Chapter 377

Black Domain Continent, Ashland Canyon.

The Dragonwing clan's territory, "Dragon Court," sits atop the most precipitous peak.

Through multiple cross-realm expeditions, the Dragonwing clan has risen and fallen here, once achieving glory as a regional hegemon, and later enduring extermination by alien races, retreating to their small world at near-total annihilation.

Every inch of this land is soaked in the blood and fire of the Dragonwing clan.

Thus, the canyon's cliffs shimmer with dark golden patterns, layered like dragon scales.

The rebuilt Dragon Court still bears scars from its battles with the Burial Bone clan—cracks in the city's stone pillars still hold ice crystals solidified during clashes with the Storm tribe… Each scar is a medal, recording the unyielding iron bones forged by this clan through countless cross-realm expeditions.

In this era, a new expedition begins.

The once-ruined Dragon Court city has been rebuilt by this generation of Dragonwing members.

A brand-new crimson banner rises at the city's center, its gilded dragon patterns roaring in the wind, the dragon's head raised as if letting out a war cry to the world, announcing their return.

Every Dragonwing member understands: this new expedition is not to replicate past glory, but to fight through the torrent of countless clans and carve out a broader future for the Dragonwing clan.

One generation lifts the next; what matters is not standing atop the peak, but the climb itself.

As the clan's creed says: Dragon flame never dies—it burns only toward the heavens.

Within the clan's territory, many new functional facilities have sprung up.

In the "Dragon Forge" beside the Dragon Sleep Temple, furnaces breathe orange-red flames as young artisans refine and forge resources from mineral veins.

The forge's foundation rests on the site where the Primordial Dragon Lord once smelted his first Dragon Spear; deep underground, the scorching aura of the First Generation's Dragon Flame still lingers.

Beneath Spirit Breath Cliff, the newly excavated "Dragon Breeding Pool" pulses with subterranean spring water, channeling energy throughout the city.

The poolside stone walls are carved with generations of sacrificial elders' resource planning insights; the oldest inscription has fused entirely with the rock.

Across the city, several Honor Bridges have been erected—built from Monster World spiritual materials and clan members' dragon bones, hung with trophies won in past campaigns; even several collapsed bridges have now been repaired.

Resource nodes left by ancestors have been reactivated.

Mineral veins, spirit springs… and a ten-thousand-year Dragon Blood Tree stands at the city's center, drawing in external spiritual energy to nourish the Dragonwing clan's living beings.

New buildings intertwine with old ones within the city.

New functional facilities carry present vitality; ancestral resources hold the weight of history—together, they form the foundation for the Dragonwing clan's renewed ascent.

The forging of the Dragon Forge, the gurgle of the Dragon Breeding Pool, the clashing of trophies on the Skyward Bridge… these are the echoes passed down through the clan's bloodline.

They are the destiny etched into every Dragonwing member's bones—a relay poem written in the Monster World.

Each time the pen touches the page, it is dipped in fresh dragon blood, writing hotter chapters toward the Monster World's heavens.

But the journey through the Monster World has always been a perilous path where blades lick blood.

This land has never pitied the weak.

Danger and opportunity—who knows which will arrive first?

At this moment, the Dragonwing clan faces an unexpected survival crisis.

Before the war erupted, the Devourer clan dispatched scout species to conduct a general survey of the Dragonwing clan.

From the life intensity of Dragonwing warriors on external expeditions, to the material strength of their weapons and armor, to energy density measurements of the city's defensive barriers.

The Devourer clan's scout species seeped like shadows into every corner of Ashland Canyon.

They became moss in rock crevices, clung to the gaps in Dragonwing warriors' scales, even hid within the high temperatures of lava rivers, transmitting collected data continuously via a psychic network back to their homeland.

During this time, they also calculated the daily energy consumption of Dragonwing warriors, including the clan's biological structure and combat characteristics… All intelligence was processed by the Devourer clan's information network into a war victory probability.

What seemed like a sudden war was, in truth, a precisely calculated harvest by the Devourer clan based on intelligence.

At this moment, the sky beyond Dragon Court is torn apart by warfire.

The Dragonwing clan's final line of defense teeters under the Devourer clan's tidal wave.

The current Dragon Lord stands atop the altar, his crimson-gold dragon eyes reflecting the entire burning battlefield.

His wings are shattered, his dragon scales stained with black blood of Devourer warriors, his eyes still burning with fierce battle intent.

Outside the city, Dragonwing warriors form a line with their flesh and blood.

The Dragon Scale Guards roar, shattering the earth; wielding massive shields engraved with dragon patterns, each charge crushes Devourer vanguards into pulp.

But the enemy is too numerous—just as one Devourer warrior's carcass is crushed, more surge forward.

Skyward Dragon Guards dart through the clouds, spewing dragon breath like falling meteorites, occasionally striking the ground and scorching deep black gashes.

Meanwhile, the Devourer locust swarms blot out the sky, overwhelming with numbers to exhaust the dragon breath, preventing fireballs from falling and disrupting the advancing main forces.

In this battle, many elderly Dragon Tongue Shamans guard the city walls.

They generate Cheng Zhou inscriptions, summoning elemental forces to form grand arrays, calling forth Lei Ting storms.

But the Devourer tide seems endless—countless Devourer warriors advance over the corpses of their kin; even when their bodies shatter, they are instantly replaced by those behind.

At this moment, the Dragon Lord gazes at the retreating front under pressure and cannot help but let out a low roar.

Just then, a figure streaks from afar and lands beside him, kneeling on one knee.

"Great Dragon Lord, the western defense has fallen. The Third Skyward Dragon Guard… annihilated."

The arriving figure is drenched in blood, his left wing membrane corroded with multiple holes, exposing bleeding bone beneath.

This bloodied figure is none other than the old acquaintance Long Yi, whom Ji Chen had spent every effort to meet again.

Upon hearing Long Yi's report, the Dragon Lord's crimson-gold pupils remain locked on the churning battlefront beyond the city.

Only when Long Yi's breathing steadied did he slowly turn his neck, his gaze falling upon Long Yi's damaged wings, then shifting to the scar on Long Yi's forehead.

This scar matches the wound left by a certain clan prodigy during the Wind Roar Platform trial.

Back then, he was never the high council's designated heir—he had a superior contender above him.

The clan's high council had secretly decided that, upon descending into the Monster World, they would heavily cultivate that contender until he inherited the position of Great Dragon Lord and wielded the Dragon Breath Rule.

But during the interdimensional expedition's initiation ceremony, this figure was swept away by a sudden spatial current and vanished without trace.

The entire Dragonwing clan believed he had long since turned to stardust.

Thereafter, he took the place of the Dragonwing clan's strongest prodigy and ultimately inherited the Great Dragon Lord's authority.

And the strongest genius of that clan back then was the figure kneeling on one knee before him.

The Great Dragon Lord's gaze lingered for a long time on the scar between the Dragon Descendant's brows, his expression complex.

Within that pale white mark, one could still seem to see the youth from years ago, spreading his wings and soaring from the Wind Howl Platform.

Back then, the Dragon Descendant was an object of admiration even for him.

The elders of the clan all said he was a Dragon Breath controller seen once in a thousand years.

But now, the Dragon Breath energy within the once high-spirited genius was incredibly thin.

This was the result of long-term lack of nourishment from Dragon Blood Fruit, and erosion by the polluted air of the Small World.

It was like a Dragon Blood Tree that should have taken root on Dragon Breath Cliff, yet was thrown onto land devoid of spiritual energy; even with the best seed, it could hardly grow into a towering tree.

Even though he had personally bestowed upon the Dragon Descendant the Source-level imprint of the "Dragon Breath Rule," the Dragon Descendant's current strength still fell far short of his own height.

Two hundred years of time passed in the blink of an eye.

He recalled when he first inherited the Dragon Breath Rule and became the Great Dragon Lord, how he had countless times gazed at the star map, imagining the return of that vanished figure.

The image of them fighting side by side in the Monster World.

But reality was that the existence he once needed to look up to had long been "tortured" by the Ni Zhao Shi Jie into falling out of the ranks.

Yet he could still see that former unyielding sharpness in the Dragon Descendant's eyes.

The Small World had restricted his growth, but had not worn down his will; he was still the genius of his memories.

The battle intent burning in those crimson-gold vertical pupils was no different from the figure standing at the peak of the Wind Howl Platform in his memory.

Even covered in dust, it still hid a sharpness that refused to bend.

The Great Dragon Lord gazed at the Dragon Descendant's blood-stained face, his dragon claw slowly rising.

Instantly, a dragon crystal flowing with brilliant golden light condensed in his palm; this was the Source imprint of the Dragon Breath Rule.

The Great Dragon Lord took a deep breath, made a decision, and looked at the Dragon Descendant, speaking in a heavy voice:

"Brother Dragon Descendant, you can no longer keep up with the intensity of the war; this is not disrespect, but the current fact." The Great Dragon Lord's dragon claw hovered in mid-air, the golden light of the dragon crystal in his palm reflecting a burning brightness in both their pupils:

"The Devouring Clan outside the city births new warriors every moment; their power is absolutely beyond your ability to counter. Next, I will lead the Dragon Scale Guards to charge the formation, striving to buy you as much time as possible. You take the remaining warriors and leave through the secret passage beneath the Spirit Breath Cliff, retreating to defend the Homeland World."

As if anticipating what the Dragon Descendant might say, the Great Dragon Lord's tone carried an undeniable majesty:

"Remember, retreating to defend is not admitting defeat; it is to let the spark of the Dragon Wing Clan burn into the next era. Your battlefield is not on the scorched earth ahead; nurture your wings in the homeland, and wait for the day to return with the next generation of clan members to slaughter back into the Monster World."

Speaking thus, the Great Dragon Lord pushed the Dragon Breath Rule in his hand toward the Dragon Descendant.

But the Dragon Descendant suddenly raised his hand, using his sharp claws to press deathly tight against the Dragon Breath Rule crystal so close, then slowly straightened his spine.

The tattered wing membranes crackled loudly in the wild wind, yet could not hide the fierce light bursting from his eyes.

"I have waited two hundred years for this path."

The Dragon Descendant stared deathly at the Great Dragon Lord's eyes, every word he spoke seeming to be bitten out from between his teeth, carrying dissipating blood and qi:

"From the day I was swept away by spatial turbulence, I have lived every moment for returning to the battlefield, struggling to survive in the polluted Small World, tempering my dragon body in the barren wasteland... I have never given up, nor do I believe I will fall, yet now you ask me to return."

Speaking thus, the Dragon Descendant tore off a piece of already broken dragon scale from his chest and slammed it hard against the Great Dragon Lord's chest:

"For these two hundred years, I have gnawed on rotting flesh in the mud, drunk poisoned water in the desert, and even had my body pierced by chains of alien races... What has supported me to survive was never the will to live; I have waited two hundred years for this day, waiting for a chance to return to the battlefield, longing to fight side by side with my clan members, even if it means shattering my body and bones for a satisfying battle. Therefore, I absolutely refuse to retreat to the clan lands. If you must retreat, find another successor."

"Today, I will either live by trampling on the corpses of the Devouring Clan, or die fighting on the battlefield; I have only these two choices."

Amid the Dragon Descendant's low roar, the broken dragon scale slapped against the Great Dragon Lord's chest suddenly burst forth with blinding blood light.

Dense rows of tiny runes appeared on the surface of the scale.

These were forbidden technique array runes the Dragon Descendant had carved into his body with dragon blood, stroke by stroke, in the alien world; they were also power born from pain.

The Great Dragon Lord's vertical pupils contracted violently.

In this moment, the Dragon Descendant in his eyes overlapped once again with the arrogant figure from his memories.

Time could wear away strength, but it had never extinguished the dragon soul in his heart.

At this moment, he understood what the Dragon Descendant was pursuing; continuing to persuade was meaningless.

He raised his hand at this time and slammed it heavily onto the Dragon Descendant's blood-stained shoulder:

"Brother Dragon Descendant."

In the Great Dragon Lord's crimson-gold pupils, no extra emotion remained, only sincere admiration; he nodded solemnly to the Dragon Descendant:

"Charge."

The muscles on the Dragon Descendant's shoulder suddenly tensed, then slowly relaxed.

He said nothing, merely grabbing the Great Dragon Lord's wrist with his other hand; the instant their dragon claws interlocked, the dragon crystal in the palm and the blood scale simultaneously grew hot; at this moment, no more words were needed.

The Dragon Descendant turned at this time, sweeping over the earth wrapped in wild wind, resolutely rushing toward the center of the battlefield.

The dragon breath he spat from his mouth wove into a dark golden arc in mid-air, crashing toward the densest torrent of the Devouring Clan.

The dark golden flames instantly scorched the bodies of dozens of Devouring Clan warriors, but every Devouring warrior possessed powerful elemental immunity; the dragon flames burned for a long time before breaking through the defense.

The instant he spread his wings and dove, three Devouring vanguard warriors had already lunged close, corrosive slime splashing onto his wing membranes, emitting a sizzling burning sound.

The Dragon Descendant spun suddenly, his sharp claws tearing open the throat of the leftmost monster; black-green pulp sprayed all over his face, yet it did not slow his movements in the slightest.

He was like an arrow out of control, plunging straight into the center of the Devouring Clan's densest formation.

Roar!

The Dragon Breath Rule activated; the energy derived from the rule transformed into dense runes wrapping around his body.

Instantly, his blood and qi boiled within, and his strength climbed step by step.

The dragon roar he suddenly unleashed instantly shattered the bodies of several low-level Devouring Clan warriors.

But more Devouring Clan warriors quickly lunged forward to fill the gaps.

In the chaos, a Devouring Lord that suddenly attacked swung its giant pincers, tearing open his right wing and exposing the white wing bones beneath; the Dragon Descendant roared, twisted his head, and bit down on the opponent's neck, using the force of the fall to slam the enemy hard onto the ground, sending gravel and black blood flying together.

He had just broken free from the entanglement, yet saw a young Dragon Guard beside him being torn apart simultaneously by three Devouring Clan warriors; amidst the crisp sound of dragon scales peeling off, that just-matured figure was instantly swallowed up, leaving only a short cry of agony.

The Dragon Descendant's pupils suddenly contracted; the just-healed wound burst open from anger, and blood droplets fell onto the scorched earth, rising with white smoke.

It turned to rush to the rescue but was pinned in place by several corrosive beams; the scent of scorched scales mixed with blood seeped into its nostrils.

In the corner of its eye, the elemental array set up by the clan elders was collapsing.

A core member of the array formation was covered by the Devouring Locust Swarm.

"Kill!"

The Dragon Kin lunged at the formation without hesitation; this was the core maintaining the battle line and must not be destroyed by the Devouring Clan.

"Dragon Scale Guards, follow me and kill!"

Just then, the Great Dragon Lord's roar came from behind; crimson-gold dragon breath cascaded down like a waterfall, smashing out a vacuum amidst the Devouring tide.

His dragon claws gripped a golden dragon spear, its tip still skewering the remains of an elite Devouring Clan warrior; the flapping of its broken wings stirred up a gale.

He rushed to the Dragon Kin's side and fiercely beat his wings, smashing all the Devouring Clan warriors that lunged forward.

"Can you still hold on?" the Great Dragon Lord asked in a deep voice.

As he spoke, he pressed his palm onto the Dragon Kin's shoulder, and immediately pure dragon breath energy began flowing in without cease.