Just Borrowing His Dick

Thick, dark clouds continued to gather in the sky, almost resembling a floating black island, making it seem as if a fortress could be built on it.

The Wildfire on the Redwyne battleship was still burning, and the heat and smoke from the Wildfire poured into the clouds. As the thick smoke accumulated, the dark clouds overhead grew even heavier.

Thunder churned within the thick, dark clouds, flashing terrifying spots of light, accompanied by a rumbling sound, as if a wild beast trapped within the heavy black clouds was roaring and trying to break free.

The sailors on the entire fleet looked up at the terrifying clouds above, and not a single person made a sound; it seemed as if only the rumbling thunder could be heard between heaven and earth.

All they knew was that if they were at sea, far from the mainland, they would most likely perish in the face of such a terrible downpour.

With a sharp crack, it sounded as if someone had stabbed a hole in the sky with a knife, and a torrential downpour began.

"Throw away the brazier! Throw away the brazier!" Paxter shouted from the deck after realizing what was happening, his eyes darting back and forth between the brazier burning with Wildfire and the terrifying dark clouds overhead.

Considering that heavy rain might splash the Wildfire from the brazier, their plan was to throw the brazier away as soon as the rain started.

Large raindrops pounded on the deck, drenching the terrifying green flames with an unsettling hiss.

Occasionally, sparks from Wildfire would be splashed out by rainwater, and sailors would immediately step forward to extinguish them with sand.

But the rain was still too heavy, so heavy that it began to obstruct visibility. At first, two adjacent ships could still see each other, but gradually even two sailors standing on the same deck could only communicate by shouting.

"Horas! Hobber!"

"Father! We're here!"

Paxter could no longer see his sons and could only locate them by shouting.

He felt a little relieved after hearing his sons' reply, but now he felt surrounded by a white fog, as if he were in a thick mist.

More than a hundred warships lined up in a row, stretching for more than ten miles, but he could no longer see them at all. Even the towering Casterly Rock and the stone mountains could only be seen as outlines.

"Has all the rain fallen here?" Paxter wondered, because his field of vision was limited and he couldn't see anything above Casterly Rock.

"So, the northerner's method worked?" Because all he could hear was the sound of the rain, Paxter's mind was working faster than usual.

He still didn't understand why it would rain when he lit a fire on the ground.

All he remembered was that Jon had talked to him about heat flow, condensation nuclei, and pressure differences, but he couldn't understand a single word of it.

Paxter thought it might be some kind of spell.

As a Redwyne, he had been sailing since he was very young, and people who spend a lot of time at sea are prone to superstition.

He was starting to believe that Jon had used witchcraft, perhaps the Red Priestess; otherwise, how could fire be associated with water?

Thinking of his own burning warship, Paxter decided not to ask Jon for compensation; after all, someone who could control the weather was simply too terrifying.

Paxter tried to look up, but the torrential rain made it impossible for him to open his eyes. He could only wait for the rain to stop.

Jon, standing on the shore, saw everything clearly.

Above Redwyne Fleet was like a giant showerhead, as if all the rain in the world had been concentrated in that one spot.

Compared to the fierce winds and torrential rain upwind of the fleet, Casterly Rock was shrouded in a light drizzle. Compared to the torrential downpour above Redwyne Fleet, the rain in Casterly Rock was barely enough to wet a hair, let alone fill their cisterns—a completely impossible task.

Even standing in Tywin's room and looking out onto the field, he could see the gathering dark clouds pouring down rain.

So much so that a milky white vapor rose from the sea, obscuring the view.

"Long live the Lord of Casterly Rock!!!"

"Long live Jon Stark!!!"

In contrast to the impending Casterly Rock, Jon's camp was filled with cheers.

Sandor now felt that Jon's strength was unfathomable, his military talent unparalleled, his martial arts superb, and now he even knew how to control the weather.

Although Jon is far from truly controlling the weather, in his eyes, it's practically the same as being a god.

There are two things now.

If Sandor's initial allegiance to Jon was merely a means to secure his future, he developed respect for Jon after Jon emphasized that he would never call him a dog but Ser Sandor.

So now they worship them like gods.

After all, someone who went from being an illegitimate child to where they are today deserves some explanation, right?

Even if he really is an illegitimate child, he might be the illegitimate child of some god, just using Eddard's penis for a while.

Sandor, having served in Casterly Rock before thanks to his martial arts skills, knew that the Casterly Rock's water reserves could not last more than a month.

If a person doesn't drink water, every minute or second of thirst is torture.

"Casterly Rock, prepare to welcome your new master." Sandor thought to himself, watching Jon explain to the crowd.

He recalled Jon explaining to everyone why he still polluted the wells of Casterly Rock even though he could control the rain—it was to thwart Tywin's ambitions.

Although a few wells were not enough to drink for tens of thousands of people, the hope that "we still have water" extended their time of perseverance.

Jon Snow didn't have much Wildfire, so he had to make some sacrifices.

Of course, there's one more thing Jon didn't explicitly say: many people are now considering dividing the Westerlands equally between Jon and the Lannister, and things might change if this drags on.

Martin goes without saying; his feelings are basically the same as Sandor's.

Once Jon becomes the Lord of Casterly Rock, he can find a piece of land in the Westerlands and establish a House Darry, just as Jon will later be called the Stark of Casterly Rock, and his own family will be called the Darry of the Westerlands.

It's just a little bit of a shame— Jon isn't Targaryen.

The House Darry were also loyal subjects of the Dragon King, and Martin longed to one day fight alongside him. It's just a pity that all the Dragon Kings are gone.

Loras had fallen silent; he no longer spoke of honor or anything like that. This was about controlling the weather—something only the gods could do.

It doesn't seem so unacceptable that one's own sister could marry a person who can control the weather.

Brynden, too, was holding a telescope, mouth agape, staring at the distant clouds and torrential rain. He had never imagined that Jon would conquer Casterly Rock in such a way.

Although there was no brutal fighting, it was still quite awe-inspiring.

Jon felt quite pleased to realize that the attitudes of the nobles toward him had changed so drastically.

At this moment, Jon noticed Melisandre not far away. Unlike the others, she did not exclaim or cheer, but looked at him with a pitying expression.

"What, does she seem to pity me?" Jon thought he could read the emotion in those red eyes.

Honestly, being looked at with that expression by someone who understands divination is not a pleasant experience.

I have no idea what she meant by that.

Melisandre stared at Jon without saying a word, making him feel uneasy. Jon, though unsure of her meaning, composed himself and addressed the others. "Gentlemen, while we may seem to have victory in our grasp, true triumph is yet to come. My banner has not yet been raised atop Casterly Rock. Tywin is not one to sit idly by; he may very well launch an attack! Sandor Clegane!"

"Grown ups!"

"Tell the entire army that whoever can cut off Tywin's head will be rewarded with the Sarsfield! The man who kills Tywin will be the future Earl of Sarsfield!"

From this moment forward, he will truly begin to exercise his powers as Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West.

Meanwhile, in Casterly Rock, almost all the soldiers were watching the torrential rain pouring down on the distant sea.

Such a spectacular sight is truly a rare treat, but unfortunately they don't know what it means.

"Looks like the bastard's fleet angered the gods; he got drenched in rain," a Casterly Rock soldier said dumbly.

"Yes, Casterly Rock must be blessed by the gods."

Some of the slower-reacting Casterly Rock soldiers were even gloating, but others had already realized something was wrong.

"I do have a way to stop the rain from falling." Jon's words echoed in Adam's mind, and for a moment, he involuntarily shivered.

Could it be that he really knows witchcraft?

Looking at the thick, dark clouds in the distance, Adam felt almost suffocated.

The power to control the weather was something only gods possessed, but now that his enemy was displaying this formidable power, how could he not be afraid?

At this moment, Damion and Damon also realized that something was wrong, so they hurriedly went to find Tywin.

"My lord, my lord?"

At this moment, Tywin was standing on the terrace looking at the torrential rain not far away, completely still, like a stone statue.

Damion tried to call out to Tywin, but when Tywin turned around, they saw a pair of lost and dejected eyes.

Those green eyes were filled with fear, helplessness, and horror.

Tywin took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to calm himself down. After a long while, he finally spoke, "Write a letter to Stannis. Tell him I only want Casterly Rock. He can have the rest of the Westerlands. The Lannister only want Casterly Rock!"