Evolving by devouring from a young dragon

The chief stood there, the ashes before him slowly drifting away in the wind.

He suddenly remembered something.

When he was a child, he asked his father why the Emberfang Orcs lived in the Ash Highlands.

There's nothing here—no water, no trees, no prey.

Why live in a place like this?

His father didn't answer him. He simply patted his head and pointed to the golden flame deep within the crater, saying: "Because there is light there."

He didn't understand back then.

Now, he seems to understand a little.

"Prophet," the chief turned to look at the prophet, his eyes burning even brighter, "tell me, how do we get it back?"

The high shaman was silent for a moment.

He watched this child grow up from a young age.

He reached the sixth rank before he was forty, killed the lava serpent on the north slope, and advanced to epic rank at the age of 60. He walked alone for three days and three nights with a giant axe, just to find the stolen totem stone.

After that, he became a chief.

According to the tradition of the Emberfang Orc tribe, upon becoming chieftain, the high shaman would communicate with the gods to bestow a new name upon him, thus hailing him as a newborn.

However, why would the gods concern themselves with such trivial matters? In their shamanic tradition, the silence of the gods is the norm.

Therefore, the chief's new name was chosen by the shaman himself.

So, what name should we choose?

He remembered when Tiegu was just born.

At that time, he was just a wrinkled little thing, his eyes not even open yet, clenching his fists and wailing. He tapped the bone staff on his forehead, recited an ancient prayer, and then said to Ironbone's father, "This child has very hard bones."

Let's call him Iron Bones.

The high shaman shook his head, somewhat dazed. Why did he always reminisce about the past?

Perhaps, I really am getting old.

"Prophet, how can we reclaim the power of those flames?" Ironbone's voice pulled him back to reality.

The high shaman did not answer immediately.

He leaned on his bone cane, his cloudy eyes gazing at the eastern horizon, where the barren hills of bones stretched out.

"The Salamander King stored all the stolen fire power within his body," the Great Shaman slowly said. "After a hundred years of accumulation, his body is no longer ordinary flesh and blood, but a vessel... a huge vessel containing the magic of fire."

"So all you have to do is kill it and bring its body back?"

Tie Gu's voice became very calm.

The high shaman glanced at him and shook his head. He knew what Ironbone wanted to do, but it was impossible.

This volcano that nurtured the Emberfang Orcs does not contain ordinary lava flames, but rather Emberfire, meaning an inextinguishable fire.

This flame is far more powerful than ordinary flame magic.

To defeat the seventh-tier lizard king that has absorbed the power of a century of embers, only the combined strength of the entire clan can possibly succeed.

The high shaman took a deep breath, pulled a piece of animal hide from his robes, squatted down, and spread it out on the ground.

The animal hide was painted with rough terrain.

Ash Highlands are to the west, Bone Hills are to the east, and in between lies an area marked "Rotten Swamp".

Several red lines extend from the crater, pass through the underground of the Ash Heights, and head eastward, converging at a marker in the northwest corner of the Bone Hills.

The lair of the Salamander King.

"Its lair is in the northwest of the Bone Hills, at the end of the lava river."

The chief came over, pointed at the map with his finger, and spoke calmly, without any emotion.

"It has two paths—one to the west, leading to the north side of the Ash Heights; the other to the east, crossing the edge of the Decaying Swamp and circling back to the middle of the Lava River."

The great shaman was taken aback.

It turns out that Tiegu had already seen that picture and had a plan.

"Therefore, we only have one chance."

Tie Gu raised his head, looking eastward with a firm gaze.

"We must stop it before it retreats back into the lava river."

The Great Shaman remained silent, watching Ironbone's finger move across the map, drawing a line westward from the Salamander King's lair.

"Launch a frontal assault on Ash Heights, forcing it to retreat eastward," Ironbone's voice was calm. "Another force will flank it from the Decaying Swamp, intercepting it before it retreats back into the Lava River."

"A pincer attack from the east and west," said the great shaman.

"A pincer attack from both sides." Iron Bone nodded.

The high shaman was silent for a moment. He had thought about this plan before, but there was one question he hadn't voiced.

"The rotten swamp," he said. "That black dragon."

Ironbone's finger stopped on the area marked "Rotten Swamp" on the map.

"I know," he said.

"Black dragons are solitary creatures and generally won't fight orcs over a few muddy patches of land," the high shaman's voice was deep. "But that's his territory. He won't pretend he didn't see us passing by his door."

"So we need to talk to him," Ironbone said.

"What are we using to negotiate?"

Ironbone did not answer immediately. He straightened up, hoisted the giant axe back onto his shoulder, and looked towards the hazy eastern horizon.

"Use the stuff from the Salamander King's lair," he said. "Magic crystals, gems, whatever he wants."

"What if he wants more than that?"

Iron Bone looked at him, the flame in his eyes flickering.

"Then give it to him. Give him anything, except the corpse."

The high shaman remained silent for a long time.

Then he bent down, his aged hands rolled up the animal hide on the ground, and stuffed it into Ironbone's hand.

"When are we leaving?"

"Three days later," Ironbone said, "I'll lead men to the swamp to find that dragon. If we can reach an agreement, great; if not..."

He didn't continue.

But the high shaman knew in his heart that if they couldn't reach an agreement, the only option would be to go around through the wind-eroded Gobi Desert to the north, but there...

Desperate.

Tiegu turned and walked down the mountain. After a few steps, he stopped.

"prophet."

"Um."

"If I don't come back—"

"You will come back," the high shaman interrupted him.

Iron Bones did not turn back.

He stood there, his back to the high shaman, his back to the crater, and his back to the egg.

The wind blew from the east, making his fur cling tightly to his skin.

He laughed, his fangs gleaming in the flames.

Tiegu didn't say anything more. He carried the giant axe and strode down the mountain, his steps quick, just like when he was young.

Three days later, Tie Gu set off with ten people.

These ten men were elite warriors he had carefully selected, so as not to alert the fire lizard.

Therefore, a small number of elite troops must be used to intercept and kill them.

Five Tier 6 warriors, four Tier 5 hunters, and a young orc, Tier 4, but he was fast and had good eyesight.

The high shaman escorted them to the edge of the Ash Highlands, then spoke: "If that dragon doesn't agree..." He paused, "Don't go north, to the territory of the Serpent of Ig."

Iron Bone didn't turn back. He carried his giant axe and walked into the gray wasteland.

The rotten swamp was worse than the great shaman had described.

The ground was soft, and you had to be careful not to sink into the mud with every step.

The air was filled with the smell of rotting flesh and marsh gas, which gave people headaches. There were countless mosquitoes that crawled into people's eyes, nostrils and ears.

The worst part is the feeling, the feeling of being watched.