Chapter 304: If You Don

"What did you say!?" Gulianni, who had been drinking afternoon tea and adding expensive frost sugar to his cup, leapt out of his chair in shock, knocking over the small tea table in front of him, spilling frost sugar and tea leaves everywhere.

The surrounding clerics instinctively glanced at the spilled items, their faces filled with regret—it wasn't their fault; frost sugar and tea leaves were too expensive, even for them, the Pope's personal attendants, who rarely got to drink them.

Sugar was already rare in this era; what little existed was dark, dull, unremarkable brown or black sugar—pure white frost sugar was extremely rare, worth its weight in magic crystals.

As for tea, it was even rarer—a product from another plane, each small box costing over a thousand magic crystals. Now, with this spill, the loss might easily amount to several hundred magic crystals.

Gulianni no longer cared about the spilled tea; he grabbed the reporting cleric in a frenzy, disbelief cracking his voice: "What? Say it again!"

He had never lost composure like this even when Anthony split the Church.

"The… the Dragon Knights were defeated, Commander Emmer died, half the dragons were killed or surrendered, the remaining half are fleeing back—they're terrified," the cleric reported, his face equally stunned.

As he spoke, he kept glancing down at the battle report in his hand, clearly unable to believe what it said.

"Impossible!" Gulianni snatched the paper from the cleric's hand, furious: "According to timing, the Dragon Knights only arrived at Meishencheng two hours ago—even two thousand pigs, if they could fly, couldn't be defeated in two hours!"

Air battles are swift yet prolonged: swift because a single pass can decide life or death, yet prolonged because if you can't down your enemy immediately, you're likely trapped in a long chase until one side collapses.

One thousand Dragon Knights—even if the enemy had equal aerial strength—could not be defeated in two hours. Even two thousand flying pigs couldn't be wiped clean in that time.

Why two thousand? Because he counted both dragons and riders under "flying things."

Snatching the paper, Gulianni saw an even more unbelievable passage: Enemy roared, dragons panicked, hundreds terrified to death, hundreds driven off, hundreds broken in spirit; Commander Emmer faced the foe alone—the enemy waved a hand, devastation stretched hundreds of miles, Commander Emmer fell.

"Who wrote this report? Drag them to the Tribunal and burn them alive!" Gulianni slammed his fist on the desk beside him; the solid wooden desk shattered into splinters with a crash.

No wonder Gulianni was furious—what kind of nonsense was this? "Hundreds, hundreds, hundreds of miles"—not a single exact number? Is this a battle report or a hymn?

"Yes!" A servant immediately bowed and left.

After a moment of fury, Gulianni said: "Send for Mr. Dai Sen."

Dai Sen arrived at the Church over half an hour later—he had been two thousand kilometers away on the western coast, where refugees fleeing the Drowning Lands were now housed.

That location was also the frontline: after the Dragon Knights' aerial strike, the ground forces would launch from here to seize Meishencheng.

After reading the report, Dai Sen stared in disbelief: "Is this really necessary?"

Gulianni frowned, still waiting for Dai Sen; during that time, he received more detailed intelligence, making him less certain than before. He hesitated: "What if it's not exaggerated? What if it's true? What if we wrongly blamed the report writer? Wait—who wrote it? Was it burned? Don't burn it yet."

The servant who had taken the order stepped forward awkwardly: "Your Holiness, it's too late—it's already burned."

"Hmm, your efficiency is impressive. Too bad. May he rest in peace," Gulianni said mournfully.

Dai Sen read through the follow-up reports, then sank heavily into his chair, staring blankly at Gulianni: "Just… shouted?"

Gulianni nodded: "Dragon's Roar. Dragon God Transformation."

"Bruce? He violated the treaty—personally intervening in continental affairs!" Dai Sen roared.

Gulianni had suspected the same: only Bruce could wield Dragon's Roar and the legendary Dragon God Transformation.

The nearby Dragon Knights were caught in the blast; the distant ones saw nothing but a scaled humanoid creature—such beings resembled dragonkin, many of whom were fully scaled.

But only the legendary Dragon God Transformation could silence hundreds of dragon beasts with a single roar.

Well, if Bruce knew that just staying on Longdao would earn him this massive black mark, he'd probably have a very interesting reaction.

"Your Holiness, we must convene a Planar Security Council and strongly condemn the dragon race's actions," Dai Sen said.

Gulianni shook his head: "You forgot our resolution failed to pass? We won't get support in the council."

"Then what do we do?" Dai Sen groaned. He had envisioned a perfect plan: Dragon Knights launch a long-range strike, decapitate the enemy leadership, then ground forces move in to seize Meishencheng's territory and assets.

The ground forces were already assembled—but the aerial force was defeated? Now what?

Gulianni gave him a long, piercing look, then spoke slowly: "Meishencheng was your target. You said they make money off women and bald men—flowing in like water. But when you went to Ces Empire to recruit troops, negotiated terms, and stepped out the door, you were ambushed, suffered heavy losses, and terrified the Ces royal family—cooperation halted."

"Now, I lent you the Dragon Knights—they suffered heavy losses. You owe me an explanation. Otherwise, how can I answer to everyone?"

Dai Sen hurriedly said: "Your Holiness, give me one more chance. Only after I take Meishencheng can I answer to everyone. If I don't, even if you strip me bare now, I still can't pay."

It was rare for Dai Sen to speak to Gulianni in this "debtor-is-king" tone—he must be terrified.

He'd been driven back from the Drowning Lands, with a host of followers to house, emptied every copper coin from his pockets, and planned to recoup by seizing Meishencheng—only to find someone even crueler than him.

He'd merely gone to discuss plans—before the plan was even finalized, the enemy ambushed him on the road, costing him a clone and terrifying the Ces royal family.

The Ces royal family no longer possessed the ancestral courage to fight the Tiwan people to the death; now they were a bunch of goblins who wouldn't sell unless they saw gold coins. If Dai Sen couldn't even intimidate the enemy, they'd never send troops.

So the plan—borrow troops, seize wealth, then pay with the loot—collapsed. With no other option, he came to Gulianni.

He hadn't wanted to come to Gulianni in the first place—if he handled it himself, he'd only need to give the Church three-tenths. But if Gulianni acted, he'd have to surrender eight-tenths, while bearing all costs and risks—it was too unfair.

But he'd already invested heavily in the early stages; abandoning it now felt unbearable. So he finally came to Gulianni—if Gulianni acted, the risk was still small.

He never imagined such a small risk would fail. Why was he so unlucky?

Gulianni's meaning was clear: Dai Sen must bear all losses. Dai Sen dared not refuse—but the loss was too great: half the Dragon Knights. He couldn't possibly afford it.

"What do you plan to do?" Gulianni asked.

"I need to return and study the situation," Dai Sen said, frowning.

The enemy's strength exceeded imagination. When they assassinated him in the Ces court, they'd already shown formidable individual power; all the black knights he sent to gather intelligence had vanished—demonstrating powerful anti-assassination capabilities.

So he dared only launch large-scale assaults. But now even troop advances had failed. Even accounting for bloodline suppression, could he really send another equally powerful force to try again?

Gulianni suddenly smiled mysteriously, gestured for everyone to leave, leaving only himself and Dai Sen.

After dismissing all others, Gulianni studied Dai Sen from head to toe, smiling: "Actually, you could go yourself."

Gulianni's gaze sent a chill down Dai Sen's spine—he recalled rumors that Gulianni was a "old glass." He'd never believed them; which prominent Church figure wasn't rumored to be one?

Dai Sen quickly shook his head: "No. When they tried to assassinate me, they showed individual power—even if my entire force moved, we might not defeat them."

"What if you add him?" Gulianni said. "Your body is strong enough to contain his power."

As he spoke, a towering, shadowy figure appeared behind Gulianni, expressionless, staring at him—Divine Gaze.

…

Owen's carriage, dragged by griffins, flew awkwardly over the lake. The Fall Dragon Lake spanned five to six hundred kilometers—griffins needed two or three hours to cross. Yet the Pope at the Church had already received the news; Owen hadn't even left the lake's airspace.

Owen was terrified. Dragon God Transformation—the legendary Dragon God Transformation. Did the enemy have a Truth Mage?

Owen truly wanted to curse the Bada with magical incantations—how was intelligence gathered? Was this a death sentence? He was only an Arcane Mage.

Though his Elemental Spear countered dragons, it didn't counter Truth-level dragons. Even without transformation, the enemy could crush him with magic alone.

Fortunately, he hadn't rushed ahead. When Ange froze space, he instantly fled—Owen broke away from the main dragon group and escaped alone in another direction.

After flying over two hours, though still within the lake region, he saw no other flying units. He finally sighed in relief, thinking he'd escaped—then spotted a black dot ahead.

As he drew closer, he saw a woman standing atop a giant staff.

Owen's heart sank. Such a distinct feature instantly brought one name to mind—Space Arcanist Hiludi.

At the Arcane Mage level, most had their own titles—he was called Elemental Spear. But to be named "Space Arcanist" alone, Hiludi's title carried far more weight.

What a coincidence? Owen gritted his teeth and flew straight ahead. As he passed Hiludi, he leaned out awkwardly: "Hail to the Elements, Space Arcanist Hiludi—Elemental Spear Owen greets you."

Hiludi, gazing upward, immediately replied: "Hello, hello—I'm looking for you. Meishencheng has put a bounty on you: a full set of Meiteeth Package. Come back with me."

Owen was stunned. He understood the bounty—but what was a "Meiteeth Package"? Teeth carving?

Owen eyed Hiludi warily, reached out, and slowly grasped an "Elemental Spear"—a slender, spiraling vortex of wind elements.

Hiludi still gazed upward, but sensed the elemental shift and said: "I advise you to come with me. Our school's Dead Star and Blue Star have also received the bounty—I just got here first. If they find you, they won't be polite."

Hearing those names, Owen froze. Truth Mages taking bounties? Blue Star was understandable—Dinurni openly accepted missions—but Dead Star Obenli had taken one too?

Wasn't Obenli a death entity? Would she only want him dead, not alive?

"Isn't… Stormlord supposed to only take missions over five hundred thousand magic crystals—and never combat ones?" Owen whispered weakly.

Blue Star was Dinurni's codename in the Stars; Stormlord was his title.

Hiludi said: "If the bounty were a hair-growth package, he might make an exception. If you don't fight back, it's not a combat mission, right? Do you want to fight Dinurni?"

Owen nearly spat blood. Could you really explain it like that? Not fighting back isn't combat? Then if you fight back, is it self-defense?

On one side were Dead Star and Dinurni; on the other, Hiludi. Owen compared them—then suddenly realized: why surrender at all? Couldn't he just flee? Hiludi wasn't a Truth Mage.

"You can't beat me either—want to try?" Hiludi sensed his elemental fluctuations and immediately warned, as a black spatial rift flickered open before her.

"D… Dimensional Slash? No, no, I surrender!" Owen cleanly dropped his Elemental Spear, dispersed the surrounding elements, and sat down in surrender.

Dimensional Slash—brush even a fraction of it, and you couldn't be stitched back together. No risk.

Hiludi also sighed in relief. Though confident she could defeat Owen, the altitude made her nervous—persuasion was better.

…

Ange healed the dragons with torn wing membranes. These dragons had memorized his aura and now obeyed like quails.

Na Geer is flew around, then returned complaining: "Counted: one hundred and five live dragons, three hundred and twenty dragon corpses—can be resurrected as zombie dragons. But what about the live ones? Kill them all? Can't feed them—each dragon is seven to eight meters long, eats the food of two or three hundred people. Can't afford it, can't afford it."

A stunningly beautiful human woman rushed out, fell to her knees before Na Geer is, and slapped her chest: "I'll feed them."

By human standards, Gailad was breathtakingly beautiful—but this woman rivaled her, lacking a touch of delicacy but gaining a cold, sharp edge.

"Who are you?" Where had this beautiful woman come from? Her features felt familiar—had he seen her before?

"This is Liu," Lisa said awkwardly. She wasn't jealous or petty, but Liu was now so beautiful it made women envious—especially seeing her transform from that former state into this. Lisa couldn't face her calmly anymore.

When would Ange give her a punch too? Lisa wondered.

"Still… changing? No wonder I recognized her," Na Geer is said, watching her grow more beautiful—never imagined she'd keep changing after they left, now so stunning he barely recognized her.

But beauty didn't matter. Na Geer is said: "I mean we can't afford to feed them—not that no one will feed them. They need premium feed."

Liu waved her hand, pointing at the corpses: "Let me feed these."