Reaper of the Martial World

Book 11: Chapter 40: Wait (1)

historical

“Just… Just what are these monsters…”

Dyon’s ‘creations’ had grown to unprecedented levels in the last several decades. Even their relatively small number had grown significantly.

In the past, Dyon had had thoughts of finding all sorts of these mutated beasts to improve and better. But as time went on, he learned just how naïve such a dream was.

Could those 12 Overlord Clans be completely unaware of these mutated beasts toward the outer edges of the Ancient Battlefield? Could they possibly not know the affect holy type qi could have on such mutated beasts?

The answer was of course not. After so many years on the Ancient Battlefield, it was impossible for Dyon to be the only one to witness this almost magical path.

Back then, Dyon had only used essence grade holy type qi to birth the Bronzed and the Cobras. Such a low level resource meant nothing to those Overlord Clans who hoarded celestial grade qis.

The main issue with using these created beasts was a problem of their cultivation methods. They had a completely different set of meridian and blood vessel structures. Trying to grow their strength was no different than trying to forge an all-new cultivation path for a newly appeared species.

After the female Bronzed learned to wield qi, its progress was simply far too slow. If it wasn’t for its overwhelmingly strong body, it would have been impossible for it to even think of facing dao experts like it had in the past.

With everyone on the Ancient Battlefield so focused on improving their own strengths, how could they have time to carve out a new cultivation path all for some auxiliary beasts that may never reach the height they hoped for?

If Dyon were to be honest, this sort of experimentation was part of the reason for his slow progress in conquering the Southern Region. Of course, the other, larger part of the problem was the fact the Deity Clan was located in this region as well. On top of that, the largest portion of the territory was held by 3 of the 12 Overlord Clans. It wasn’t something the him of the past could casually conquer.

It was exactly because he knew this that Dyon invested his time into slowly raising up these Bronzed and Cobra. He saw potential in them and he had access to skills even those 12 Overlord Clans did not. He may have taken a step back by acknowledging their combat strength in the past, but even when he was a celestial, he didn’t believe there was a single person on the mortal plane who could match him in alchemy.

At this current moment, yet another Tribe was being terrorized by the Bronzed. Each of them gave off an ancient aura that seemed not to lack even in comparison to the most domineering beasts.

Their heads were shaped like that of a bull’s, their sharp horns curling with malice. Their bodies were covered from head to toe in beautiful bronze scales, reflecting the sinister red glow of the Ancient Battlefield. Their four limbs vibrated with power, their claws digging into the coarse ground like only an eagle could.

Each one of their movements was filled with an arcane danger, even a gentle flap of their wings sent wind scythes slicing in every direction, making a mockery of the ancient trees that had stood for so long.

On another battlefield, the Cobras showed their might. While the Bronzed may have beautiful, the Cobras exuded a deathly aura that consumed everything in their path. The gaze was piercing, their bodies violent, their breath filled with a poison air.

Their serpentine lower bodies curled into the tail of a scorpion. A black shelled exoskeleton followed up their snaking bodies, twisting into six scorpion legs that became their armored rib guards.

Their upper body formed two powerful arms matted in pinkish-red fur, the slightest touch of which could slice apart steel. Their boar-like heads were covered in the very same black exoskeleton, only revealing two sinister crimson eyes… But what couldn’t be hidden with their long black tusks, dotted with holes that dripped a purple liquid… As each droplet fell to the ground, a sizzling sound grated on the soul, each searing the soil beneath their feet with the aura of death.

These creatures had already become the nightmare of the southern region. They seemed to treat war like a game, using it to hone and mature their strength, uncaring and unfeeling for the lives they reaped.

However, these two beast species had a third sibling that struck fear all the more.

The four regions were each separated by a mountain range. To laymen, this may have been the real reason the regions didn’t interact very often. However, to those who dared to risk their lives, the true reason wasn’t a mere geological disadvantage, but rather a bloodthirsty creature that treated no one as friend…

To the mortal plane, they were known as the Failed Dragons…

They weren’t as beautiful or majestic… Nor were they as talented or powerful… Even their so-called pride was nothing more than hot air, or why would they ever enter the Ancient Battlefield in the first place?

The wyvern… An ugly beast that was no different from a lizard with wings or a garden snake with limbs. It was a race that had long been obliterated from the mortal plane by the Dragon Race themselves.

Yet, some of their Race had suddenly gained a newfound confidence under their new ruler… Enough confidence that they dared to call themselves the Emperor Dragons!