Perhaps it wouldn’t be long before the Slime Kingdom had a Gold-rank dragon.
A dragon’s rank is tied not only to its bloodline purity and age; with the right opportunities, one might even break through to the Gold rank ahead of schedule.
’He’d happened to swallow a chaotic mix of talents during the Battle of Storm Fortress. Once he returned and sorted through them, he should be able to find a few suitable for Xiaoka.’
Chen Yu’s mind continued to wander.
’Besides Xiaoka, the Poisonous Sting Bees also needed a new evolution. It might even be possible to cultivate a Dragon Beast Legion.’
’And of course, there’s the Knight Team I’ve been neglecting. They can finally have their moment in the spotlight.’
...
A spear sliced through the crisp autumn air, grazing precariously past the scales on the cheek of Salaman—hailed as the strongest of the young Lizardmen. The contact left a faint sting and a sudden chill.
Beneath him, his mount—a powerful Swamp Lizard, carefully selected and trained—scrambled across the muddy training grounds. Its legs churned through the mire, kicking up clumps of murky earth and helping him quickly put distance between himself and the veteran Lizardman opposite.
"Quinn, thrash that kid! Show him how we used to survive in the treacherous swamps!" a Lizardman Warrior yelled, heckling from the sidelines.
"Go, Salaman!" the younger generation of Lizardmen yelled back, not to be outdone.
After several days of training and acclimatization, the Lizardman Warriors from the Rot Moss Tribe had grown accustomed to the new training grounds, which were dozens of times larger than their old camp.
To better suit the Lizardmen’s physiology and combat style, the Kingdom’s Slime Engineers had even converted a portion of the training grounds into a mud field, maintaining a suitable level of humidity.
At that moment, Salaman and Quinn were riding their respective Swamp Lizard mounts, nimbly charging, circling, and feinting across the mud field. They were engaged in a fierce mock cavalry battle, using training spears with tips wrapped in thick burlap.
The immense physical exertion left both of them panting heavily, forcing them to frequently flick out their long, forked tongues to help their bodies cool down.
Truth be told, while a Lizardman’s scales offered excellent defense, they were terrible for dissipating heat. Unlike human Warriors, who could cool down efficiently by sweating through well-developed glands, the Lizardmen had no such advantage.
Despite the cool autumn breeze, the sun—though not particularly scorching—still made them feel a sweltering heat that radiated from within.
They occasionally had to lean down and coat their bodies or arms in the cool mud, using its evaporation to help dissipate heat and stabilize their body temperature.
On a typical battlefield, a Lizardman’s stamina was even less than that of a well-trained human soldier. But once they entered a swamp or wetland, the situation changed completely.
The humid swamp environment not only perfectly compensated for their poor heat dissipation but also greatly enhanced their mobility and stealth. They could even draw faint Natural Energy from the damp earth and water to restore their stamina.
A swamp that was difficult for humans to traverse was practically a holy land in the eyes of the Lizardmen.
This was why Lizardmen were known as natural-born swamp warriors.
Elder Shaman Shazak, carefully supported by Turk, sat on a wooden observation stand at the edge of the training grounds, which offered a good view.
He was wrapped in a thick wool blanket, his aged yet lucid eyes gazing kindly upon the vibrant, lively scene in the mud field.
Seeing the younger generation striving so hard to become stronger and protect their new home, he couldn’t help but smile in admiration. His voice, though a bit hoarse, was filled with contentment. "To be young... it’s a wonderful thing. Full of strength, full of hope."
Nearby, Oldes, who was in the form of a tree stump, nodded slightly, clearly sharing the sentiment.
This vibrant scene stirred a long-dormant feeling in the heart of the old Wise Man, who had grown accustomed to the continent’s endless conflicts and the decay of nature.
"What a... youthful kingdom this is."
His gaze swept over the Lizardman Warriors—caked in mud, yet their eyes shining brightly. The sight sent the old Wise Man back to his own youth, to the days he fought alongside his companions to protect a forest or a river.
It was a long moment before he snapped out of his reverie and turned his attention back to the training ground.
By now, the match in the mud field had been decided.
Relying on his superior youth and agility, Salaman executed a daring charge and managed to strike the flank of Quinn’s mount with the blunted tip of his training spear.
He won!
He had defeated the tribe’s most experienced warrior, defending his title as the strongest Scale Claw Warrior of the younger generation.
A cheer erupted from the edge of the mud field. The young Lizardmen surged forward excitedly, surrounding the panting Salaman.
But before Salaman could make a triumphant victory speech or accept his comrades’ congratulations, his expression suddenly faltered. He, like the other Lizardmen, froze mid-motion, and they all turned in unison to look past the edge of the training grounds.
’The Gel network again?’
Oldes gently tapped Turk with a twig. "Child," he asked curiously, "what happened? Why has everyone suddenly gone silent?"
Turk looked a little confused himself. "It seems His Majesty has sent a new Knight instructor to oversee our training."
"He’s said to be a human Knight. His name is... Douglas, I think?"
Elder Shaman Shazak coughed twice before correcting him. "To be precise, Douglas is merely his surname. His full name is... Calvin Douglas."
"An Extraordinary Knight, returned from Storm Fortress." His voice turned solemn at the end.
"An Extraordinary Professional?"
Oldes couldn’t help but wonder. ’Even their instructor is an Extraordinary Knight. What in the world does that Slime Sage see in these Lizardmen?’