Chapter 283: The Blue Dragon Strong on the Outside, Weak Within

"Quiet." The silver dragon cast a displeased glance at old Akbar; this human was so startled—just a mere group of lizardfolk, what could be terrifying.

Old Akbar muttered and shut his mouth. Indeed, he had forgotten that this terrifying-looking dragon was here, just a group of lizardfolk—what could they possibly overturn.

But it was no one's fault; the Esebi Lizardfolk are a very dangerous race in the Eno'ok Desert, living in the eastern Aizhehart Mountains—the very region they now occupy. These evil, cruel beings seize every creature that passes by and savor the tasty flesh.

In the desert, only the Blue Dragon, perched at the top of the food chain, is a being the lawless Esebi Lizardfolk fear.

The seventy‑plus‑year‑old elder instantly realized he must prove his worth before this dragon to earn its protection and survive the Esebi Lizardfolk's grasp.

Thus, even as the Esebi Lizardfolk swarmed nearby, he forced a smile and said to the dragon, "Great dragon, though I, old Akbar, may not be the most learned guide in the entire desert, I am among the top few. The strange phenomenon of sand singing—my grandfather devoted his life to studying it, and my family possesses ample records on it."

Old Akbar spoke while hoping his guess was correct; from the dragon's earlier reaction, it seemed the creature was indeed very interested in "sand singing."

Sure enough, Naimi Xisi nodded at Akbar's words and said lightly, "Don't run off; wait until I deal with these lowly lizards, then I'll speak with you."

Akbar was ecstatic, but when his gaze caught the small boy beside him, he froze, then gritted his teeth and said, "Great dragon, may I bring my child along?"

Naimi Xisi glanced at the boy and, without comment, replied, "As you wish."

Akbar hurriedly took Wu Ermu to Naimi Xisi's feet; the other survivors, seeing this, also began to stir, but retreated under the dragon's cold, indifferent gaze.

Naimi Xisi lifted a claw lightly, pointing at the distant lizardfolk; a burst of pallid phosphorus fire erupted from his fingertip, and in an instant the desert's light began to warp—numerous eerie green specks rose above the dunes, like millions of rotting fireflies burrowing from below, coalescing into a swirling vortex.

Six-Spell Circle Necromancy spell—【Instant Cloudkill】!

A lethal cloud burst forth like a living thing. It was no ordinary mist but a viscous, jade‑like embodiment of death, its surface roiling with purple‑black bubbles. Deep within the cloud, a skeletal vortex faintly appeared; each time a bubble burst, a translucent wraith face screeched and emerged in the fog.

The charging lizardfolk Warrior stepped onto the dune crest, and his scales puffed up with blue smoke the instant the green mist touched them. The leader at the front froze, his golden vertical pupils rapidly contracting—his bronze curved blade rusted to powder before the eye could see, and his fingertips carbonized into black dust that drifted on the wind.

The rear troops' terrified howls were swallowed by the swirling poison cloud; a dark‑green wave, like a sentient giant python, precisely coiled around every crawling creature attempting to flee.

A grotesque death dance unfolded on the sand: a robust lizardfolk Warrior knelt, clawing his throat as phosphorescent green pus bled from his scales; a shaman's staff flared with protective red light, turning his entire arm into stark white bone; a hatchling twitched within its mother's charred womb, melting into a tar‑like substance before even touching the ground.

Where the poison cloud passed, even cacti withered into gray‑white statues within three seconds, then crumbled into dust in the hot wind.

The massive Cloudkill wave swept over two‑thirds of the lizardfolk Warriors; of the thousands of ferocious lizardfolk, only a few hundred lucky ones remained, each trembling with terror and screaming to flee.

But alas, their commander would not allow it.

A dazzling blue torrent fell from the sky; lightning, like spears, instantly pierced several fleeing lizardfolk. With a "Boom," powerful currents surged through their bodies, freezing them instantly, their eyes filling with terror and despair. Then their bodies began to smoke, skin charred, emitting a pungent odor.

Naimi Xisi curled his mouth into a grin, his mood suddenly brightened. It seemed that the long‑unstocked Chaos Demon Star would finally yield new material today.

"Damned slaves, the runners die!!" a roar echoed from the sky as a blue dragon, slightly smaller than Naimi Xisi, swooped down, glaring ferociously at Naimi Xisi. Upon seeing the opponent's slightly larger frame, he stiffened for a moment, then fixed his gaze with even greater ferocious resolve.

It's just a silver dragon, not much stronger than me; the strong me will surely defeat it!

The simple‑minded, heavily‑built Plasdon did not notice that the silver giant dragon opposite him, slightly smaller than an elderly silver dragon, was in fact the diminutive Juan Ce Long.

Had he known that the 100‑meter‑long dragon before him was a Juan Ce Long, he probably wouldn't be so confident.

"Who are you?" Naimi Xisi asked calmly.

Plasdon's anger flared, "You ask who I am?!! Ten years ago, you killed my beloved in this desert, and now you ask who I am?!!"

Naimi Xisi furrowed his brow, trying to recall when he had ever beaten a pair of lovebirds.

Could it be...

"Wangmu La?" Naimi Xisi asked tentatively.

Plasdon barked loudly, "You are not worthy to utter her name!"

Naimi Xisi sighed, indeed.

These blue dragons are odd, one after another hurrying to his side to serve as raw material for forging hellfire dragons—do they resent living so long?

While Plasdon was still shouting, Naimi Xisi whispered a spell, massive magical energy surging forth; even a thick‑skinned brute like Plasdon sensed something amiss.

Eight-Spell Circle Conjuration spell—【Deadly Lava】!

When the lava erupted, gases over a thousand degrees Celsius first ripped through the rock layers. The sandstone beneath the lizardfolk's charge array underwent a phase change, quartz crystals melting into a glassy state within 0.3 seconds. The dodecahedral Rune matrix hovering at Naimi Xisi's fingertips detonated with a roar, ley‑line energy flooding the crust through fault rifts, turning the five‑kilometer‑radius desert into a lifted high‑pressure pot lid.

!

The blue dragon's wing membranes automatically adjusted to a thirty‑degree angle of attack under the heat wave, and its scale gaps emitted ionized gas to counteract the updraft.

Meanwhile, the remaining lizardfolk legion on the ground endured a material‑phase inferno—their keratinous armor, upon touching the lava flow, did not burn outright but cracked from thermal stress, boiling blood spouting from the fissures as crimson steam.

The lava flow behaved as a non‑Newtonian fluid, its front advancing at eight kilometers per hour. A lizardfolk scout captain tried to block it with a refined gold shield, but the instant the shield met the magma triggered an aluminum‑heat reaction, and the 1500 °C iron‑olivine melt vaporized the shield's outer layer.

In the shattered formation, clusters of warriors were engulfed by the viscous magma; their bones snapped with popcorn‑like cracks as calcium broke down, ultimately forming floating carbonized skeletal frameworks atop the magma.

Plasdon let out a massive roar; the dragon‑roar‑induced sonic boom carved gullies into the lava surface, exposing the still‑molten magma river below—within the dark‑red flow, floating olivine xenocrysts resembled demonic eyes in a hellish galaxy.

"Damned bastard, you dare ambush?!!"

Plasdon watched the volcanic‑like devastation on the ground, his heart skipping a beat; he did not understand spells, but the blue dragon's innate magical lineage gave him a basic grasp of spellcraft.

Could such terrifying spell power truly be wielded by an elderly silver dragon?

What a devilish joke!

The outwardly strong but internally weak Plasdon now felt he was riding a tiger he couldn't dismount.

He wanted to flee, but the blue dragon, accustomed to displaying dominance, would not lose face by retreating meekly.

(End of Chapter)