Chapter 85: The God

The warlord’s skill primarily enhances the warriors under its command; it avoids personally facing danger, despite being far stronger than ordinary warriors.

This is perfectly understandable.

Although it may seem cowardly, its role from the rear truly contributes more than direct frontline engagement.

Meanwhile,

Facing a group of charging jackal-man warriors, the Rotclaw Priestess showed shock and fury, slamming her bone staff hard into the ground.

“Those who betray the gods shall suffer the Eternal Sore!”

Black blood seeped from its seven orifices, transforming into countless cursed marks that burned onto the jackal-men’s bodies, causing their fur to fall out and pus-filled sores to erupt across their skin.

But these frenzied warriors feared no pain, and weakness could not halt their advance.

They surged forward like a tide.

The first jackal-man to reach the priestess grabbed the hem of her robe and lunged to bite her throat—only to have his neck seized by a jackal-guard with even greater speed, snapped clean with a crack.

More claws followed in rapid succession, yet none could break through the jackal-guards’ defense in that brief window.

The two jackal-guards had once been the most ferocious warriors, further enhanced by ritual rites, making them even stronger.

After entering battle mode, their bodies swelled to a full three meters tall—taller and more fearsome than the jackal-men enraged by the warlord.

The jackal-guards remained silent, repelling each approaching kin one by one.

Blades and sharp claws struck their bodies, tearing fur and flesh, leaving bloody gashes—but these wounds healed and regenerated within moments; they were like two undead monsters holding back the tide of frenzied jackal-men.

Protected by the jackal-guards, the priestess retreated while fighting, swinging her bone staff and chanting prayers rapidly, brewing a spell.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Two Long Lin spun through the rain, striking the jackal-guards with pinpoint accuracy, unleashing flames that blasted them apart into pieces—and shattered the priestess’s brewing spell.

Seizing the opportunity,

The frenzied jackal-man warriors surged forward, surrounding the priestess and tearing her apart with chaotic blades and claws.

The frail priestess, stripped of her guardians and overwhelmed at close range, offered little resistance; her final prayers to the gods received no response or protection.

Garos watched this scene in silence.

The gods’ perception spans countless worlds; they cannot attend to every detail.

Unless it is a supreme, critical sacrifice, they rarely pay close attention, rarely investigate the cause of death or hunt down the killer; normally, they simply curse the killer by chance—and even that is rare.

“I wonder what a god’s curse feels like.”

Recently, Garos felt his “Fire Blessing” growing weaker, its reduction of his fire resistance becoming increasingly sluggish, and his fire resistance gains slowing down.

The reason, he believed,

Was that his own curse resistance was also rising, gradually nullifying the blessing’s effect.

He wondered: if he deliberately provoked the gods, hunted their priests, and received a divine curse—

Could it also become a different kind of “blessing”?

The effect of such a blessing would surely be a thousand or ten thousand times stronger than the Snake Dragon’s blessing.

But this was only a thought.

The risk was too high; a god’s curse might kill him instantly, giving him no chance to adapt.

Suddenly,

Garos narrowed his eyes, glancing to his right.

Amid rustling sounds, shattered limbs drew together, merging into a single mass.

Under Garos’s gaze, the two jackal-guards, previously blasted apart, rose again.

Their bodies were covered in charred, bloody wounds and cracks like shattered porcelain—but every injury, no matter how severe, was visibly healing and sealing itself.

“Strong regeneration.”

Garos shook his entire body, his Long Lin rattling.

He wondered how many Long Lin bombs it would take to completely kill these two jackal-guards—or if slicing them into pulp with Long Yi blades, could they still regenerate?

How resilient is the life of a monster transformed through sacrifice to the gods?

The jackal-guards remained silent, their bodies writhing with fleshy growths like wriggling worms.

They turned, locking their gaze on the dragon that had attacked and wounded them.

They showed no fear; their broken, healing bodies moved, then sprinted forward with swift, powerful strides toward Garos.

“The hatred has been drawn to me.”

Watching the two jackal-guards, Garos did not take to the air.

He slowly flicked his Long Yi, the razor-sharp wing bones gleaming coldly in the drizzle; raindrops struck them, split in half, then shattered into mist.

“Stop!”

Bloodfang the warlord, glaring fiercely at the jackal-guards about to attack Garos, roared.

“The priestess is dead! By my authority as leader of the Red-Eye Clan, I command you: Submit to the Dragon Lord!”

The two jackal-guards, mid-sprint, collapsed to their knees before Garos, silent and expressionless, like two statues.

“Dragon Lord, once the priestess dies, the jackal-guards pledge loyalty to the clan leader.”

“They are now your subjects, your servants. Please spare their lives.”

Bloodfang the warlord looked at Garos, his fierce expression instantly shifting to flattery.

The speed of his change was astonishing.

“Are you teaching me how to act?”

Garos said.

“Forgive my unintentional overreach!”

Bloodfang the warlord hurriedly said.

Garos looked at the kneeling jackal-guards.

The jackal-guards were more loyal to the clan leader—Bloodfang the warlord. When Bloodfang the warlord ordered them to submit to Garos, they knelt silently; if ordered to attack Garos, they would obey immediately.

This was typical.

My subordinate’s subordinate is not my subordinate.

Among dragon kin, dragons care primarily for and control the leaders of their kin, not every individual creature; even adult dragons with sufficient blood essence and mastery of the Dragon Vein Transformation technique only transform the leaders into Dragon Vein beings, securing absolute loyalty.

As for kin beneath the leaders,

They are better managed by the leaders themselves, while dragons oversee and command the leaders.

Of course,

The jackal-guards were an exception.

They were monsters created by the priestess, lacking independent intellect—like puppets on strings, even less intelligent than wild beasts or demonic creatures, obeying only their creator’s commands; when their creator, the priestess, died, they obeyed the clan leader unconditionally.

Ordinary kin understand that the Dragon Lord is their leader’s superior, a stronger being.

Even if their leader ordered defiance, they rarely dared to disobey.

For example, the jackal-men here.

They favored Bloodfang the warlord, but if Bloodfang the warlord now ordered them to attack Garos, none would respond; they were sentient beings, even if rarely thinking for themselves, they understood basic self-preservation—they wouldn’t walk into death.

The two jackal-guards knelt and stopped.

Spare them?

Better not.

They were two unstable variables; there was no need to keep them.

Garos stepped forward calmly, then suddenly raised his Long Zhao and slammed it down on the jackal-guards.

Plop! Plop!

Under his terrifying, overwhelming power, the two jackal-guards, offering no evasion or defense, were crushed into radiating pulp.

What surprised Garos:

The pulp still wriggled, attempting to coalesce into a humanoid shape.

“Strong life force.”

“These are only two low-grade jackal-guards.”

“If it were the legendary Demon Dragon Guards, and they reached the Ancient Dragon tier—who could defeat them?”

Garos felt wary, then exhaled a torrent of flame, drowning the barely reformed jackal-guards in fire, reducing them to lifeless ash—finally killing them.

Bloodfang the warlord watched this, heartbroken over the jackal-guards’ deaths but did not intervene.

Garos ignored his advice and brutally killed the jackal-guards.

This did not displease Bloodfang the warlord; instead, it deepened his admiration.

Look—how tyrannical, how powerful, how formidable a Dragon Lord! Only such a dragon is worthy of my loyalty and devotion!

Bloodfang the warlord’s tail wagged furiously.

Jackal-men are creatures who fear power, not virtue.

They adore the “tyrant boss” style of dragons.

If Garos had listened and spared the jackal-guards, Bloodfang the warlord would have seen him as easygoing, inviting more “unintentional overreach” and testing his limits.

This is their nature—even absolute loyalty granted by Dragon Vein Transformation cannot change it.

Loyalty does not mean they don’t desire higher status or better rewards.

Garos had once owned a dog in his past life—a golden-white Border Collie—that constantly schemed, testing its master’s limits, unaware all its tricks were seen through.

Jackal-men were no different.

Garos knew exactly how to intimidate these wild-land monster clans.

(End of chapter)