Chapter 655: Grand Blueprint, the Great Expedition of Sacred
Arotala, Loki Plain.
The night pressed heavily over this vast wasteland. Wind poured down from the northern mountain ranges, and the plain was scattered with hills and ravines of varying sizes. Sparse wild grass bent low and rose again in the wind.
At the heart of the plain, several man-made fortresses and strongholds were scattered across the land.
Their outlines were massive and heavy—
Unlike the slender, elegant elven architecture. On the top floor of one fortress, two enormous Legendary dragons lay coiled on the terrace.
By appearance, both were red dragons.
The red dragon on the left was larger, with scales as crimson as blood. His horns were thick and slightly tilted forward, the bulging lines of his muscles clearly visible beneath his scales—each chunk raised—and even in a resting posture, he exuded an overwhelming sense of pressure.
Garoth's eldest son, the red dragon Garcro.
The red dragon on the right was slightly smaller than Garcro. His dragon horns extended backward along his skull at a gentle angle, with the tips curving slightly upward. His scales were a more even vermilion red, flowing and uniform across his elongated torso.
His muscles were generally not as strong as Garcro's, but they were quite lean and sharp.
Moreover, his posture was restrained.
His limbs were tucked to his sides, his tail quietly coiled around himself, and his head rested on his front claws. His eyes were half-closed, as if lost in thought or letting his mind wander.
Garoth's fourth son, the red dragon Laria.
The two kept a moderate distance between them, without exchanging words.
Until Garcro could no longer hold back. He turned his head and looked at Laria, who seemed to be in feigned sleep beside him.
"Little Four."
Whether or not Laria hadn't heard, he didn't respond.
Then Garcro raised his tail and poked Laria's shoulder, pushing him, over and over, until Laria fully opened his eyes.
"What is it?"
The red dragon sighed and said.
Of his older brother, Laria felt a headache more than once—
When Garcro first arrived at Arotala, the war between the orcs and the elves hadn't fully ended yet, and countless rage beasts still roamed the plains.
He took on the heavy task of slaughtering the rage beasts.
He killed from dawn to dusk every day, never tiring of it.
Garcro in this state was very useful.
The two brothers managed the territory well together—one was responsible for killing and clearing, the other for coordination and construction. The division of labor was clear, and they worked in perfect sync.
Then the war ended.
Nausil began a large-scale cleanup of the rage beasts, and their threat almost completely disappeared.
The problem came along.
Garcro started to harass him constantly.
This guy, when he needed to fight, was the perfect blade—charging forward without hesitation, grinding everything in his path into powder.
But he absolutely could not be idle.
Once idle, he started giving Laria a headache.
"When can we expand the territory again?"
"In these years, ever since the war between the elves and orcs on Arotala ended, we haven't crossed the border by even an inch. My claws and fangs, to be honest, are almost rusted."
Garcro said discontentedly.
Laria turned to look at his blood kin, his expression unchanged.
"The only reason we can keep our existing territory on Arotala is that Nausil has given us the maximum silent permission out of respect for our origins in Sacred Aola."
"One step further, and it would be a different story."
"As for expanding the territory... there's no opportunity right now."
On Arotala, besides Nausil, there were many other kingdoms.
The elves were not dictators; they allowed multiple races and kingdoms to coexist, maintaining a balance among the various powers.
But they were different.
They came from Atlan, belonging to the Sacred Aola Empire.
Nausil's attitude toward Sacred Aola was friendly, but mainly because the two were not on the same continent.
An ally far away and a neighbor at the doorstep were two different things, and the elves were very clear about that.
Toward this territory rooted at their doorstep, the elves' attitude was full of vigilance and wariness. They completely denied them any opportunity to expand, tightly confining their range of activity.
Any attempt to cross the line would invite a swift and clear response.
Garcro ground his teeth.
He suddenly turned his head, his gaze burning as he stared at his brother. "Anyway, it's better to be busy than bored. My dear Laria, let's have a little fun between brothers—stretch our claws a bit. It's better than just staring blankly here."
Laria looked at him and shook his head. "No time."
Garcro was displeased. His tail slammed heavily against the ground. "No time? You've been lying here motionless all day—what could you possibly be busy with?"
"I'm studying."
Laria said unhurriedly. "There's far more buried in the inheritance than you imagine."
"Strategies for governing a kingdom, layouts for war, the proper limits of diplomacy, allocation of resources... these can't be summed up in a few words."
"I'm digging through them one by one, pondering carefully, and extracting what's useful."
When he closed his eyes in feigned sleep, he wasn't really resting; he was studying all kinds of knowledge from the inheritance.
The inherited knowledge was vast as an ocean.
Besides triggering it actively when needed, he could also dig and learn on his own.
Active triggering was like picking up exposed ore on the surface of a mineral vein, while digging and learning was like burrowing deep into a cave, exploring inch by inch those layers that had never been turned over.
Only, the latter was extremely tedious.
Few dragons ever chose to do this.
Most great dragons only accepted the passively surfaced knowledge and had little interest in active digging.
Garcro stood up, showing off his strong and toned body, letting the contours of his muscles clearly reveal themselves.
"What's the use of learning that? A great dragon should crush everything with pure strength. Who cares about governing or diplomacy?"
"What claws and fangs can grind to dust, why waste the brain on it?"
"It's better to polish your scales, practice your breath, and build up your strength. These are the things that really matter."
Laria stared at his brother's face, silent for a moment, then slowly spoke. "Garcro, my brother, do you think Father built Sacred Aola entirely through strength?"
Garcro scratched the scales on his neck.
"...Not entirely."
He said gloomily.
"Of course not entirely."
Laria nodded. "Father's strength is the foundation of Sacred Aola, but turning that foundation into an empire relies on things many dragons simply don't understand."
"If Father only relied on strength, at best he would now be just a powerful evil dragon coiled in the wilderness."
"He could destroy everything, but keep nothing."
Strength was important.
But to become the ruler of a Dragon Empire, strength alone wasn't enough.
Laria slightly raised his jaw and looked toward the distant horizon swallowed by the night.
"We are the Emperor's sons. No one else shares deeper trust with Father than us. Perhaps now we indeed have nothing to do, lying here every day, watching the sky brighten and darken, darken and brighten."
"But Father will eventually entrust us with something more important."
"By that time, I can't start preparing only after he has spoken. We must be ready at all times before Father speaks, then do our best, worthy of his trust."
Garcro was silent for a moment.
He tilted his head, staring at his younger brother. In his gaze, usually filled with arrogance and impatience, a hint of contemplation emerged.
"Laria... your words make a lot of sense."
The red dragon nodded his massive head. "If I inherit Father's empire, I can't be clueless about everything. That would be too embarrassing."
He lay down, crossing his front claws in front of him.
Clumsily imitating Laria's posture, he closed his eyes.
"Isn't it just digging and learning inherited knowledge?"
"I can do it too."
Laria glanced at his elder brother out of the corner of his eye.
Inherit Father's empire?
He never forgot his original intention, but he probably didn't have much of a chance.
If Father ever truly met with trouble in the future, Sacred Aola would immediately fall apart.
But Laria also knew that Garcro mostly just said things like this.
He actually had no ambition to become the empire's ruler. This elder brother just valued Father's recognition more than anything.
Laria didn't say more.
He closed his eyes again, his breathing gradually steadying.
The fortress platform fell silent once more.
The night wind blew, rolling grass clippings and sand that brushed across the dragons' scales. The stars moved silently overhead, shifting the moonlight across the two red dragons' scales.
About half an hour later.
Garcro opened his eyes.
He kept his resting posture, his front claws still crossed under his chin, but his vertical pupils shifted slightly as he scanned Laria beside him.
Little Four still had his eyes closed, his breathing even and steady.
He had clearly truly immersed himself, wandering through the dense ocean of knowledge.
Garcro blinked, took a deep breath.
Then closed his eyes again.
This time, Garcro wasn't sure when he opened his eyes.
Anyway.
When he came back to himself, he found himself unconsciously counting how many stars were in the sky, muttering the numbers under his breath. He had already reached over two hundred.
"...I don't know how Little Four can bear to look at that."
He really couldn't stand this kind of silence anymore, muttering in a low voice.
To be honest, Garcro had never been a lazy or idle dragon.
When it came to honing his body, he was very self-disciplined and hardworking, putting in more time and sweat than any of the other Emperor's sons.
He had fully inherited Father's pursuit of strength, regarding power as the most fundamental weapon.
But he simply couldn't endure those tedious and boring theoretical knowledge.
Garcro would rather bleed on the battlefield than patiently study these things.
"Whatever, whatever."
The red dragon suddenly stood up, shaking his head. "Laria, study slowly. I'm going to find the little ones to play fight with. Fighting is more satisfying anyway, and it's fun to bully the young dragons."
The young whelps he mentioned were Laria's descendants.
More precisely, the offspring of his offspring.
Those little dragon whelps were born on Arotala. From the moment they broke out of their shells, they had watched the wind and moon of Loki Plain. Their scale colors varied, their personalities differed, but they all carried the bloodline of the Red Emperor.
But this bloodline on Arotala had been here from birth.
They had never actually been to Atlan.
Garcro was very happy to bully them in the name of an elder... no, to guide these young dragons, letting them truly experience Sacred Aola's educational methods.
Garcro leaped down from the platform.
His massive body traced an arc through the air, spiraling half a turn, then dove toward an open clearing.
After landing, he raised his head and let out a roar.
Soon.
Some figures with different scale colors rose from various places, gathering here.
They were all half-grown little dragons.
Red dragons, green dragons, iron dragons... their scales varied in depth. Among them, the largest in build was already comparable to some normal young dragons, with broad shoulders and a wide back. Even the green dragons, which were naturally smaller in build, had reached the level of adolescent dragons.
But in reality, they were all just young dragons.
From the contours of their brow bones to their necks, they had a bit of similarity with Laria, and they generally bore red-lotus markings on their bodies, different from ordinary dragons.
These were all Laria's descendants, the offspring of offspring.
Nine young dragons stood in a loose semicircle in the center of the clearing, their eyes fixed on the Legendary dragon with blood-red scales.
Garcro glanced around with satisfaction, his gaze sweeping over each young dragon one by one.
"Little ones, tonight's moonlight is pretty good. You can't just lie around in your nests sleeping."
"All of you, perk up."
"All nine of you, have a fight right here. No rules. Whoever is still standing at the end, your Uncle Garcro will have a generous reward."
Watching the young whelps bicker and fight each other was one of Garcro's few diversions.
Seeing these half-grown little dragons biting and rolling around reminded him of the days when he wrestled with his brothers as a young dragon. It felt like time had turned back.
The young dragons' eyes all lit up together.
Some had already lowered their front bodies, baring their fangs at their companions in a show of intimidation. Others quietly stepped back half a step, opening up distance to find a more advantageous position.
Their breathing became rapid, the atmosphere swiftly shifting from calm to tension.
Garcro stepped back, clearing the center of the space.
He raised his tail, ready to drop it as the starting signal.
But just then, the night sky above the clearing was suddenly torn open.
A pitch-black rift silently spread across the sky, its edges glowing with deep and intense light.
All the young dragons' movements froze in an instant.
Their pupils contracted, their bodies instinctively shrank back. The tense atmosphere dissipated in the blink of an eye, replaced by a deep reverence and submission born from the depths of their bloodline.
Garcro jerked his head up.
In his field of vision, the silhouette emerging from the rift was reflected.
A massive vermilion body, covered in layers of overlapping scales. Wide wings folded behind his back. His dragon horns were thick and majestic. His form was so enormous it almost blotted out the night sky. The mere airflow from his breathing was like a violent gale.
The Master of Sacred Aola had descended in person.
The young dragons had completely forgotten the fight they were about to start. Their eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the majestic figure in the sky.
Garoth's gaze fell from above, sweeping over the young dragons on the ground.
These dragons bore red-lotus markings similar to Laria's.
They extended from the shoulder blades toward the tail, with clear, smooth veins drawing graceful arcs across their scales.
But the difference was that their red-lotus markings were much lighter—a whole shade paler and narrower. They were noticeably thinner than Laria's at the same age.
Compared to the first generation of Emperor's sons, these bloodlines had already thinned considerably.
"My Mandate of Heaven can be passed down through bloodline, but it can't maintain its original intensity forever."
"The Mandate of Heaven of these descendants is generally weaker than that of their parents."
The red-iron dragon silently thought.
After the third generation, the Mandate of Heaven of these descendants had begun to deteriorate noticeably.
For now, Garoth wasn't sure whether his bloodline, if passed down generation after generation, would continue to deteriorate until it could no longer be inherited, or whether it would stabilize at a certain level.
If it were the latter, after ascending to godhood, he might gain an additional Authority.
However, Garoth didn't care too much in his heart.
The ones he truly cared about and valued were only his first-generation offspring. And even among them, not all the Emperor's sons received much of his attention.
His gaze swept over.
The red-iron dragon didn't linger.
He gave a slight flick of his tail, his massive body turning toward the largest fortress at the center of the territory, landing gracefully.
Garcro didn't care about the young dragons anymore.
He rushed over immediately, his enormous body leaping into the air, stirring up a trail of rubble and dust. He nearly stumbled when landing, but he quickly stopped in front of the red-iron dragon and lowered his massive head with proper respect.
"Father."
"Why have you come?"
Close behind, Laria also stood up, lowering his head with a composed posture toward his Dragon Father.
"You have descended here in person—do you have an important task to instruct?"
He knew that the Dragon Father wouldn't come for no reason.
Garoth's gaze moved between the two red dragons. A trace of a smile flickered at the corner of his mouth, then returned to its usual calm.
"On a material continent called Faerûn, there is an empire waging war against the gods, enduring the fury of the deities."
"It's very dangerous, yet it holds an extraordinary opportunity."
Garoth gazed at his offspring, the expressions on their faces reflected in his field of vision.
"Garcro, Laria."
"Among all the Emperor's sons, you have made me the proudest, and you have earned the most of my trust. You are my most valued blade and decision-makers."
"I want you to go there first."
"Take root on the continent of Faerûn, carry out preliminary preparations and observations, and pave the way for the empire's subsequent great expedition."
After defeating the Bronze Dragon King, Garoth had made new plans for the future.
For instance, where to go after becoming Immortal.
This was a very critical question.
The Material Plane placed tremendous pressure on immortals, especially colossal lifeforms like Immortal great dragons, constantly draining their power to sustain their existence in the Material World.
Moreover, the resources of a single Material World were hard-pressed to sustain the consumption of an immortal being.
Even the most prosperous world would be slowly drained over an immortal's long lifespan.
Other planes?
Whether the Lower Planes like the Abyss and hell, the Upper Planes like Mount Heaven and Elysium, or the four elemental planes, all were inhabited by deities.
A newly ascended immortal was certainly powerful.
But facing the gods?
Still not enough.
After comprehensive consideration, Garoth decided to stay in the main material plane.
On one hand, he had the opportunity to adapt to the pressure of the Material Plane, using it to achieve faster growth by treating this pressure as a form of training.
If one day he could completely shake off the pressure of the Material World and reach an extremely high level at the same time.
Then the deities in the main material plane would no longer be able to threaten him, while he could freely travel between countless worlds.
By then, the entire main material plane would become his backyard, a forbidden zone for the gods.
On the other hand—
The resources of a single Material World were indeed limited.
But the number of Material Worlds themselves was nearly infinite—vast and boundless.
Sacred Aola could launch a great expedition, starting from Bernardo, bringing more Material Worlds under its control, planting the dragon banner on more soil, spreading the empire's name to farther stars.
If this grand blueprint could be realized.
Even facing the wrath of the gods, he would have the confidence to handle it.
At this moment, Garcro's throat let out a low roar, full of excitement and pride.
He suddenly raised his head and said, "Father, I won't disappoint your trust. Just wait and see. I'll make the intelligent beings beyond Bernardo also experience the majesty and power of the Red Emperor."
Laria also nodded slowly, his posture solemn and reserved.
"I have always been proud of my bloodline, and I knew that a greater mission would eventually come. I have been preparing for this moment all along."
Garoth looked down at his two offspring.
Their personalities were completely different.
One was as flamboyant as fire, the other as calm as water. But both were like him, like two poles of himself.
If Garcro and Laria could learn from each other's strengths and make up for each other's weaknesses, apart from not yet meeting the life level standard, they would essentially be the complete Garoth.
This was one of the reasons Garoth held such high hopes for them.
"But, you need to be clear about one thing."
He spoke again, his voice dropping low. "This is a dangerous mission."
"Even I would need to act cautiously if I went to Faerûn myself. After you arrive, if you encounter real danger, reinforcements won't be able to arrive in time."
"You may suffer severe injuries, or even..."
He paused, the light in his eyes sinking for a moment. "You may die."
Knowing there was a risk of death, Garoth still gave them this task.
It wasn't that he was cold-blooded or cruel.
Among his many offspring, there were also those like the silver dragon Isanora, who were very lazy and only loved to sleep soundly, or those who didn't care about conflict at all, only enjoying happy play.
To these offspring, Garoth never interfered with their thoughts, allowing them to live according to their own nature.
But he also had offspring who craved war, glory, and expanding territory.
Garcro and Laria were the most extreme among them. Their very nature was etched with the impulse to charge forward and the desire to conquer.
He supported those who liked to enjoy life.
The price was that they couldn't obtain fame and glory. Their lives had no ups and downs, repeating the same calm day after day.
He also supported those who longed for bloodshed.
The price was that they would be accompanied by danger at all times, facing the risk of death. Every battle could be their last.
However, Legendary lifeforms were not weaklings in any world.
So-called danger was only relative. As long as Garcro and Laria didn't actively seek their own doom, they could survive well on Faerûn. Their strength and experience were enough to handle most situations.
Garcro raised his head.
He grinned, showing his father a sharp smile.
"Red is the color of blood."
"Red dragons are born to accompany danger."
"Danger has never been something for us to fear. It's the most familiar color on our scales."
"I crave a dangerous life. A peaceful environment only makes my claws rust, my throat dry, and leaves me dull and bloated."
Laria listened quietly to his brother's words.
He too raised his head, looking at his father's imposing form.
"Father, you once rose step by step through countless dangerous cracks—from the wilderness to an empire, from having nothing to reaching the zenith."
"I deeply know that my strength and wisdom are far from comparable to yours, Father."
"But merely setting up an outpost base, taking root on a foreign continent and stabilizing our position—I believe I should be able to do that."
"Please trust us with this."
Garoth looked at his two offspring.
One was grinning widely, his sharp fangs glinting coldly. His wings were slightly spread due to excitement, his whole body like a tightly drawn string. The other watched quietly, with a dark fire burning deep in his pupils. His posture was calm, but his eyes were firm.
Their states were different.
But a certain thing flickered in both of their eyes.
Garoth knew what it was, because he had walked the same path.
"I believe that descendants carrying my bloodline should be able to move freely in any world, as if in their own lair."
"Whether it's Bernardo, Faerûn, or other more distant worlds."
"My bloodline will never dim anywhere."
The great dragon's vertical pupils narrowed slightly, his gaze becoming more far-reaching.
Then, he looked back at his offspring.
"Once you have handed over the affairs of Arotala, return to Atlan. Select the best equipment and the finest resources. Then set out for the new world."
After speaking, the red-iron dragon waved his claw, tearing through space in his signature way.
He leaped into it, his imposing figure disappearing.
Starlight fell again, covering the fortress and the clearing.
The young dragons still had their heads raised toward the sky, taking a long while to slowly come back to their senses. They looked at each other, their tails loosening and tightening again.
Garcro spread his wings, leaped down from the fortress's top floor, and landed back in the clearing.
"Today's entertainment is canceled. All of you crawl back to your nests. Your Uncle Garcro is about to head to a new world to expand the territory of Sacred Aola."
He laughed heartily, showing off to the young dragons.
The young dragons had lost their desire to fight, but they didn't leave immediately.
A young iron dragon stepped forward.
He looked up at Garcro and asked, "What about us? Do we get such an opportunity? Will we be able to go to other Material Worlds in the future, just like you, to expand Sacred Aola's territory?"
The other young dragons also pressed forward a few steps, staring intently at the red dragon.
Garcro tilted his head, looking at these young dragons, the corner of his mouth widening into an even bigger grin.
He strolled slowly a couple of steps and said, "Little ones, remember this clearly. Sacred Aola's dragon banner won't be satisfied with just planting itself on one or two worlds."
"Bernardo is big, but Bernardo is only the starting point."
"Our great Emperor already has an even grander plan, an even grander blueprint."
He raised a front claw, waving it toward the clusters of stars in the night sky.
"In the future, more dragon banners will be planted on more worlds."
"When that time comes, as long as you little whelps have sharp enough claws and strong enough wings, you will all have the chance to make your names known across many worlds, achieving victories and glories you can't even imagine now!"