The veil of rain was like a massive gray curtain, shrouding the Needleleaf Valley below.

Within the valley, pine trees swayed gently in the wind and rain. Raindrops gathered along the dark green needles and slid down, drawing crystalline trails in the moist air.

Whoosh—!

A sudden gust of wind swept through, carrying cold rainwater with it. It tore open a temporary, nearly vacuum passage between the valley, rudely pushing the curtain of rain to both sides.

The robust and majestic body of the Red Iron Dragon, covered in thick scale armor, hovered above the valley enshrouded in rain mist.

His head tilted slightly, his eyes lowered, as if recalling something.

After a brief contemplation, Galos folded his wings and steadily landed on the steep peak on one side of the valley. His sharp gaze penetrated the rain curtain, slowly scanning every inch of land below that was saturated with rain.

Time is the most ruthless steel blade in the world, capable of reducing countless heroes who once dominated the realms to dust, eroding glorious pasts into blurred legends.

Yet, time is also the saving grace that heals wounds.

The valley that was once mercilessly scorched by fiery Dragon Breath, reduced to scorched earth in a bid to erase all traces, has now been nurtured for more than twenty years, restored to lush greenery, brimming with vitality.

Here, dense and lush vegetation has reclaimed the valley, exuding a thriving vigor in the continuous gentle rain.

Galos slightly turned his massive head, carefully surveying his surroundings that were both familiar and strange.

Despite the indelible marks of time’s chisel left upon the valley’s details—the trees taller or having shifted positions, perhaps the stream’s path subtly altered—he could still recognize the cave where the Violent Bear Group once resided. He could vaguely see the forest clearing which was deliberately cleared for secretly training young Dragons.

"Twenty years..."

"Finally, I have set foot on this land again."

Galos’s gaze swept across the valley, unexpectedly capturing sight of a familiar giant rock slab—where he loved to curl up as a child and youngling, basking in sunshine or starlight, sleeping peacefully.

Unbelievable.

Despite enduring over twenty years of weathering, it hadn’t crumbled, merely grown slippery with moss and developed a few profound cracks.

Galos felt a stir in his heart.

He cautiously blinked, confirming there were no other creatures watching him, then slowly descended.

He tried twisting his robust body, carefully drawing his limbs inward, gradually curling his massive physique to fit entirely on the rock slab that bore memories of old, covering it without leaving a single gap.

Yet, truth be told, the hard and cold dampness.

Compared to his shining treasure-strewn, comfortable dragon bed at Burning Steel Castle, it was worlds apart.

No matter how he adjusted his posture, he couldn’t recover the snug comfort enshrined in memory.

Crack—!

A faint but clear snapping sound interrupted his thoughts.

As he came to his senses and instinctively straightened, the slab that had carried the weight of years and memories beneath him shattered instantly, overwhelmed by the terrifying weight he now possessed, crumbling into a pile of moss-covered rubble.

Ultimately, it’s different now.

The slab that once brought stability in his childhood no longer could bear the weight of his body.

Galos gently shook his massive head, a hint of sentiment passing through his eyes, yet he lingered not.

Today, he is the Lord who governs the Border Area, commanding subservience from all directions, surrounded by a powerful Clan, with many Dragons rallying under his wings—no longer the weak, pitiful young Dragon trying to survive in the wilderness’s crevices.

He straightened his resilient body.

Countless raindrops fell, striking his broad, thick dragon body as if cast in iron, instantly shattering to mist.

At this moment, the deep voice of Iron Dragon Solrog echoed from within his mind.

The Red Iron Dragon occasionally nodded lightly, occasionally plunged into brief contemplation.

Soon, through Solrog’s Telepathy, he had clearly grasped the dramatic developments in Scale Earth Rift over the past twenty years.

"Ximu Town... Albert Family..."

Galos’s gaze suddenly turned sharp as a blade, seemingly able to pierce through the rain curtain ahead, yet in an instant, that edge vanished into profound calm.

Viscount Ironthorn and that deadly Dragon Hunting Squad once drove Galos to desperation, nearly burying him completely.

Yet it was during that baptism of blood and fire that he awakened his own Dragon Qi.

All of it, he remembered clearly, every detail unfaded.

As for now?

Viscount Ironthorn himself has long become dust in the wilderness.

However, the Albert Family of the same surname has taken over Scale Earth Rift.

Now, this land has been swiftly recaptured by the Molten Iron Tribe, those nobles entrenched in thriving castles likely won’t take long to receive the news.

Nonetheless, Galos harbors no fear in his heart.

The Molten Iron Tribe’s current comprehensive strengths might still are slightly inferior to the overall Raymond Duchy.

However.

The vast, treacherous, resource-rich wilderness has never been the Duchy’s turf.

Its distance from the Duchy’s core is far, supplies are difficult, the presence of Duchy troops in the wilderness has always been insufficient, not to mention the increasing southern crisis causing true strongmen and elite soldiers to be hastily pulled back to the southern core.