Sunlight filtered through the gaps between the Dream Oak's leaves, scattering a layer of broken gold on the ground.
Garoth did not wait long.
When the light among the canopy shifted from golden yellow to twilight colors, with rustling sounds, the branches and leaves parted to both sides, and Cerora walked back, stepping on the thick branches.
A trace of moisture still lingered on her scales, giving them a wet sheen in the light passing through the leaf gaps.
She had probably taken a quick rinse under so spring or waterfall sowhere.
Her earlier complaint about dry scales wasn't entirely an excuse.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
Her tone was casual, shaking off the water droplets from her wings as she spoke.
"The Naulsil elves spouted a bunch of pretty nonsense; less than thirty percent of it was actually useful."
"These elves are always like this, they can't tell the difference between small talk and business. You go to them for information, and they'll chat with you about the weather for three minutes first, then spend another five minutes praising the luster of your scales, only then start talking about the real matter. Then halfway through, they'll start lanting the brevity of life and the passage of ti."
Cerora settled down on a thick branch across from him.
Her wings folded close against her spine, her tail hung over the edge of the branch, its tip gently swaying.
After finishing her complaint, the Green Dragon produced a roll of bark paper, placed it on the branch between them, pressed one end down with a claw tip, and pushed it toward Garoth.
"The information on the teorites, everything I could organize is in here."
Garoth lowered his head and scanned it.
The bark paper was densely covered with markings—positions, territorial allegiances, known intelligence, and so on. The handwriting was sloppy but thick and ssy.
Below, several simple topographic maps were even drawn, marking the territorial range of the Rage Beast Lord and the distribution of the orc garrison, along with several possible infiltration routes marked with tree sap of different colors. The amount of information was smaller than he had expected.
"Did he write this himself?"
Garoth asked.
Cerora raised her upper jaw with a hint of restraint, a trace of pride in her tone: "Of course. I personally organized and summarized all that information. How does it look?"
Garoth took another careful look, then nodded.
"Mm. Looks very good. Even more organized than his speech."
Cerora's tail slapped against the branch, producing a dull thud. She snorted: "My speech is very organized too. You just don't know how to appreciate it."
She didn't dwell on that topic. Her tone slightly softened, taking on a more serious note.
"One more thing."
"The Naulsil elf envoy wants to see you."
Garoth's eyes narrowed slightly as he lifted his gaze.
He didn't like hiding his tracks. When he ca to Silverleaf Hall, he hadn't made much of an effort to conceal his movents.
When clearing out the rage beasts, he had prioritized efficiency, likewise without holding back much. The traces left behind from those battles, any experienced tracker could spot.
Moreover, Naulsil's Elves' Moon hung high in the sky.
Aside from its ability to strike down immortal beings, that empire-made artifact was also widely recognized for its monitoring capabilities over the entire Arotala.
With his own fearso reputation, he was hardly so naless, obscure dragon.
It wasn't surprising that the elves had discovered his arrival.
"Why do you think the Naulsil elf envoy wants to see ?"
He asked.
Cerora tilted her head, thinking, her erald-green eyes narrowing as she organized her thoughts.
"Most likely, they want to recruit you."
Her tone was confident as she continued:
"If it were an ordinary Crown-level being, the elves wouldn't care much."
"The Naulsil Empire has stood for so many years; they've seen plenty of prodigies and powerhouses. An ordinary Crowned Legendary is just worth noting to them—they'd make an entry in the archives, put a footnote on it, and that's it."
"But a Crown-level being who can go head-to-head with a Mandate of Heaven—that's a different story."
"Arotala isn't peaceful right now. Natural disasters are sweeping through, and the orcs are expanding outward. Although the elves have deep reserves, their Mandate-level combat power is ultimately limited. Their own Mandate powerhouses have to guard various key nodes. An external fighter who can actually fight—that's very attractive to them."
"Your deeds in Atlan—the elves definitely know about them."
She began counting them off one by one:
"Killing a Great Demon, destroying the Sky City and the Abyssal Rift, subduing a Mandate-level human... these feats are dazzling enough even for a Mandate-level being. They're worth taking seriously."
"Moreover, you still have plenty of room for growth."
Her gaze fell on the mutated faceplate of the Red Iron Dragon, lingering for a mont.
"And, you're not afraid of the Fury Curse. I didn't tell them that, but if they analyze it themselves, or learn it from other channels, their estimation of you will rise another level."
Garoth slowly nodded.
This judgnt aligned with his own speculation.
"In other words,"
He said. "Naulsil wants to fight for them—against the orcs, the rage beasts, or both."
Fighting demons in Atlan, resisting orc invasions and natural disaster threats in Arotala. , an inherently evil Red Iron Dragon—I've really beco a savior?
Garoth thought to himself.
Cerora nodded: "Eighty or ninety percent certain."
Garoth withdrew his thoughts, pensive, his gaze falling on the bark paper before him.
The complete teorites were held by three parties: the elves, the orcs, and the Rage Beast Lord.
The Rage Beast Lord's territory was the most direct target. But with the orc variable, if the commotion from the hunt was too loud, the orcs would inevitably react.
If there was a chance to get a teorite from the elves, that would be much safer than snatching it by force.
The empire was hard to negotiate with, but not entirely impossible to talk to.
The key was the price.
"I think," he said, raising his head. "I can talk to the elves."
Cerora's gaze flickered.
"You want to get the teorite through negotiation?"
"Won't hurt to try." Garoth said. "Since the elves want to see on their own initiative, it ans they have sothing to ask of ."
"That makes a transaction possible. I don't have to agree to their terms, but at least I can hear what price they're willing to offer. If the price is right, we can negotiate. If not, I'll think of another way."
Cerora thought it over, then nodded.
"Alright then."
She stood up, stretching her wings. The spread of her wings stirred up a gust of wind, rustling the surrounding leaves.
"Then let's go to the Council Hall. The elf envoy is still waiting for news. I'll have my followers notify him. The formal eting will be held in the Council Hall."
"Let's go."
Cerora turned and led him through layer upon layer of branches and leaves.
The Council Hall of the Erald Royal City was located on the lower side of the Dream Oak, nestled in its roots.
This tree's roots were extraordinary.
The rhizos rose from the ground, as thick as small hills, intertwined and entangled with each other, forming a natural do.
The surface of the rhizos was covered in fine moss, showing varying shades of erald green, faintly glowing, as if so living thing were breathing slowly.
The Council Hall was beneath this root do.
The intertwined roots ford a natural support structure, with thick lateral roots hanging down from the do like the ribbed arches of so ancient building.
No artificial carving or reinforcent was needed.
The strength and toughness of these roots alone were enough to support the entire space.
Garoth followed Cerora through the overlapping layers of branches, leaves, and roots, arriving at the Council Hall.
The air here was filled with a damp, woody scent, mixed with an indescribable sweetness, like the fragrance of flowers blooming in the dead of night. The temperature was slightly lower than in the canopy, cool and refreshing.
Cerora walked straight to the main seat.
As she approached, the roots began to writhe.
Countless tiny rootlets rose from the ground, intertwining and stacking like living things, rising in a few breaths into a massive throne.
The back of the chair soared high, the top spreading out to both sides like outstretched dragon wings.
Cerora turned around and coiled up on the throne.
Her body wasn't small, but against the throne's backdrop, it fit perfectly. The roots subtly adjusted their shape the mont she coiled, perfectly conforming to her body's curves—her spine, abdon, tail—every part was supported.
"Garoth, you sit too."
The Green Dragon raised a foreclaw and lightly pointed to the ground on the right side of the main seat.
The roots began to writhe again, rapidly rising into a seat.
Its shape was simple, its lines bold, fitting Garoth's physique.
Although it was a side seat, because Garoth's own body was massive and sturdy, even larger than Cerora's throne, it was impossible to ignore.
Garoth didn't stand on ceremony. He walked over and coiled down.
The roots supported his abdon and ribs in just the right places, allowing him to maintain a relaxed posture without losing his dignity.
Then, other great dragons began to arrive one after another.
All were Legendary-tier.
Upon entering the Council Hall, their gazes sized up the Red Iron Dragon for a few monts before withdrawing, and they each coiled down in seats on either side.
They were probably arranged by Cerora to observe, or to act as witnesses.
Cerora now wore the air and deanor of a queen—noble and aloof. Her neck was straight, her gaze fixed straight ahead, her breathing slow and even. She was a completely different dragon from the one who had tilted her head and chatted casually in the canopy.
She didn't bother to introduce these dragons.
The Red Iron Dragon didn't ask either.
The wait was short.
In less than ten minutes, faint footsteps ca from the entrance.
An elf walked in.
His skin was a pale gold, shimring with a honey-like luster under the bluish-green glow of the Council Hall. His silver-white hair cascaded behind his shoulders, held in place by a few small gold rings to prevent it from tangling.
He wore a set of golden armor. His features were exquisitely refined, the proportions of his face flawless, without a single imperfection. That kind of beauty transcended gender boundaries—describing it as handso or beautiful wasn't quite accurate enough.
It was simply a pleasure to behold.
Legendary.
Garoth's gaze lingered on the elf for a mont, making his judgnt.
This elf's aura wasn't exceptionally powerful. Among Legendary-tier beings, he was probably in the upper ranks, still so distance from Crown-level. But his aura was very stable, his foundation solid. He had climbed there on his own rit.
Moreover, his racial identity was more important than his strength.
A Sun Elf.
Garoth knew this race.
Not only in Naulsil, but among all elf races across all planes, Sun Elves held an extrely high status.
They were the natural elven royalty, their bloodline ancient, their heritage long. They held important positions in the elven political, military, and cultural systems.
The Sun Elf bloodline could be traced back to one of the oldest ancestors of the elven race.
Legend said their ancestors were once blessed under the most ancient sun, and the pale gold on their skin was the mark of that blessing. Within Naulsil's decision-making layer, the proportion of Sun Elves was far higher than any other elven branch.
Sending a Sun Elf as an envoy was, in itself, a signal of the importance they placed on this.
The elf walked to the center of the Council Hall, stopping at a distance of about eight hundred ters from the two dragons.
First, he faced Cerora and perford a standard elven salute.
"Guardian of the Erald Royal City, Sovereign of the Greenwild, Sage beneath the Dream Oak, Your Majesty Cerora."
The elf's voice was clear and pleasant to the ear. Every syllable was articulated very clearly, as if reciting an ancient hymn.
"Your radiance is like ever-green vines, growing ever more luxuriant in the long river of ti."
"It has been six seasons since our last parting at Naulsil's Silverleaf Hall. Your scales remain as dazzling as eralds; your gaze remains as clear as the morning dew in the forest."
Cerora's eye twitched.
She glanced at the elf, then slowly closed her eyes.
This elf was clearly not dealing with Cerora for the first ti. He wasn't surprised by her attitude; he was probably long accustod to this Green Dragon Queen's reaction.
He smiled, straightened up, and then turned toward the Red Iron Dragon.
At first glance, the elf saw the vein-like patterns on the dragon's faceplate, that unique expression caught between rage and calm, and then the mutated scales and spikes.
The Sun Elf's breath hitched for a split second.
However, his expression didn't change. In the next instant, it returned to normal.
The cultural upbringing of the Naulsil Empire allowed him to precisely control his facial muscles, preventing any disrespectful emotion from showing.
"The fa of the Scarlet Emperor Cangxing is as clear as distant thunder, even in the deep forests of Arotala."
The elf's tone was still like reciting a poem.
Neither hurried nor slow, like a stream winding through a forest.
"In Naulsil's archive halls, we have recorded many of your deeds on the Atlantis Continent."
"Those recorders used the most exquisite words to describe your battles, the most ornate rhetoric to praise your strength. But seeing you in person today, I realize that words are ultimately pale."
"Your very appearance is more convincing than any description."
The Red Iron Dragon's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't interrupt these pretty words of nonsense.
To be honest, he had heard no shortage of flattery.
From Atlan to Arotala, from humans to dragons, all sorts of words expressing respect for him.
But this was the first ti he had heard anything so elegant.
Aria, modifiers, layer upon layer of taphor and praise. It wasn't flattery for flattery's sake; it seed more like a deeply ingrained habit of expression.
Garoth didn't care about empty fa or praise, but these words still made him feel sowhat relaxed and happy.
Like listening to a beautifully lodious tune—even without understanding the lyrics, just hearing the lody made one feel comfortable.
And he knew that Naulsil elves liked to speak this way. It wasn't hypocrisy.
This was Naulsil elven culture. In their view, bluntness was rudeness; simplicity was poverty. True refinent lay in how one expressed the simplest aning in the most elegant way.
If an elf spoke to you in plain language...
Either he didn't think you were worth the effort of choosing his words carefully, or he was too angry to care about manners anymore.
The Red Iron Dragon listened quietly.
When the elf's voice fell, he finally spoke.
"The Elves' Moon has shone upon Arotala for countless years, turning barbaric lands into fertile ground for civilization. The knowledge collected in the archive halls is more precious than any treasure. The decisions made in the Silverleaf Hall shape the fate of Arotala."
"The na of Naulsil—I too have longed to know it for a long ti."
The Red Iron Dragon said unhurriedly.
Has he picked up the elves' speaking style now?
The Green Dragon, feigning sleep with her eyes closed, shot him a sidelong glance, her erald-green pupils flashing through the slits of her eyelids, then closed her eyes again.
Across from them, the Sun Elf was montarily stunned, then his smile grew even softer.
"It is also my honor to converse with you. But though this Council Hall is magnificent, it is ultimately not as suitable for entertaining honored guests as Naulsil's Silverleaf Hall."
Following Garoth's lead, he naturally said:
"If you would be willing to grace Naulsil with your presence, the Empire will surely welco you with the highest honors."
"The do of the Silverleaf Hall is inlaid with thousand-year crystal stones. At night, its light is like an inverted galaxy. Many elves would like to speak with you in person. The scholars of the Sage Council wish to discuss the mysteries of heaven and earth with you. The generals of the legions want to hear you personally recount the wars of Atlan. The royal family simply wishes to behold the grace of the Scarlet Emperor Cangxing."
His tone was sincere, his invitation undisguised.
The Red Iron Dragon shook his head slightly.
"I appreciate your kindness."
"However, my ti is limited. I will not be staying long in Arotala. I ca this ti because I have specific matters to attend to. If there is an opportunity, I will pay a special visit to Naulsil another ti."
The elf showed no displeasure, just nodded slightly.
"Then, I shall state my purpose for coming."
He dropped the topic of the invitation, his tone shifting from a chant-like lody to a slightly more formal solemnity, but still maintaining an unhurried rhythm.
"Although missing the chance for a lengthy conversation in the Silverleaf Hall is regrettable, the mission itself does not change because of the location."
"The Naulsil Empire wishes to form an alliance with your Aola Kingdom."
He stated the main point.
"The world's mutation grows ever more intense. The shadow of the natural disaster looms over every land. No single race can face this catastrophe alone. Humans cannot. Dragons cannot. Elves cannot."
"And beyond the natural disaster, the threat of the orcs is also growing by the day."
"The deities they believe in grant them a fanatical will to fight, driving them to constantly expand outward. Every ti an orc legion appears, it leaves scorched earth and ruins on the land. We have dealt with them countless tis—negotiated, compromised, and fought. The result is that only fighting can make them retreat temporarily."
"Naulsil has always been resisting the orcs, fighting the natural disaster. This is our responsibility, and our glory."
"But relying on our strength alone is ultimately limited. The influence of the natural disaster grows stronger, and the orc legions keep applying pressure. We hold one line of defense, and pressure appears on another."
As he spoke, his gaze fell on Garoth, his pale-gold pupils full of sincerity.
"If the Aola Kingdom could join, if we could have a powerhouse like the Scarlet Emperor Cangxing on our side, the strength to resist the natural disaster and the orcs would be greatly increased."
"Naulsil has never been stingy with its allies."
"You will receive the full support of the Empire. Resources, intelligence, technology, trade priorities, right of passage within Naulsil's sphere of influence... as long as it is within the Empire's capabilities, we can discuss it."
After Garoth listened, he shook his massive head.
"My foundation is on the Atlantis Continent."
"My people, my kingdom, everything I have spent years building—it's all on another land."
"Crossing thousands of mountains and rivers to fight in Arotala, shedding blood for Naulsil in the cracks between the orcs and the natural disaster—that is not a wise choice for Aola."
"This kind of alliance brings far more responsibility and risk than benefit for Aola."
He refused bluntly.
Garoth couldn't possibly drag the Aola Kingdom, far away on the Atlantis Continent, into a war that wasn't theirs, just for Naulsil's benefit.
And after refusing the alliance, the Red Iron Dragon slightly shifted his tone.
"Your nation should understand my concerns. An alliance across continents cos with many inconveniences and difficulties. However, perhaps we can do it a different way."
The Sun Elf looked up at the Red Iron Dragon, a hint of inquiry in his eyes.
Under the elf's gaze, the Red Iron Dragon said slowly:
"I cannot bear to see my people drawn into the flas of war, but I also empathize with the hardships of the lives on Arotala. So, Naulsil can follow the ancient and traditional way—commission alone to fight. In my individual capacity, not in the na of the Sovereign of Aola."
Hearing this, the Sun Elf quickly nodded.
"Thank you for your compassion. The Empire would be delighted to issue a commission."
Naulsil valued the Red Emperor himself, not the Aola Kingdom.
From their intelligence, although the Aola Kingdom was developing rapidly, it was ultimately an erging force with limited depth and scale. Its effectiveness on an empire-level battlefield was limited.
What was truly valuable was the Scarlet Emperor Cangxing himself.
A Crown-level being who could stand up to a Mandate of Heaven and still had enormous room for growth.
Being able to commission the Red Emperor alone was actually more practical than forming an alliance with a kingdom on the far side of a continent.
Garoth nodded his massive head and said: "Since it's a commission, let's talk about compensation. What can Naulsil offer to secure my participation in one battle?"
The corner of the elf's mouth lifted slightly.
Ti to talk price, and price was precisely what Naulsil had in abundance.
"The Empire's treasury is filled with countless treasures."
"Weapons, armor, power itself, or so secret knowledge—we have it all."
"You can directly state what you want."
Garoth was blunt: "I'm interested in teorites. A complete celestial teorite, the kind that carries the Fury Curse."
The smile at the corner of the elf's mouth froze for a mont. He had clearly not anticipated this answer.
"teorites..."
"You desire the Calamity teorite?"
He asked again.
"Yes." Garoth said. "One complete teorite, as the price for fighting once for Naulsil. Appearing in a Mandate-level war, taking on Mandate-level opponents for you. This deal—you're not losing out on it."
The elf fell silent.
What does he want that for?
Looking at the Rage Beast-like features on the dragon's body, he realized this probably wasn't a coincidence. Could this Red Emperor use the teorite's power? Or had he already been infected?
The elf didn't ask presumptuously.
He said: "You are correct. A single Mandate-level war support in exchange for one teorite—in terms of value, it's not unbalanced. It could even be said that the Empire is getting the better deal."
"But."
His tone beca cautious.
"These teorites are of great significance to Naulsil. The Empire's sages believe that rashly handing over a teorite for others to use, or destroying it, would be unwise. The Fury Curse of the teorite will contaminate everything around it, and a complete teorite, falling into the wrong hands, could cause uncontrollable consequences."
"Therefore, the Empire's control over the teorites is very strict."
"A complete teorite must be discussed by the Council, evaluated by the Sage Council, and decided upon after multiple deliberations. This is not sothing I can promise."
The Red Iron Dragon looked at the elf, his gaze profound.
"I'm not in a hurry."
"You can take my request back to Naulsil. Let your Council discuss it, weigh it. They have their procedures. I have my patience."
"However, there is one thing you can tell them."
"If Naulsil wants to commission , this is currently the only form of transaction I'm interested in. Other treasures—I don't want them for now."
The dragon's tone was calm, but his wording left no room for negotiation.
The Sun Elf opened his mouth, as if wanting to say sothing more.
Just then, the Green Dragon Queen, who had been resting with her eyes closed, lightly shook her wings, stirring up a gentle breeze. Then, her eyelids slowly lifted, revealing her erald-green pupils.
"The orc's blade is right before our eyes."
She glanced casually at the elf and said: "Bloodskull, Bonebreaker, Blackfang... the war totems of several major tribes have been raised at the sa ti. The orc shamans are making offerings to their deities. The warriors are sharpening their weapons. The footprints of their scouts have already appeared within our borders."
"The scale of this legion this ti is not small."
Kantum is called an empire and has an empire's scale, but in essence, it's a confederation of many orc tribes, centered around so major tribes, with faith in their deities as the link, uniting many large and small tribes.
The elf was silent for a mont, then nodded slightly: "Indeed it is."
Before requesting an audience with Garoth, the envoy had already spoken with Cerora.
The purpose was not for the Greenwild Kingdom to go to war, but to jointly respond to this orc offensive.
"This war won't be a small skirmish."
The Green Dragon Queen stared at the elf, her tone sharpening slightly.
"The orcs will move north, assaulting Naulsil's defensive lines, trying to tear open your territories. The scale of this war is incomparable to the small conflicts before."
"I suggest you seriously consider the Red Emperor's terms."
"A teorite you basically can't use, gathering dust in a warehouse, requiring guards to prevent it from contaminating the surrounding environnt—exchange that for a being equivalent to a Mandate Dragon participating in a direct war. Such a deal would be a win for Naulsil at any ti."
"Moreover, war won't wait for your Council to slowly deliberate."
"Once the orc legions bare their fangs, if you want to invite him to act then, the price might be more than just one teorite."
The elf stood there, a contemplative expression on his face.
His gaze shifted between Cerora and Garoth, finally settling on the Red Iron Dragon's steady eyes.
"The upcoming war will be a war of attrition."
He slowly began, his tone losing so of its chanting quality as he spoke of serious matters.
"The main battlefield will be handled by our Empire's legions. That is beyond doubt."
"The Greenwild Kingdom, the Giant Kingdom, and our other allies will mainly be tasked with defending the flanks and filling gaps in the defensive line."
"The war will not end in a short ti. According to our previous projections, barring any surprises, it will last at least two months. During this period, any additional strength is precious."
He paused, then faced Garoth and bowed slightly.
"Your terms, I will faithfully report to the Council."
"I will do my utmost to explain the value of this transaction to the Council—exchanging a dangerous item we cannot use for the battlefield support of a Mandate-level powerhouse."
"But I must honestly tell you that I cannot make any promises."
"The Council's decision-making process is not sothing I can control alone."
Garoth nodded his massive head.
"That's enough."
He said. "I'll wait for your news."
The elf straightened up, his right hand again touching his chest, bowing once to Cerora and once to Garoth.
"Then, please allow to take my leave."
He slightly raised his head, and for the last ti, using that bard-like tone, he intoned: "May the moonlight shine upon your path, may the green leaves bless your domain, and may what you seek be granted."
He turned and walked out along the passage he had entered.
His golden Naulsil armor flickered twice in the mossy light, then was swallowed by the shadows of the passage, disappearing into the depths.
Cerora rose from her throne.
She stepped toward the exit, her tail tip hooking towards Garoth, signaling him to follow. The other dragons also got up one after another, leaving through different passages.
"Co on, let's go topside to sunbathe. Staying in here too long makes my scales feel stuffy."
The light shifted from bluish-green to golden yellow.
When they returned to the canopy of the Dream Oak, Arotala's sun was approaching the horizon.
The entire canopy was dyed a color between golden yellow and orange-red, as if flas were quietly burning among the leaves. The distant sea of trees stretched in undulating waves, presenting layers of silhouettes under the setting sun.
Cerora found a particularly thick branch and stopped on it.
The Red Iron Dragon was beside her.
They were quiet for a while, watching the sun slowly sink towards the edge of the tree sea. In the distance, flocks of birds returned to their nests, circling above the canopy a few tis before diving into the leaves.
"You know the elves better than I do. Do you think the Naulsil Council will agree?"
Garoth suddenly asked, his voice breaking the silence.
The Green Dragon thought seriously for a mont, her gaze falling on the distant horizon.
"Elves are like us—long-lived species. Their perception of ti is different."
"Tell a human rchant that a shipnt of goods will take half a year to arrive. He'll think it's a very long ti. Half a year for a human is a growing season, one-fiftieth of their life. They'll rush, they'll get anxious, they'll feel ti is being wasted."
"But tell the sa thing to an elf, and he'll think it's nothing."
"Half a year, in his long life, is just an insignificant fragnt."
"Also, although we dragons are also long-lived, we sleep. One slumber can be decades or centuries. When we wake up, the world has already changed. Slumber cuts ti, giving rhythm to our long lives."
"But elves don't need to sleep."
"They live awake through every sunrise and sunset, awake through every spring, sumr, autumn, and winter. Year after year, cycle after cycle. This continuous perception of ti makes them even more sluggish about ti than we dragon-kind."
"When an elf says 'wait a mont,' it could an waiting an afternoon, or it could an waiting a month, or even a year."
The Red Iron Dragon nodded slightly.
He could understand that.
"So, the Naulsil Council is always very slow and fussy."
"It's not that they do it on purpose. In their perception, spending months or even a year discussing a matter doesn't seem slow at all. They think they're weighing things carefully, being responsible for every detail."
"However, war will force them to speed up."
"The rhythm of war isn't controlled by them. The battle lines change, casualties increase. Every day of delay is filled with the lives of elven soldiers. At tis like that, their perception of ti will be forced to adjust."
Cerora pondered for a mont, then summarized:
"Before the war truly begins, the Naulsil Council probably won't reach a conclusion."
"They'll discuss it over and over, weigh it over and over, assess all possibilities."
"Until the war starts, gradually intensifies, and the casualty figures begin to rise. That's when the Council's discussion speed will increase. They'll realize that all those carefully weighed details don't matter anymore in the face of a real crisis."
"By then, the likelihood of them finally agreeing to your commission terms is extrely high. You could even add a few more conditions."
Garoth nodded: "You're right."
His gaze also fell on the distant horizon. The sun had already sunk more than halfway, only the last small arc of light remaining above the horizon.
"However, I can't pin all my hopes on the elven Council. Whether they agree or not, that's their business."
"My business is to get the teorite and achieve what I want."
"With the orcs and elves about to go to war, their attention mutually occupied, this is also the best ti for to hunt the Rage Beast Lord. The orcs' main force is pushing to the front line; the vigilance in the south will inevitably decrease. I can't miss this opportunity."
Cerora's gaze flickered.
"Reasonable."
She said: "During the war, the orcs' main force will all be pushed to the front line. You can take the chance to go south."
Her voice paused for a mont, and the Green Dragon looked at Garoth.
"And there's one more thing I need to tell you in advance."
"When it cos to the Rage Beast Lord, the help I can offer is limited. The Greenwild Kingdom needs to prepare for the upcoming war. There are so things I can't get away from."
"I can give you intelligence, I can give you route suggestions. But if it cos to direct combat, I can't spare myself."
Garoth turned his head to look at the Green Dragon.
The last light of the setting sun ca from the side, outlining a golden edge on her erald-green scales.
As the sovereign of the Greenwild Kingdom, Cerora had her own responsibilities to bear.
Garoth lightly nodded his lower jaw: "Mm. This is my matter. I'll handle it myself. You focus on your own affairs."
He thought for a mont, then added: "If you run into trouble during the war, you can ask for support."
Hearing this, Cerora's tail tip slightly curled upwards.
She tilted her head, a glint of mischievous humor in her eyes: "Naulsil can't even co up with the price to get the Red Emperor to act. What would I need to pay to get you to act? If it's too heavy, I can't afford it."
The Red Iron Dragon said: "You can pay with yourself."
The wind passed through the canopy, and millions of leaves rustled softly.
After a few breaths, Cerora turned her head away.
"...As if I'm that cheap."
Her voice wasn't loud, a low mumble.
Then she turned her head back, her gaze falling on Garoth again.
"Fine."
"Rember what you said. I won't go easy on you."
The setting sun continued its descent westward.
The last ray of sunlight disappeared through the gaps in the canopy. The sky shifted from orange-red to deep purple, then to ink blue. The first stars began to appear on the do, sparse and cold.
Above the sea of trees, the Elves' Moon hung high, its light spilling over Arotala.
Beneath the sea of trees, all things were silent.
Nocturnal animals began to stir. In the distance ca the calls of unknown birds and the sounds of insects.
And on the distant land, the legions of various nations were assembling. Naulsil's warriors were lining up in the moonlight. The Greenwild Kingdom's dragon followers were gearing up in the forest. The giants of the Giant Kingdom were sharpening their weapons among the hills... Weapons bristled like a forest, camp tents stretched on and on.
That war was about to erupt.
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