Inside the blood-reeking castle, Geronimo lay sprawled across a heap of gold coins, communicating "face-to-face" with Hoffman Ironfist via magical communication.
At this point, calling Geronimo a half-dragon was somewhat inaccurate. He had even grown a tail; apart from his legs having not yet reversed into digitigrade joints, he differed little from an actual dragon.
He had devoured the flesh and blood of the Cerberus family, inherited their memories, and seized everything that was theirs.
This castle was now Geronimo's domain.
Perhaps only after turning into a dragon did one understand why dragons loved gold.
Most dragons were warm-blooded creatures with exceptionally high body temperatures. Perhaps because dragon blood ran far too hot, or perhaps because the magic churning within them was overly intense, the vast majority of dragons lived in a perpetual state of sweltering heat.
Gold possessed superb thermal conductivity, making sleeping sprawled across gold an absolute luxury for a dragon.
Furthermore, gold was relatively soft, rubbing against dragon scales with just the right texture to offer a deeply pleasing tactile comfort. Add to that gold's resistance to decay—it did not rust or corrode like steel, and even if stray blood and rotting flesh splattered across it, a casual breath of dragonfire could scorch it clean, whereas steel would warp and lose its shape under high heat.
Thus, to a dragon, gold made the perfect mattress material.
The claim that dragons loved shiny things was, in truth, merely a rumor.
A dragon's affinity for gold stemmed from physiological need; as for other treasures, their pursuit was little different from mankind's desire for wealth, free of any pathological obsession.
Geronimo had been lying on his gold, savoring his new life as a dragon, when Hoffman Ironfist's sudden appearance took him quite by surprise. Yet through the memories he had assimilated, Geronimo quickly deduced the identity of the dwarf before him.
Which was why Geronimo had asked that question:
"Are you looking to strike at the elves again?"
Hoffman Ironfist had no idea what had actually transpired, assuming merely that someone from the Cerberus family had received a blessing from a hell lord and morphed into this guise.
Hence, when Geronimo brought up targeting the elves, Hoffman Ironfist's doubts vanished.
"You already failed once. Are you just going to give up like this? The peace talks will resume shortly. Once the Elven Queen returns to the Silvermoon High Court, your chance will be gone."
Geronimo pondered for a moment, then said, "The elves have already walked into an ambush once; they won't leave another opening—unless you've engineered a new opportunity."
Geronimo bore no grudge against the elves, but he was hungry now.
After adopting his draconic form, his body seemed to exist in a state of ceaseless hunger. Though the sensation was not yet acute, he knew all too well that he needed to continually consume flesh rich in magical energy to keep his physical form from unraveling.
At the end of the day, Geronimo was merely a gifted youth, still a long way from reaching the realm of legends.
The Queen of Evil Dragons had bolstered him with the flesh and blood of a near-legend warlock and bestowed divine blessings upon him, elevating him to a legend; yet sustaining such power demanded a tremendous price.
If the dwarf could provide an opportunity to hunt elves, devouring that Elven Queen might keep him sated long enough that he wouldn't need to hunt for a good while.
Hoffman Ironfist said, "Disrupting the peace talks doesn't necessarily require killing the Elven Queen. March on the Silvermoon High Court. Something is definitely amiss there right now. If Hell seizes this opening to invade the Silvermoon High Court, it will surely teach those elves a bitter lesson."
To this moment, Hoffman Ironfist still did not know what exactly was wrong with the elves, but it did not matter. All underlying problems would be laid bare in war; so long as they clashed, that was enough.
The diversion would not last very long—no matter how many Gates of Hell there were, they likely could not hold back the elves' army. Therefore, Hoffman Ironfist intended to seize this narrow window to claim the territory of the City of Alchemy as swiftly as possible.
Warfare was often a contest of timing; one didn't need absolute conquest, only a clear and decisive upper hand.
But Geronimo shook his head. "If you think I'll be your cannon fodder, think again. Why would I pass over a lone legend like the Elven Queen just to march into the Silvermoon High Court and face a swarm of legends? Do you take me for a fool?"
Turning into a half-dragon had made Geronimo as cruel and ferocious as a dragon, but it had not dulled his intellect. He knew precisely how perilous the Silvermoon High Court was.
Even though he had acquired all of the Cerberus family's secrets and controlled two unopened Gates of Hell, pitting such meager force against the Silvermoon High Court was still like a moth darting into a flame. Were he to dare open a Gate of Hell in the Silvermoon High Court, the elven army would tear it down within two days—and take his head off in the process.
"You think you can kill the Elven Queen on your own? Do you have any idea she's currently staying inside that lich's castle? Your last ambush was ruined by that very lich. His power surpasses even the Elven Queen's. You won't stand a ghost of a chance."
A lich?
Hearing that word, Geronimo narrowed his slitted eyes and let out a harsh snort, puffs of smoke billowing from his nostrils.
He remembered now. Back when he was chosen by the paladins, wasn't he trained specifically to deal with a lich?
In the end, Fanxing was ambushed by that lich and captured alive, as were the other paladins—all made prisoners of the lich. That had been the first time Geronimo was abandoned by the Holy Light.
Back then, he had drifted like a lost soul through the City of Alchemy, struggling desperately just to find a flicker of hope to survive.
The second time, he joined the forces of the Ryan Empire, only to be wounded in battle against the undead and abandoned by the Holy Light a second time—and those undead also seemed connected to this lich.
As for his final capture by the Cerberus family, that too seemed tied to this lich. From the Cerberus family's memories, he learned that because the lich had raised the banner of "love and justice" to broker peace, the family had frantically abducted people for sacrifice, desperate to muddy the waters before the fighting ceased.
Was all of it because of that lich?
A bizarre feeling welled up within Geronimo. Why was every ordeal of his life somehow linked to this lich?
This sense of entangled fate sparked a strange urge in Geronimo. If he could devour that lich's soul, wouldn't the benefits to himself be even greater?
The predatory hunger rooted in dragon blood surged. Geronimo said to Hoffman Ironfist, "I can move against this Elven Queen again, but you must help."
Hoffman Ironfist frowned and asked, "How do you want us to help?"
"I don't know the specifics, but you must find a way to separate the lich from the Elven Queen. I will crush them one by one," Geronimo stated with absolute confidence.
He still commanded two unopened Gates of Hell. Once unlocked, they could summon an endless host from Hell. Surrounding and slaying one or two legends wouldn't be difficult, and with Geronimo's own power added to the mix, success was virtually guaranteed.
Hoffman Ironfist considered this for a moment, then said, "Fighting the lich inside his castle is the height of folly. I will lure them out, then separate them. I'll provide you their location in advance, and you'll ambush them just like before, eliminating the Elven Queen first."
Geronimo nodded. "Done."
Hoffman Ironfist added, "Success or failure, the responsibility lies entirely on you. We dwarves will only create the opportunity; we will not lift a finger to aid you."
Geronimo sneered. "Heh, are dwarves truly so hypocritical? Yearning for the spoils, yet not daring to fight for them with your own hands, resorting only to underhanded schemes."
Hoffman Ironfist retorted disdainfully, "You're hardly qualified to lecture us—nothing more than trash worshipping Hell. Sewer rats like you should be groveling in gratitude for the meager chance we grant you. Otherwise, you wouldn't even touch a hair on an elf's head, doomed to spend your lives lurking in the boondocks, duping peasant farmers into slaughtering their own children."
Geronimo did not argue back, merely fixing his gaze on Hoffman Ironfist, his slit pupils narrowing to pinpricks. He knew Hoffman Ironfist was directing his venom at the Cerberus family, but Geronimo was furious nonetheless. He could not tolerate a dwarf hurling such insolence at a dragon.
All he wanted right now was to drag this crippled dwarf out, crack open his skull, and feast on the brains inside.
The stare sent a wave of unease crawling over Hoffman Ironfist. The monster before him seemed somewhat different from the Cerberus family of before. Had a fiend sent from Hell supplanted them?
Still, Hoffman Ironfist could not be bothered to dwell on it. There was no need for civility when plotting dirty schemes. Since neither side was good or virtuous, one had to establish dominance over the other.
Hoffman Ironfist represented the dwarf kingdom; no matter how dire their straits, he would never let himself be cowed by a mere hellish creature.
"Mark my words, you creatures of the shadows: it is I who am granting you the chance to keep throwing the battlefield into chaos. You should be down on your knees in gratitude, and do your part properly instead of proving useless like last time."
Leaving behind those blunt words, Hoffman Ironfist severed the communication.
Though those slit pupils lingered in his mind, he quickly steadied his composure and began turning over how to forge an opening for these hellish monsters.
The only impending occasion that could draw the elves out of the castle was the formal peace conference. By then, the dwarves would be present as well, and pulling Anbaixiu and Catherine apart would prove difficult. Hoffman Ironfist was not yet willing to expose his collusion with Hell; striking on that day would inevitably arouse suspicion from both Anbaixiu and the elves.
Thus, he had to find a pretext before the formal talks—a reason that would force them to leave the castle—and only then engineer a way to separate them.
After some thought, Hoffman Ironfist sought out Heji Stone and said, "Old friend, I'd like to invite Master Ultraman for a drink. Before negotiations resume, I want to confirm the peace terms with him once more. If possible, a visit to his home would be best."
Heji Stone was leisurely savoring a cup of blood. Hearing Hoffman Ironfist's request, he promptly thumped his chest. "Alright, I'll go find him right away and drop by his place while I'm at it. I gave him quite a few obsidian gargoyles; I want to see if he even knows how to install them properly."
Chapter 132