The Elven Cultivator

Chapter 300: Chapter 273: The Last Fire Seed

The northern side of Holy Dragon City.

On a spacious training ground.

Dark cyan flagstones paved the entire open area, their cracks inlaid with fine silver threads that formed intricate draconic patterns. Dozens of thick, dragon-carved stone pillars stood around the perimeter.

Saphiras stood in the center of the training ground, wings folded at his sides, the spines on his back slightly raised.

This was a small tell that only appeared when he was in a bad mood.

Before him, over fifty Giant Dragons were scattered about, some sitting, some standing, all with a listless air.

Some hung their heads, their wings drooping lifelessly to the ground as if their very essence had been drained away.

Others lay sprawled on the ground, their vertical pupils half-open, their gazes unfocused.

An indescribable gloom permeated the entire training ground.

Saphiras took it all in, an irrepressible frustration swelling in his chest.

He took a deep breath, suppressed his irritation, and spoke in a low voice:

”Look at the state of you all. Is this the spirit of the Gold Race?”

”I know what you’re thinking.”

”What’s a mere eleven spatial nodes? As long as the Subspace still exists, we haven’t lost.”

”As long as we hold out until the City Lord emerges from his seclusion, crushing the coalition army will be as easy as crushing a nest of ants.”

”All of you, pull yourselves together! We’re heading to the Subspace next. Don’t let those lesser races laugh at us.”

The Giant Dragons responded one after another. Their voices were ragged, but at least they held a bit more conviction.

Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps came from the entrance of the training ground.

A Pure-blooded Dragon Race member rushed in, jogging all the way to Saphiras’s side before kneeling on one knee. He lowered his head and said respectfully, ”Lord Saphiras, Lord Wota requests your immediate presence at the Holy Dragon Square. He says there is an urgent matter to discuss.”

Saphiras frowned.

Wota was one of the most senior royal Giant Dragons in Holy Dragon City and one of the few remaining elders of the Dragon Court.

With the City Lord in seclusion, he was temporarily in charge of all affairs in Holy Dragon City.

Saphiras dared not delay a summons from this royal Giant Dragon elder.

”Remain on standby,”

he called out to the Giant Dragons, then unfurled his wings and shot into the sky, streaking toward Holy Dragon Square.

Holy Dragon Square was located in the very center of Holy Dragon City. It was the heart of the city and one of the Dragon Race’s most sacred sites.

Viewed from high above, the square was a perfect circle over a kilometer in diameter, like a giant seal pressed upon the land.

The ground was paved with massive slabs of dark gold stone, the joints between them inlaid with silver threads as fine as hair.

The patterns traced by the silver threads converged from the square’s edge toward the middle, like countless rivers flowing into an ocean, finally weaving together at the very center to form a complex and ancient totem.

It was the sigil of the Dragon God.

And directly above the totem stood a towering statue, looking down upon the entire square.

It was a statue of the Dragon God, Ayo.

Carved entirely from dark gold Dragon Blood Crystal, its wings were half-spread and its head slightly raised. Even standing there in silence, an oppressive aura of supremacy over all creation, of disdain for all life, enveloped the square as if it were tangible.

But ever since the Dragon Race lost contact with the Dragon God, the statue seemed to have lost a certain indescribable divinity.

It remained towering and majestic, yet it couldn’t help but feel hollow.

Saphiras landed on the edge of the square, folded his wings, and strode toward the center.

His gaze lingered on the statue for a moment, and a complex feeling surfaced in his heart.

’Great Dragon God... what exactly happened?’

’Why do You no longer cast Your gaze upon Your most loyal believers and children?’

’Could it be true, as those lesser races outside claim, that the great Dragon God has fallen?’

Saphiras sighed, suppressed those inappropriate thoughts, and quickened his pace.

To his surprise, over three hundred Giant Dragons were gathered in the square, a dark mass covering nearly half of it.

There were Giant Dragons of every rank: royal, high, and low.

But as Saphiras’s gaze swept across the crowd of dragons, a subtle doubt arose in his mind.

Without exception, all the royal Giant Dragons present were Gale Wing Dragons, just like him.

There wasn’t a single Giant Dragon from the other three royal clans.

The thought flashed through his mind, but Saphiras had no time to dwell on it.

He passed through the crowd of dragons and arrived at the base of the statue.

Wota was standing before the pedestal of the Dragon God statue, his back to him.

The elderly royal’s spine was as straight as a pine tree. His wings were folded at his sides, their tips drooping slightly—a mark of age, a sign of senescence.

Even so, it did nothing to diminish the abyssal gravity of his presence.

When he turned around, the age and vicissitude settled deep within his vertical pupils still made Saphiras tense up unconsciously.

”Lord Wota.”

Saphiras bowed his head slightly, his posture respectful.

Wota looked at him, a flicker of complex emotion in his vertical pupils.

”Serafis,” Wota began slowly, his voice deep. ”Starting today, you will remain in Holy Dragon City. I will arrange for other clan members to take over your duty of guarding the spatial nodes.”

Saphiras froze, his vertical pupils showing clear shock and confusion. ”Why?” he asked instinctively.

”Because I have a more important mission for you,” Wota said, looking at him with a graver expression.

Saphiras’s gaze sharpened. He fell silent for a moment, then slowly nodded.

”Just give the order, Lord Wota.”

”For the glory of the Dragon Race, I will not hesitate, even if it means facing death.”

Wota looked at his resolute expression, the complex emotion in his pupils growing deeper.

He didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he looked up at the Dragon God statue and remained silent for a long while before finally saying slowly, ”The destruction of the Subspace is only a matter of time.”

Saphiras’s expression changed. His lips moved as if to say something, but Wota silenced him with a look.

”The coalition army’s offensive is far more ferocious than we anticipated.”

”We originally thought the Subspace could hold for a few hundred years, buying enough time for the City Lord to achieve his breakthrough... But now, it seems we were too optimistic.”

Saphiras fell silent.

Though he had been fiery and passionate in front of his clansmen just moments ago, he was in fact well aware that the Dragon Race was on the brink of annihilation.

”Even if the Subspace is breached...” Saphiras’s voice was a little hoarse. ”We still have Holy Dragon City.”

Wota said nothing.

He merely watched Saphiras quietly, his vertical pupils devoid of any emotional fluctuation, holding only a calm that sent a chill to the bone.

That calm was more potent than any vehement rebuttal.

The rest of Saphiras’s words caught in his throat.

He hung his head, silent.

He understood, really.

If even Darkness Fortress couldn’t stop the coalition army, if even the Subspace was being eaten away piece by piece, how could Holy Dragon City possibly hold?

This great city, once a symbol of the Dragon Race’s supreme majesty, was now nothing more than a magnificent tomb.

It might be able to hold out for a while longer and make the coalition army pay a steep price.

But it was unlikely the final outcome would change.

A confusion he had never felt before welled up in his heart, throwing his thoughts into turmoil.

Only now did he realize just how fragile the Dragon Race was without the Dragon God’s protection.

Before, the power of the Dragon God had given them the right to look down on all creation, leading them to believe they were born to stand at the top of the pyramid.

But with that shell stripped away, he discovered that the Dragon Race was no different from any other.

”Saphiras.”

Wota’s voice pulled him back from his chaotic thoughts.

”We must prepare for the worst-case scenario.”

”If Holy Dragon City is ultimately breached, we must preserve the embers of the Dragon Race so that we have a chance to rise again in the future.”

Saphiras’s heart leaped. He had a vague idea of what was coming.

He asked in a strained voice, ”Lord Wota, what do you need me to do?”

Wota’s gaze shifted to the Giant Dragons in the square as he said gravely, ”When that day truly comes, I want you to lead these clan members into the Storm Rift Abyss and break out of the Holy Dragon Mountain Range.”

Saphiras was stunned. Following Wota’s line of sight, he began to notice more details.

Besides the Gale Wing Dragons, there were many familiar faces among the high-rank and low-rank Giant Dragons present.

And the Laws they had mastered—Void, Spatial Rend, Storm, Tide, Guardian...

Including the Gale Wing Dragons’ Wind Element Power, these Laws all shared one characteristic without exception—they could greatly enhance one’s ability to survive in the Storm Rift Abyss.

Clearly, Lord Wota had been preparing for this for a long time.

Saphiras was shocked, yet he also felt... that this was a logical choice.

There was only one path leading out of the Holy Dragon Mountain Range: the abyss exit where Darkness Fortress was located.

This was an advantage when defending against an enemy attack.

It was easy to defend and hard to attack. One man at the pass could hold back ten thousand.

But in the face of defeat, it became a dead end.

Enemies were on all sides, and the only exit was sealed tight by the coalition army.

They had no path of retreat.

Once Holy Dragon City was breached, only two choices would await the Dragon Race.

Either fight to the death.

Or enter the Storm Rift Abyss and search for a glimmer of hope in that forbidden land of death.

Saphiras looked down at his own claws. The talons that had torn countless enemies to shreds were now trembling slightly.

It wasn’t because of fear.

It was because of rage.

Rage at his own powerlessness. Rage that the Dragon Race had been reduced to this state. Rage that those lesser races had pushed them this far.

But rage couldn’t solve anything.

He raised his head and looked at Wota.

This elder, who had lived through the Dragon Race’s most glorious era and also witnessed its fall from the pinnacle to its current plight, had seen the ending far earlier than any of them and had already made preparations for the worst.

Saphiras took a deep breath, forcing down all the emotions churning in his chest.

He lowered his head, his voice hoarse but firm. ”I understand, Lord Wota.”

Wota nodded. He said nothing more, only raising a claw and patting Saphiras gently on the shoulder.

”Go.”

”Prepare yourself. If the worst comes to pass, I and the other clan members will carve a bloody path for you.”

Saphiras bowed his head, giving Wota a deep salute, then turned and walked toward the edge of the square.