https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-561-God-of-the-Mortal-Realm-6k-Masterpiece-/13677166/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-563-The-71st-Frost-Giant-Suburbs-of-Isdalia/13677168/
Chapter 562: Sunlit Territories
“Woo—”
With a deep, resonant whistle, the Steam Train glided smoothly into the platform. The Rail Transport, adorned with exquisite craftsmanship and boasting a luxurious Private Cabin interior, was situated in the upper district of Isdalia. Yet this exclusive train had now arrived at a far more central zone—the New Storm Heights, named after the famed Past Ashen Hollow.
Around the station stood an eclectic mix of structures, each wildly different in style: crude, jagged caves; rugged, open-air tents; and towering, reinforced steel-and-mud dwellings.
Those who lived here were none other than the Empire of Ashen’s most renowned "Important Figures." The minimum requirement for entry? A Dragonblood Baron title.
“New Storm Heights has arrived. Please disembark in an orderly fashion, esteemed passengers. Thank you for your Contribution Points to the Empire. Long live Kai Xiusu!”
The conductor’s voice, passionate and commanding, echoed through the car. Human figures with distinct Dragon Traits—Great Goblins, Tieflings, Ogre Nobles—stepped down one by one, their presence radiating authority.
From a distance, a Human Noble in military uniform hurried toward the train, briefcase in hand. He too bore the noble bloodline of Dragon Scales and Golden Vertical Pupils. But unlike the others, his expression was weary. Dark rings shadowed his eyes beneath those piercing golden pupils—no trace of the vibrant energy befitting a Red Dragon’s Favored.
This was George. Just days ago, he had been elevated to Dragonblood Baron during a grand Award Ceremony.
As the Empire’s private express, the cabin’s interior was pure Ultimate Luxury. Gold-framed Red Dragon Oil Paintings lined the walls, plush carpets covered the floor, and deep leather sofas invited comfort. George sat back, sipping the tea already waiting on the table. He glanced at his silver watch, brow furrowing.
“Another emergency meeting? Has the Military Bureau been overwhelmed lately?”
No wonder he felt unsettled. In just a few short days, the Imperial Military Department had convened over a dozen meetings.
But George had only recently ascended to lead the Third Army Division, still caught in the chaos of unit integration and command handover. He hadn’t had a moment to spare.
Yet this time, Marshal Dolo himself had issued a direct order: all senior commanders must attend. No absences permitted. So George had pulled himself away from his duties and rushed to the meeting.
The Empire’s private train was exceptionally smooth, moving at breathtaking speed. Rumors claimed it was shielded by high-tier magic—capable of resisting Sixth Circle Spells.
Soon, the train exited Isdalia’s city limits, hurtling across the vast, desolate Wasteland beyond the urban sprawl.
Outside the window, the landscape blurred in motion—occasionally obscured by the steam hissing from the locomotive’s exhaust. Yet George kept his gaze fixed beyond the glass, staring intently southward.
In the distance, endless golden fields stretched to the horizon. Waves of rice swayed like the sea, and Iron Beasts roared through the fields, their mechanical limbs driving forward with relentless power.
But George’s eyes were not on the land. They were fixed on the endless, cloudless blue sky—where he envisioned the vast, fertile plains of Feanso Wealthy.
That land… would soon become his future battlefield.
Suddenly, a spark lit in his gaze. He murmured to himself, “That’s it. No wonder the Military Bureau has called so many meetings.
Perhaps the Empire’s large-scale Expansion is finally beginning. Our Expeditionary Force will march south—conquer the sprawling Feiansuo Continent.”
Expansion. Conquest. Merit.
These were the dreams he had chased since childhood.
He had imagined it countless times in his sleep: raising his Longsword, the Horns blaring behind him, Artillery Fire booming across the fields. Leading his Army to storm one grand southern City after another.
And in the end, standing before King Kai Xiusu—on the very pinnacle of power in the Empire of Ashen—becoming a true “Important Figure.”
Now, he was already a Dragonblood Baron.
The dream—once so distant—might finally be within reach. All it needed was one decisive moment.
At the thought, George’s expression brightened with fierce Excitement. His golden, vertical pupils—like those of a Crawler—glimmered with anticipation.
The fatigue, the irritation, all vanished. The Dragonblood Baron stood once more, radiant with ambition, his face alight with burning Purpose.
“Bring me more Water,” he said, draining the tea in one gulp. He signaled for a Servant, already beginning to Expectation the meeting to come.
“Woo—”
“First Imperial Military Training Base has arrived. Please disembark in an orderly fashion. Remember His Majesty’s Gratitude.”
Under the escort of servants, George stepped down from the train. Immediately, he spotted Graes waving at him from afar.
“Good morning, Baron George.”
“Baron George! I’ve long admired your deeds on the battlefield. Your courage is truly inspiring.”
“You remember me, don’t you? We garrisoned the same front together once.”
“Ah, so you’re the famed Baron George! I’ve read about you in the Imperial Daily.”
As George stepped down, lower-ranking Dragon-Blooded Nobles swarmed him, eager to make a good impression on this new elite.
George was impatient, but he forced a polite smile, nodding and greeting each one in turn—until he reached Graes.
Graes removed his hat, bowing deeply. “Good morning, Lord George.”
George waved dismissively. “Enough, Graes. We’ve known each other for years—no need for such formalities.”
A ripple of surprise passed through the crowd.
How dare a mere Baron speak so casually to a Baron?
This Graes was clearly someone worth cultivating.
George knew exactly what his actions would imply—but for a friend, such gestures were simple, natural.
He wasn’t fond of socializing, and among the newly elevated, few still deserved the title of “friend.”
Graes adjusted his military hat, smiling. “This isn’t pretense. It’s Army Etiquette. After all, you’re now a noble Lord Baron—eligible to ride the Imperial Special Train. I’m still just a humble Dragon Blood Baron.”
George glanced toward the massive Military Base in the distance. “Isn’t that exactly what you wanted? Safety. Stable work. A life in the bustling heart of Isdalia. No more sleepless nights on the battlefield.”
Graes nodded. “You’re right.”
George leaned in. “You’re better informed than I am. Any news about major actions from the Imperial Military Department?”
Graes looked surprised. “As a Baron, you haven’t heard? Armies across the Empire—colonies included—are mobilizing. Rumors suggest the Empire plans to capitalize on its recent victory in the War of Repelling the Abyss and launch a Full-Scale War against the Thrace Kingdom.”
George nodded slowly. “So it’s true. Matches my suspicion.”
“Shsshh—”
A tearing sound split the air, followed by a violent burst of Fire.
All officers—George included—turned toward the source.
Space rippled. A Flame Vortex tore open in midair, distorting the surrounding atmosphere with heat.
Then, a Flame Wyvern burst forth, wings flaring with fire, shrieking as it soared. Upon its back sat a Half-Dragon Knight, clad in gleaming Armor, radiating power.
The nobles murmured in awe.
“Who is that?”
“An officer from the Elemental Plane of Fire expedition?”
“Wait—yes! I recognize him. That’s Governor Selkan, the Dragon Blood Marquis of New Ascension, from the Elemental Plane of Fire!”
“Wait—the Governor is here?!”
The officers stared, stunned. Even George removed his military hat, placing his fist over his chest in the formal “Loyalty Greeting.”
But the spectacle wasn’t over.
From afar, another ripple tore through space. A dark Portal slowly opened.
With a crisp, clicking sound, a Skeleton Serpent slithered out, its spine lined with bone. Perched atop its back was a pale man in a Black Robe.
“The Underdark’s Hart, he’s here!”
“Impossible!”
More Portals erupted around the base—dozens of them.
From each emerged officers from the Empire’s far-flung colonies:
Elemental Plane of Fire. The Underdark. Wind Elemental Plane. Feywild.
George watched the gathering swell. Turning to Graes, he said, “So it seems… the Empire is truly preparing for a major move.”
Graes nodded solemnly. “You can say that again.”
He smiled, then added, “But this won’t affect us rear-guard types. No grand ambitions here. Still, I’ll pray to King Kai Xiusu for your victory in the South, George.”
Soon, they entered the vast interior of the Military Base.
The grand hall had been transformed into a massive stage, capable of holding tens of thousands.
Officers from every corner of the Empire—some from the Multiverse—had gathered.
Humans, Tieflings, Great Goblins, Ogres, even the long-exiled Stellarfallen.
All races were represented. And among those present, many were Dragon-Blooded Nobles.
As a Dragonblood Baron, George was granted a front-row seat. He stared at the stage, anticipation burning in his chest.
Whispers filled the hall.
“The War of Repelling the Abyss hasn’t even ended… are we really going to war with Thrace Kingdom?”
“Hmph. Cowards. Our Conquest Party has wanted to declare war for ages! These Fadalan fools don’t deserve such Wealthy lands!”
“Soldiers of the Empire—do you fear war? We are followers of King Kai Xiusu!”
Then—silence.
A deep, dignified voice echoed through the chamber.
“Gentlemen…”
All eyes turned to the stage.
A towering figure emerged—a monstrous being with a jagged face, crimson skin, broad Dragon Wings spanning his back, and smoke curling from his body.
“That Aura… it’s overwhelming. You feel it too, don’t you? The awe of Bloodline Power!”
“Is that…?”
“By the Red Dragon’s Might—look at him! No wonder he’s the Empire’s Dragon Blood Duke!”
“Kai Xiusu above! It’s Marshal Dolo! He’s personally addressing us!”
It was Dolo—the Dragonblood Goblin, one of the Empire’s three Special Grade Dukes, and the Supreme Commander of the Military Bureau.
Known as the “Fury of the Red Dragon,” he stood as a living embodiment of war.
Dolo opened his maw, fangs gleaming, and folded his wings behind him. A puff of Gunsmoke escaped his nostrils.
“Silence.”
The entire hall fell silent. Ten thousand officers stood motionless, the stillness so complete, a pin could be heard.
The Empire’s military training was far stricter than the old Northern Noble armies.
Valor was not the focus.
Obedience was.
Any soldier could recite the Imperial Military Drill Code from memory.
When given an order, they reacted like conditioned reflexes—no hesitation, no thought.
Now, every Imperial Officer stood rigid, chests out, eyes forward—like steel poles raised to the sky.
Dolo nodded in satisfaction.
“Some of you may already know why I’ve gathered you here.”
The Dragonblood Goblin clenched his fist.
Behind him, a massive Magical Image erupted into view—a map of the Feiansuo Continent.
Dolo’s claw pointed to the region labeled “Thrace Kingdom.”
“Conquest.”
He turned, pacing slowly across the stage. His voice, low and thunderous, echoed through the hall, bouncing off the walls.
And behind him, the image shifted.
The southern lands—wounded, scarred, pockmarked by Shell Craters—appeared.
Famine-stricken refugees cried out in despair.
“Look at them,” Dolo growled. “These Fadalan people—greedy, wasteful. They hoard such wealth, such fertile land… and squander it.
Anzeta has been Silent too long. This remote region was seen as a wasteland—until, over a decade ago…”
His voice rose, filled with fire.
“Until the Supreme King Kai Xiusu rose like the sun—transforming all!”
The walls trembled.
“The era of letting others divide the land and sea… is over.
We, too, shall claim the Sunlit Territories.”
He raised his Bloodfire Battle Axe.
His wings unfurled.
He spread his arms wide.
“Conquest!”
“Conquest!”
“For King Kai Xiusu! For the Empire of Ashen!”
The hall erupted.
War-mad officers roared in unison, arms raised.
The Conquest Party sang war songs, their voices shaking the very foundations.
They screamed, howled, screamed—wild with fervor.
In the frenzy, George raised his arm high, screaming with all his might.
His heart—pulsing with Dragon Blood—thundered in his chest.
Conquest.
What a glorious word.
It was conquest that had elevated him from a peasant laborer of the Northern Regions to a Dragonblood Baron.
Now, he would lead his Army—under the banner of the Empire, under the name of Kai Xiusu—to conquer the South.
To reach the peak of power.
The man who once toiled in the snows of the north now dreamed of ruling the sunlit lands.
Such was the thought of the former Northern Regions Peasant Laborer—now a Dragonblood Baron.
(End of Chapter)
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