Little Blackie was dumbfounded.
Zong Shen merely smiled and waved at it.
Just as the shadow of Eternal Frost's Wrath Fortress covered Black Scale Marsh.
Seventy-eight thousand kilometers to the west.
Even the air there was scorching, filled everywhere with the stench of sulfur and scorched earth.
The land had split open into savage wounds.
Crimson magma wound through the depths of the rift like slowly flowing blood.
Its glow cast the rock walls above in dark red.
This was Scorching Rift, the domain of the red dragons.
Yet at the deepest point of the rift was not the lava lake or volcanic crater one might have imagined.
Instead, there stood a palace converted from a naturally formed colossal cave.
The main structure of the palace was built from dark-red volcanic rock and a kind of black ore with a metallic sheen.
Its overall style was rugged yet magnificent.
The massive stone pillars were carved with patterns of flames and circling dragons.
Scorching fire crystals were set into the gaps, providing light and heat that never went out.
The palace had no roof in the strict sense; above it was the jagged vault of the rift.
Enormous skylights had been carved into it.
They allowed the blazing air and the occasional gust of wind still carrying sparks to circulate.
At this moment, the palace's central hall was especially lively.
The throne here was not of the traditional kind, but rather a massive piece of dark-red, glass-like stone that seemed to have been scooped from a river of magma and naturally cooled.
Its surface was smooth as a mirror, yet it seemed to seal a layer of flowing flame within, making its light and shadow ever-changing.
Leaning languidly upon the throne was a seductive figure.
She appeared to be a human