A Dragon against the Whole World

The cost of establishing the Bloodline Chain for the first time was not small. Gordon seemed to have some unspoken concerns, which is why he delayed speaking, and as time passed, Solrog was struggling to hold on.

"Don’t resist, let me complete the Bloodline Chain first."

"We’ll discuss it in detail later."

As the words fell, Solrog began constructing the final Bloodline Chain, extending it towards the Fat Iron Dragon’s Spiritual Body.

Gordon hesitated for a few seconds — was it necessary to maintain contact with the poor brothers still crawling in the wilderness?

He was no longer the naive and foolish young dragon of the past, knowing that Solrog’s words back then were all deceiving. Their time together was brief, and their relationship was not deep. He also did not think Solrog would accomplish anything significant; his situation was likely dire.

If it were Galos, reliable and powerful, then it would be worth trusting.

While he hesitated, the Bloodline Chain had already extended to his front.

Ultimately, Iron Dragon Gordon, although somewhat hesitant, did not resist and accepted the Bloodline Chain.

"The Bloodline Chain is complete!"

Solrog opened his eyes.

He could clearly sense Galos’ presence and even vaguely perceive the other’s emotions — calm, vigilant, like a deep and vast ocean.

As for Samantha... her mental fluctuations were like a volatile flame, ready to sever the link at any moment.

And Gordon, because of the great distance, the link was unstable, flickering in and out.

But regardless, the magic was successful.

Now, no matter how far apart, as long as they were on the same continent, the Ignatius Brothers could communicate on a mental level.

Of course, the Bloodline Chain was not a high-level Mind Magic.

It could still be interfered with or blocked, but for everyday communication, it was already sufficient.

The Iron Dragon glanced down at his chest. As the magic construction concluded, the blood had ceased flowing, making him feel much better.

Meanwhile.

Border Area, Northeast, Ten Thousand Snake Swamp.

The swamp gas hung on the dead trees like decaying silk, the air filled with humid moisture, and sunlight cast fragmented shadows as beams of light fell.

This was the Poison Tail Tribe’s headquarters.

Including their tails, the adult Snakefolk averaged over six meters in length, and they constantly patrolled various parts of the swamp, secret curses and witchcraft quietly scattered everywhere.

Deep in the swamp.

The council hall of the Poison Tail Tribe was built within the cavity of a giant serpent skeleton half-submerged in the mire.

Snake-man Mage Sargon coiled on the mossy stone platform at the main position, his slender tail silently tapping the damp, smelly ground.

In front of him, two visitors exuded a scent that made his scales tingle.

Ironblood Tribe’s Beastman Commander Urom, with blood-stained copper rings on his tusks, whose heavy breathing could be clearly heard even from ten meters away; and Dawn Tribe’s Barbarian Warrior Bretta, whose bare shoulders were covered in twisted tattoos, her hair tied in thick braids with a few yellowed bones woven in, emanating a suffocating heat of sweat and blood.

These two were the envoys sent by the Ironblood and Dawn Tribes, respectively.

The upheaval caused by Molten Iron Tribe’s crushing and annexing of the Golden Tooth Tribe had not gone unnoticed by humans and Beastmen.

In their hearts, they looked down on the cunning and wicked goblins, but they did not underestimate the Alchemy Corps of the Golden Tooth Tribe.

Having defeated the Golden Tooth Tribe, the rapidly rising Molten Iron Tribe elicited deep vigilance and wariness from humans and Beastmen, unwilling to let this unknown tribe continue to develop and grow stronger.

To this end, they had reached a unified idea, preparing to unite against the Molten Iron Tribe before it could fully digest the fruits of victory and become unbeatable.

Now, only the Poison Tail Tribe’s stance remained to be expressed.

Snake-man Mage Sargon was a tribal leader responsible for talking with the tribal envoys at this time.

"Snake Man!"

Urom was the first to break the silence, his voice like two pieces of raw iron grinding together, rough and harsh: "That red iron mongrel dragon of the Molten Iron Tribe has swallowed the Golden Tooth; next it will be us! Poison Tail, Ironblood, and Dawn must bite into his throat like three fangs!"

His massive fist slammed onto the stone table, causing a few hidden scorpions to scurry away in panic.

Bretta folded her arms, her bronzed skin gleaming with oil in the dim light.

Her voice was low and hoarse as she said, "Urom is right. The methods of those dragons are ruthless. The goblins of the Golden Tooth Tribe have already submitted. Once he digests the Golden Tooth, any one of us three facing him alone will get skinned alive. Only by banding together and striking before his wings have fully hardened can we crush him and his followers to dust."

Her sharp eyes swept over the Snake-man Mage and said, "With the Warlock Shaman of Poison Tail, the Warriors of Iron Blood, and our Barbarians, it will be enough to tear apart the Molten Iron Tribe. By then, the Border Area will still belong to us."

Compared to the primitive directness of the Beastmen.

A Barbarian who hasn’t gotten angry is easier to communicate with.

Opposite, the tip of the Snake-man Mage’s tongue silently slid across his lips.

"Hiss... The rise of the Molten Iron Tribe indeed makes the vipers in the swamp uneasy."

His voice was slick and cool, like a venomous snake sliding over a damp, cold stone, distinct from both humans and Beastmen.

"The bravery of the Iron Blood Tribe, the decisiveness of the Dawn Tribe, our Poison Tail Tribe has always admired."

His words, unlike those of humans and Beastmen, were ambiguously soft-spoken.

The Beastman Commander impatiently grunted, the moist air thickening with his scent, and said, "Stop beating around the bush, Sargon! Just say, is the snake swarm of Poison Tail joining us to kill that Red Dragon bastard, or waiting to be picked off one by one to make snake stew?"

The human envoy was also somewhat displeased, staring at the Snake-man Mage, and said, "We come with sincerity, stop being evasive and roundabout. The Molten Iron Tribe is growing every moment. We need to make a decision quickly."

Both the Iron Blood Tribe and the Dawn Tribe prefer straightforwardness.

The only difference is that the Beastmen are rougher, while humans are slightly more rational, but when the Barbarians of the Dawn Tribe get angry, they can be more ferocious than the Beastmen.

"The requests of you two... hiss... are very direct.

The Snake-man Mage said, "War, especially against such a top-tier magical creature as the Dragon Race, is not a wrestling match in an arena. It requires precise venom, not blind crashes. The strength of the Poison Tail Tribe lies in silent strangulation and patient waiting."

What’s all this jabbering?!

Urom slammed the table and stood up, roaring irritably, "Sargon! Stop wasting words! Give us a straightforward answer!"

The Snake-man Guards around coldly eyed the council hall.

The thick-skinned Beastman didn’t mind, just stared irritably at the Snake-man Mage.

Bretta swatted a few blood-sucking mosquitoes on her arm, her expression also gradually becoming impatient.

Two barbaric and stupid fools without brains, the Snake-man Mage leaned in slightly and said, "The dosage and timing of poison determine if it is a life-saving medicine or... an accelerating curse to death. We need a more thorough plan and need to identify the weakest scales of the Molten Iron Tribe. Blindly rushing in will only result in being burned to ashes by Dragon Flame."

The Beastman’s eyelids twitched, unable to stand the Snake-man Mage’s long-winded speech.

So wishy-washy, indecisive.

No wonder they only like to hide behind and play with curses and magic, without any blood courage or honor.

He wanted to raise his fist and smash it into the face of the Snake-man Mage, cracking his skull.

But considering the purpose of this trip and realizing they were on someone else’s turf, the Beastman Commander struggled to suppress his rage.

Finally.

The Snake-man Mage got to the point.

"Three days... hiss... the oldest Ancestral Spirit Shaman of the Poison Tail Tribe will perform a spiritual communion to detect the weak points of the Molten Iron Tribe and find the best gap for the venomous fangs to pierce."

"By then, the Poison Tail Tribe will give you a specific answer."

Border Area, Southeast, Steel Nail Sentry.

"First, communicate with Galos and Samantha, try out the effects of the Bloodline Chain, and by the way, talk about Gordon’s situation."

Iron Dragon Solrog paused to recover from the cost of constructing spells, and after his spirit was restored, a glow of Spiritual Energy lit up in his eyes.

Following that.

With a gentle tapping sensation on the bloodline, Galos and Samantha simultaneously received communication from Solrog through the Bloodline Chain on the mental level. Additionally, through the Mind Mage as an intermediary, both Galos and Samantha could sense each other’s thoughts through Iron Dragon Solrog.

"Something big has happened."

The Iron Dragon’s voice was serious and earnest.

"Gordon is still alive; I located him using the Bloodline Chain."

He shared the image of the Spiritual Body he saw with Galos and Samantha.

"A fat pig with iron dragon traits—is it a dragon-veined swine?! It looks juicy, roasting it with flames and sprinkling some spices should make it quite delicious."

The Red Dragon drooled.

At the first sight of the Fat Iron Dragon through the link, she didn’t realize who the other party was.