In the dark, heavy sky, an invisible hand seemed to be churning the clouds, stirring up layer upon layer of forest waves; pea-sized raindrops poured down, wailing between the mountains and the wilderness, raising a pale curtain of rain.
Garros's body, cast like steel and iron, stood tall in the wind and rain.
Beside him, the Iron Dragon and Red Dragon also spread their wings and stood straight, their dragon faces filled with excitement, revealing sharp dragon teeth.
"Crush those lowly reptiles!"
Samantha snorted sparks from her nostrils and growled.
"They will pay a blood price for their arrogance!"
Sorog's hard dragon scales clanked together.
The Ignas Siblings knew each other well enough that when they saw the change in Garros's expression and gaze, they knew his thoughts without needing to ask.
Unlike Garros, however...
The Red Dragon and Iron Dragon were already filled with killing intent, wanting to skin and de-bone those humans who dared to extort them; it was only because Garros had been restraining them, forcing them to endure.
But now.
Garros was also enraged.
He had already yielded, but the other party had pushed him step by step.
In fact, from the perspective of the humans, their actions were not improper.
If this monster clan were weak, they would use their private army to beat them into submission and then take over completely; if they were strong enough to be feared and went to war in a frenzy, that would be even better—they could apply for the garrison to suppress them, give them a severe beating, and then recruit them by showing mercy.
What the nobles wanted was not a normal partnership.
But a completely controlled superior-subordinate relationship.
But for Garros's side, this was completely unacceptable.
The nobles' testing and provocation were touching Garros's bottom line.
This made him feel a great sense of danger.
Thus, he felt wary, he felt afraid, and a surging, boiling killing intent rose in his heart.
However, now was not the time to act directly.
The more this was the case, the more calm and reason were needed; the consequences had to be considered clearly, and an escape route had to be planned.
Garros took a deep breath, drawing the wind and rain into his lungs, and then slowly exhaled.
"Sorog, instruct the kin leaders of each warband to prepare for battle. Order the kin leaders staying in the territory to pack up and immediately evacuate to the Quenchfire Highlands."
"Samantha, clear out Coniferous Valley. Take everything that can be taken, and destroy everything that cannot."
The meaning revealed by these words was very clear.
Garros was going to abandon this territory.
He was decisive; since he had decided to flip the table, he would prepare for migration immediately, giving the other party no chance for subsequent retaliation.
Hearing this, Samantha hesitated slightly.
She was reluctant to part with the territory she had managed for so long and the wealth it brought.
"Wait, Garros, we're giving up the territory?"
"It's not giving up, just a temporary withdrawal. We will make a comeback sooner or later."
"Why? A Viscount's army absolutely cannot defeat us. We can kill them all! And continue to occupy this place."
A Viscount did not belong to a very high Rank of nobility in the human world.
Samantha was as arrogant as ever, believing that only great nobles or Great Lords were worth retreating from.
Glancing at the calm-eyed Garros, the Iron Dragon sneered, suppressing his surging emotions, and said, "Stupid. Do you think the Lothern Federation will tolerate three Evil Dragons nesting near a trade route and sit by while we grow our wings?"
"A Viscount is not a concern, but when we show our claws and reveal our edge, it will inevitably attract more attention."
"If we are still here then, waiting for powerful experts to surround and suppress us, it will be a dead end."
"With the nobility of our Dragonkin and our value as Dragons, we might even attract a Legend."
"Once a Legend comparable to an Ancient Dragon arrives while we are still here, we won't even have a chance to escape."
"And it doesn't even require a Legend; those experts with high life Ranks can all pose a danger to us."
When the Iron Dragon could suppress its emotions and think calmly...
Its wisdom far surpassed Samantha's.
What it said was also what Garros was thinking.
Every Legend is a pillar of the nation, the core of various races and countries. A Viscount would not have a Legend behind him, otherwise he wouldn't be a Viscount coming to the wilderness to snatch food from monsters.
But in the vast Lothern Federation, there were Legendary experts, and in the garrison of the Serel Wilderness, there were also Legends; otherwise, they couldn't suppress the Vicious Beasts and magical creatures of the wilderness.
Once they killed the people sent by the Viscount...
Among whom was a noble's scion.
This would undoubtedly be seen as a provocation to the Lothern Federation.
In the eyes of the Serel Wilderness garrison, they would surely believe that the Molten Iron Clan was no longer an ordinary clan and that a few Evil Dragons had already become a threat to the Federation, and they must strike with a heavy blow!
If they continued to occupy the Scale-Earth Rift Road...
The subsequent script was predictable.
First, the Viscount would send troops for revenge, then be defeated by the Dragons, followed by the arrival of a more formal legion. If they still couldn't handle the Dragons, the experts in the garrison would act directly.
Or there might not even be that many twists and turns.
After discovering a few Dragons, some expert might be tempted by the hunt and act first before the Viscount could send troops or apply for military aid, making a handsome profit.
"Regardless, we can no longer stay at the Scale-Earth Rift Road. We must evacuate."
Garros's gaze was sharp as he said slowly, "And before that, I will make those people pay a painful price."
In reality, directly tucking their tails and retreating with their kin without touching those humans was the most rational choice.
But Garros did not have an absolutely rational personality.
He had his own pursuits, his own desires.
Did he survive and grow while walking on thin ice just to run away like a coward every time he encountered danger?
No.
It was so that at a time like this, even if he had to retreat, he would make the enemies who broke his peaceful life pay the price, letting them know the consequences of provoking him.
It was so that when he encountered similar situations in the future, he would no longer need to yield.
The first time he abandoned his territory due to the threat of the Blackrock Dwarves, Garros had no confidence to resist and migrated overnight like a stray dog.
But this time, he would make the enemy remember the pain.
If there were a next time, perhaps it wouldn't be him who had to run.
Immediately, through the Communication Stone, orders were issued one after another in rapid succession.
The combat units led by Karu did not return to the territory to organize the tax money; instead, under the cover of the heavy rain and Sorcerers, they slowly and silently approached the camp of the noble's son.
The leaders in the various territories of the Molten Iron Clan also received the order and began mobilizing their tribesmen to pack up and head for the Quenchfire Highlands.
In the blink of an eye, four days had passed.
The rain had fluctuated over these few days, but today, it was still pouring; pea-sized raindrops hit the leather tents, making a crisp pitter-patter sound.
In the largest tent, a decadent scent of perfume mixed with roasted meat wafted through the air.
Edmond leaned back on a lounge chair, playing with a crystal ball in his hand.
He looked relaxed, not like he was in the wilderness for training, but rather on vacation.
"Young Master, will those monsters really pay the tax honestly?"
Brent flatteringly offered some chilled wine.
"If you ask me, we should have just attacked their lair directly."
Edmond glanced at the Tax Collector. "Do you know where their lair is?"
"Uh, currently I don't."
Brent smiled sheepishly.
Edmond took a sip of the wine, his pale blue pupils reflecting the defensive line arrayed outside the tent.
Five Alchemy Golems formed a circular defense, the Thorns Knights were training in the heavy rain, and further away was a Frost Giant controlled by Spells, its eyes dull and hollow.
"Be patient."
Edmond said contemptuously, "Beasts are beasts after all; their stupid and primitive heads can't come up with any schemes."
He looked down on wilderness monsters from the bottom of his heart.
Or rather, all intelligent beings living in civilized lands were full of prejudice against the primitive and crude monsters in the wilderness.
For example...
The Goblin Kingdom within the Lothern Federation completely refused to acknowledge that the goblin clans in the wilderness were the same species as them, viewing them only as 'Pseudo-Goblin' monsters with similar appearances.
Edmond swirled his wine glass and drained the red liquid inside.
"Perhaps they will be unwilling at first and try some petty tricks when delivering the tax, but before us, the wise and civilized, the thoughts of beasts are merely laughable."
Edmond said leisurely, "The tax I'm asking for now is just the beginning."
"Next, I will constantly test their bottom line, applying pressure bit by bit, squeezing all their wealth, and bringing them completely under my control."
Studying magic was very expensive.
In order to gain a firm foothold in the Sky Academy in the future, Edmond didn't mind 'draining the pond to catch the fish' to obtain a large amount of wealth first.
In his view, these excessive demands now were not a problem; as long as he succeeded in his studies and became a high-level mage in the future, obtaining wealth and glory would be an easy task.
Brent smiled flatteringly, nodding repeatedly.
This young master was a true favorite of heaven; his background actually limited him, and his future achievements would surely far surpass his father's. If he were lucky enough to become a Legendary spellcaster, his name would spread throughout the Duchy of Raymond, and he would become a pillar of this country.
The atmosphere inside the tent was relaxed.
Edmond sipped his fine wine and used a knife and fork to cut the roasted meat with an elegant posture.
However, beneath the calm, undercurrents were surging.
Bain, the monk in the shadows, suddenly opened his eyes, his pupils constricting.
"Something is approaching."
He said solemnly.
"Uncle Bain, are you being too nervous?"
The magical alarms outside the camp showed no reaction, so Edmond didn't take it seriously.
Until—BOOM!
A dull, unnatural thunder sounded in the sky, approaching from afar.
The first to notice the anomaly was the Frost Giant.
This Puppet, crafted with Alchemy and Necromancy, suddenly let out a shrill howl.
The surrounding knights looked up and saw the direction the giant was pointing.
The sky, heavy with pouring rain, was suddenly torn open.
A crimson baleful star pierced through the cloud layer. In the vacuum channel burned out by its tail flame, the rain vaporized into a pale mist before it could fall. That light was not the usual orange-red of a meteorite, but a dark crimson closer to biological blood, as if a deep wound had been slashed across the heavens.