"Hmm, it’s been well taken care of, but aren’t the scales too bright? What have you been feeding it?"
Through the space communication array, Noah saw the young Golden Dragon resting on a bone bed. He felt sowhat satisfied, but when he saw the golden glow emanating from his child’s scales, he couldn’t help but be surprised.
"I don’t have any at here, so my subordinates have been feeding him gemstones."
"Feeding on gemstones? Has the Undead Kingdom grown so wealthy? Back in my day, we were never so extravagant."
Noah couldn’t help but marvel.
Even in the relatively affluent tallic Dragon Race, they could at best have full als, occasionally supplented with elental crystals.
Using gemstones as food was sothing no Dragon Clan would afford. Take the Golden Dragons, for instance; their favorite food was pearls, which were considered a luxury for Golden Dragons.
If they were common and could be eaten freely, they wouldn’t be the Golden Dragon’s favorite, just like how mortals don’t consider plain white rice their favorite when it’s readily available.
"Just so ordinary flawed gemstones."
Wayne carefully observed the every move of the distant granduncle, scrutinizing every expression on his face, trying to guess this granduncle’s intentions.
Was it purely to find a foster for his offspring, or did he intend to use the offspring as an excuse to sche for the war blade made from the Divine Bone in his hands?
"Then it’s fine, keep feeding him."
After all, Noah had no intention of paying a single cent for fostering. His grandnephew had already taken the throne of the Undying King, and wasn’t short of these gemstones. Why couldn’t he offer so as a nurturing fee for his Dragon uncle?
"Keeping this arrangent, you have no objections, do you?"
Wayne also didn’t mind, as he wasn’t the one providing the gemstones; it was the Undead spellcasters below him.
"This kid must have noticed sothing was off by now, right?"
Noah had already understood how the group of undead in the Great Graveyard was feeding his son. The thod was too crude and simple; any slightly normal young dragon could sense sothing was amiss.
"Yes, now I’m arranging for the group of mages to figure out what kind of undead to pair with tactics to attract his attention and make him attack.
Otherwise, if he gets bored or simply exhausted, he won’t respond to the outside world and will curl up to sleep."
Wayne’s tone revealed a hint of helplessness.
The Dragon uncle placed in his care had already sensed that the undead watching him like a hawk didn’t dare to truly harm him.
Hence, after tiring from fighting, this guy would simply curl up and recently didn’t pay much attention to the undead harassing him, having seemingly adapted to the environnt of the Great Graveyard.
"You’ve been too gentle with him, you don’t need to be so cautious. Or is it that you did it on purpose? Trying to raise my offspring to beco a worthless dragon?"
"Granduncle, where did you get that idea? How could I possibly have such intentions?"
Wayne argued, as the accusation was too serious for him to bear.
"Since you don’t have such thoughts, I’ll make a request. Let my offspring master the Skill’s Extre Intent, and once he succeeds, you can release him from the Great Graveyard."
"Skill’s Extre Intent?"
Even Wayne, having sat on the throne for decades, was a bit stunned hearing the request from the Golden Dragon granduncle before him.
"Without experiencing true blood battles and tempering, it cannot be forged."
"That’s exactly why I sent my offspring to you, to let him experience blood battles, not to treat him as a baby or worship him like an ancestor."
"Since you’re willing, I will arrange it personally from here on."
Now that the granduncle had suggested how to get his offspring sent away, although it wasn’t easy, he finally had a clear goal to work towards.
"However, isn’t he a bit too young? Shouldn’t we wait another ten years?"
"Do you know at what age your father started his combat training?"
"I don’t know, and I don’t want to know."
Wayne’s expression hardened, even though he had long co to terms with many things from the past, he particularly didn’t wish to understand or delve into matters concerning his father. Even now that he had reached an ancestral status, with descendants stemming from his bloodline having reached the seventh generation.
"Your father, at the age of one, dared to venture alone into the Barbaric Mountains. My offspring started blood battle special training at age three, what’s the problem? I believe he can handle it."
Noah ignored the resistance from his grandnephew and continued speaking.
Though the main purpose was to correct a tendency towards excessive magic addiction, since blood battles had to be experienced, why not use this opportunity to hone a skill?
Thus, from that day onward, Terramus, who thought he had found a way to slack off in Demon King City, realized that the sky above him suddenly changed. No longer were lowly skeleton soldiers harassing him, but more lethal banshees and bloodthirsty bats.
However, Terramus also discovered that his activity area was no longer confined to what he considered a prison; the corridors used by the undead were also open to him.
He could leave through those corridors, but once he did, he would face formidable undead chasing him. If he retreated back to this prison, the pursuit would cease, but he’d have to confront the endless harassnt of low-level undead.
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