The night was as dark as ink, and the grim atmosphere of Dragon Valley gradually dissipated.
The frost covering the land silently receded, the frozen plants unfurled once more, and startled small beasts shook off the ice shards and fled in panic.
—Not a single leaf withered from the frost; neither vegetation nor living creatures had been harmed by the Silver Dragon's fury.
The Red-Iron Dragon's pupils contracted slightly.
This was not a sign of insufficient power; rather, it confirmed Frosttrace's near-perfect control over the power of ice.
As a Lawful Good Dragonkin, even in his rage, he still adhered to his principles, not harming even the smallest of lives.
Only Garros, as the primary target, bore the cold that seeped into his Soul, and the backlash from shattering the ice crystals caused his Frostburn Scales to become riddled with cracks.
"I fear he is not just a Mature Adult Dragon who has just turned two hundred; his Life Level might be 19, not 18."
If a Level 19 Silver Dragon had ambitions of hegemony, the Four Great Tribes of The Borderlands would have long ceased to matter; everyone would only be able to survive by relying on Dragon Breath.
"Fortunately, ice resistance is no longer a weakness. If I were an ordinary Young Dragon, I would have likely been directly severely injured just now."
Garros felt secretly relieved while simultaneously pondering the flaws of his Frostburn Scales.
—It relied on heat absorption rather than creating low temperatures out of thin air.
This meant that fire-element attacks could help him accumulate heat energy, but pure extreme cold and ultra-low temperatures—attacks without heat—could counter his heat absorption effect.
"The path of evolution is rugged and long. My Frostburn Scales are far from perfect; they still have flaws and weaknesses."
"I wonder how long it will take to reach the step of the flawless Ultimate Dragon."
Garros thought silently to himself.
Meanwhile, Frosttrace Adrie folded his wings and hovered in mid-air. He lowered his head, his silver pupils swirling with a scrutinizing gaze: "Clean up The Borderlands? Red-Iron brat, do you know how much blood and death flows through this land?"
"Order is not something you can just speak into existence with a single sentence."
Garros did not refute the Silver Dragon's words but instead said earnestly: "Precisely because of that, I have chosen to take action."
His voice paused slightly, and the Red-Iron Dragon raised his head slightly, his expression calm yet revealing a sharp edge of ambition as he said: "How could those insect-like creatures govern The Borderlands well?"
"Only by clearing them all away, when I become the King of the Borderlands, can I bring order here and end the chaos and conflict."
Talking only about order was too empty and pretentious, appearing hypocritical.
At this moment, revealing a bit of ambition was actually more authentic.
"King of the Borderlands?"
Adrie's eyes narrowed slightly, and he said: "Red-Iron brat, you certainly have a big mouth. I reside in The Borderlands and also belong here, and you want to be the King of the Borderlands—"
A cold sneer spilled from the Silver Dragon's fangs: "—Does that mean I also have to bow down and pay homage to you?!"
The misunderstanding had been cleared up.
But thinking of Deborah's deception, and the way she stood in front of this Red-Iron Dragon...
Adrie still held anger in his heart.
It was not the anger of a Metallic Dragon toward an Evil Dragon, but the rage of an old father that erupted in his heart upon seeing his cherished child opposing him for the sake of another dragon.
Even if the other party were not an Evil Dragon, but a Metallic Dragon, he would still be angry.
He was not the foolish White Scale, but a noble and wise Silver Dragon.
Adrie's gaze was sharp; it was not hard to see that the Red-Silver Dragon had already fallen for this Red-Iron Dragon, otherwise, she would not have been acting sneakily to hide it from him, nor would she have blocked his path.
Thinking of how obedient and sensible Deborah used to be, and then looking at how she was now guarding against him...
He endured for a moment, but the more he thought about it, the angrier he became.
He took a step back, and his fury overwhelmed his heart.
The Silver Dragon felt as if a ball of fire were burning in his heart.
However, as a Lawful Dragonkin, the Silver Dragon still adhered to the principles in his heart; he would not bully the weak without a specific reason or attack a Young Dragon.
Therefore, the Silver Dragon was 'picking a fight'.
He wanted to provoke the Red-Iron Dragon into revealing the unruly appearance of an Evil Dragon and speaking disrespectfully to him, so that he would have a reason to beat the Red-Iron Dragon until he was looking for his teeth all over the floor.
Under the Silver Dragon's cold gaze, Garros vaguely sensed his hostility.
Well-versed in dragon nature, he could roughly guess the Silver Dragon's psychology and thoughts at this moment.
"I can cede the position of King of the Borderlands."
The Red-Iron Dragon smiled slightly, open-minded and carefree as he said: "I believe Metallic Dragons can also bring order here; when that time comes, I only hope to have a small corner to reside in."
A heavy blow had landed on fluffy cotton.
The Silver Dragon's eye twitched, he let out a long breath of stale air, and then said:
"I have no interest in governing territory."
Gold and Silver Dragons both liked order, but they were not good at governing territory or handling trivial matters; therefore, most of the time, they tended to be guardians of order rather than creators and establishers.
"Red-Iron brat, you want to be the King of the Borderlands and you want to bring order here—fine, I will not obstruct you; I will even bear witness for you."
Speaking to this point, the Silver Dragon changed the subject, his voice deepening a few degrees as he said: "But, if because of your existence, The Borderlands instead become more chaotic, I will let you know what price you will pay for deceiving a Metallic Dragon."
His black-silver scales refracted a faint light, and the Red-Iron Dragon nodded gently: "Please wait and see."
At this moment, seemingly sensing the determination in the Red-Iron Dragon's words, the Silver Dragon's expression softened slightly.
He swept his gaze across Dragon Valley, then folded his wings and slowly descended to the ground; Deborah and the Copper Dragon Serena also arrived on the ground.
Immediately after, with a burst of white light appearing and flickering on their bodies, the massive Silver Dragon and Copper Dragon were using Polymorph, their bodies slowly shrinking.
"The open space in Dragon Valley is spacious enough; there is no need to retract your true dragon forms."
Garros said.
"Oh my, it's not good to step on the flowers and plants; the size is too huge, sometimes it's not very convenient, you will later..." The Copper Dragon had wanted to say that Garros would understand later, but looking at Garros's towering physique at this moment, her words stalled.
The Young Red-Iron Dragon's size was not as large as a Mature Adult Dragon's.
But the level of his sturdiness was truly inconceivable.
The Silver Dragon and the Copper Dragon were both Mature Adult Dragons over three hundred years old, but in these long years, it was their first time seeing a dragon as exaggeratedly strong as Garros.
Adrie's face was as handsome as an elf's, his eyes slightly narrow and thus appearing sharp. His waterfall-like silver-white long hair was tied with an ice crystal hair clasp, and a diamond-shaped gem like an ice Soul hung from his left ear. Even though he was stern and serious, giving people an ice-mountain-like feeling, his appearance was truly extraordinary.
"The Legacy records are correct; Silver Dragons are indeed the most handsome and elegant of the main Dragonkin types."
Garros looked at the Silver Dragon's humanoid form and shook his head imperceptibly, thinking to himself: "It's just a bit too thin; he doesn't look like he has much muscle on him."
Muscles like iron, sinews and bones like cast steel.
Powerful! Dominant! Strong!
Even standing there without speaking made people feel he was terrifyingly strong. Garros himself preferred this type of image.
Serena stood by Adrie's side. Her appearance was far inferior to the Silver Dragon's, but she was also beautiful and playful, with a few freckles dotted on her face, delicate skin the color of honey, and a youthful, exuberant feeling in her eyes as they darted around.
If not for knowing she was an old thing over two hundred years old, Garros would have thought she was a young girl of fifteen or sixteen.
"Red-Iron Dragon, Deborah has mentioned you before. I remember you were in the Serel Wilderness; why did you come to The Borderlands?"
Serena did not know what the Red-Iron Dragon was thinking and asked.
"You may call me by my name—Garros."
"Coming to The Borderlands was a last resort; I was suppressed, expelled, and had a bounty placed on me by human nobles in the Serel Wilderness."
The Red-Iron Dragon replied.
There was no grievance or anger in his voice, only the calm of one accustomed to it and having weathered the storms.
Deborah blinked her eyes and explained for the Red-Iron Dragon: "When he was in the Serel Wilderness, he controlled a trade route from behind the scenes, suppressed monsters from hurting people, established rules, and governed it in an orderly manner."
"However, the human nobles pressured him with exorbitant taxes."
"Helpless, he could only choose a lose-lose situation, giving up his foundation in the Serel Wilderness to come to the more barren, human-isolated The Borderlands."
She looked directly at her parents and said slowly in a serious tone: "Father, Mother."
"You often say that the birth of an Evil Dragon is related to its environment."
"Garros has suffered a lot of prejudice, but he has not been twisted by it. He is absolutely not the Evil Dragon of conventional understanding; I have never seen him slaughter the weak or act bloodthirsty and violent."
"He likes a peaceful life, likes to focus on training, lives a disciplined life, and is never lazy."
"The world holds prejudice against him and is his enemy, but he does not blame the world for it; he calmly accepts reality, then survives cautiously and adapts silently."
Is that the image I have in Deborah's eyes?
Garros did not speak, just listened quietly.
He felt that Deborah seemed to have beautified him a bit, but overall it was not far off; he calmly accepted this praise.