The Dwarf Alchemist gradually drew closer.
He wore a pair of Focusing Magic Lenses. By adjusting the focal length to a microscopic level, he could clearly see the metallic texture on the surface of the dragon scale fading, revealing an internal honeycomb-like structure for storing fire elements.
This was a form never before recorded in alchemy textbooks.
At the thought that his discovery this time might be published as a scholarly case study...
The Dwarf Alchemist's breathing became rapid, and his thick beard trembled with excitement.
Meanwhile.
Under the scorching flame, the scale fragment turned completely glowing red. Under the microscope, a lava-like bright red substance seeped out from those honeycomb pores.
The Dwarf Alchemist keenly sensed danger, and his expression changed.
Hum!
Runes instantly lit up on the iron rings tied to his beard, rapidly extending a shield of light that covered the Dwarf Alchemist's body.
The scale fragment exploded like a squeezed sun.
Boom!
A burst of flame and a shockwave suddenly exploded, hitting the Dwarf Alchemist and sending him flying, crashing through three rows of shelves.
Ten or so seconds later.
Groni crawled up from the chaotic workshop, covered in dust and grime, his charred beard still emitting blue smoke. If the iron rings hanging from his beard hadn't been defensive Alchemical Items that blocked much of the damage, given an Alchemist's fragile Physique, he wouldn't have escaped a result of serious injury.
Even so, he paid a price for his carelessness this time.
A sharp pain came from his left eye. When he touched his face, he only felt the melted metal frame and the viscous residue of the lens.
The explosion happened too suddenly, and his Alchemical Item didn't activate in time, resulting in that eye being blinded by the blast.
He truly could not have imagined it.
Such a tiny scale fragment could actually cause such a degree of lethal destruction.
After regaining his composure, he took a closer look.
The Adamantine Crucible had cracked radially, the Runic Engraving Knife had shattered into several pieces, and the Focusing Magic Lenses were also ruined. The physical pain was secondary; these losses pained the Dwarf Alchemist's heart even more.
For an Alchemist, useful tools are worth more than gold.
"Waaaaah! You cunning Red-Iron hybrid Evil Dragon! I'll remember you!"
The Dwarf Alchemist's skin turned red with surging anger, his screams echoing in the night.
Bang! Olaf, carrying a warhammer longer than his height, kicked open the deformed workshop door. His gaze swept through the interior like a fierce tiger, seeing the red-hot, blinded Dwarf Alchemist.
"Groni, what happened?"
He asked.
The Dwarf Alchemist said, "I was attacked by an Evil Dragon."
He briefly explained what had happened.
After hearing the Dwarf Alchemist's words, Olaf's eyes widened, and he muttered bluntly, "What Evil Dragon attack? Didn't you just get yourself blown up because you were being an airhead?"
Hearing this.
The Dwarf Alchemist was stunned, and he spat out a mouthful of blood.
Being called an airhead by a barbarian made him feel like he was going to explode, yet he simply couldn't refute it.
The Dwarf Alchemist's anger attacked his heart. As he spat out that mouthful of blood, his brain lacked oxygen, and he fell straight to the ground, fainting away.
Meanwhile.
Storm Bear Ridge, Coniferous Valley.
Garros didn't know what had happened to the Dwarf Alchemist. If he did, he definitely wouldn't be able to stop himself from laughing out loud.
Roasting his Explosive Scales with fire and then leaning in to check them—it was only thanks to his quick reactions that he wasn't blown to death on the spot.
Even the Earth Storm Bears, known for their defense and full focus, had all been blown into charred, bloody messes during their sparring sessions with Garros.
A fragile Alchemist, caught off guard and blasted at close range—any slower reaction would have meant a real risk of death.
Being unaware of what was happening under the same sky...
Garros was full of fighting spirit; the training for his 'little dragon' was not yet over.
He thought about it seriously. Only training the scales outside the reproductive vent was equivalent to putting a thicker layer of defense over a weakness, but the weakness still existed. It was better to train the weakness directly.
Thus, after some mental preparation.
Garros took a deep breath, stood upright, and thrust his hips against a young, relatively soft-textured coniferous pine.
As wood chips flew, the little dragon extending from the reproductive vent drilled a deep hole into the tree trunk.
Garros's facial plates twitched and distorted a few times, and he let out a sharp hiss like he was sucking in cold air. Even with his current tolerance for pain, he couldn't help but grimace.
This kind of tempering of one's own weakness was truly not something an ordinary dragon could resolve to do.
"Again! I will make this weakness as tough as steel—no, harder than steel!"
The Red-Iron Young Dragon gritted his teeth and struck out ruthlessly once more.
Bang, bang, bang! The tree trunk gradually became riddled with holes, cracks extended, and before long, it could no longer bear the burden and snapped completely in the middle.
Garros also felt that the little dragon was sore and stinging to the extreme, making it truly difficult to continue. Only then did he stop, planning to rest for a while before starting a new round of adaptation training.
The next day, when the first light of dawn spilled over and shone upon Coniferous Valley.
Garros spread his wings and flew out from the mountain cave in the center of the valley.
Coniferous Valley was surrounded by mountains on three sides, and there were many natural caves in the mountains. Garros had chosen the largest and most comfortable one as his Dragon Nest.
As the saying goes, the success of a day is determined in the morning.
Under normal circumstances, Garros would take off at dawn to search for suitable Vicious Beasts and monsters to hunt, honing his combat skills in the process.
If it were any other Dragonkin who ruled a group of storm bears...
They would most likely order their subordinates to hunt for them and provide food, while they themselves lived a wonderful life of enjoying the fruits of others' labor.
Garros was not like that. His hunting frequency did not decrease because hunting was not just for food, but also to hone his combat techniques and enrich his practical experience; it was an indispensable part of his training.
Practical experience was very important in Garros's eyes.
Like the Copper Dragon he had encountered before.
A young dragon over sixteen years old even carried several Alchemical Items. If its practical experience had been rich enough, Garros's robbery would not have been so easy. It was precisely because he judged that the Copper Dragon lacked combat experience that Garros decided to counterattack and steal the treasure instead of simply retreating.
Back to the point.
Garros originally wanted to take off directly to hunt.
But because his stride was too large, the movement pulled at him, and the residual pain between his hind legs was intense, making him grimace. He landed again, helplessly lying on a rock slab, preparing to rest for a while longer.
Noticing that Garros seemed a bit off.
Samantha walked over on all fours and asked in surprise, "My dear brother, are you injured?"
Garros: "No."
Samantha didn't believe him and said, "When you were walking just now, you looked all awkward and mincing. It's definitely not normal."
"Don't try to be brave. Where are you hurt? Let me take a look for you."
"I've mastered a new rune. If I engrave it on the injured area, it can speed up the recovery."
The Red Dragon extended her sharp claws and enthusiastically walked closer to Garros.
Garros kept a straight face, a dangerous light flashing in his eyes, and said, "Stay away from me. Go experiment with your runes on the storm bears."