[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-black-dragon-necromancer":3,"chapter-black-dragon-necromancer-black-dragon-necromancer-chapter-46":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Black Dragon Necromancer",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2312806,4521,"Chapter 46","black-dragon-necromancer-chapter-46",46,"\u003Cp>\"Lady Verna, welcome to the Cadillac Plane. Morud the Great Fist has sent me to greet you.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Lead the way!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Verna walked along the path to the troll palace; the air was thick with a heavy, primal life force—mixing damp earth, pungent herbs, and a faint scent of roasting meat. The sky may have been an ominous deep purple, with three uneven moons faintly visible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The path itself was not paved with carefully laid bricks, but with uneven, unpolished stone slabs fitted together; between the gaps, stubborn moss and thorny vines grew, emitting a dim phosphorescent glow to light the night. These plants were deliberately cultivated, clearly part of the trolls’ “gardening.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Towering totem poles stood along both sides of the path, carved not with deities, but with scenes of trolls tearing enemies apart in battle, regenerating severed limbs, and standing unyielding. These were both historical records and declarations of their core belief: “Immortality” and “Strength” were truth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On prominent rock faces and building exteriors, enormous fossilized troll limbs were embedded—arms, hearts, even half a skull. These belonged to heroes who lost parts of their bodies in legendary battles, yet ultimately triumphed and lived to natural death.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For them, irreparable scars were symbols of the highest honor. This was not grotesque decoration born of savagery, but a way trolls propagated their glorious past victories.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Troll architecture was not inert. Many houses seemed to have been “guided” into growth from a giant, petrified fungus. The surfaces of these buildings were covered in thick, root-like veins, pulsing faintly and radiating warmth. Verna could keenly sense that destroying these structures was extremely difficult, for they repaired themselves slowly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The watchtowers along the way were not simple wooden or stone structures, but living, thorny trees still slowly growing. The sentries were not ordinary troll warriors, but “Moss Trolls” whose bodies had fused partially with the towers; they stood motionless as statues, only opening eyes that glowed amber or green when strangers approached.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bridges spanning ravines or rivers were woven from thick, living vines, covered in glowing green moss; walking upon them, one could feel a faint, rhythmic pulse of life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The troll patrol soldiers marched in heavy, synchronized steps, wielding massive spiked clubs embedded with unknown plant thorns or bone spears, clad in armor made of thick animal hides or some glossy chitinous material. Most crucially, they were disciplined, silent, their eyes radiating trained vigilance—not savage madness. This clearly told Verna that these trolls possessed a highly efficient militarized organization.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After twenty-six years of recuperation, no trace remained of that terrifying catastrophe on this land—only dried, hanging remnants of orc limbs beneath eaves, or a tattered flag, still whispering of that unyielding war.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When the siege of Rugo City entered its third year, human allies from the Dofeng Republic finally sounded the counterattack horn; hundreds of thousands of troll warriors marched forth once more, slaughtering the orc invaders to the last.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When she finally reached the troll capital, carved from a living mountain and covered in Yongbuyuhederongyaoshangba  and roaring totems, she understood: she faced not a savage tribe, but a race that had elevated the instinct of “survival and resilience” to the level of civilization—worthy of awe or caution.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Far-traveled friend, welcome to Rugo City, this glorious troll metropolis, which shall grant you unforgettable memories. I am Gruno the Broken Spine, Chancellor to the Troll Garmok—banquet awaits you. Please follow me!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Guided by this towering troll, Verna passed through the gate shaped like a monstrous jawbone. The gate itself was made of a black living wood still slowly growing, warm to the touch, as if pulsing with vigorous life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beyond the gate stretched an extremely wide corridor, its floor paved with massive bone slabs, flanked by vertical rock walls a hundred meters high. Embedded in the walls were countless enormous troll hearts, their colors ranging from dark red to nearly petrified gray-white—living monuments. Gruno explained in a low voice: \"These are the 'Immortal Hearts' of past Garmoks and heroes who died for their nation.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Along the corridor stood troll guards, clad in full Molvseguzhizhongjia , utterly motionless, as if fused with the earth. Only when their sharp, ancient, weary gazes subtly shifted with Verna’s steps did she realize these were living, battle-hardened warriors. The entire corridor was eerily silent except for the sound of footsteps.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Verna knew this was a warning—to the treacherous drow elves not to attempt any schemes, and to the hidden black dragon to abandon any thoughts of betrayal. Even Verna, well-traveled and seasoned, could not help but marvel at the trolls’ display of power.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The banquet hall was not a finely carved palace, but more like a hollowed-out cavern. The ceiling soared into darkness, hung not with crystal chandeliers, but with countless glowing giant firefly nests and slowly writhing, softly phosphorescent symbiotic vines, casting shifting shadows.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The banquet seats were massive, flat tree stumps, draped with thick, warm pelts of rare beasts. No delicate utensils—instead, heavy obsidian plates, naturally grown wooden cups, and sharp bone knives; each item served as both tableware and weapon. Gazing at the rugged yet beautiful table, Verna momentarily doubted whether trolls had truly created this.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Lady, are you wondering how such crude trolls could possess such a unique civilization? Every visitor here thinks the same.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Turning her gaze to the figure upon the throne, even Verna felt a chill. The Garmok’s size dwarfed any troll she had ever seen; seated, he resembled a mountain draped in moss and ancient patterns. His skin was a deep stone-gray, covered in countless petrified scars—forming a visual tapestry of achievements more striking than any tattoo.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wore no crown, but on either side of his head grew enormous, branched bony antlers like those of an ancient stag, entwined with glowing vines and tiny runes. Merely sitting there, all life energy in the hall seemed to flow toward him. He was a demigod, the living embodiment of \"regeneration.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A thunderous laugh rang out as Verna was lost in thought, making her shudder. \"Hahahaha! Lady, don’t be afraid. You must know, trolls aren’t a race that likes reasoning. If I show even a hint of weakness, they’ll think I’m dying—I must always maintain this terrifying presence.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"My apologies, Lord Moges, I lost my composure. Please forgive me.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"No matter. Let’s get to business. What fine thing do you intend to take from me this time? I’m curious.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The 'Regeneration Furnace.' We need a device capable of healing any wound, along with its method of use.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Good. Your offer is within my expectations. But understand this: each 'Regeneration Furnace' core is made from the heart of a troll demigod. We have more than one, but none are expendable. You must offer sufficient value.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"We offer half the Cadawen Plane’s residency rights. Understand: trolls’ hands cannot reach so far.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Deal. This transaction pleases me greatly. Humans always come trying to cheat me with linguistic traps to lower my price—like devils, utterly detestable. This time, I’ll gift you an extra Flesh Scroll, detailing the method to create flesh golems.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Thank you deeply for your generosity. May our cooperation be fruitful, Lord Moges.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Enough. Now, let the feast begin. Let those fools handle the tedious details of the deal—give them something to do so they don’t go running around fighting.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The banquet began with three appetizers: \"Night Dew Berries,\" a deep purple berry whose flavor peaks only after midnight, when it gathers swamp dew. Its skin is crisp, its flesh smooth as gel, sweet and sour with complex aromas like black currant and pomegranate. Served in hollowed vine vessels, elegant and natural—prepared specifically for the drow elves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Moonlight Lotus Root\": the rhizome of a water lily harvested from the Central Life Pool. Sliced thin, it appears translucent, crisp and slightly sweet, edible raw or quickly braised in meat broth as a side dish.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Crisp Heart Fern Shoots\": the tenderest curled tips of ferns picked in early spring, blanched in boiling spring water, then soaked in fruit vinegar—a refreshing cold dish. Crunchy in texture, it perfectly cuts through meaty richness, served exclusively for honored guests.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Next came the main course: first, \"Glowing Swamp Crayfish.\" Selected from a large swamp crayfish whose shell emits a faint blue glow in darkness. Trolls skillfully remove the full meat, lightly marinate it with a local herb possessing minty and spicy notes, then quickly sear it to preserve its sweetness and springiness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Second: \"Crystal Cave Blindfish Sashimi.\" Blindfish from underground rivers, translucent as crystal. Trolls slice the fattest belly meat into paper-thin pieces, arranged on chilled obsidian plates. A small dish of fermented berry and spicy root sauce accompanies it—tailored to the drow’s preference for \"intense flavors.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The finale: \"Spiced Roasted Lizard Tail.\" If the first two were appetizers, this was the dish of power. Selected from the tenderest segment of a young lizard’s tail, marinated for hours with multiple swamp spices (resembling black pepper, Sichuan pepper, and a smoky moss), then slow-roasted until the exterior is crisp and the interior juicy. The texture resembles premium lean meat, rich in flavor, showcasing troll hunting prowess while remaining palatable to drow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The drink offered to Verna was \"First Fermentation of the Life Spring\"—a sparkling wine brewed from the spring water and fermented berries. It carried complex notes of honey, orchid, and minerals, with fine bubbles and a distinctly trollish ruggedness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Also served: \"Shadow Moss Tea,\" a hot brew made from special moss growing in the shadows of troll architecture, dried and steeped. The tea was deep amber, rich with smoky aroma and a hint of earth, invigorating and clarifying the mind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Troll instruments primarily included stone harps—a series of polished, pitch-specific black shale slabs suspended on frames. Musicians struck them with padded wooden mallets, producing crisp, ethereal melodies like water striking stone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the Thorn Harp—the most astonishing instrument. Its body was a living, thorny vine; its strings were made of luminous, highly resilient vines secreted by the same plant. When the troll musician plucked the strings, the vines’ glow rippled, releasing a subtle, calming fragrance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The banquet proceeded merrily to the tune of \"Awakening of the Root and Bone.\" At first, only the earth drum beat slowly and alone, like an ancient heartbeat. Then the stone harp joined, notes falling like raindrops—symbolizing life’s sprouting and tentative emergence: empty, ancient, mysterious. Verna felt the ground beneath her feet trembling slightly.\u003C\u002Fp>",1728,"2026-06-20T13:10:04.638Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","1bc17b01e87b06a42aa9bdfed93387b99c3262998a437d28c2c289e1cfc540c1","black-dragon-necromancer-chapter-47","black-dragon-necromancer-chapter-45",145,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fblack-dragon-necromancer-cover.jpg"]