Beneath the Red Dragon

The sunlight pierces through layers of white clouds, spilling onto the grassland.

In the connected beast hide tents of the Frost Giants, stands a massive royal tent, the royal banner of the Frost Giants is planted in front of the royal tent’s entrance, dancing fiercely in the chilly wind tempered by the mild climate of the grassland.

Aside from the warriors and slaves from various Cold Land Tribes scattered around the perimeter, almost all the Frost Giants are gathered around this royal tent.

The various Frost Giant Tribes have been forcibly unified by the Frost Giant King, forming a massive tribe. Yet the civilization of the Frost Giants has not achieved further transitional growth.

Even with the purchase of arms through some daring and greedy trade caravans, many Frost Giant Warriors still wield weapons forged from Cold Stone, frozen for thousands and tens of thousands of years on the Northern Frost Plains, crude blades made from various powerful creature bones, chain armor and maces.

Many tall Frost Giants roaming the camp are clad in clothes made from beast hide, tending or butchering large beasts like long-haired elephants, Ice Plain Land Dragons, Musk Unicorne Dragon Lizards, captured and plundered from the Frost Wasteland.

Though these Frost Giants have crude and rudimentary weapons, their bodily defenses are even tougher than those of War Lizards and Dragon-men; overcoming the ’thick skin’ innate defense of these creatures is difficult, and even well-crafted iron arrows struggle to inflict effective harm upon Frost Giants.

This is a major reason why the Frost Giants can easily dominate the Ice Plain; they possess not only immense strength but also formidable defense, with sharp spears and sturdy shields, creating an overlord-like race.

Despite the presence of tens of thousands of warriors in the camp, the central area appears particularly quiet, almost deathly silent. Only the sound of beasts exhaling and the occasional loud roar of a Frost Giant breaks the stillness.

The warriors of these tribes are not particularly disciplined; instead, the warriors of other tribes fear disturbing the ill-tempered Frost Giants.

The camp enveloped in thin mist shows the chaotic piles of bones on the ground, which is the result for those who disturb the Frost Giant’s commander.

Some bones resemble human ones, some are beast bones, all are leftover bones spat out by the Frost Giants, looking especially ghastly.

Among them are a few Giant Dragon skeletons, their jade-like bones emitting a metallic steel gray color, placed neatly in the center of the camp, arranged in the form they took in life.

The giant and grim skulls with their cold, empty eye sockets gaze menacingly at any creature daring to covet the Frost Giant camp, a display of intimidating authority, leaving no room for rebellion and provocation by other races.

Only from the center of the royal tent comes the noise and large discussions amid laughter, a sole place not oppressed by the seemingly small world here.

In the spacious royal tent, bonfires blaze and rise, bringing together the leaders of the various Frost Giant tribes.

Some drink the fiery liquor held in their cups, some gnaw on a whole beef leg, while others sing the war songs expelling winter ghost creatures in loud and unrefined voices, their voices were both grand and somber.

The Frost Giant King sits at the center of the royal tent, clothed in armor, and even while seated, appears more burly and vigorous than the surrounding Frost Giant Warriors.

This king among Giants looks not unique, sharing the same skin as other Frost Giants, though it carries a glacial blue color from the deep ice within the big glacier.

His neatly arranged beard resembles upright frost ice shards, combined with his firm and serene eyes, creating a distinct aura.

This is a king blessed with a calm, rational intellect and solid resolve.

Therefore, even these Frost Giants cannot fathom the king’s thoughts.

They do not know how determined the Frost Giant King is about traversing the grassland to march southward, for in this boundless grassland, the few Giant Dragons and three thousand Imperial legions, plus thousands of auxiliary legions, cannot withstand the onslaught of the Frost Giant army.

Even those Giant Dragons building isolated watch forts on the Short Mountain cannot hold the fort against dangers, providing only some measure of disdain.

Moreover, the corps of Frost Giants is not a traditional army requiring the transport of massive supplies and rear supplies but rather more akin to self-sustaining combat, replenishing locally.

A mere few thousand corps plus some Giant Dragons in this vast Great Grassland cannot even cut off the Frost Giant corps’ logistics and supplies, nor stage an active defense.

In the royal tent, although it seems noisy and lively, these former tribal leaders and mighty Frost Giant Warriors are filled with confusion and worry about the tribe’s future, neither advancing nor retreating has greatly worn down the little patience already possessed by these Frost Giants.

Finally, one Frost Giant with a bull-horned helmet could not hold himself back, slamming down the enormous bullhorn cup and heavily placing a double-edged axe on the table in front of him.

"I can’t take it any longer, whether fight or retreat, there needs to be a decision. Leader, you initially said that we’d lead the Frost Giants to carve out a future, so I led the Eternal Freeze Tribe, without hesitation, under your banner,"

This leader of the Eternal Freeze Tribe shouted loudly: "Even if dying on the battlefield, my brow would not furrow once, and my warriors would never feel fear. But now cooped up here, though it’s way more comfortable than life in the glacier, it makes me wholly uncomfortable."

"Could it be that just a mere failure crushed your aspirations of leading the Frost Giants towards a splendid intention, diminishing your spirit?"