Golden Dragon: Six Thousand Years of Empire-Chapter 475 - 285: Saying Goodnight in Demon King City_2

"I haven’t disclosed any information to anyone. How did the granduncle find out?"

The young man sitting on the Demon King’s Throne raised his hand. From his palm, a crescent blade gradually emerged, shimmering with a hazy golden light, yet entirely pure white and flawless.

This weapon with a long and slightly curved blade, though devoid of any decorations, possesses an exquisite and flawless beauty due to its pristine white material. The aura it emits compels those who witness it to instinctively kneel and worship.

The origin of this weapon is simple: it was crafted by honing a rib taken from the Immortal King. As the Demon King and second-generation Undying King, Wayne has devoted over thirty years of effort to this weapon.

Though he collected the raw materials and crafted this weapon entirely on his own, there’s never a wall without cracks in this world.

Even if he hasn’t told anyone, the moment something exists, there’s potential for it to be observed and perceived.

Therefore, Wayne isn’t very confident about whether the Holy Dragon granduncle already knows about this matter, especially since the Immortal King’s head was taken by him.

While the Demon King was puzzled and conflicted, the hatchling dragon he personally captured was fighting bravely. Although it faced only elite Skeleton Soldiers, an equally numbered group of well-equipped human soldiers could eliminate them without injury.

However, Terramus was just a three-year-old hatchling. Even with a body nearly ten meters long since birth, able to crush swathes of skeletons with a simple and crude Dragon Car charge, the vast and increasing number of Skeleton Soldiers, whose average strength was gradually improving, made the hatchling’s combat increasingly difficult.

Dragons are indeed powerful and can fight intensely for long periods, but ultimately, dragons are not beyond the biological realm; they still experience fatigue and hunger.

Even Terramus, with an Ancestral Dragon Bloodline, was the same. After fighting for two days and nights, the hatchling’s movements started to slow; he was now tired, sleepy, and hungry, needing a large meal followed by rest.

"Your Highness Stella, this hatchling dragon is nearly exhausted. Should we send more cannon fodder?"

In a shadowy corner of the arena-like vast and grand prison, a mummified Pharaoh, whose body was as shriveled as old dried meat, respectfully bowed to a seductive woman shrouded in endless shadows.

The Blood Clan Duchess, who acted obsequiously and flatteringly before the Demon King, now held herself like a noble queen, her gaze not even lingering on the Mummy Priest for a moment, focusing all her attention on the Golden Dragon hatchling covered in a layer of bone ash, observing its every move.

"Continue, but ensure they carry enough food."

Stella ordered in a cold tone.

"Carry enough food?"

Even though his facial muscles withered thousands of years ago to the point of difficulty in expressing any expression, the soul fire suddenly leaping in his skull vividly conveyed the mummy Pharaoh’s surprise and confusion.

"Of course, do you want to starve this dragon?"

Stella glanced at the Mummy Pharaoh with disdain and disgust, imagining how such a foolish Undead could exist. Their brains had long since withered and rotted, yet the soul fire still prevented them from maintaining thought?

"Of course not, but what should I feed it?"

The Pharaoh knew the infuriating identity and status of the Blood Clan bat before him within the Great Graveyard. Thus, even when commanded like a servant, he had no complaints—a temporary humiliation, as he did not share the pitiful emotions of mortals.

"You ask me such a question? Do you need me to teach you how to summon skeletons?"

"It was foolish of me. In my treasury, I still have some unused gemstones, perfect for feeding this dragon."

The Mummy Pharaoh prostrated himself on the ground, not hesitating or thinking too long, immediately offering up a considerable bounty.

He had noticed that, although this hatchling dragon was alive and a Holy Dragon Descendant who killed and took the Immortal King’s head, given its identity and status, the Blood Clan bat certainly dared not harm it. This matter was very likely a directive from the Demon King.

The fact that only skeleton cannon fodder was allowed meant the Demon King did not intend to do anything to this hatchling dragon.

Unable to act, he naturally had to take good care of it. Though the dragon species’ diet didn’t necessitate such extravagance, where could he find normal biological blood and flesh in the Great Graveyard? Only enduring the pain of losing resources by feeding gemstones remained.

"Take good care of this dragon; lose even a single Dragon Scale, and I’ll replace it with your bones."

The Blood Clan Princess, recently oppressed by the Demon King, turned and pressed her undead subordinate.

"Yes, yes, I will ensure not a single Dragon Scale is lost."

The Mummy Pharaoh repeatedly guaranteed, noticing that the upper echelons of the Great Graveyard intended to treat the hatchling dragon like an ancestor. Since so, what more could he say?

Consequently, Terramus, gritting his teeth, soon discovered that some skeletons wielding gemstone weapons appeared among the endless flow of Skeleton Guards, though the gemstones were crudely embedded, failing even to utilize a tenth of their potential.

"What a waste, even an Alchemy Apprentice shouldn’t produce such trash!"

Terramus gazed at the ordinary Fire Attribute gemstone embedded in a spine battle-axe before him, set into the bone.

Of course, it wasn’t the time to lament over such things. The gemstone was timely and invaluable like rain during a long drought. Though regrettable, it had to be consumed for survival’s sake.

Crunch—

When the Gold Dragon hatchling pried the gemstone loose and swallowed it down, a warm current rose from his stomach, dispelling much of his fatigue and drowsiness in a short time.

Thus rejuvenated, Terramus continued the fight. Despite not understanding how he suddenly fell from his father’s palace into the Demon King’s City, now wasn’t the time to ponder such questions.

But as the battle persisted, Terramus noticed something unusual. He found that whenever he felt weary and tired, a few skeletons wielding gemstone weapons would conveniently appear among the attacking skeleton horde.

These skeletons posed no threat, instead providing gemstone supplies that allowed him to recover quickly.

The gemstone weapons had uniform characteristics: utterly useless; whether the gemstones were mounted or not made little difference, as if intentionally delivering gemstones to him.

Though young, Terramus’s inherent Dragon Clan heritage granted him basic reasoning and logic, enabling him to keenly sense something amiss.

It was too contrived. The Demon King, who personally dragged him to the Demon King’s City, only sent a group of Skeleton Soldiers to besiege him upon imprisonment, a horde that couldn’t threaten him as long as he resisted.

By the tenth day of relentless fighting, his drowsiness reached a tipping point, and utterly exasperated, Terramus swallowed a few more gemstones intentionally placed before him. Curling up into a ball, he shut his eyes and fell soundly asleep.

Initially, a group of skeletons waved bone blades, clattering on him, but soon, the endless wave of skeletons retreated like a receding tide.

"Good night!"

Finding it as he expected, Terramus murmured with closed eyes and drifted into a deep sleep.