Borderlands, Northeast, Venomtail Tribe border post, early morning.
The gray Blue Dragon canopy spreads over Ten-Thousand Snake Marsh like silk soaked in ink.
The morning star has not yet faded its brilliance, the eastern horizon has just turned fish-belly white, and the sun has not yet officially risen. The moist mist flows slowly on the surface of the earth, shrouding this border area in a hazy haze.
Sentinel Chief Kesos is perched on the top of the serpentine lookout, its gray-green scales blending perfectly with the moss-covered wooden fence.
His thick snake tail slapped the weathered bricks, making a rhythmic "tap-tat" sound.
As a veteran who has experienced four molts, his amber vertical pupils can detect any abnormality even in the weakest light.
"Naji, your scales are reflecting light."
Kesos suddenly hissed, his forked tongue trembling rapidly, capturing the pheromones in the air.
His eyes were fixed on the neck of the young sentinel below - where two new snake scales were exuding pale pink mating pheromones, shimmering in the morning light.
"Want to sneak away to Holy Nest again to find that maid in the peeling stage?"
Snake-man The sentry captain's voice had a playful hiss, and the tail tone echoed in the humid air.
Recruit Naji suddenly curled up as if his tail had been stepped on, and his scales instantly turned into a muddy brown consistent with the environment. He stammered in defense, "Nonsense! I am determined to defend the tribe, how could this happen?"
A hoarse sneer suddenly came from the shadows.
Secret Whistle Severs poked out half of his head from the darkness of the observation tower, his amber vertical pupils as sharp as venom-quenched daggers.
The veteran, who had also shed his skin four times, lowered his voice and said, "Save it, kid, the six-armed lady's maids have a very high level of vision. They only value warriors who have shed their skin five or more times."
"You have only gone through your second molt, and your venom glands have not even been fully developed."
Another veteran added, his scales trembling slightly with laughter. "If you really can't bear it, the vicious python in the swamp is a good choice. Although it is a bit rough, it tastes good."
Several Snake-man veterans were teasing the young Snake-man with their words. On the surface, the atmosphere seemed relaxed and happy.
However, careful observers will find that these experienced warriors will spit out letters quickly from time to time and make dense "hissing" sounds - this is a typical manifestation of Snake-man releasing inner pressure.
The tips of their tails tightened unconsciously, and their muscles were ready to explode at any time.
This seemingly relaxed chat was just a way for the veterans to relieve their inner tension.
In this pre-dawn silence, some invisible pressure is building up on the border.
Suddenly, the long tongue of the secret whistle Severs popped out like lightning, accurately piercing a flying noctua.
The scales on his throat swelled. After swallowing the prey, he deliberately lowered his voice and said, "I heard that the iron-melting dragons refused our allegiance, and those giant dragons were angry."
This sentence is like a piece of ice falling into boiling water, and the surrounding air freezes instantly.
All Snake-man's scales stood up involuntarily, and its tail stuck stiffly to the ground.
Severs continued to say in an almost inaudible voice, "The six-armed lady is not supposed to"
"Shut up!"
The neighing sound of the sentry chief Kesos suddenly became sharp, and his tail whip hit the masonry hard, splashing a few gravels.
"The decision of the tribe's top leaders is not something we can arbitrarily discuss! Keep your post and control your tongue!"
Unexpectedly, An Shao, who usually likes to talk back, did not refute this time.
Old Snake-man turned his head in confusion and found Severs staring into the distance, his tail stretched straight, fine cold sweat oozing out from his human-like face, and his pupils constricted into a thin line.
Following An Shao's gaze, Kesos's expression froze instantly.
Under the gray Blue Dragon sky, a black tide-like legion was coming through the morning dew.
The centaur warrior's Iron Hoof raised dust storms all over the sky, Ogre's heavy footsteps made ripples appear on the swamp water, and Werewolf's green eyes were like floating will-o'-the-wisps. Even more terrifying are the dragon shadows hovering in the sky, and the giant White Tiger that makes the earth tremble with every step it takes - that is the Monster Lord that is rumored to be able to tear Giant apart.
"Surrender! We surrender!"
The alarm bell didn't even have time to sound. Faced with the absolute disparity in strength, the Snake-man guards chose to surrender without hesitation.
They walked out of the guard post one after another, discarding their weapons in the mud.
However, it was too late.
"Those who resist will be killed without mercy."
The cold voice of Iron Dragon came from the sky.
"Kill half of the rest randomly and keep half."
Sorog's order is like the death sentence, without any emotion.
As the ruler of the lawful camp, he does not like excessively brutal ruling methods, but Venomtail Tribe's previous capriciousness must be washed away with blood. Without this cleansing, these Snake-mans are likely to have alien intentions again.
Perhaps out of fear of death, most Snake-man chose to obey.
As soon as a few young and vigorous warriors raised their weapons, they were nailed to death on the guard tower by the roaring arrows.
The rest huddled together tremblingly, silently praying in their hearts that the butcher's knife would not fall on their heads.
The fall of this border post was only the beginning of disaster.
Molten Iron Legion advanced towards the hinterland of the Venomtail Tribe like a hot knife cutting through butter in an unhurried but unstoppable manner.
The sentry strongholds along the way were ruthlessly smashed, and the Snake-man guards faced the cruel choice of "kill one, leave one behind".
Individual strongholds that resisted fiercely were completely wiped out by Iron Dragon without mercy - the buildings were bulldozed, the guards were slaughtered, and they were not even given a chance to surrender.
Sorog It is very clear that this Ironblood method will bring some troubles to future rule.
But rather than leaving hidden dangers, he would rather spend more time restoring order.
Venomtail Tribe and Snake-man are too naive. Their cleverness is not worth mentioning in the face of absolute strength. Since they have chosen the first and the second, they must pay the corresponding price.
As time went by, this unstoppable army finally approached the core of the Venomtail Tribe - Ten-Thousand Snake Marsh.
On the outskirts of the swamp, headed by Six-Armed Snake Woman Naris, Venomtail Tribe has assembled all its forces.
The poisonous mist summoned by the warlocks hovered over the swamp, the Shaman domesticated giant snake lurked underwater, and the fully armed Snake-man warriors were waiting. However, the strange thing was that not a single sword was unsheathed.
Opposite them, Molten Iron Legion's lineup is even more terrifying.
The well-equipped heavy cavalry formed a charge formation. The Ogre warriors carried giant maces, and Alchemy Golem's eyes flashed with dangerous red light. Not to mention the Monster Lord who dominated the formation and the giant dragon hovering in the sky.
Snake-man's tails slapped the mud uneasily, and their forked tongues swallowed rapidly, trying to alleviate the fear in their hearts.
Facing the molten iron behemoth with its fangs fully exposed, even the bravest warriors felt a deep sense of oppression.
The two sides faced each other thousands of meters apart.
"Stop!"
With the roar of Iron Dragon mixed with spiritual shock, the monster legions stopped in unison.
But the eyes of these bloodthirsty warriors still burned with fighting spirit, their claws and weapons shone coldly in the morning light, and their successive victories had made them eager to tear apart more of the enemy's flesh and blood.
Phew--!
Sorog's wings suddenly folded in like a steel gate, and the huge body turned into a shadow and fell from the sky. When it was less than ten feet away from the ground, the dragon wings suddenly unfolded and stirred up a strong wind, accurately controlling the momentum of the fall.
With a muffled sound of "boom", the heavy dragon body landed steadily on the hard ground at the edge of the swamp.
What is shocking is that he actually came to the enemy camp alone!
Snake-man The warriors all tensed their bodies, and the "rustling" sounds of their scales were heard. Some young warriors' tails curled up unconsciously. This was Snake-man's instinctive reaction when they felt extremely nervous.
Iron Dragon walked vigorously and steadily towards the waiting Six-Armed Snake Woman.
He raised his clear-cut dragon's kiss and looked down at the tribal leader from a high position, with dangerous sparks dancing in his vertical pupils.
"Second meeting, Naris."
Sorog's voice has a unique Metal Resonance texture. The dragon's kiss is slightly raised, revealing the sharp white teeth. "Is this scene what you want?"
His gaze swept over Snake Woman's sword blade that was trembling slightly due to tension.
Those sharp weapons that could carve hundreds of scars on the dragon's scales seemed to be bound by invisible chains at the moment, and they dared not take out their sheaths.
Opposite Iron Dragon, Six-Armed Snake Woman Naris showed a suffocating fighting posture.
Her six arms were stretched out like blooming petals, and each hand held a cold iron sword with a cold light. The sharp edges flowing on the blade seemed to be able to cut the air, and the surrounding air was slightly distorted by the presence of these sharp weapons.
As a level 16 Six-Armed Snake-man Sword Saint, Naris alone, Life Level is equivalent to an adult red dragon.
As for Sorog, a 35-year-old young Young Iron Dragon, Life Level is only around level 12 - although this is an outstanding individual with advanced development among Iron Dragon, there is still a big gap compared with Snake Woman.
At this moment, the two were only ten meters apart.
For a Sword Saint, this distance is fleeting.
Naris's sharp eyes could clearly see the beating blood vessels under the scales on Iron Dragon's neck - where just one sword could trigger a waterfall of blood.
But she never took action.
Naris knows better than anyone else that Dragonkin's abnormal physical fitness is enough to even out the level gap.
Even if she could gain the upper hand, she would never be able to resolve the battle in a short period of time. Behind Iron Dragon, there was an entire team of the Molten Iron Legion who were eyeing him, not to mention the Lord of Crimson Wings who made her unable to resist.
Thinking of the terrifying existence that could counterattack in the ambush of Dawn and Ironblood Tribe, Naris's hand tightened a little more on the sword.
She really couldn't figure it out.
Why does a giant dragon with such strength still play tactics with those barbarians? Wouldn't it be easier to just crush them?
It's a pity she will never understand.
Garos is completely different from other young dragons.
This Lord of Crimson Wings acts cautiously, always pursuing victory at the minimum cost, and never blindly rushes in due to arrogance, and this is also a key factor in his growth to this day.