Chapter 131

Hope Oasis, the sand folk and sand raiders each occupied one end, facing off across the central lake.

The oasis sand folk numbered in the tens of thousands and could muster over ten thousand troops at any time—seemed like a lot, but not everyone had metal weapons; some still carried wooden forks and rakes, let alone armor.

Moreover, the entire oasis had only about five thousand camels, so their cavalry numbers couldn't match the raiders'.

Facing battle-hardened, experienced, and fully equipped sand raiders, they'd held on this long solely because of the enemy's nature.

The sand raiders were a disorganized mob, lacking unified command, cowardly and unwilling to sacrifice their own strength, all waiting for others to die first so they could pick up the spoils.

The sand folk, however, fought to defend their homes and land, so they stood united and held out this long.

Most importantly, the raiders' grand mage had simply walked away after smashing the sand folk's defenses—if he'd stayed, the sand folk would've already collapsed.

Neither the sand folk nor the raiders understood why the mage had left at the last moment; if their souls could touch Xie He's ghost, he might tell them: "The dragon ran off—what use are you worthless raiders? Do you think I'm here to help you steal trash? Dirty hands."

With no one to lead them and everyone scheming for themselves, the raiders had seized half the oasis but couldn't advance further.

Over the past two days, there had been scattered skirmishes with no real gains—only on the first day, when they broke into the oasis, had they looted anything.

Night fell, and the seasoned raider Mo Gulao sensed something wrong; he quietly approached a familiar band and caught them secretly packing their gear.

Mo Gulao found the leader of that band—a one-eyed assassin known as One-Eye.

Upon meeting, Mo Gulao got straight to the point: "You've noticed something's off too?"

One-Eye nodded grimly: "No winged riders have flown all day, no one's come to say the mission's done, no one's come to pay us—any fool knows something's wrong."

"Do you have any inside info?" Mo Gulao asked.

One-Eye shook his head: "No, but there are only a few possibilities—the winged riders killed the dragon and are busy hauling the corpse away, or the dragon wiped out the winged riders—but that's unlikely, since the dragon hasn't returned. Could it have abandoned these sand folk?"

"Then why are you packing?" Mo Gulao asked.

"Of course, to prepare for the worst case—the winged riders killed the dragon and are coming to wipe us out too," One-Eye's single eye flashed with cold light.

"That… can't be right. Won't the Winged Knights ruin their reputation?" Mo Gulao hesitated. He could imagine the worst being they'd just refuse to pay—but kill all the raiders? Who'd ever answer the Winged Knights' call again?

One had to admit, Mo Gulao was experienced as a raider, but he couldn't match One-Eye's cunning as a leader.

"Why not? That's how you maximize gains. Reputation? 'Cunningly annihilated thousands of sand raiders, securing desert trade routes'—isn't that reputation? 'Sand raiders slaughtered sand folk; Winged Knights struck with thunder, protecting the people'—isn't that reputation?"

"Use our heads for battle merits, sell us as prisoners, save ten thousand magic crystals in hiring fees, and get a dragon corpse for free. Claim the dragon was the raiders' protector, sheltering bloodstained villains—so the Winged Knights had no choice but to slay it. That puts them on the moral high ground and earns them the title of Dragon Slayer."

Mo Gulao's jaw dropped. The more he heard, the more his blood chilled; he finally blurted: "You leaders have hearts blacker than midnight."

One-Eye chuckled: "I haven't even told you the blackest part—I could sell you all, and you'd still count the coins for me."

"Then should we flee tonight? Can we make it?" Mo Gulao asked, already resolved to return and prepare to run like One-Eye.

"Preparation's necessary, but no need to rush. As you said, the Winged Knights won't abandon their reputation. No lie, no matter how pretty, escapes the gaze of the stars. These excuses only fool the ignorant—not the truly wise. Let's hope they honor their promise; maybe they're just delayed by something."

"Then what's this…" Mo Gulao gestured to the raiders quietly moving around camp.

"Of course, we're moving the loot first. Leave some expendable men here to wait for news—we'll find a hiding spot. I know a place nearby. Thanks to your past kindness, I'll take you along—just one. 'One.'" One-Eye deliberately emphasized the word "one."

Mo Gulao nodded, understanding: "Then I won't leave—I'll follow you, boss." He respectfully thumped his chest in salute.

"Hahahaha." Seeing his old acquaintance now his subordinate, One-Eye felt a surge of excitement. He turned back into the tent and emerged dragging two sand folk girls, aged about fourteen or fifteen.

"Following me won't leave you short. I'll need your experience—these two little birds are yours. Serve your needs." One-Eye shoved the girls toward Mo Gulao.

Mo Gulao's wrinkled face lit up with a grin: "Hehe, boss, you're generous—I won't refuse. There'll be a sandstorm tomorrow morning."

With that, Mo Gulao dragged the two girls back into the tent.

One-Eye chuckled softly. In the desert, having a raider who could read the weather was like possessing a divine artifact.

He'd barely finished laughing when a dark shadow leapt into camp, landing beside him. Before One-Eye could react, a scythe swept past his side, plucking out a soul-flame.

After extracting One-Eye's soul, the shadow swung the scythe backward, slicing open the tent and pulling out another soul-flame. The tent split open, revealing Mo Gulao, stripped of his clothes, collapsed on the ground, and the two sand folk girls, frozen in shock.

Ange ignored the girls and charged deeper into camp. His arrival instantly stirred all the raiders, who scrambled to organize resistance.

But when they finally mustered in the darkness, they horror-struck realized their enemy had become familiar comrades.

Their weapons and armor hadn't changed—only their expressions were vacant, eyes rolled back, movements stiff, yet they paid no mind to swords and axes slashing at them.

"Ah! Undead! The undead are back!" Some remembered the scene from days ago and realized—the reaper with the Scythe of Death had returned.

"Charge!" Lu Se charged forward, brandishing his new dragon-patterned steel-core, silver-threaded, enchanted, gem-embedded, piercing, enhanced double-handed sword: "Drink blood, my blade!"

"You're delusional. Dragon-patterned steel doesn't drink blood," Lei Ting muttered, dodging raiders' attacks with agility, then landing a powerful hoof-stomp.

Though not a horse, it was far stronger than one—anyone kicked by it would suffer broken bones.

The little zombie activated armor-melding, shaping its hands into hoes, sprinting, ramming, and digging.

The angelic skeleton gripped holy light, carrying Nai Ge Li as it charged forward. When raiders swung swords or axes, Nai Ge Li stuck his head out to block them.

Nai Ai Li was stunned by this bizarre battle formation, trailing behind them and occasionally exhaling a dragon breath for cover.

At this moment, Nai Ai Li had transferred her consciousness into the young dragon, becoming a living, underdeveloped juvenile dragon. Unlike Nai Ge Li, she was alive and could still grow.

Ange had cultivated one silver dragon and one brass dragon. He'd transferred Nai Ai Li's consciousness into the brass dragon, but the silver dragon still had no consciousness to inhabit—it remained a plant dragon for now.

Nai Ai Li's original body still lay beneath the oasis grass mat. It was too massive for Ange to fit into the Palace of Rest, summon, or reincarnate, so he'd left it there temporarily.

Under the effect of the Instant Death Aura, the dragon corpse dehydrated rapidly. Combined with the desert's dry climate, the corpse wouldn't rot—it would only shrivel. When Ange found a way, he could turn it into a corpse dragon.

Of course, he could turn it into a bone dragon too—but bone dragons couldn't fly, and its wings were already rotted away, which contradicted Ange's original plan to ride a dragon.

Nai Ge Li stretched his head, his helmet blocking a raider's slash. The angelic skeleton landed a holy fist straight to the raider's nose, crushing him instantly.

Nai Ge Li still had time to talk, blocking while speaking: "Night is the undead's domain. I see better now than in daylight—every soul's fluctuation is crystal clear. Weak lifeforces flicker erratically; strong ones glow like bonfires even from dozens of meters away."

Behind him, Nai Ai Li shook her head: "I can't see anything. Everything's pitch black. I feel like I'm back inside the egg—all my senses are half-dead. A dragon breath feels empty, draining me terribly."

Nai Ge Li comforted her: "Of course. Your current size doesn't even qualify as a juvenile. But don't worry—eat plenty of little lambs and beets, and you'll grow fast. The first five hundred years after hatching are critical for growth—your nutrition during this time determines your final size."

Nai Ai Li swallowed hard: "Don't say that. I used to be old and had no appetite—I used to swallow whole lambs in one bite. Now, for some reason, since I've become young again, just hearing 'little lamb' makes my saliva flow. I want to eat one. Next time, I'll pluck the feathers. Humans always marinate them with spices and roast them until they sizzle and drip oil—I want to try that."

"Stop talking," Nai Ge Li groaned. "I want to eat too—but I can't."

While they chatted, the Zihai Titans, under Ange's command, stormed in from the other side of the central lake—three-meter-tall giants wielding thick, thorn-wrapped wolfwood clubs, crushing everything in their path.

The raiders, disorganized and demoralized, with no unified command and blinded by darkness, couldn't even tell how many enemies there were. One charge from the Zihai Titans shattered their lines—they scattered in panic.

Defeat collapsed like a mountain. Most casualties in battle occur during routs. Ange led his crew in wild pursuit, leaving corpses littered in their wake.

At that moment, Nai Ge Li sensed a powerful aura ahead.

Boom! Lu Se, charging eagerly, suddenly felt a crushing aura ahead and instinctively swung his sword down.

The aura didn't retreat—it surged forward, punching straight out.

Boom! The fist slammed into Lu Se's blade, exploding with force. Lu Se was flung back; the opponent didn't budge.

Lu Se's heart froze. He shouted a warning: "Everyone, be careful!"

Lu Se was utterly stunned. His sword was dragon-patterned steel-core, enchanted with piercing, and amplified by his own strength—yet his full-power slash had been blocked by a bare fist? How? Was the man's fist made of metal?

He'd been thrown back, sure—but the man hadn't moved at all. Who was this? A Sword of Truth?

Though shaken, Lu Se didn't hesitate. After warning the others, he pulled out a beet and started chewing. He'd expected a simple slaughter—but now he'd met a real threat, so he didn't waste the beet.

Ange charged forward, conjuring a row of explosive fireballs that streaked through the night toward the enemy.

The enemy swung both fists, shattering fireball after fireball. The explosions lit the night, revealing his figure.

He was a middle-aged human with grotesque features: high cheekbones, a long chin, narrow eyes with barely visible pupils, and nostrils facing forward—larger than his eyes.

He wore ordinary fisherman's coarse clothes, still streaked with fine white salt crystals—as if he'd come straight from the sea without rinsing, the seawater evaporated leaving salt behind.

His appearance was odd, his attire plain—but his power was anything but. After shattering over a dozen fireballs, he grew annoyed and stopped punching. Instead, he simply raised one hand before him, letting the fireballs explode against his skin. The flames burned him like a gentle breeze—then vanished.

"Incredible magic resistance!" Lu Se shouted, activating his aura to wrap his sword, preparing to charge.

At that moment, Nai Ai Li flapped her wings, trotting across the sand like a hen, shouting: "Stop! Brucek?!"

The strange man turned, his narrow eyes widening into vertical pupils in shock: "Grandmother Nai Ai Li?! How is this possible? You're dead! How… how… how did you shrink?!"

Hearing the name Brucek and seeing his vertical pupils, Nai Ge Li shouted: "Stop! Stop! Allies! Allies!"

Luckily, he shouted fast—the angelic skeleton had already spread its wings, and Ange had reached for Petexi.

"This is dragon shape-shifting. He's my nephew's son—Brusek, the silver dragon, current dragon clan leader. What are you doing here?" The last question was directed at Brucek by Nai Ai Li.

Brucek's eyes darted between Nai Ge Li and Nai Ai Li, face filled with disbelief. He said:

"I received your bloodline signal and came to collect your remains. But human Truth-wielders blocked me at sea. I sent Yulan to scout, but she got captured halfway. I had no choice but to come myself. Can't I skip collecting your remains? What happened to you?"

"You wouldn't believe it—I was resurrected. Ange built me a new body. Oh! I just remembered—what about your dragon egg? Has it been stuck for ages? With my method, you could solve the stuck-egg problem easily."

Nai Ai Li exclaimed excitedly: "Brusek, your dragon egg is saved!"