"These magic scrolls. If the White Dragon Lady had taken all the fourth and fifth circle ones when she left the nest, it wouldn't have been so easy, and the power of time would have been consumed more."
Intermediate spells have lethal effects on young dragons.
The White Dragon Lady underestimated her opponent, not expecting Garon to actually have the strength to defeat her.
Garon transferred all the magic gems to the ice crystal bed and adjusted his posture a few times before lying down on it. Since dragon scales are hard and have low sensitivity to external objects, the angular gems are actually the best bedding material for dragons.
The only drawback was the insufficient number of gems to fill the ice crystal bed completely, which was slightly disappointing.
Lying on the bed of gems, Garon felt quite comfortable and closed his eyes.
This time, he chose not to consume the magic gems directly. Having a sufficient number of magic gems together attracted elemental energy effectively. Looking at the long term, it was best to keep them nearby.
Now, Garon was no longer so weak that he had to fish for immediate gains.
Accelerated state, plundering the breath of time, time stop—just these three abilities of the time dragons were enough to face most enemies. In this icy northern ice field, Garon felt he was not far from being invincible, not even needing to reach adulthood.
Even achieving the normal abilities of a young time dragon would suffice.
Then, it would be time to leave the northern ice fields and head to the broader continent to explore known and unknown knowledge.
He coiled his tail, curled up, and settled into a nap-like sleep.
The usual silence returned around him, with the only change being the new ownership of the ice cliff dragon lair.
A week later, the blizzard gradually ceased.
The weather in the northern ice fields was changing.
Apart from the stopped blizzard, the night sky that had always enveloped the northern ice fields lightened considerably, the sky now having the appearance of dawn's early light.
The night remained, but soon, the polar night would disappear, welcoming half a year of polar day.
The temperature was about to rise, and during the warmest times, the ice and snow would melt for a while, allowing the mostly cold northern ice fields to regain some vitality.
At the very top of the ice cliff dragon lair, at the highest point of a kilometer-tall steep ice cliff, Garon stretched out his dragon wings to both sides, his gaze sweeping over his territory.
The territory, formerly owned by the White Dragon Lady, was now officially taken over by Garon.
After waking up, Garon didn't just do nothing.
He flew at high speed around the perimeter of the ice cliff territory, circling a few times and marking the edges with his dragon scent, proclaiming his sovereignty.
Then, the small settlement originally located along the winding ice river had now moved within the ice cliff territory.
The northern ice spirits were now building new dwellings not far from the dragon lair, under Garon's orders. In addition to normal houses, they were also constructing some hidden outposts and enclosures.
Life was gradually becoming more civilized from its primitive beginnings.
Relying solely on hunting was indeed inefficient for obtaining food.
So Garon imparted some knowledge of breeding to the northern ice spirits.
In fact, he didn't know much himself; it was all half-understood knowledge from his previous life, but the northern ice spirits, being intelligent creatures, could deduce further themselves from a hint, not needing much oversight from Garon.
But everything had just begun and would need time to accumulate.
Actually, if it weren't for the northern ice spirits being elemental beings that don't need flesh and blood food to survive, they likely would have already developed the corresponding breeding technology.
As for the ogres, those big fools, Garon didn't have them move to the ice cliff territory.
He knew well the saying about having multiple burrows; consolidating all forces together was not a wise decision.
Moreover, the ogre basin had a special terrain, and there was a newly built cliffside dragon lair there; abandoning it would be a waste. The Broken Bone Tribe had been living there for nearly a thousand years.
Garon's demands on the Broken Bone Tribe were not excessive.
Currently, their main task was to contribute at least one medium-sized magical creature to Garon every week.
Garon's approximate size when he was expelled from the dragon lair was that of a medium-sized magical creature.
This demand would have been challenging for the former ogre tribe, but now, with several powerful dragon-blooded ogres, it was a reasonable and fitting request.
Uga Brokenbone felt very fortunate for his earlier decision as he watched the thriving Broken Bone Tribe, believing he had chosen the right generous master to follow for life.
Garon gazed into the distance, his vision penetrating the sparse snowflakes and the space, looking southward.
The contour of the
southern mountain range looked like a dragon lying on the earth—mountains, hills, forests. These diverse terrains formed its solid dragon spine, separating the northern ice fields from the fertile lands of the south.
"What might the scenery be like beyond that mountain range?"
Lately, Garon often thought of this question.
No matter where he was, as long as he was high in the sky and looking south without any obstructions, he could see the silent and winding southern mountain range.
This aroused Garon's curiosity.
The snowy white, ice-covered northern ice field was beautiful but extremely desolate, with a low density of species and highly repetitive scenery that lacked novelty.
Having spent two years here, Garon developed a longing for the outside world.
After gazing quietly for a few minutes, Garon withdrew his gaze, flapped his wings, and descended from the top of the ice cliff, moving toward the gathering place of the northern ice spirits.
The day before, Roy Ice River had boldly approached Garon, hoping that Lord Garon would grace the Bangor Festival of the Ice River tribe.
Bangor Festival.
A grand festival for the ice river tribe.
Of course, "grand" was only relative to their daily life. Given the low needs and desires of the northern ice spirits, the Bangor Festival was actually quite modest.
The festival's name was a direct onomatopoeia in the common Noa language.
It represented blessings and prayers for the birth of life and the aspiration for a better future.
After understanding the specifics of the Bangor Festival through Roy Ice River's description, Garon appeared calm on the surface, but a strong sense of surprise surged within him.
In Garon's understanding, the Bangor Festival was essentially a communal procreation event held by the northern ice spirits every twenty years.
A large-scale breeding event.
Imagining the various scenarios that might occur at the Bangor Festival, Garon, driven by a desire to learn about the customs and habits of different species, accepted Roy Ice River's sincere invitation.