Garros extended his thick dragon claw, gripping Alberto's charred, limply hanging golden dragon tail.
His wings flapped, whipping up a howling gale.
Dragging the Young Dragon, who was sleeping like a dead pig, he finally tossed him casually into a relatively soft pile of sand within the Dragon Valley.
Thump!
With a dull thud, dust flew into the air.
This rough treatment did not wake the sleeper in the slightest.
Instead, there was a massive snoring sound that echoed throughout the entire Dragon Valley like continuous, muffled thunder.
Rising and falling, with varying cadence, it echoed and lingered endlessly in the empty valley.
Garros's formidable body landed lightly in the center of the valley.
He stretched his massive body, covered in cold, black-Red Dragon scales, emitting a slight sound of bones rubbing together, then turned his gaze toward the Red-Silver Dragon Deborah, who was standing elegantly nearby.
"This Alberto, his state is a bit off," he said.
Deborah let out a soft chuckle.
The tip of her long, flexible dragon tail curled around a boulder, then she swung it violently.
With pinpoint accuracy, it slammed into the side of Alberto's golden head.
Crash.
The boulder instantly shattered into countless tiny stone fragments, like exploding fireworks of dust.
However, the golden dragon in the sand pile showed almost no reaction, save for the magic scales on his neck flickering once before dimming again.
"Tsk tsk, he's really tough to beat up," she said.
Deborah tilted her head with interest, then casually waved her dragon claw in the air.
Cold air condensed, forming hard ice crystals out of thin air.
These ice crystals, like a dense rain of bullets, hit Alberto's defenseless body one after another, emitting dull thudding sounds.
Deborah played this target practice game while wearing a thoughtful expression.
"Strange," she said. "Could this guy have sworn some bizarre or perversely harsh oath?"
Garros nodded his huge head and said, "Very likely."
"The skills of the Holy Dragon Path are indeed all-encompassing and can be called comprehensive, but there is also a huge, undeniable problem."
His gaze fell upon Alberto.
"Oaths can grant a Holy Dragon tenacity, determination, and violent power far beyond common sense, but they also lead to an inevitable side effect."
"Sometimes, due to impulse or an excessive pursuit of perfection, Holy Dragons accidentally make oaths that are too harsh or bizarre to the point of being incomprehensible."
"Looking at him."
"It's nine times out of ten exactly this situation."
Although Garros did not know exactly what kind of oath this Young Dragon had made, judging by his strange reaction, the impact on him must be significant.
Furthermore, this intense battle with Alberto, while giving Garros a long-lost sense of excitement and the pleasure of stretching his muscles, was far from satisfying him completely.
He had indeed activated the Frenzied State of power liberation.
However, with the continuous growth of Garros's own strength, and his repeated activation and adaptation to the Frenzied State, the cost and burden of this power had undergone earth-shaking changes for him.
At the beginning, using the Frenzied State was like an asphyxiating anaerobic sprint. Intense and short-lived, it could not be sustained.
Now, it was more like performing a high-intensity but sustainable 'aerobic' exercise.
He was already able to stably maintain this state for a relatively long period, rather than being limited to just a brief burst.
After a brief conversation with the Red-Silver Dragon, the unsatisfied Red-Iron Dragon turned and flapped his wings, flying toward the heavy-gravity training ground built specifically for him.
Whoosh!
Garros's chest rose and expanded, deeply inhaling a massive amount of air from the outside.
Immediately after, sounds like beating drums, thunder, and engines came from his chest, and lightning from the Frenzied State flashed and flew across his body, putting a tremendous load on his heart.
The Young Dragons on the other side felt a palpitation just hearing those roaring sounds, invisibly receiving some mental shock; it was hard to imagine that the sound was actually just the Red-Iron Dragon's heartbeat.
After exhaling another breath of scorching air, accompanied by the thumping heartbeat, the Red-Iron Dragon's body rolled on the ground, performing one movement after another that seemed unfathomable and full of aesthetic beauty, yet perfectly combined strength and technique.
Through this method, he was training his heart.
Even for Dragonkin, who were born with formidable physiques, the heart remained the core hub for maintaining life and power. Its importance was self-evident.
Garros firmly believed that once this heart could break through its limits and complete its final evolutionary transformation, it would not just be this single organ that was improved and changed.
It would inevitably be like lighting a fuse for a chain reaction, driving the entire body's life essence to experience many wonderful changes.
Moreover, based on his understanding of himself and his talents, he had a strong intuition. By the time the next juvenile stage slumber ended, he would most likely be able to complete the evolution of his Dragon Heart as a matter of course.
At that time, his life essence would experience a huge improvement.
When the last ray of sunlight on the horizon disappeared below the horizon, and the night grew thicker, quietly enveloping the Dragon Valley.
Garros, having finished his training, slowly immersed his massive body, which was radiating astonishing heat, into the cold lake water.
Hiss—hiss hiss hiss—like a red-hot iron being dropped into cold water. Countless billows of scalding white steam rose violently from his body, churning endlessly, and the entire lake surface instantly became shrouded in mist due to this quenching-like action.
He closed his eyes slightly, feeling the cold lake water wrapping around his entire body, and his massive form slowly sank to the deep bottom of the lake.
Accompanied by the increase in water pressure and the drop in temperature, his mind gradually became calm and focused.
His thick, powerful dragon claw, covered in heavy scales, gently stroked his chest.
Through the tough, heavy scales and muscles as strong as a dragon, even without using the Frenzied State or Blood Burst, Garros could still clearly perceive the surging, beating Dragon Heart beneath his chest.
"I am thirty-seven years old, and I have almost passed half of my juvenile stage."
"In no more than two years at most, I will welcome the slumber of the juvenile stage, and based on my past slumber durations, which have always far exceeded those of my peers, by the time I wake up next, I should have formally entered the Young Dragon stage."
Garros silently pondered: "This timing is actually not perfect; it will inevitably affect my plans to obtain resources while taking advantage of the Federal civil war."
"But thinking about it carefully, perhaps it's fine."
"The internal divisions and wars within the Federal behemoth will by no means fully erupt and be settled in a short period of time."
"Those Duchies and Kingdoms entrenched in various regions each have their own interests and long-term considerations; they fear and check each other, and will never easily or rashly start a full-scale war."
"Until this very moment, the only ones who have truly torn off their masks and formally declared war are the Duchy of Abel and the Duchy of Haltai."
"Taking advantage of this precious time before my slumber, I will first return to the Serel Wilderness, establish stable outposts and bases on the edge of the wilderness, gain a foothold, and plant a wedge."
"When I step into the more powerful Young Dragon stage and have a leap in strength, I will be able to participate in this gluttonous feast with more abundant power and a more composed attitude."
At the bottom of the lake, Garros silently sorted through the path to the future in the depths of his heart, then folded his wings to his sides and swung his tail to swim upward.
Finally, he burst out of the lake with a sky full of water spray and flapped his wings, flying toward the Burning Steel Fortress.
Next, like the fine sand constantly flowing in an hourglass, time passed quietly day by day.
The Iron Dragon Sorog, assisted by the Young Dragons who were gradually shedding their immaturity, methodically fulfilled his duties, managing the growing legion of dependents.
He busily gathered those elite warriors who had been selected, meticulously counted the mountains of logistical supplies and military equipment, and prepared a massive food reserve sufficient to support the expedition.
The Molten Iron Tribe, located in The Borderlands, was now like a huge, precisely operating war machine, full of a sense of power ready to be unleashed.
They were making thorough preparations for the upcoming march back to the Serel Wilderness.