A Dragon against the Whole World

Chapter 422 - 329: The Cunning Witch Demon

The Red Iron Dragon stood at the bottom of the giant pit, beneath its feet lay a massive remnant that no longer moved.

He slowly exhaled a scorching breath, the fiery red color of his scale armor gradually faded, returning to a black-red similar to cooled iron after exposure to high temperature.

Rolling heat waves surged out from the gaps in the scale armor, dispersing and evaporating the bone-chilling negative energy that filled the air.

Subsequently, his breath rapidly declined at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The once indestructible Dragon Scales, as strong as refined steel, were now covered in scars—minute cracks from the overloading of the Red Lotus mode, gashes by the Wraith Giant’s bony claws, and prominent wounds corroded by the Witch Demon’s sinister magic.

In summary, he now appeared severely injured, his breath weakened, and exceptionally frail.

"Hey, do you have any tricks under your sleeve or hidden cards left?"

The Red Iron Dragon grinned widely, revealing a tired smile, and said to the Witch Demon imprisoned in his claw, "You see, I’ve paid a considerable price to defeat you, now I’m as weak as a babe."

"So if you have any moves left, just use them, no need to hide anymore."

Weak as a babe?

Indeed, from the perception, the opponent’s breath had weakened significantly, far from the despairing strength it was before.

However, any remaining means, Phillips had already exhausted in the earlier battle.

If there truly were any hidden trump card, he wouldn’t be reduced to being gripped like a chick in the opponent’s claw.

He felt that with the instinctive combat prowess shown by this Red Iron Dragon, there was no way it wouldn’t understand this.

The previous words were merely a victor’s mockery from high above of a loser who completely lost the ability to resist.

His entire being was tightly bound by the scorching and immense Dragon Qi, utterly immobilized.

With the frail body of the Witch Demon, at this moment, a slight exertion of force from the opponent’s claw would be enough to crush this entity, which took hundreds of years to condense, into dust.

"...You win."

After a long silence, Witch Demon Phillips finally spoke in a hoarse voice, filled with a resignation-like despondency.

Galos didn’t rely on any schemes to achieve victory, but rather in a direct confrontation, defeated the Legendary Domain he was proud of with absolute power.

Thus, there was nothing left to say about the defeat, reality must be accepted.

Upon saying that, his shriveled, hideous face, once filled with the pride of a legendary human and the ruthlessness of an undead necromancer, seemed to vanish simultaneously into smoke.

Replaced by an emptiness of tranquility.

He barely managed to tug at the corner of his mouth, pulling the remaining emaciated flesh on his face, revealing a smile uglier than crying, a human smile, though on his skull-like visage it appeared extremely eerie.

"Mighty Giant Dragon, I see nearly infinite potential and future within you."

"Can we... come to an understanding?"

"I am willing to pay a corresponding price that would satisfy you, in exchange for the chance to continue surviving."

The rationality and weighing that belonged to his human period at this moment held absolute sway, Phillips temporarily set aside his dignity, choosing the most realistic path for survival.

Galos lowered his giant dragon head, staring at the prisoner in his claw.

"Are you very afraid of death?"

He said, "As far as I know, you necromancers who like to toy with souls, tend to hide your life in some sort of phylactery, even if I crush you into dust here, you should be able to crawl out again from some dark corner box."

"But, you seem to be profoundly afraid of complete annihilation, lacking the confidence that a lich should possess."

Phillips’ soul fire faintly flickered for a moment, responding softly: "Not every lich has a phylactery."

Galos narrowed his gaze slightly, asked, "The process of creating a phylactery is indeed cumbersome, but you who were once a legend didn’t even prepare one to save your life, isn’t it too disgraceful for a Legendary Powerhouse?"

The lich slightly shook his head, his skull made a faint friction sound.

"I once battled the Luo Sern Saint King, ultimately... narrowly losing under his sword."

He concealed that he actually exposed his true form and was swiftly beheaded by the Saint King with thunderous might, spoke with a weathered voice: "Before that, I had never planned to transform into a lich, naturally had not made any preparations."

"Unfortunately, after the battle with the Saint King, my injuries were too severe, my soul on the verge of dispersing."

"To eke out an existence, I had to hastily transform into this abhorrent undead form."

"In the subsequent hundreds of years, the Lothern Federation flourished, its presence widespread. I didn’t dare expose myself easily, naturally had no chance to safely craft a phylactery, nor collected sufficiently strong souls to restore and strengthen myself."

"Not until recently, when I heard news of the Saint King’s demise, the Federation plunged into internal chaos with civil war, did I finally decide to end my seclusion and emerge from hiding."

Upon saying this, the witch demon’s voice paused for a moment.

He raised his hollow eye sockets, looked towards the giant dragon head just inches away, his tone becoming extremely complex: "Then... upon emerging, I met you, another terrifying entity like the Saint King, capable of collapsing the undead legion singlehandedly."

First slain by the Saint King, forced to transform into a lich.

Endured seclusion for hundreds of years, finally awaiting the opportunity to see daylight again, only to encounter this Red Iron Dragon, resulting in the same unfortunate fate.

Phillips deeply felt as if he had been played by fate mercilessly.

"I see."

Galos was indifferent to his account, neither probing for details nor questioning the authenticity.

He simply asked: "Then, what price are you willing to pay to save your life?"

The lich immediately responded, his tone exceptionally earnest.

"I am willing to enter into the most stringent Soul Contract with you, pledge loyalty, becoming your most faithful servant and follower."

"Please believe, a necromancer who once stepped into legendary, even battled the Saint King, is undoubtedly a rare and valuable asset even to a mighty dragon like you."

"My accumulated experience, my extensive knowledge akin to smoke and sea, and the mastery of various powerful necromancies... all this will be at your disposal, assisting you in achieving dominance."

As he spoke, the lich’s soul fire flickered imperceptibly.

The words about loyalty and the absence of a phylactery were, of course, complete fabrications.

As an existence that once ascended to the Legendary Realm, whose soul essence had undergone transformation, even now with heavy injuries and severe weakness, his soul core remained exceptionally resilient, containing a nature far surpassing that of ordinary liches.

An ordinary Soul Contract?

Its binding power was minimal on him.

His sole purpose now was to deceive this seemingly powerful, but in his view inherently limited-intelligence mixed-blood Giant Dragon.

As long as the opponent was momentarily careless or proud, accepting his offer of loyalty, he would not only preserve this painstakingly maintained lich body, avoiding the great cost of re-condensation, but could also rightfully follow by this mighty Red Iron Dragon’s side.

Imagine this.

When this Giant Dragon wreaks blood and chaos on the wilderness, killing countless strong creatures, those powerful, grievance-filled, fresh souls... would all become nourishment for Phillips’ own growth.

He would be like a shadowy parasite, absorbing the feast of death brought by the dragon, quietly bolstering himself,

waiting until he regained strength, even surpassed past limits... that would be when he turns and retaliates, transforming this foolish, powerful Red Iron Dragon into the strongest undead puppet under his command.

In his eyes, the strength of this Red Iron Half-blood Dragon was indeed extraordinarily bewildering, exceeding his expectations.

But he absolutely didn’t believe the opponent’s wisdom could match his own.

Whether pure-blooded Iron Dragons or Red Dragons, they were not known for intelligence, and the combat style and stubborn posture of this hybrid fit the definition of a brute perfectly.

Phillips in life was renowned for his cunning and being resourceful.

Even upon becoming a lich, humans’ thought processes had been twisted and obsessed by necromantic energy, yet facing the crisis of life and death and rare opportunity, he instinctively demonstrated that deeply ingrained cunning.