Chapter 126: Plucking the Dragon's Scale

Looking at Nai Aili's broad back muscles, their rhythmic rise and fall, the power and stability in every wingbeat, Ang suddenly said: "I want to ride a great dragon."

Ang's sudden remark left Nai Ge Li slightly stunned; he instinctively replied: "No, this is mine—uh, you mean riding like this?"

Ang nodded.

"Uh, if it's riding like this, don't I often carry you flying around?" Nai Ge Li said.

"Wobbly," Ang said, glancing at it, then added: "Small."

Nai Ge Li was furious—when you were riding, you never complained, but now that there's a bigger one, you're complaining about how small I am.

"Then go ride Lei Ting. Nai Aili is mine."

"Too bumpy. Will fall apart," Ang said seriously.

"..." Nai Ge Li was speechless—who cared if Lei Ting was bumpy? Even if it was, you never actually fell apart. The point is Nai Aili is mine!

Forget it. Too lazy to argue. If Ang got serious and actually tried to take her, it'd be trouble.

Changing the subject, Nai Ge Li said: "Do you know why Nai Aili called you first?"

Ang nodded, pointing at the dense cluster of tiny dots in the distance: "Fight them."

"Right. When we dragons encounter these little mosquitoes, it's annoying. Using dragonbreath on them is wasteful, and we can't use it many times. You'll help shoot them down later," Nai Ge Li said.

"Okay," Ang replied.

At that moment, Nai Aili had already flown higher than the winged knights, turned, and dove. Her slender body arched like clearing an obstacle, sending the angel skeleton and little zombie on her back tumbling into the air, making them scream "Aoooo!" in terror.

Ang reacted quickly, reaching out to grab them, shoving the little zombie into the Palace of Rest first, then switching hands to stuff the angel skeleton in too.

But Nai Ge Li noticed a problem: "They were thrown up—why are you standing so steady?"

Ang tilted his head: "Wind."

Nai Ge Li of course knew about the wind—it used wind to stay stable itself; since mounting Nai Aili, its wings had never retracted.

The compressed air currents pushed aside by Nai Aili blew over its wings, pinning it firmly to Nai Aili's back.

It was just puzzling how Ang knew this—and so skillfully. A farming skeleton couldn't be judged by normal logic; it must have come from practicing Pollination Art.

As the dragon dove from high altitude, all winged knights scattered like startled bees—first diving to accelerate, watching which target the dragon chased; if it wasn't them, they immediately pulled up, frantically stomping their feet inside the cylindrical wings.

Pulling up higher before diving again gave greater speed; in aerial combat at high velocity, without speed, even if the dragon flew past them, they'd struggle to hit it.

Because the moment of passing might last only a fraction of a second—without a Saint Sword's reflexes, they couldn't even draw their bowstrings in time.

As for the one being chased, all they could do was keep diving and pray to the Light.

How could these crude foot-powered winged devices escape a dragon's pursuit? Soon caught—Nai Aili didn't even bother opening her mouth; just flying past them, the turbulent airflow alone was enough to destabilize the wings, sending them spinning toward the ground.

Spinning, spinning, the entire wing tore apart in midair, leaving no chance to level out and save themselves.

As the dragon pursued its own kind, the surviving winged knights immediately turned and dove after the dragon—this was their best chance; even if they couldn't catch up right away, the opportunity would come at the last moment.

As soon as the dragon leveled off or pulled up, its speed would drop sharply—that was the perfect moment to fire.

But they still vastly underestimated the dragon's aerial advantage. After knocking down the first wing, Nai Aili rolled in midair, spun once, then leveled out, accelerated in straight flight for a distance, then pulled up.

On her back, Ang fired—boom boom boom… boom boom boom…—each explosive fireball shot out, bursting apart within fifty meters.

Nai Aili's body, head to tail, was nearly fifty meters long—the explosive fireball's aerial range was shorter than Nai Aili's own length.

Ang tilted his head, frowning at his own hands.

"Know why?" Nai Ge Li asked with a grin.

"Wind's too strong," Ang said.

"Then what should we do?" Nai Ge Li asked again. This kind of leading question meant Nai Ge Li's inner teacher spirit was burning again.

Hard to find such an opportunity—Ang had only ever cared about farming, and Nai Ge Li didn't know that field well enough to teach.

Ang nodded thoughtfully.

"??" This reaction was wrong—did he really understand? You're a skeleton who's never been in the sky—how could you know aerial combat?

Nai Ge Li got annoyed, clutching its tiny claws—it would see how Ang figured this out, and if he failed, it'd scold him.

Ang turned around, looking at the winged knights chasing them, then raised his hand. The compressed air currents flowing over Nai Aili's body suddenly solidified into finger-sized ice crystals.

Ang had long known how to form ice crystals—mainly from anger. When Tu Lu burned his glowing moss fields, Ang, furious, overexerted and froze water droplets into ice, drenching Tu Lu so badly he fled, clutching his head.

Ice is an advanced form of water magic; often, ice's low temperature and solid form are more destructive than water itself, so water-element combat mages must master ice.

After forming the ice crystals, Ang ignored them, letting them drift freely backward through the air, where the winged knights would crash into them.

Puff puff puff… like hail hitting a tent—the winged knights hitting the ice crystals lost control, veering wildly, tumbling uncontrollably toward the ground.

When the wings flipped over, it was clear—their surfaces were riddled with holes.

"..." Nai Ge Li didn't know what to say—it had planned to wait until Ang couldn't handle the enemy, then offer help and scold him for it.

Aerial combat should use wind magic—flexible, fast, and wind elements are everywhere.

But Ang hadn't asked it—and instead chose ice magic, an entirely different path.

It must be said that condensing water into ice was used here with great ingenuity—almost effortlessly, it shattered the enemy's wings by relying on the enemy's own speed to collide with it.

In other words, it wasn't Ang who brought them down—it was themselves. Ang had just scattered nails along their pursuit path—this was incredibly efficient.

And this method only worked on winged knights, because their wings were too fragile. Against griffon or wyvern riders, it would have zero effect.

So clever that even Nai Ge Li was speechless—better than wind magic, since wind magic required aiming, but ice crystals just needed to be scattered.

"Impossible. Such a clever trick couldn't be your idea—who taught you?" Nai Ge Li couldn't help suspecting someone had secretly guided Ang.

Ang kept scattering ice crystals, answering casually: "Watering, dragonflies fall."

Winged knights had far less aerial maneuverability than dragons; their only chance was to dive and follow when Nai Aili chased another, attacking the instant it leveled or pulled up.

But now, chasing behind the dragon, they were suddenly pelted by clumps of ice crystals—hitting their faces, blinding them, pounding against the wing tubes with a thudding sound.

That was bad enough—but worse was the wings themselves, woven from special spider silk and coated with multiple layers of fish glue, thin and light for maximum wind efficiency, yet utterly unable to withstand ice crystal impacts—one hit, one hole.

After ten or so holes, the wings lost control.

The closer they chased, the worse the damage; if damage was light, skilled riders could land safely—but if damage was severe, they could only free-fall, ending in a crunch, to be scooped up with a shovel.

Only two winged knights, with exceptional skill, managed to survive—retracting their wings the instant ice struck, rolling in free-fall for a distance, then reopening them.

But ice crystals weren't the only threat—on the dragon's back stood a magic artillery platform; whenever they flew close in parallel, the mage-like operator fired waves of wind blades, targeting nothing but their wings.

Once the dragon drew near, almost no one escaped—wing after wing fell like rain.

Thus, aerial pursuit continued, winged knights suffering heavy losses—by this rate, all wings would be cleared before evening.

The plan sounded perfect—but winged knights weren't easy prey. As Nai Aili neared one winged knight, flying parallel, waiting for Ang to strike, the knight suddenly retracted one wing, leaving only one, and tilted it slightly upward.

The wing instantly tore apart under the violent shift—but the tube itself twisted ninety degrees under immense force, its front now aimed at Nai Aili.

Bing! A bowstring snapped—a crossbow bolt shot out like lightning, piercing deep into Nai Aili's body. She screamed in pain: "Moo!"

The knight's wing, now just a tube, spun downward toward the ground—no doubt it would smash into pulp.

But this suicide move succeeded—it struck Nai Aili, the bolt sinking beneath her scales.

"Breakscale Arrow! Little Aili, are you okay?!" Nai Ge Li cried out.

"Pain! So painful! Moo!" Nai Aili bared her teeth, turned around, and dove after the falling wing, blasting it with dragonbreath—denying even the chance to die on impact.

Nai Ge Li wanted to say it wasn't necessary—they'd die anyway, why waste dragonbreath? But seeing Nai Aili's "moo moo" cries, it wisely stayed silent—mother dragons were often unreasonable.

"Just pain? Any other discomfort? Should we fly away, find a place, and I'll pull the arrow out?" Nai Ge Li asked.

A breakscale arrow was about 1. meters long—fully embedded, it was a serious wound for a dragon; if it hit a vital spot, it could be fatal.

But Nai Ge Li examined the wound—it wasn't vital, roughly at the dragon's shoulder.

Nai Aili turned silently, dove to accelerate, then leveled off, flying fast toward the distance.

Nai Ge Li was surprised—Nai Aili was so obedient?

When they first arrived at the oasis, Nai Ge Li had pleaded with her for a long time—but no matter how much it pleaded, she refused to hide, repeating only: "These people believe in me. I can't abandon them."

If not for that, Nai Ge Li would never have dragged its people into this war.

Nai Aili, who never listened to advice, now turned away without a word? Was her wound that severe?

Thinking of this, Nai Ge Li grew worried, asking urgently: "Little Aili, are you alright? Is your wound serious?"

"Not serious—just like a toothpick pricked me. But Nai Ge Li, I may be dying. My lifespan is ending. Don't let my body fall into human hands," Nai Aili replied calmly.

"What? Now? I told you to hide earlier! You're ten thousand and some years old—why do such violent moves? You just rolled in midair—you're no longer young, why attempt such high-difficulty maneuvers?" Nai Ge Li panicked, complaining nonstop.

"No. I'm ten thousand and some years old—longer than you. What's the point of living one or two more years? If you weren't here, I wouldn't leave. I'd fight until my last breath, then die in the oasis lake," Nai Aili said solemnly.

"Sigh…" Nai Ge Li sighed. From its perspective, the death of a fellow was tragic—but Nai Aili didn't see it that way.

Bronze dragons lived too long; one or two years meant nothing to them—like humans living a few extra minutes. Better to die gloriously than hide, hoping to survive a few more minutes, only to never wake from a future slumber.

It understood—but accepting was hard. All sorrow condensed into one sentence: "Don't die in the lake. It'll pollute the water. Your believers won't be able to drink."

"Hahaha, brother, you're funny," Nai Aili said, stretching her neck and letting out a piercing dragon roar.

Simultaneously, her bloodline surged—a message, resonating through blood, reached every dragonkin's heart: the Dragon Clan had once again entered the Age of Dragon Mourning.

Winged knights watched helplessly as the bronze dragon flew away—its original vow to "surround and slay the dragon, become dragon slayers" vanished instantly, replaced by a fifty percent casualty rate.

No injuries—only deaths. Anyone who fell was dead.

The battered winged knights returned to camp, exhausted, crawling out of their tubes—only to be kicked back by Tie Lei without mercy: "Dragonkin sent word—the bronze dragon is dead. It didn't leave the desert. Find its corpse, no matter what."

One by one, crooked wings took off again—but now not to surround, but to search. After a day of battle, night fell; finding a dragon corpse in the coming darkness was no easy task.

Tie Lei realized this too, splitting the surviving winged knights into five groups of a hundred—each group took turns ascending to search while others rested, pinning hope on tomorrow's daylight.

A single night couldn't bury a dragon tens of meters long, could it?

A hundred kilometers away, on a sand dune, Nai Ge Li looked at Nai Aili's fallen body, then at Ang, and the little zombie and angel skeleton just released—helplessly shook its head.

With just these four, burying such a massive body in one night? Impossible.

"Can we put her in the Palace of Rest?" Nai Ge Li asked.

Ang shook his head.

"Can you dig her a grave?" Nai Ge Li turned to the little zombie.

The little zombie dug with great effort, panting and grunting, until it had dug a pit large enough to hold a dragon's paw.

What are we to do? Not even a shallow burial is possible—the dragon corpse's features are too obvious. Mages in the air can detect deeply buried objects with special sensing spells, especially those with distinct characteristics, so even a shallow burial won't work.

But how could these four of them possibly dig a pit big enough to hold Nai Ai Li?

He turned to ask Ang if he had any ideas, but when he looked back, he saw Ang pulling off Nai Ai Li's scales.