"Resource scarcity should be secondary."
"The Borderlands are near the Permafrost Tundra, where Frost Giants and Barbarians with foundations comparable to kingdoms reside; they do not allow established federal legions to be stationed in The Borderlands."
Garros pondered in his heart.
He put aside his wandering thoughts, looked at Iron Dragon Sorog, and said: "The comprehensive level of the Four Great Tribes might be higher than ours, but certainly not by much. Moreover, they value each other, having occupied The Borderlands for many years, keeping each other in check."
The Iron Dragon nodded, chiming in: "I think so too."
"The top priority for the Molten Iron Tribe is not to go to war with the Four Great Tribes, but to first completely consolidate the resources in the southwest and solidify our current territory. We have developed too quickly."
He looked at Garros and said: "There are several powerful Wild Monster Lords in the southwest that I am not confident I can defeat."
"The cost of having my kin pile up their lives to kill them is too high, so I left them alone."
"They occupy several relatively fertile territories, which are also the last missing pieces of the puzzle in the southwest. Now that you have awakened, it is just the right time to use them to familiarize yourself with your increased power; it is time to reclaim these territories."
Wild Monster Lord refers to powerful Vicious Beasts and monsters. They have limited intelligence, possess no kin under their command, do not know how to manage territory, and mainly rely on powerful individual strength to occupy a region.
For some very powerful Wild Monster Lords, the Four Great Tribes would not rashly provoke them either.
The Red-Iron Dragon shook its thick and agile neck, grinned, and said: "I said long ago that the most difficult battles are my responsibility. My wings will protect the entire Molten Iron Tribe, including you."
"The Wild Monster Lords you cannot fight, I will fight."
Clack, clack—He stretched his wings and spine, and the scales on his body rubbed against each other, emitting a crisp sound like colliding metal.
He needed to adapt to and familiarize himself with the increase in power brought by ten years of slumber; otherwise, power that cannot be controlled can sometimes become a hidden danger.
Spear-blade-like dragon tail and wings.
Brand new Frostburn Scales.
Level 3 Dragon Qi.
Garros needed to familiarize himself with them more and form new combat styles around them.
The Iron Dragon told Garros the locations of several Wild Monster Lord lairs and other specific details, then said: "The Golden Tooth Tribe wants to block our trade routes, and we cannot just sit and wait for death."
He sneered.
"A trade war? The ancestors who once established a powerful Dragon nation left behind quite a bit of Legacy in this regard. As it happens, I can put it into practice and test the Legacy knowledge."
He was eager to try.
The conflict with the Golden Tooth Tribe was handled by the Iron Dragon.
Garros played to his greatest strength—combat.
With his intelligence, he could actually replace Sorog in finding ways to deal with the Golden Tooth Tribe, and could do it even better.
But when it came to using his brain, Garros had the Red Dragon Bloodline after all. If he had a choice, relatively speaking, he actually preferred simple and direct methods, using power to solve problems.
All along.
Whenever he had enough power to deal with a target, after careful consideration, his intelligence always told him that using power to solve the problem was the most efficient way.
And he did indeed do so.
Using intelligence to harness power, using reason to restrain desire.
Breaking through thorns and brambles.
The Wild Monster Lords in the southwest were thorns stuck in the territory of the Molten Iron Tribe.
Unlike other Red Dragons, Garros was relatively cautious.
He did not intend to act immediately, but prepared to wait for the Frostburn Scales to grow out, and then eliminate them one by one in his prime state.
"Dragon Lord, the Gnoll Hodge requests an audience."
A Dire Bear guard walked over and said in a rough voice.
Since all the Young Dragons had finished their slumber, the Dire Bears no longer guarded the sleeping grounds and officially took on the role of guards.
"Let him come over."
The Red-Iron Dragon nodded slightly.
A few minutes later, an elderly Gnoll, with mottled and falling fur revealing patches of wrinkled skin, came into Garros's view.
His back was hunched, his eyes were cloudy, his claws and teeth were no longer sharp, and his left arm was missing, severed at the root.
He walked to the front of Garros with trembling, stumbling steps, then laboriously knelt down.
At first glance, his appearance made Garros feel somewhat unfamiliar.
If the Dire Bear guard hadn't mentioned his name when announcing him earlier, Garros would have found it difficult to immediately recognize the identity of the Gnoll in front of him.
"Dragon Lord, your scales still shine, praise be to you."
The Gnoll panted slightly, wagged his tail, and said.
His voice was hoarser than before, but one could faintly hear the familiar tone, along with a familiar air of sycophancy.
"Hodge, you have grown old."
The Red-Iron Dragon said.
"My Lord, time is the most terrifying enemy. It has no claws or teeth, yet it has left countless scars on me. Only the most noble existence like you can overcome it."
The Gnoll said in a hoarse voice.
Ten years is just a snap of the fingers for long-lived species, but when it flows over short-lived species, it is as heavy as a mountain.
The lifespan of an ordinary Gnoll is no more than thirty-something years.
By the time Garros entered the juvenile stage, few of the first batch of Gnolls who had followed him remained. Even the once high-spirited 'Bloodtooth Overseer' was now old and frail, with one foot in the grave.
"Hodge, what do you want from this audience?"
Garros asked directly.
The Gnoll's cloudy eyes revealed his usual cunning and wit as he said: "My Lord, that you could awaken at this moment is my good fortune, allowing me to gaze upon your glory once more before I die."
Garros smiled faintly.
"Besides that, is there anything else?"
He asked.
The Gnoll's little tricks could not escape his notice.
Hodge wagged his tail and smiled sycophantically: "No, no."
After a pause, he added: "Since leading the Iron Will to encircle and suppress a Beast Lord a few years ago, when my arm was torn off and I was critically injured, only surviving by luck, my body has deteriorated with the passage of time. Now I only seek to see you one last time before I die, and tell you personally that the greatest honor of Hodge's life was to fight for you."
The Red-Iron Dragon nodded: "Since that is the case, you have seen me now, you may go back."
The Gnoll's smile stiffened, and then he turned around slowly and sluggishly, looking back every few steps, his pace as slow as a snail.
"Stop, come here."
A dozen seconds later, a low dragon language came from behind.
This sentence was so pleasant to the ear, like hearing celestial music that clears the mind.
The Gnoll turned around swiftly, just like when he was young, his face full of sycophantic smiles.
Garros said straightforwardly: "You have followed me for a very long time, you are a veteran of the Molten Iron Tribe, and you have made great contributions. As a reward, I will bestow upon you Dragon blood, giving you a chance to be reborn."
"This is what you deserve."
Garros had not wasted the Dragon blood left over from intense battles; he had collected and stored it in the cellar of Dragon Valley as Materials for Dragonblood Transformation, and there was still plenty left.
The Red-Iron Dragon leaned forward slightly and said: "Hodge, burn up everything you are, then survive and continue to fight for me."
"This is an order, do you hear me?"
The Gnoll put away his sycophantic smile, straightened his hunched back, and assumed a solemn expression.
"Understood!"
He replied solemnly.
Not long after.
Dragon blood was transported from the cellar.
Garros, familiar with the process, began the transformation ritual, and the Dragon blood was condensed into a scalding bead of blood.
The Gnoll Hodge gritted his teeth and swallowed the blood bead in one gulp.
In an instant, raging fire ignited on his body.
Because of the terrible pain from the inside out, as if happening simultaneously in his flesh and Soul, the Gnoll bent over and knelt on the ground, his single claw repeatedly striking and tearing at the ground, emitting shrill screams from his mouth.
His flesh proliferated, tearing through his skin and fur.
His body constantly swelled, only to be constantly burned into ashes by the raging fire.
His movements gradually decreased in amplitude, and his screams weakened—half an hour later, the Gnoll was gone, leaving only a pile of ashes.
In the end, the Gnoll Hodge failed to complete the order.
Dragonblood Transformation requires an Iron Will.
Hodge had lacked the courage of Living through Death from the very beginning. During battles, he was always at the very back, keeping the warriors 'protected in front' of him, using Warlord skills to strengthen the warriors.
This allowed him to survive again and again in intense battles.
However, it could not give him a new life.
The Red-Iron Dragon shook its head gently.
He waved his dragon wings, whipping up a gale, blowing the ashes toward the vast sky.
Time is ruthless.
Dragonkin are long-lived species and can survive for a thousand years, but unless one can become immortal, life will eventually come to an end. Even one as powerful as the Twenty-Four Winged Golden Dragon is now in a state of twilight and could die at any moment.
"Eternal life, immortality... can I achieve it?"
Garros's heart surged with dark tides, asking himself silently.
"I definitely can!"
The answer was decisive and resonant.
From now onward I will upload 2 chapters per day but with a Power Stones gola. If the goal is met the next chapter will be uploaded immediately! That's all, thank you.