Giant Dragon Lord: Starting from Daily Intelligence

No wind howled, no Elements roared.

The snow covering the entire mountaintop was tens, even hundreds of meters thick. It was layered with Profound Ice as hard as iron. Yet in that instant, all of it seemed to lose its weight and substance.

They simply floated up, silent and weightless.

Billions of tons of ice and snow formed a white, mountainous mass that blotted out the sky, hanging silent in midair.

Then, Mage Delin gave a gentle wave of his hand.

The suspended white mountain of snow, as if guided by a great, invisible hand, cascaded toward the distant horizon.

An avalanche occurred at the world’s end.

When the last of the ice and snow vanished from sight, the true face of the mountaintop was revealed to them all, completely exposed.

Everyone’s breath caught in their throats.

It was... a chaotic battlefield.

The entire mountaintop was far larger than they had imagined, almost the size of a small city.

And this plateau was now a scene of utter devastation.

The most eye-catching feature was a colossal scar that cut through the center of the entire mountaintop.

It was the mark of a sword.

It stretched for several thousand meters, from one end of the peak to the cliff edge on the other, nearly splitting the entire summit in two.

The scar was a thousand meters deep, its edges as smooth as a mirror, reflecting the gray-white light of the sky.

Raylo stood at the edge of the sword mark and looked down.

In the profound darkness, faint wisps of silver light seemed to flicker—severed Space Rifts that had yet to heal.

’I can’t imagine what kind of being could have unleashed such a world-destroying strike.’

"A full-force strike from a World Destruction Level being..."

Mage Wendel’s voice was strained.

"Only those who have achieved the Tier Seven World Destruction Level can leave this kind of indelible wound of Law upon the Prime Material Plane."

Besides this heaven-splitting sword mark,

on the other side of the plateau, several enormous claw marks, dozens of meters deep, were gouged into black rocks the size of hills.

Each individual claw mark was as large as a house.

Around the edges of the marks, the rock had taken on a strange, crystallized appearance, as if its very material structure had been fundamentally altered at the moment of impact.

"These... are the claw marks of the Frost Giant Dragon, Israel."

Mage Delin walked up to the claw marks. He reached out a hand but didn’t touch them, merely sensing the lingering aura from a distance.

His tone was filled with certainty.

"It seems this is where the Frost Giant Dragon fought its final battle with the invading Divine Spirit."

Master Barnaby opened his mouth, but not a single word came out.

A Divine Spirit.

For Mortals, that word existed only in the most ancient epics and myths.

And now, they were standing on the battlefield of a Divine Spirit and a World Destruction Level Giant Dragon.

The sheer impact of it all left his mind reeling.

Raylo walked in silence across the ancient battlefield.

The ground beneath his feet was uneven, pockmarked everywhere with enormous craters, bottomless fissures, and rock that had been melted by terrifying Power and then solidified once more.

Every inch of this land told a story of the battle’s ferocity.

He suddenly stopped in his tracks.

At the bottom of an inconspicuous crater, he saw a hint of an unusual color.

It was a splash of... dull gold.

The splash of gold was like a drop of hardened amber, embedded in the black rock.

"Mage Delin."

Raylo spoke, his voice breaking the silence.

Mage Delin and Mage Wendel heard him and walked over.

The moment Mage Delin saw the glint of gold, a violent storm rose for the first time in his perpetually calm eyes.

He strode to the crater’s edge, leaned forward slightly, and stared intently at the long-dried, solidified drop of golden blood.

"This is..."

Mage Wendel hurried over as well. He took one look, and his expression changed instantly.

"Divine Blood!"

he blurted out.

Divine Blood!

Raylo’s heart pounded.

’This is... the blood of a god?’

Mage Delin said nothing. He extended a finger, and a soft halo of Magic Power lit up its tip.

He carefully used the Magic Power to pry loose the piece of rock embedded with the golden blood, levitating it into his palm.

The drop of golden blood was only the size of a fingernail and had taken on a strange, solid state.

A vast, majestic, and sacred aura emanated from it.

"That’s right. It’s Divine Blood."

Mage Delin finally spoke.

"It seems the Divine Spirit was wounded while fighting Israel."

This conclusion made everyone’s mouth go dry.

"There’s more over here."

Soon, the group discovered another, larger stain of golden blood in a nearby fissure.

Shortly after, Mage Wendel also found a few splattered droplets of golden blood on a severed boulder.

In total, they found over a dozen traces of Divine Blood across the mountaintop battlefield.

At the same time, they also found another type of blood.

It was an ice-blue blood, as brilliant as Crystal.

"Dragon Blood."

Mage Delin gazed at the ice-blue crystals.

"The blood of the Frost Giant Dragon, Israel."

The truth was self-evident.

Both sides had paid a terrible price in this battle.

The Divine Spirit bled, and the Giant Dragon was wounded.

Mage Delin took out several specially made Crystal Bottles and carefully collected the samples of Divine Blood and Dragon Blood, along with the rocks they were attached to.

After the group had collected the last of these traces from the mountaintop battlefield, the dead world seemed to return to its eternal silence.