The moonlight was bright and clear, casting a layer of radiance over Coniferous Valley, which was surrounded by mountains on three sides.
Mobel carried the charred corpse of his dead father back to the nest where the Storm Bears resided. With a thud, he threw the charred corpse onto the ground.
However, the Storm Bears' gazes were not on Mobel.
They looked up and gazed as if facing a great enemy, their pupils reflecting the silhouettes of two Dragonkin circling in the sky.
Their gazes swept past the pureblood Red Dragon; they were all looking at the other dragon.
The Red-Iron Young Dragon's scales were like cast iron, and sparks burst from his huge, broad dragon wings. The shadow cast by the blocked moonlight almost enveloped all the Storm Bears present.
With Garros backing him up,
Mobel puffed out his chest and slammed his thick bear paw heavily against the ground, sending a spray of gravel flying.
He looked around at the bears, his voice as loud as thunder:
"Open your bear eyes and look!"
He pointed his claws at the charred corpse on the ground: "This is the end for those who resist the great Dragon Lord!"
Under the moonlight, the Alchemy Runes on Mobel's body shimmered, adding a bit more deterrent to his Aura.
He walked slowly toward the center of the bear pack, each step making the ground tremble slightly.
"Old Gor ruled over you for how many years? You even had to look at his face for mating rights."
A few low sounds of agreement rose from the bear pack, especially from those young male bears who had long-held grievances against the old leader.
Seeing this, Mobel immediately raised his voice: "And now!"
He spread his arms wide.
"I promise you on behalf of Lord Garros—all male bears will obtain mating rights! And you don't have to worry about being exiled!"
Of course.
As the leader, I will be at the very front of all the male bears, enjoying the first priority.
He added a sentence in his heart, chuckling lowly.
This declaration caused a stir among the bear pack.
The eyes of several female bears clearly lit up.
It wasn't just the male bears who were dissatisfied with Old Gor's dictatorship; the female bears were also tired of this aged Storm Bear Leader. Compared to an old bear whose fur was already white and withered and whose strength was failing, they preferred young male bears with glossy fur. Otherwise, they wouldn't have repeatedly'strayed'.
"Not only that."
Mobel continued to incite them.
"The Dragon Lord will also bestow power upon us!"
He showed off the glowing runes on his body: "Look at these! Has that stingy, overbearing old thing ever given you a blessing?"
In the sky.
Garros quietly listened to Mobel's speech.
He was surprised to find that this cowardly Storm Bear actually had quite a talent for leadership, and his IQ was a level ahead of the other Earth Storm Bears.
Thinking back carefully, it made sense.
The fact that he could instantly throw away his bear-pride to flatter and curry favor when he first encountered Garros and realized he was no match was an extraordinary speed of reaction.
By this time, the vast majority of the Storm Bears had been moved by Mobel's words.
But a male bear, who was naturally fierce and unruly and had received more care from Old Gor in the past, stood up and roared:
"Mobel, stop talking! This is a shameful betrayal! You actually led a dragon to kill the leader! You're even trying to make us submit and abandon the glory of the bear race!"
The words had just fallen.
Accompanied by a piercing whistle,
A massive sense of oppression descended from the sky.
This male bear looked up and saw a Dragonkin rushing toward him like a red meteor. The courage he had just now vanished instantly, and he closed his eyes in terror.
Whoosh!
The wind pressure pressed his fur tight against his skin, but the expected death did not come.
Opening his eyes,
The male bear's field of vision was almost completely filled.
Garros's wings were spread, hovering in mid-air as his deep, black dragon pupils looked down at the male bear.
"Evil Dragon! I, Paris the Earth Storm Bear, have never feared death!"
The male bear braved the dragon's pressure, his whole body trembling as he roared at Garros, baring his teeth and assuming an attacking posture.
Unlike the male bear's appearance of facing a great enemy,
Garros tilted his head slightly, appearing somewhat puzzled.
"You have never died, so how do you know you aren't afraid?"
He asked.
Not afraid of death?
That was too easy to say.
Garros felt that he himself was very afraid of death—so afraid that he wanted to eliminate all dangerous factors that made him fearful and uneasy.
Even I am afraid, and you aren't? Could you be more powerful than me?
Survival and continuation are the instincts of living beings. This single sentence was like a spear, piercing through the male bear's psychological defense line as the fear of death flooded over it like a tide.
Its gaze became hesitant, wavering between submission and resistance.
Submit?
The Dragonkin in front of it wasn't even an adult dragon.
Submitting to such a juvenile Dragonkin would damage its dignity as an Earth Storm Bear.
But on the other hand, this young Dragonkin could kill the leader, which meant it was more powerful than ordinary Dragonkin and had excellent potential; it seemed worth following.
The male bear thought with a struggling heart.
Garros did not know the male bear's psychological activities.
Even if he did, he wouldn't care.
He didn't like being seen as an Evil Dragon, nor did he like being resisted; he had no intention of leaving this Storm Bear alive.
Garros opened his dragon maw, and a surging Flame Dragon Breath spewed from his mouth, engulfing the still-hesitant and fearful male bear.
Accompanied by a few fading wails and roars, it was burned to charcoal.
"Those who submit live; those who resist die."
Garros looked up, his gaze sweeping across each Earth Storm Bear as he spoke with concise words.
Thud!
Red Dragon Samantha landed on the ground at the same time, scanning the bears like a predator, a brilliant flame brewing between the crisscrossing sharp teeth in her dragon mouth.
Mobel shouted at the right moment.
"Choose! Do you want to turn into ashes like Old Gor and this foolish bear, or follow me and enjoy the Dragon Lord's blessings?!"
The bear pack stirred.
Under the combination of threats and inducements, the first Storm Bear soon prostrated itself on the ground.
The creatures in this wilderness pursued nothing more than two points.
Survival and continuation.
Better survival, better continuation.
If it was truly as Mobel said, submitting to a Dragonkin was actually better than living under Old Gor's dictatorship.
After the first Storm Bear, the second, the third... eventually, all the Storm Bears lowered their heads. Under the moonlight, the entire Storm Bear tribe knelt down in sequence like a wave, showing their submission to the dragon shadow in the air.
The next day.
The sun was high, and golden sunlight spilled over Coniferous Valley.
Garros called several sub-adult male bears, between six and seven meters tall, to follow him to an open space.
"Dragon Lord, do you have any instructions?"
One Storm Bear asked cautiously.
Because they had just submitted, they were not yet clear on Garros's temperament. Furthermore, Garros's previous act of directly burning a defiant one to death at the slightest disagreement had left a shadow in their hearts, so they appeared constrained and careful in front of him.
Garros had the several Storm Bears center around him, forming a circle.
"Come, hit me."
He said.
Hearing this, the eyes of the several Storm Bears widened, as if they hadn't heard Garros's words clearly.
"Wh-what did you say?"
One Storm Bear scratched its scalp, doubting it had misheard, and asked in confusion.
Garros patiently repeated himself and added: "I said, I want you to attack me. Use all your means to attack me. Anyone who makes me feel pain or threatened will be given priority mating rights."
The Storm Bears looked at each other.
After hesitating for a few seconds and seeing Garros's expression gradually become impatient, one Storm Bear finally reached out a bear claw hesitantly and patted Garros.
More accurately, it was like a touch.
No force was used at all