Chapter 129: Mutual Destruction

Even knowing that Brucek was coming with dragons to defend Nai Aili, Ang and the others could do nothing but wait until the dragons arrived.

Bored, Ang stuck his head out again, staring at the sky. Throughout the entire day, at least ten batches of winged knights flew overhead, yet none regarded this oasis covered in weeds and small trees as a priority area—especially not with a skeleton lying there, decomposed to that state for who knew how long.

The later the batches came, the looser their formations and the faster their speed, as if growing increasingly agitated.

As evening approached, the sound of hooves reached Ang's ears; he turned his head and saw a line of luxurious carriages rolling over the dunes as if walking on flat ground. Hooves sinking into sand would kick up dust and make noise, but the carriage wheels did not sink, nor did they stir even a speck of dust.

Clearly, some magic had been permanently infused into the wheels.

Ang didn't recognize any of the other carriages, but the one bearing the rose emblem was unmistakably familiar.

After crossing the dunes, the guards surrounding the carriages spotted the oasis and immediately pointed and shouted something; then all the carriages turned toward the oasis together.

"Kuaba da, is this really that coincidental!? Quick, quick, hide deeper!"

Ang pushed and squeezed with all his strength, burrowing deep into the sand until he was fully buried.

This oasis had been grown by Ang in a single night; since he couldn't dig a pit large enough, he built it up instead—first wetting the sand, piling it over the dragon corpse, then scattering grass seeds and triggering one growth cycle.

Wild grass has a short life cycle; it quickly grew thick and dense, producing vast quantities of seeds. Ang collected these seeds, piled wet sand over the grass again, stacking it over a meter high, then scattered more seeds and triggered another growth cycle.

Layer upon layer, he built up four layers total, burying the dragon corpse under five to six meters of soil. Each layer contained wild grass and its root system, forming four layers of grass mats that sealed the dragon corpse completely, firmly consolidating the sand and gravel into a solid mass—hard to dig open even if you tried.

Placing a dragon corpse in the depression between two dunes, then covering it with four or five layers of grass mats, nearly flattened the depression, leaving only a slight rise.

Ang lay along the edge of these grass mats, and beyond, he had scattered a few stray seeds to avoid making the oasis's edge look too neat and conspicuous.

Of course, Ang wouldn't be this meticulous—it was Anthony who taught him. The former Black Knight Emperor was the true master of stealth; Negril had all the theory but kept missing details in practice.

The caravan's guards arrived first at the oasis. One mage cast a reconnaissance spell, scanning the entire oasis—but the grass mats were too thick, revealing nothing.

Several guards walked over, jabbing wildly with their longswords. After a few thrusts, they pulled up fresh grass roots and juice, then lost interest entirely—no one could hide inside a pile of fresh, tender weeds.

They switched from stabbing to cutting, quickly clearing away the surface weeds and exposing a flat patch of ground.

"Beneath is nothing but weeds and thick roots. Set up camp right here—otherwise we'll get buried by sand dunes at night." The guards reported; their order was immediately approved.

Four luxurious carriages were unhitched from their horses, dragged onto the cleared grass, arranged in pairs facing each other, spaced apart, then a switch was activated.

Thump-thump-thump-thump—four faint magical explosions. From each carriage, thick ropes shot out, linking to the other three. Simultaneously, four sharp spikes protruded from the underside of each carriage, driving deep into the sand to anchor them firmly.

Along these thick ropes, heavy curtains were drawn toward the center, enclosing the area around the four carriages—including the leveled ground—now covered by a thick carpet of fabric.

The guards took several steel pipes from the nearly empty carriages; the two thickest were joined together and carried into the center of the tent, propping it up.

Instantly, the slightly sunken canopy transformed into a tent with a high center and low sides. The remaining steel pipes were driven into the midpoints of each side, reinforcing the entire structure.

The canopy had seams and adhesive strips; when pressed together, they stuck firmly—tomorrow, they could simply tear them apart to pack up.

Then, the mage took out a dozen iron stakes, each as thick as a finger, one end sharp, the other capped with a sphere containing extremely precise magical components.

As the mage walked, he inserted the stakes into designated spots, then pulled away the velvet strips holding the magical components in place. Once freed, the components became active—any abnormal magical or elemental fluctuation would trigger a piercing alarm, making them highly practical magical sentinels.

After all this was done, three beautiful maids stepped down from another luxurious carriage, carrying comfortable bedding: white magical goose-down quilts, pillows stuffed with calming wood seeds, silent-field meditation mats, and more.

Once the maids finished setting up, the last carriage opened. A carpet was laid directly to the tent's entrance, allowing Theres to step inside without a single grain of sand sticking to his boots. Such luxury made outsiders think some noble young master was out on a pleasure trip.

But Theres had no mood for luxury. Even after the carriage door opened, he didn't step out—fully focused on the documents in his hands, occasionally tapping the magical communicator before him.

After searching all day, the winged knights had memorized every inch of the nearby desert terrain, yet still couldn't find the dragon corpse. This made no sense—something unforeseen had clearly happened. What now?

Half the winged knights were gone. The remaining half suffered irreversible damage to their wind-element magic arrays from the intense flight. The entire winged knight unit was effectively destroyed.

With such heavy losses, was all this effort to be wasted? Theres now felt like a gambler backed into a corner, desperate to bet everything to turn the tide. He planned to seek help from his family, sending more men to search.

But since earlier, his attempts to contact his family via the magical communicator had failed—was it due to distance, or had the other end been shut off? Probably shut off. Should he replace the magic crystal?

Magical communicators could receive signals even across dimensions; replacing the magic crystal didn't require turning the device off. What exactly was happening? A bad premonition settled in Theres's heart.

While Theres's tent was still being set up, the rose-emblem carriage was already fully prepared. That carriage was equipped with a constant-temperature array, a bathing space, and a folded-space interior—far larger inside than it appeared.

Grand Mage Xie He stepped out of the carriage, stepping onto the carpet laid by his attendants. He glanced with a complex expression at the bustling maids and guards around Theres's tent, muttering softly: "Vulgar."

The attendants who had just arranged tables, chairs, and tea rushed over to assist him, but he waved them off irritably, thinking inwardly: Clumsy oafs, no refinement at all, no elegance, no dignity whatsoever—furious.

Clearly, he envied the noble bearing Theres displayed; the only thing that comforted him was that his own carriage was more practical.

He slumped onto the simple chair, slurped a sip of milk tea—and immediately spat it out: "Damn it! Do you want to scald me to death!?"

The attendant rushed forward, panicked, trying to apologize—but Xie He slapped him across the face, forcing the man to retreat, humiliated.

The tea's temperature had been Xie He's own demand—he liked adjusting it himself. He believed slowly stirring the surface with one finger, watching tiny ice crystals form and melt into the hot tea, regulating the temperature to perfection, was an elegant act, full of a mage's romance—so it was always served scalding hot.

But what could he do? The boss's word was law. Getting slapped was better than worse—be grateful it was only one slap.

His mouth burned, and his mood vanished. He simply extended a finger, chilling it with frost, plunging it into the boiling tea and stirring. The temperature dropped instantly; he drank it all in one gulp, then turned to gaze at Theres's carriage.

He had watched the winged knights' condition all day—it was dire. He was anxious too. Though Theres had devised the dragon-slaying plan, Xie He had contributed significant effort: he helped procure the dragon crossbows and scale-piercing armor, and even pushed the desert nomads into action.

His agreement with Theres was: the dragon corpse and the glory of slaying it belonged to Theres; all magical components—the dragon's heart, horns, eyes, scales, etc. belonged to him. Now that the corpse was missing, he had gained nothing.

At that moment, a ring on his hand, equipped with a communication function, flickered faintly—its light dim, its pulse slow, roughly once every few seconds.

Xie He immediately clenched his fist, turning the flickering side of the ring toward his palm without a word—even his followers didn't notice.

He suddenly stood up, turned, and returned to the carriage. Though his movement was abrupt, his followers found it perfectly reasonable—Xie He often did this, leaving without a word. Never dare to clear the tables; if he returned and found them gone, he'd fly into a rage.

Back in the carriage, Xie He closed the door, activated the defensive array and silence barrier, then turned on the internal communicator, speaking respectfully: "Master, you called for me?"

His tone was utterly submissive, completely opposite to his arrogance before his followers.

"Hmm." A heavy nasal sound came from the communicator, followed by an impatient voice: "Are you mixing with Theres of the Bote family?"

Hearing that tone, everyone would know where Xie He learned his speech habits.

"Yes, Master—is there a problem?" Xie He asked quickly.

"Did you go dragon-slaying? Are you in the desert now?" The impatient voice asked with even greater impatience.

Xie He felt a bad omen and hurriedly replied: "Yes."

"Did you touch the dragon?"

"Uh, no, I didn't even touch it. I just helped the desert bandits attack the oasis nomads."

"Good. Remember: you were merely on a desert vacation. You encountered desert bandits harassing the oasis nomads, aided the nomads in resisting, then saw Theres kill the dragon—so you acted bravely and killed Theres. Unfortunately, you couldn't save the dragon's life. Understood?"

"Uh…" Xie He wanted to say something, but the voice cut him off impatiently: "Kill Theres. Bring back his head. Otherwise, die out there. The Rose Tower must completely distance itself from the accusation of dragon slaughter. Do you understand?"

Xie He's eyes bulged. Kill Theres? Didn't he fear provoking the Bote family? But if he didn't kill Theres, his master meant to abandon him—to let him die? What had happened that would make his master abandon a Grand Mage like him?

"I understand, but Master—what happened?" Xie He asked urgently.

"The dragons have all emerged. The Archmage clashed with them over the Eastern Ocean using Arcane Magic—neither side prevailed. We are in the wrong. Whoever caused the trouble must pay with their head to appease the dragons' wrath. If you can't do it, I'll use your head to appease the Archmage's fury." The voice was no longer impatient—it was icy.

Xie He shuddered and quickly replied: "Don't worry, Master—I can do it."

Stepping out of the carriage, Xie He immediately gathered all his followers and issued orders.

Upon hearing it was a direct command from Xie He's master, the followers turned pale—they'd never received such an order from their old master before.

The followers scattered, assigned targets, moved toward Theres's men, then launched a coordinated attack—killing some guards on the spot, then converging to slaughter the rest.

"Xie He! What are you doing!" Theres burst out of his tent, shouting at Xie He.

Xie He was already channeling magic. He shouted back: "Brother, killing dragons is wrong. Dragons are our friends. Protecting dragons is everyone's duty. I cannot stand idle. Die!"

"Shut your…￥#*!" Theres slashed at one of Xie He's followers. As his sword was blocked, a blade aura shot out, piercing the man's throat.

"Sword Saint! Watch out—the enemy has broken through to Sword Saint!"

As Theres killed one follower, he felt Xie He's gaze lock onto him. He immediately planted his toes into the ground and kicked up a massive cloud of sand.

A mage's gaze lock wasn't unbreakable. Creating thick, obscuring sandstorms disrupted visual locking.

He kicked again and again, sending up waves of sand—not only blocking vision but also providing cover as he rushed toward Xie He.

Xie He swung his staff; the luxurious staff amplified his magic, summoning a powerful wind that pushed the sandstorm back, exposing Theres's figure.

Xie He's followers lunged forward, surrounding and attacking en masse.

Theres dodged and parried with superb skill, occasionally countering and cutting down two or three followers. His guards rushed in to help, and his mage prepared to cast buffs.

But suddenly, a spike erupted from the ground, impaling Theres's mid-tier mage on the spot.

Xie He had killed the enemy mage. His gaze locked onto Theres again as he began chanting a spell.

Theres suddenly felt his body's moisture boiling—his skin swelled with bubbling blisters—Water Magic: Water Boiling.

Theres immediately activated his aura to shield himself, ducked behind Xie He's followers, swung his sword wildly, killing and repelling enemies, then stabbed one follower, using his corpse as a shield to charge toward Xie He.

Xie He's gaze could no longer lock onto Theres, and the followers' blocking was shattered—Xie He grew panicked.

Spikes erupted from the ground—but Theres moved as if he sensed them, stepping precisely on key points, his aura bursting out to shatter each spike instantly.

One step, one shatter—he closed the distance to thirty meters from Xie He.

Xie He panicked, twisted his ring, and fired a blast of flame—not Ang's low-grade fireball, but a Level Six Inferno. It struck the corpse Theres was using, exploding it into fragments.

Theres whirled his sword, constantly kicking up sand to obscure vision again. Xie He summoned a shield, blew away the sand, then drove a final ice spear into Theres's chest.

But Theres's sword plunged into Xie He's abdomen.

At this moment of mutual destruction, a skeleton suddenly leapt up nearby. It reached into the empty space before it, pulled out a swordsman, then a little girl, a copper hatchling dragon, a suit of armor, a mist-like entity, and a steel construct.

"Nicola's assassins!"

"Those people from the oasis!"

"They're all together!"

It was too late. Both Theres and Xie He, wounded and exhausted, were overwhelmed in one sweep.

They stared at the luxurious carriages, the equipment on Theres and Xie He's bodies—and laughed.