Garros was lounging lazily atop a hill of treasure—a mound formed by countless gold coins, gems, and precious artifacts, all shimmering with an enticing luster—enjoying the gentle soothing of Demonic Energy cast by several graceful, magic-proficient snake-woman sorceresses.
That healing energy felt like a gentle stream.
Following the light caresses of the attendants' palms, it slowly seeped into his tough physique, smoothing away the subtle damage and fatigue brought on by high-intensity training.
This was absolutely not about indulging in luxury!
It was merely to recover his state faster, to begin a new round of exercise sooner. It was a forced relaxation, having nothing to do with enjoyment.
—No matter what others might think, that was how Garros viewed it.
"Five years. My martial combat Rank has improved, but my Life Level is still standing still."
"The further one goes, the slower the improvement of Life Level becomes."
During these five years, his Life Level had not changed, only his aura had grown deeper, and his body size had increased somewhat, with a head-to-tail length approaching seventeen meters. His posture was imposing, and his various attributes were also steadily improving.
"This is normal. The growth curve of Dragonkin Life Level is not smooth and uniform, but rather a staged improvement."
"I need to wait for the next Dragon Slumber. With my growth speed, the time for Dragon Slumber always comes early; the juvenile stage Dragon Slumber should arrive before too long."
The growth method of Dragonkin is vastly different from many other creatures; the core lies in the Dragon Slumber.
Daily exercise, combat, eating, and so on, all gradually accumulate and settle until they are digested during the Dragon Slumber, then multiple Life Levels are raised at once. Those minor wear and tear or hidden injuries left by combat, or even subtle damage to the Soul or spirit, are also repaired during the Dragon Slumber.
The life of a Dragon.
Those seemingly long thousand years of time are spent mostly in deep and long Dragon Slumbers, which contain a lot of filler.
"The Adaptive Evolution talent I possess—I can't say for sure about the future, but as far as the present is concerned, its core and most fundamental utility actually lies in reshaping the underlying essence of life, in expanding the boundaries of potential, and in raising that unattainable upper limit, rather than just staying on the surface and serving only as a reference for Life Level improvement."
Garros now understood the essence of his talent more and more.
"As for why my current Life Level can surpass Dragonkin of the same age..."
He continued to ponder, revealing a look of sudden realization: "The key lies in my own day-after-day, year-after-year tempering, never slacking off."
"Of course, it is also inseparable from those precious resources supplied continuously."
"The black oil containing surging energy, the brilliant gems that nourish the Dragon Soul, high-quality meat that provides extreme nutrition, and even precious metals used to strengthen the body. These are the cornerstones supporting my growth."
"The proportion occupied by talent is actually minuscule."
Garros thought quietly in his heart.
Immediately, he lifted his heavy eyelids slightly, his gaze sweeping casually over the scales at his side.
He saw that the surface of his Dragon scales was covered with dense, crisscrossing, brand-new sword marks, each one deeply embedded in the scales and clearly visible—these were the marks left during sparring by his powerful subordinate, the six-armed snake-person Sword Saint.
And beyond these newly added scars.
Even more eye-catching were those special patterns with a slightly darker color and a texture that seemed tougher and more solid.
They were like the growth rings of an ancient tree, or the cracks in a rock that had weathered the wind and frost, spreading over his massive trunk.
These were the medals symbolizing strength and experience, settled after countless intense battles, after the Dragon scales had shattered time and again and stubbornly healed under strong vitality—the battle-scarred patterns.
This dense set of battle-scarred patterns was largely due to his near "self-abusive" daily training method.
After all, the battle-scarred patterns on Garros were not all naturally formed in life-and-death struggles; a considerable portion was "ground" out by day after day of actively requesting his powerful subordinates to attack him with high intensity to train his resistance.
This method had a bit of a tricky feel to it.
However, Garros did not care about this.
He pondered in his heart: "As long as the effect is achieved, this set of battle-scarred patterns should... be quite intimidating to those who know their worth."
Only those who truly belonged to the interior of the Dragon Clan society, or intelligent creatures with an extremely profound understanding of the Dragonkin world, truly understood the gold content contained in the "battle-scarred patterns" on a Dragon body.
Faced with opponents with enough vision, Garros didn't even need to say much.
He only needed to simply reveal the dense battle-scarred patterns that already covered nearly one-fifth of his trunk, and that overwhelming, substantial pressure and deterrence would be enough to make many enemies with insufficient mental fortitude or slightly weak willpower instantly fearful, retreating before the fight even began.
This point was confirmed during that fierce battle with the Golden Dragon Alberto.
Even as proud and conceited as Alberto, when he caught sight of the dense battle-scarred patterns on Garros that far exceeded those of an ordinary Mature Adult Dragon, he could not suppress the astonishment and shock that flashed in his slit pupils, and consequently, a flaw appeared.
Calming his mind, Garros pulled his attention back to the present and slowly closed his eyes slightly.
Although this was his routine rest period, it was not complete relaxation.
He often used such fragmented time to closely monitor the changing situation unfolding on that southern continent through the Blood Kin Chain and merchant channels, collecting information, analyzing the situation, and silently making cautious and long-term plans for The Borderlands and his own future.
"Gorton."
The Red-Iron Dragon knocked lightly in his heart on that invisible Blood Kin Chain, calling out to his brother—the Iron Dragon Gorton—who was far away within the territory of the Kingdom of Lothern, sharing the same father and mother but a different fate.
At the same time.
Far away in the Kingdom of Lothern, on the quiet and vibrant training ground of the Starfire Monastery.
The huge, still-round Iron Dragon Gorton was becoming the focus of the entire field.
He was lying lazily in the center of the field, surrounded by gazes full of respect and near-admiration, and then, under the watch of these gazes, he was slightly showing off his body, which seemed a bit more seasoned than three years ago, though its overall outline remained round and plump.
In these three years, Gorton had indeed put in the effort.
He had hired an experienced court warrior as a training mentor and had successfully embarked on the Hundred-Battle Dragon path, which was relatively balanced in all aspects.
However, perhaps because his vigorous appetite remained unchanged and the training intensity was insufficient.
His body shape had not become as he desired deep down—distinctly lined, full of explosive power, and imposingly fierce to the point of being intimidating, like Garros.
At best, he had evolved from the original "fat-wrapped-fat" (fat wrapped in fat) to the current "fat-wrapped-muscle" (fat wrapped around budding muscles), and overall he still looked sturdy and heavy, carrying a unique, honest, and strong feeling.
At this moment, the Iron Dragon Gorton was pleasantly squinting his eyes.
While enjoying the worshipful gazes of the children around him, he scanned these thriving little ones.
The children, who used to be thin and weak due to malnutrition, like bean sprouts in the wind, had already undergone earth-shaking changes under the supply of sufficient food and carefully arranged, continuous physical training.
They had become physically strong, muscular, and full of spirit.
Some children were even more than twice as tall and strong as they were three years ago, full of vigorous vitality and a sense of power.
Among them.
Aster, Seros, Aisha... the talents of these three children were particularly dazzling and outstanding.
They had experienced suffering and knew the preciousness of opportunity. That hard work and self-discipline reached a near-demanding level. Watered by sweat day after day, year after year, about a year ago, they had clearly felt the flow and condensation of "Qi" in their bodies and had officially stepped into the Monk path.
Judging by their amazing talent and their current unstoppable growth speed.
Gorton had no doubt that as long as they were given enough time and resources, within twenty years, these three children would surely grow into powerful existences with extraordinary strength capable of standing on their own.
Just as Gorton was immersed in his gratified thoughts, the Dragon Clan Bloodline flowing in his body suddenly transmitted a subtle palpitation.
Immediately after, a familiar and majestic voice sounded—it was the call from the distant Borderlands, from his powerful brother.
The Iron Dragon's spirit was stirred.
"My dear brother."
Gorton immediately responded in his heart through the Bloodline connection, saying: "Just right, I have just received an extremely important piece of news, and I was just about to tell you."
"Is it about the Duchy of Haltai and the Duchy of Abel officially tearing off their masks and declaring war on each other?"
Garros said: "I already know about this matter."
Through the channels of the merchant group, he soon learned of such an obvious and important matter.
Garros knew it clearly.
On the surface, the two great Duchies of Haltai and Abel were fighting to maintain their so-called inviolable national sovereignty.
But in reality, they were more like two sharp swords, held tightly by the sword-holder behind the scenes.
Their intense collision at this moment was, to a large extent, merely executing the will of the sword-holder, a carefully planned probing engagement.
The Holy King had already fallen.
But the Kingdom of Lothern was, after all, a behemoth that had exclusively enjoyed hundreds of years of resource tilting and development under his glorious protection.
Even though it was now full of internal contradictions and problems, and even showed signs of aging and fatigue, it could not change a fixed fact.
—It was still a kingdom with deep foundations, powerful military forces, and vast territories.
Those covetous ones lurking in the dark, ambitious like jackals and evil dogs, would never be stupid enough to launch a frontal assault at the beginning, directly challenging this male lion that was old but still had claws and teeth.
They would only cautiously extend their probing claws first, constantly teasing, testing, and creating chaos on the edges... until they thoroughly confirmed the weakness and slow reaction of the male lion, and then they would swarm up like a school of sharks smelling blood and tear it apart completely.
"That is indeed the matter."
Gorton confirmed Garros's knowledge, but his tone immediately became lower and more cautious.
"However, I have another piece of news here that is more important than the Duchies going to war to tell you."
He paused for a moment, then said slowly: "That old King of Lothern is critically ill and bedridden."