Chapter 29: Gray-Scaled Headman, Unknown Dragon

The scale color of a headman is related to its ancestry; the color of its scales determines the dominant dragon bloodline.

Of course, headmen have mixed bloodlines too extensively, with all bloodlines blended together.

Two headmen with identical scale colors may produce offspring with completely different scale colors.

But among the five-colored dragons and metallic dragons, none possess this gray-rock scale color.

No matter how much they mix, they cannot produce gray-rock scales.

This unusual scale color astonished Fang Shi; he considered a possibility—that this headman’s ancestor might be a rare and peculiar dragon breed.

Many believe true dragons consist only of a few types: five-colored dragons, metallic dragons, gem dragons, and legendary dragons.

In reality, dragon species are countless, ever since the Primordial Dragon imprinted the concept of dragonhood upon the multiverse.

Dragon species began to multiply: from tiny beasts and creatures, to natural phenomena, to cosmic laws—everything could become a dragon.

Of course, all these accounts Fang Shi had read in a secret book.

In the understanding of many, including learned archmages, the Nine-Faced Dragon God Aio was believed to be the creator of all dragons.

But according to that secret book, the Nine-Faced Dragon God Aio was but a negligible speck of dust before the Primordial Dragon.

Well, Fang Shi did not know whether these accounts were true or false.

Whether the Primordial Dragon or the Nine-Faced Dragon God, both were distant, incomprehensible great beings to him.

Yet it was true that dragon species were numerous—this headman clearly inherited bloodline from a rare dragon breed.

Fang Shi tested the scales’ properties and found these gray-rock scales offered far higher defense than common headman scales.

They matched the level of Natural Armor II.

Fang Shi’s expression turned serious: “I wonder what special supernatural abilities this type of headman possesses—watch out for being defeated by a trivial trap.”

His earlier confidence stemmed from his thorough familiarity with ordinary headman abilities.

He had countless ways to counter them.

But for this gray-scaled headman, Fang Shi knew nothing.

After all, the greatest power of magic lies not in destruction, but in the unknown.

Any spell with great power can be countered, but an unknown spell is hard to resolve.

Some special effects can easily decide the outcome of a battle.

Fang Shi worried precisely about this—this gray-scaled headman clearly possessed earth element power.

Abilities tied to this element usually carry slow or petrification effects.

Slowness isn’t too dangerous—just be cautious—but petrification is terrifying; fail the Fortitude save, and you’re instantly killed.

Of course, no matter what, a headman remains a headman.

Even if it inherited supernatural powers from dragons.

But its creature level is fixed—it’s unlikely to manifest petrification.

Petrification is a sophisticated application of earth element power, impossible without sufficient creature level to support it.

The fear is that some gifted headmen might manifest miracles.

Having endured countless dangers, Fang Shi would not retreat over this.

He first carefully searched the headman’s corpse, hoping to find clues about the underground palace.

The only results were an empty wine flask and some miscellaneous items.

The shortsword and armor were crudely forged wrought iron, of negligible value—he was utterly penniless.

He could only proceed with caution.

…

Deep within the underground palace, under the lead of a headman sorcerer, a group of gray-scaled headmen gathered before a towering gate, performing a ritual.

The gate was entirely pale white, carved with exquisite murals.

The only discordant detail: the gems meant to adorn the murals had vanished, leaving behind a cluster of hollow pits.

This ruined the overall beauty of the murals.

The headman sorcerer danced wildly before the gate, as if performing a nuo dance.

Then four strong headman knights carried a two-and-a-half-meter-long giant scorpion from a side chamber.

They placed it upon the altar before the headman sorcerer.

The scorpion’s pincers still trembled slightly—it was not dead, still alive.

But its entire body was tightly bound with ropes, even its long tail folded and tied against its abdomen.

Such bindings would have held it even at full strength, let alone now, barely clinging to life.

Upon seeing the scorpion placed on the altar, the headman sorcerer ceased dancing and began chanting in dragon tongue.

The other headmen knelt devoutly on the ground, silently whispering prayers.

They were so devout, their eyes filled with fanaticism and a glory of self-sacrifice.

Some headmen even glanced at the scorpion on the altar with envy, wishing they could take its place.

Thus, after half an hour, the headman sorcerer finally finished the lengthy prayer.

Then it swung its staff—a streak of lightning shot forth, striking the scorpion.

Instantly, the smell of burning spread through the hall.

The scorpion’s glossy shell had turned to char.

At this sight, cheers erupted among the headmen, spreading gradually until they surged like a wave throughout the underground palace.

…

“Piercing attack initiated.”

“Target received fatal damage.”

“You dealt 25.5 damage to the target.”

“Target died.”

“Extracting target’s soul energy—you gained 10 experience points, 1 survival point.”

Fang Shi casually tossed the headman warrior aside and drew his steel sword.

He glanced at the stats panel and nodded in satisfaction.

Why were dungeon experiences so rich? One key reason: dungeon experience had no standard experience penalty.

It wasn’t that killing monsters of equal level granted more experience.

This level-1 headman warrior would grant Fang Shi zero experience outside the dungeon.

But inside the dungeon, it granted exactly what it should—never zero.

Along the way, Fang Shi had found it incredibly easy.

He had simply killed four headman warriors and one headman swordsman.

Nothing like before his rebirth.

Before, the headmen he killed were cunning—using every trick and trap imaginable.

Even if morale collapsed quickly after casualties and they broke at the first strike, at least they held through the initial assault.

Indeed, hardship breeds survival, comfort breeds death—the ancients were not mistaken.

Even headmen, with so many natural predators, had caution carved into their blood.

But after living too long in comfort, they lost their vigilance.

“Huh? What’s that sound?”

As Fang Shi walked through the underground palace corridor, he faintly heard cheers echoing from the walls.

He looked curiously toward the depths of the palace.

All headmen he had killed so far were guards posted at checkpoints; he had found no others.

Yet along the way, he had passed through headman living quarters and even their mining sites.

Unfortunately, the ores were merely common iron—no precious minerals.

Where had all the headmen gone?

In a headman tribe, most headmen were miners—the exploited lower class.

The headman rulers wanted these miners working nonstop—why would they allow them to slack off?

Yet these faint cheers seemed to hint at an answer.

Headmen gather en masse only in two situations.

First: facing a powerful external enemy, needing masses of cannon fodder to lure them.

Second: ritual sacrifice—a tribute to the gods, never omitted unless absolutely necessary, never skipped.

Yet Fang Shi still felt puzzled.

Headmen’s ancestors had long struggled for survival; their bloodline was stamped with greed.

They would not hold rituals unless absolutely necessary.

They’d rather use food to breed more offspring than waste it on rituals.

Even in famine, they resorted to cannibalism to ensure the next generation.

Thus, rituals involving nearly the entire tribe were exceedingly rare.

Even their chief deity, Kurutumak, rarely received such honor.

But there was one exception: dragons—dragons were their true deities.

Dragon bloodline naturally oppressed headmen; any dragon, regardless of type, was their master.

Even a weak, juvenile dragon was no exception.

Even if starving, goblin-men will sacrifice themselves to their masters, willingly offering their bodies, believing it to be the greatest honor to be eaten by a dragon.

A young dragon?

Thinking of this, Fang Shi’s eyes burned with heat.

Could there really be a young dragon here!

Dragons are among the most powerful races in the multiverse.

Their strength needs no elaboration—every civilization in the multiverse has recorded it.

Relevant texts and records pile up like mountains and seas.

In contrast, every part of them is invaluable.

Dragon scales can be made into armor, dragon hide into clothing, dragon blood into medicine, dragon meat into food, dragon tendons into bows, dragon claws into swords, dragon horns into spears, dragon crystals into arrays.

These benefits are countless, and every item made from them is an extraordinary artifact.

Even if it is a young dragon, it is still a dragon.

All the benefits still apply, albeit in a weakened form—perfectly suited for Fang Shi, a Level 3 cultivator.

Wait, don’t get too excited yet.

As mentioned earlier, a young dragon is still a dragon, so its power will not be lacking.

Of course, the strength of young dragons varies wildly by breed—some are as weak as Level 2, while others reach Level 5, and some dragon species are born with legendary power.

But this realm was opened by a Black Iron Key, with a maximum limit of Level 5—it cannot be a legendary dragon breed.

A mere Level 5 young dragon, if found with the right method, is still killable by Fang Shi.

Besides, it might not even be Level 5.

Earlier, Fang Shi had mocked the idea of ever encountering a young dragon.

Now, he himself has stumbled upon this extraordinary fortune.

“I wonder what kind of dragon this is—perhaps related to the bloodline of these gray-scaled goblin-men.”

But no matter what, he must first eliminate all the goblin-men before facing the young dragon; otherwise, confronting a dragon with servants would be suicide.