's own great-granduncle.
"He actually dared... He actually..."
Viserys Targaryen's eyes widened, disbelieving.
He had never imagined that a man who proclaimed himself King of the Seven Kingdoms would dare to personally kill his own blood relative, and a Maester of the Night's Watch at that!
"Bang!"
Viserys Targaryen slashed down a charred corpse with his sword.
Seeing Viserys Targaryen's rage, the surviving surrenderers all knelt on the scorching ground, trembling, not daring to look up.
"Bring the letter!"
Viserys Targaryen said, cold as ice.
Since Maester Aemon was dead, the one who wrote this letter could naturally not be him.
"Evil descendant of the Dragon, Mad King Viserys Targaryen the Second, after I subdue the giants and wildlings beyond the Wall, I will make your sister Dany be raped a hundred times by giants, and then smash your head to fill the iron throne!
Sender: Robert Baratheon!"
Looking at the letter in his hand, Viserys Targaryen was stunned for a long time, then suddenly burst into laughter.
He certainly believed the usurper's verbal threats.
In the original story, he hated every member of the Targaryen Family in this way!
Not only Young Aegon, who had just been born, but even his mother had not escaped misfortune.
But when he thought of him trying to subdue the wildlings, who called themselves the Free Folk, Viserys Targaryen was almost angered to laughter by the usurper's self-confidence.
"Your Majesty, please accept my condolences!"
Varys, the Spider, closed his eyes in pain, bowing slightly.
Clearly, Maester Aemon's death had dealt a considerable blow to this new king.
But Viserys Targaryen's abnormal behavior still caught Varys off guard.
The biting autumn wind blew, and the fierce fire finally extinguished.
At this moment, a rare black snow fell on the Dothraki, a snow of death mixed with the ashes of corpses, chilling to the bone!