Chapter 795: Green Dragon vs. Altar
"How audacious! Do you truly believe—just with these thousands of rabble—that you can stand against a Powerful Dragon Counter?" Grotar roared, unleashing his pent-up resentment upon the enemy before him.
His massive dragon claw slashed through the air, summoning a howling, blood-streaked gale. Limbs fragmented and flew in every direction, and civilians screamed in agony as they died in grotesque fashion.
Drenched in blood, Grotar’s scales glistened with menace, his eyes gleaming with malice as he let out a guttural, rasping growl—savoring the thrill of massacre.
There was something deeply satisfying to him in tormenting the weak—this was the innate nature of a Green Dragon. Unlike the Red Dragon, which relished slaughtering powerful foes, the Green Dragon always sought out the most vulnerable prey.
Humans panicked, firing wildly. But their bullets either bounced off Grotar’s impenetrable scales or veered off course—some even striking their own allies in friendly fire.
"Help! Don’t kill me!"
"This evil dragon… it’s beyond our power to kill! You’ve doomed us all! How can we possibly stand against such a beast in our own home?"
The crowd’s cries echoed in despair, but Grotar only grew more ferocious. With claw and tooth, he tore open human flesh, his acidic breath melting bodies before their eyes.
In mere breaths, over a hundred lives were extinguished beneath his claws.
But then, amid the chaos, a series of striking golden figures emerged—eighteen monks, their bodies painted with shimmering golden powder, stepping forward in unison.
"Enough, demon! The Eighteen Arhats stand before you—cease your tyranny!"
"What in the world is that?" Even Grotar blinked in surprise at the sudden appearance of these golden-clad figures. After a moment of hesitation, he opened his maw wide, jaws snapping forward in a vicious bite.
"Form the阵!"
The monks moved with practiced coordination, stacking atop one another. Channeling their inner Qi, they hardened their flesh until it felt like steel.
Clang!
The sound of metal meeting metal rang out—Grotar’s teeth shattered against their united defense, and he recoiled with a howl of pain. The monks stood unscathed.
"Didn’t eat breakfast?" Great威 Tianlong sneered sarcastically, though he saw through their facade—the monks were already near exhaustion, trembling slightly from the strain.
One clash had drained most of their Qi. They couldn’t hold much longer.
Seizing the moment, one monk shouted, "Mage—get in there and control it!"
"Coming!"
Several mages appeared, staffs raised, chanting incantations. At their staff tips, spells flared to life.
"Beast Paralyze Spell!"
"Binding Dragon Species!"
"Slow!"
"Imprisonment of Magical Beings!"
Instantly, a dark-red cube materialized in midair, encasing the massive Green Dragon. From the ground, chains erupted, binding the beast’s limbs and torso.
The young Green Dragon thrashed violently, straining against the bonds with immense strength, desperate to break free.
But there were too many mages. With multiple mid- and high-level spells叠加, even Grotar felt the pressure mounting. He struggled, trapped in place, roaring in fury and frustration.
"Filthy spellcasters!"
"Release me! You’ll pay with your lives!"
Just then, a group of half-human, half-mechanical players emerged. Their electronic eyes glowed crimson, and rocket launchers unfolded from their backs.
A cold, mechanical voice spoke:
"Targeting enemy’s vital points. Preparing precise strike—"
Zzzzzt—
Bolts of fire shot forth, trailing thick smoke. Like guided missiles, they twisted and turned mid-air, converging in a single, devastating impact upon the Green Dragon’s chest.
Boom!
Explosions tore through the scales, blackening them. Cracks spiderwebbed across the surface.
Far away, Singo drew his Hunting Dragon Longbow—crafted from dragon bone—and nocked an arrow with a cross-shaped head designed for dragon-slaying. He aimed at the Green Dragon’s chest.
Instantly, a storm of spell augmentations surged over him: Demonic Break, Gale, Piercing Damage, Light Affix, Dragon-Specific Attack—each spell weaving into the arrow’s form, blazing with power.
Singo held his breath, closed one eye, and released.
Now.
The dragon’s sinewy bowstring unleashed a torrent of force. The arrow tore through the air, carving a vortex of wind in its wake.
Zzzzzt—
The arrow screamed through the sky, streaking toward the Green Dragon’s chest.
Grotar, still bound by the spells, saw the arrow—its brilliance almost blinding. Fear flickered across his face. He thrashed harder, desperate to break free.
The red cube cracked like glass. The chains strained, on the verge of snapping.
But in the final instant—before liberation—the dragon-slaying arrow struck home.
Shiiiiiiing!
A gale roared. Thunderous light exploded. Spells raged over the dragon’s body.
The cross-shaped tip pierced the hardened scales, shards flying. The chest was torn open, a massive, horrific wound exposed.
The arrow, charged with lightning, wind, and radiant energy, plunged deeper—through flesh, through muscle—straight toward the dragon’s heart. A killing blow.
Yet—just as the final moment arrived—Grotar broke free.
He let out a frenzied roar, summoning the power granted by the Lord of the Putrid Marsh.
In an instant, a torrent of emerald storm erupted from his body, consuming everything around him—dissolving stone, melting metal, even vaporizing the very air. The arrow was reduced to ash.
And around him, twenty players were caught in the blast. Their flesh melted away in seconds, leaving only bone.
With agony wracking his body, the Green Dragon screamed, eyes bloodshot, utterly unhinged.
"Human! You dare attempt to kill Ulrichia’s son—the mighty Green Dragon Grotar!"
Fueled by corrosive acid and deadly toxins, the beast charged into the crowd, mowing down hundreds in a single frenzy. Death came swiftly and horribly.
The mages who had cast the spells were targeted without mercy. Before they could ready another spell, Grotar’s claw crushed them into pulp.
Grotar panted, scanning the battlefield—yet not a trace of the one who had wounded him. Singo was gone.
"Human! Come out! Or I’ll slaughter every one of your subordinates!"
"Looking for me?"
A mocking voice echoed from behind.
Grotar spun, eyes blazing with hatred—only to see a blurred silhouette in the black mist, a hundred meters away.
Frenzied with bloodlust, he launched himself forward, wings flared, roaring, "Die, human!"
But as he charged into the mist, he found only an illusion—a phantom image.
He crashed into empty air.
"Die!" Grotar roared, furious, blood dripping from his chest.
Then—like a storm breaking—another voice thundered from behind, accompanied by a wave of searing heat.
Grotar turned, eyes widening in disbelief.
A towering figure stood before him—half-dragon, face grim, eyes blazing with fury.
"Monster! Today, I send you to meet Tiamat!"
Great威 Tianlong descended from the sky, moving like a phantom. His right arm swung forward—a fist charged with Qi—crashing into the Green Dragon’s chest.
But Grotar grinned, revealing jagged teeth. He had anticipated this. He had prepared a protective spell.
Boom!
The punch struck an invisible barrier—cracks spiderwebbed across the shield.
"Stupid human," Grotar spat, then opened his maw wide.
A cone of toxic gas shot forth—corrosive, deadly. It engulfed the monk, turning his flesh purple in seconds. He collapsed, dead.
Then—another roar, louder, fiercer.
Heat surged behind him.
Grotar spun, eyes wide.
Before him stood a towering, muscular half-dragon—his body swelling, engulfed in hellfire. In his hands, a massive battle axe. He was now a Devil Warrior—Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang.
The Green Dragon recoiled. "Deep Hell Forgemaster? How can a mere human bastard wield such hellish power?"
"Even the proud, shameless devils have granted you this strength?"
"Die, crawler!"
Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang slashed through the air with bat-like wings, his axe carving a blazing arc toward the dragon’s head.
He had only five minutes as this form. Every second counted. He pushed himself to the absolute limit.
Grotar raised his claw, swinging sideways to crush the warrior mid-air.
But Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang snapped his wings, twisted mid-flight, and dove—avoiding the strike—then slashed downward toward the dragon’s chest.
Crack!
The shield on the dragon’s chest shattered.
Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang pressed forward, aiming to rip open the beast’s belly—when suddenly, Grotar lunged, jaws snapping shut around him.
Dragon teeth like daggers tore through armor, sinking deep into flesh. The bite was immense—like being torn apart.
Yet Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang fought back with one hand, hacking wildly at the dragon’s head. Blood sprayed like blossoms.
His body twisted, arms braced against the dragon’s jaws, straining to pry them apart—using sheer strength to hold the beast’s maw open.
And as the Deep Hell Forgemaster’s power flared, hellfire burst from his wounds, visibly healing them before the eyes of all.
The battle became a stalemate—Grotar biting, clawing, enraged. Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang enduring, countering with his axe, healing with hellfire.
Then—Singo reappeared nearby, a cold smile on his face. He drew his bow, nocked another dragon-slaying arrow.
The Green Dragon sensed the threat. With a violent shake, he flung Tian Sheng Zhan Kuang aside—then twisted his massive body, trying to escape.
But Singo had been waiting.
Zzzzzt—
The second arrow screamed through the air, howling with wind, piercing the wound—ripping open flesh, tearing toward the heart.
"Snap."
Singo snapped his fingers.
Beep-beep—Boom!
A sharp alarm. Then—explosion.
The arrow flared, pulsing with energy—then detonated with terrifying force. The dragon’s chest was blown apart, charred beyond recognition. The beating heart was exposed, torn open.
Grotar collapsed, rolling onto the cold ground, blood gushing from his wounds. He groaned weakly, "Human… Queen Tiamat will not spare you…"
With a final surge of strength, he rose, throat swelling. A torrent of toxic gas shot toward Singo.
His face twisted in fury. "Dragons will lead the Earth!"
Singo instantly transformed into a regiment of silver smoke—dodging the blast—and called out, "Qiu Yu! Now’s your turn!"
Above, the Dragon Human Mage hovered. Golden vertical pupils flared with fire. His hands pressed together, fingertips crackling with a searing fireball. The air warped from the intense heat.
Boom—
A massive column of flame erupted from his fingertips, piercing through the air for over a hundred meters—blasting into the dragon’s chest wound.
The dragon’s flesh screamed under the inferno. The heart was reduced to ash.
The flame column tore through flesh and scales, exiting through the dragon’s back, blasting a charred hole into the rock wall behind.
Grotar fell—crashing into the ground, kicking up dust. His eyes, wide and unseeing, stared into nothingness. Death had come.
Then—amid the dust—the faint outline of a figure emerged.
It solidified—cloaked in black robes, dagger in hand. A vampire.
Langli BaiTiao scratched his head, dazed, forced a sheepish grin. "What are you all staring at?"
"I didn’t come to steal your kill. I just wanted to contribute a little when it mattered. Now… it seems I don’t need to intervene after all."
Before anyone could react, he lunged into the dragon’s corpse, greedily harvesting its resources.
"Stop!"
"Wandering Beast! You shameless thief! You do nothing, yet you claim spoils?"
"Share it! Everyone gets a share!"
The other players surged forward, scrambling to claim the dragon’s precious loot.
"God."
"In their hands, dragons are no different from brown bears or wild boars—just prey."
The civilians, once sacrificed, now watched in stunned silence as the dragon’s body was ripped apart—its hide stripped, flesh carved, bones cracked open.
Their long-held belief—dragons invincible, naturally noble, powerful—shattered in an instant.
So this was it.
Even these proud, mighty beings—when dead—were treated like any other prey. Skinned. Filleted. Dismembered.
(End of Chapter)
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