Chapter 87: Steam Rift, Dragon Slumber

In the rain curtain, the valley stood tall with clusters of pine trees, their treetops swaying with wind and rain.

Garos beat his wings, landed back on a cliff ledge, and summoned the fairy dragon, the red dragon, and the bear clan all together.

Fine silver threads kept falling.

The bears soaked in the rain, their fur drenched; the fairy dragon hid beneath the red dragon’s wings to escape the downpour, while the red dragon shifted its hips and flicked its tail, feeling utterly uncomfortable in the rain.

“I’m going into dragon slumber.”

Garos announced: “For the next five years, I may not awaken.”

Upon hearing this, Mobel was the first to pledge loyalty, kneeling with his rump raised, his simple bear face wearing a look of wolf-man-like flattery.

“My lord, rest assured—under my command, the bear guardians will ensure no creature disturbs your slumber!”

“When you awaken, you shall sweep across the Ser Wilds like a storm, forcing countless beings to submit!”

The other bears looked at Mobel with envy for his dragon-flattery skills.

Ordinary bears were poor speakers, Zhizhidaomaitouganshi , and could not think of flattering words; thus, they regarded Mobel as a genius—brilliant at speech, and his speed and mastery in kneeling left them awestruck.

After Mobel had knelt for several seconds.

The other bears finally reacted, kneeling before Garos and vowing to guard diligently.

But Garos had no intention of slumbering in the Pine Needle Valley.

With these bears, the young red dragon, and the fairy dragon, they could not stop a powerful enemy; moreover, the high concentration of life here drew too much attention. Better to find a suitable place alone for dragon slumber.

“Guard the Pine Needle Valley.”

“When I awaken and return, I do not wish to find it under new ownership.”

Garos gave his serious orders, then dismissed the bears.

The fairy dragon Weila poked her small head out from Samantha’s wing membrane, then flew toward Garos.

She flapped her semi-transparent wings, rain sliding off her scales: “I can help you find a safe nest! I know of a hidden cave east of the pine forest, its entrance concealed by vines—no one will find it.”

“No need. I have my own plans.”

Garos said.

Samantha also flew over: “Five years? You’ll sleep that long? Can’t you shorten it?”

Last time, during Garos’s injury recovery, just seven days made her feel severe anxiety and insecurity; now, five years—just thinking of it made Samantha uneasy and tense.

“Impossible. Five years is already a conservative estimate.”

Garos flicked his tail, splashing water, and told Samantha: “During my slumber, you and Weila must be cautious—stay hidden in the Pine Needle Valley, don’t wander off.”

He paused, then added sternly.

“Don’t waste your days playing with ants! When I wake, if your alchemy hasn’t improved—”

He left the sentence unfinished, letting Samantha imagine the consequences.

In five years, barring accidents, both clans should have accumulated some black oil reserves; then, he would need Samantha to refine it, maximizing its quality.

“If you wake up sooner, I promise not to disappoint you.”

Samantha said.

Her obedient response surprised Garos.

He did not press further, but turned his gaze to the fairy dragon Weila.

Garos instructed: “Don’t forget—collect your scale powder every day and gather it together.”

The fairy dragon circled Garos, saying: “Of course, of course!” She blinked her eyes and asked: “Can you play with me while you sleep?”

Garos shook his head.

“If I’m asleep, how can I play with you?”

The fairy dragon grinned: “No problem, no problem—as long as you allow it! I won’t disturb you. I’ll play by myself.”

Her gaze swept over Garos’s body, imagining how she might doodle on it, plant flowers and vines, dress him up, turn him into a “cute and pretty” thing.

Garos did not know the fairy dragon’s exact thoughts.

But that didn’t stop him from refusing.

“Fine. You may stay beside me during my slumber.”

He said with a chuckle.

“Yay!”

The fairy dragon thrilled, overjoyed.

“But be careful—you might get killed. When I dream, I don’t distinguish friend from foe.”

Garos said coolly.

The fairy dragon froze.

She suddenly remembered—Garos could “kill in dreams.” She must not get close.

“Uh… never mind. I’ll play with Samantha and the bears. I won’t bother you.”

The fairy dragon stuck out her tongue and immediately changed her mind.

After giving the two dragons further instructions, Garos began preparing for his dragon slumber.

He first went to the cave holding the cliff serpent dragon’s corpse, dug out its most toxic heart, then left the cave and soared upward, vanishing into the thick rain curtain.

After some time.

Garos arrived above a region shrouded in mist and sulfurous fumes.

This was the dragon slumber site he had chosen in advance.

Garos had the habit of planning ahead.

While experimenting with evolving jet dragon wings and using fairy scale powder for rapid thought, he had conceived using dragon slumber to increase success probability; later, during daily training and terrain surveys, he discovered this suitable location.

Garos looked down.

Below, the rift resembled a wound carved by a giant axe, winding far into the distance.

The gray-white cliffs were pocked with honeycomb-like holes, continuously spewing scalding steam that condensed into thick fog in the cold rain.

Through the dense steam, the rift’s bottom revealed faint crimson magma veins, slowly flowing through rock fissures like blood vessels, vaporizing sulfur fumes up to a hundred meters high.

The high-temperature environment was favored by fire-element beings.

But here, the air was thick with hot, sticky steam—ordinary water-element beings could not endure the heat.

The Steam Rift’s environment was harsh, devoid of any living creatures.

But for Garos, it was perfect.

He retracted his wings and shot downward like an arrow released from a bow, piercing the dense steam, descending gradually to the rift’s bottom.

He hid within a fissure spewing steam.

Garos smeared the serpent dragon’s toxic blood over his dragon wings, corroding them with countless tiny holes, then gritted his teeth against the agony of scalding steam constantly searing through the wounds.

The toxin in dragon heart blood was stronger and lasted longer.

Moreover, the steam here was endless, continuously stimulating Garos’s wounds; combined with the poison, healing slowed and toxin removal became harder.

But that was exactly what he wanted.

Waves of stinging pain surged repeatedly.

Drowsiness rose like a tide.

Garos relaxed his mind as much as possible, his eyelids trembled, growing heavier, then slowly closed—entering dragon slumber.

Slumber state.

Dragon energy fully retracted, making detection by other beings difficult; yet awareness of danger did not slacken—it sharpened beyond normal. If a lethal threat arose, he would awaken instantly, but the slumber would be broken.

The rift fell silent.

Only the continuous hiss of rising steam remained.

Within the thick steam, the red iron dragon slept, silently evolving.

Waiting for the next awakening.

These wings, forged through countless trials, might no longer need interaction with rainy environments to unleash steam, to swirl and leave comet-like trails, becoming an unrivaled weapon.

(End of Chapter)