Chapter 42: Destroy the Great Fang Fortress

In the year 579 of the Kado Wen Blood Axe Calendar, on the evening of May 21st at seven o’clock, Mog Bloodmane, stationed at the Great Fang Fortress, stared anxiously at the battle report. This civil war had dragged on for three years, with no sign of ending; each time his forces neared total annihilation of BarGu Ironfang’s army, a sudden collapse would occur.

Mog was increasingly doubting Gosh Greathammer’s competence, yet he was currently the only other Legend-tier warrior in Kado Wen —could he possibly turn to the even worse BarGu? Mog felt he could not bring himself to do it. The exhausted Pigman Warlord sighed, then closed his heavy eyes.

At midnight, the night was ink-black, with only a few cold stars twinkling like jewels against the velvet sky. The Great Fang Fortress—the Pigman stronghold—lay coiled like a slumbering beast between two steep peaks, guarding the only pass. Its walls, built of black boulders, bristled with rusted weapons and animal bones, casting grotesque shadows under the thin moonlight. Below the pass, a furious river surged endlessly; anything falling into it would be snatched instantly into the abyss.

Three massive figures glided soundlessly through the night. Morax, the Silver Dragon Beast, radiated chilling frost; Igro, the Red Dragon Beast, his scales faintly glowed dull crimson in the dark; Vex, the Blue Dragon Beast, sparks of electricity flickered between his horns. They rode the valley’s air currents to the cliff’s edge on the fortress’s left flank—a blind spot in the defenders’ vision.

Morax extended his claws; frost crystallized at his fingertips, silently coating the cliff face into a smooth, slanted ice mirror. The three slid down the ice, landing in the fortress’s most chaotic zone—the slaughterhouse and animal pens. The reek of blood and meat, the screams and chopping sounds, perfectly masked the whisper of their wings folding. Vex’s eyes flashed with electric arcs; a nearby patrol’s torches snuffed out instantly. The soldiers cursed in confusion, utterly unaware that lethal observers had already taken shadowed positions.

The Dragon Beasts scattered to three high points: Morax climbed to the grain warehouse roof, frost spreading silently beneath his claws to seal every possible leak; Igro lurked atop the armory roof, heat warping the air around him, causing insects on the ground to scurry wildly; Vex hung in the shadow beneath the watchtower, like a parasite clinging to bone. Through the Shadow Intelligence Bureau’s psychic link and the subterranean gnomes’ specialized communication method, intelligence converged in an instant.

Igro: “Most soldiers are gathered in the central barracks, but there’s a building in the southeast corner radiating the aura of a powerful warrior—Mog Bloodmane, the Master-tier Pigman, must be inside.”

Vex: “The arrow towers on the southwest corner are spaced too far apart, and the magical barrier only covers the front. The grain warehouse and oil depot sit side by side, separated only by wooden fences.”

Morax: “Igro, destroy the Pigmen’s armory and grain stores. Vex, take out the heavy ballistae on the walls. I’ll handle the barracks. Remember—if danger arises, retreat. We have plenty of chances. Don’t be reckless.”

As the bronze bell in the fortress center tolled the twelfth stroke of midnight, the attack began.

A dense column of dark red flame shot out like an arrow, striking the dry straw without a sound—only a muffled “puff.” The next second, terrifying fire erupted violently, as if doused in oil, instantly swallowing the entire area. The flames shifted from dark red to blinding white, thick smoke surging skyward.

“Help! It’s on fire!” Pigmen awakened from sleep, stumbling out of barracks in panic. Most guards and soldiers instinctively rushed toward the western blaze, hauling buckets and weapons—chaos erupted instantly.

While all eyes were fixed on the flames, Vex moved. He pressed his claws against the cliff top and murmured a low chant. The clouds above began to spin, forming a colossal vortex. The next instant, a blue lightning bolt brighter than the sun plunged from the heavens, striking the fortress’s central watchtower with perfect precision!

BOOM!!!

The thunder deafened; the entire fortress trembled. The top of the watchtower was blown clean off, stones flying everywhere. Then, countless blue arcs engulfed the entire wall. Torches on the ramparts snuffed out instantly. Iron winch mechanisms overheated and melted, emitting acrid smoke. Every Pigman who tried to blow a horn was electrocuted, convulsing violently upon contact.

At the moment the watchtower was struck, a massive figure shot out from the rubble, crashing onto the main square. It was Mog Bloodmane. His body was charred black, yet his muscular frame remained unharmed. His great axe gleamed coldly in the residual lightning glow as he roared to the sky, his voice brimming with unyielding battle fury.

“Coward! Come out!” He unleashed his Master-tier aura, forcibly calming the panicked soldiers around him. His overwhelming presence stirred the Pigmen—but it was merely a final flicker before the flame died.

Morax leapt from the cliff edge, unfolding his body midair like silver wings. He made no sound; upon landing, a wave of freezing mist exploded outward from him. The Pigman warriors struggling to extinguish the fire froze instantly into ice statues.

Mog sensed murderous intent from behind and spun, swinging his axe. But Morax was already before him—not breathing fire, but unleashing a pure white beam composed of hyper-compressed ice crystals. Mog reacted instantly, raising the broad side of his axe to block it. The ice spear struck the axe’s face—not exploding, but instantly freezing the entire weapon, along with BarGu’s arm, into a single block of ice.

As Mog tried to flee, Igro lunged with a claw—but Mog dodged with superior speed. Seeing his strike miss, Igro whipped his tail, smashing it into the Pigman warrior. Mog was flung through the air, yet the stubborn Pigman refused to yield, struggling back to his feet.

“Step aside, I’m taking this Pigman on alone—let him learn what a Red Dragon truly is.”

Ignoring Morax’s warning, he charged forward. The other two Dragon Beasts turned to clear the remaining Pigman warriors; screams erupted across the entire fortress.

Igro, refusing to strike while wounded, tossed a healing potion made by the Marsh Toadmen. After the Pigman drank it, Igro charged again. The Pigman seized the opening, unleashing his technique—Execution. Igro, sensing danger, sidestepped.

“So this is the Pigman Warlord? Looks like Pigmen are all just loud talkers.”

Mog launched his assault first. He knew he was wounded and exhausted—he had to end this quickly. He activated Technique: Wind Slash. His massive body exploded forward with shocking speed, charging straight—then, at the last moment, he twisted sideways, swinging his short-handled battle axe with his intact left arm in a vicious arc, aiming for the joint of Igro’s front claw—his combat experience had instantly found the perfect way to fight a giant beast.

Igro let out a low, approving growl. His claw didn’t dodge—it clenched like a hammer, armored scales slamming down onto the ground.

CRASH! The earth cracked. The shockwave halted Mog’s charge; his precise strike missed its mark, only scraping sparks from the dragon’s scales. Igro swung his muscular tail like a colossal whip. Mog’s pupils shrank—he threw himself backward. The tail, blazing with heat, swept past his nose.

He couldn’t rise. The agony in his right arm distorted his movements. Igro seized the opening—his claw rose again. This time, a tiny, blazing white fireball coalesced in his palm, churning like molten lava—he didn’t want to end it quickly, but to force his opponent to reveal his full potential.

BOOM! The fireball exploded beside Mog’s foot—not a direct hit, but flying lava and shockwave hurled him violently backward, slamming him onto the charred ground. He struggled, trying to prop himself up with his short axe—but his injured arm betrayed him, forcing him to kneel again.

“Is that all? Is your fighting spirit truly this weak? I’m utterly disappointed.”

This contemptuous taunt was the final catalyst. Mog roared—a deafening bellow that wasn’t just sound, but a wild surge of battle aura! Activating Technique: Stone Solidity, his muscles swelled violently, wounds split open anew, bleeding freely—but a brutal force surged through his entire body.

He surged to his feet, abandoning the short axe. His intact left hand clenched into a fist, wrapped in concentrated earth-yellow aura, transforming his arm into an unstoppable warhammer. He charged toward Igro—but the Red Dragon Beast sidestepped effortlessly, then slammed him flat to the ground.

“Warrior, that move was impressive—but at your current state, you can’t unleash its true power. The game ends here.”

With that, Igro bit through the Pigman warrior’s neck. The light in Mog’s eyes faded rapidly; his strength drained like a receding tide. In his final moments, he saw countless Pigman warriors pierced by ice spears, or reduced to charred corpses by sudden lightning strikes.

Mog knew the Great Fang Fortress was lost. The Pigman Empire was lost. Three organized dragons acting together—this had to be the work of a powerful force. All his hard-won battles, his life of war—had merely made him a pawn on someone else’s chessboard.

After killing the Pigman warrior, Igro joined the destruction of the fortress. He preferred demolishing entire cities over fighting—but he would never pass up a chance to slay a worthy opponent.

As the first warm rays of dawn spilled over the horizon, reinforcements arrived at the Great Fang Fortress, now reduced to broken ruins. Gosh’s heart sank to the bottom of his chest as he surveyed the blackened wasteland.