On this leisurely day, Seratus found himself pondering whether to cultivate a new field. Yet, as he lost himself in thought, he couldn’t help but think of his unpredictable siblings, Agnas and Catilia, who might be scheming to secretly follow him to the field to uncover the secret behind his delicious Sunlight Mushrooms. If those two dragons discovered his secret, what kind of chaos would they unleash?

The thought filled Seratus with a sense of helplessness. The field had already been meticulously watered and only required minimal care and supervision for now. Perhaps it was time to take a break?

Moreover, the system task he had been waiting for still hadn’t been issued. He couldn’t help but wonder: Did he need to complete one task before receiving the next? Or was there a specific trigger needed to advance the plot? These unanswered questions left him feeling bored and restless.

With a sigh, Seratus found a comfortable rock to rest on, lying down and letting his thoughts drift as he slowly slipped into a deep slumber.

As one of the world’s top predators, he was well aware of the immense power his red dragon body possessed—though, of course, that power was only impressive in the eyes of ordinary beings. In this world brimming with magic, legendary figures with extraordinary talents and rapid cultivation were everywhere. Yet, breaking through to higher levels of power was always an arduous task.

“Gold rank…” Seratus muttered the term in his mind, his veins tightening slightly beneath his scales.

The ancient magical beasts that lurked deep within the mountains exuded an aura as chilling as eternal ice, their power reaching legendary—or even more terrifying—levels.

If he were to venture into their territory, he would likely become nothing more than a “delicacy” served on a platter. The thought stirred a complex emotion within him—not just fear, but a deep sense of… boredom. And a lingering unease he couldn’t shake.

Enough! Seratus sighed inwardly, pushing aside the noise of the outside world. It was time to immerse himself once more in the vast ocean of knowledge known as the *Dragon’s Legacy*.

He reminded himself that his diligent farming had taken up too much of the time he should have spent sleeping and studying. As a result, his understanding of the world and his own potential remained woefully inadequate.

His consciousness sank into a void of chaos, where only ancient and cryptic words flowed before his eyes—Seratus had fully immersed himself in the *Dragon’s Legacy*.

The outside world faded away, leaving only an endless sea of knowledge surging through his mind.

Meanwhile, outside the cave, Catilia and Agnas cautiously peeked into the volcanic cavern, their eyes scanning the dimly lit interior.

The faint light from the cave’s entrance barely illuminated the vague outlines of the deeper recesses.

They held their breath and listened intently. Apart from Seratus’s steady and rhythmic breathing, the cave was utterly silent.

“Looks like he’s really asleep,” Agnas whispered. “We should leave before he notices us.”

Catilia nodded, and the two dragons quietly retreated from the entrance, disappearing behind the jagged rocks.

The cave returned to silence, with only the warm flow of lava and the deep, rhythmic breathing of the dragon echoing through the vast space.

Sleep was an innate talent of dragons. By simply resting in prolonged slumber, their power would accumulate like molten lava within a volcano, eventually erupting with immense force.

And so, Seratus slept peacefully within the volcanic cave. But far away, in the imperial capital, turmoil was brewing.

Beneath the deep blue night sky, the capital seemed shrouded in an eerie mist, every brick and tile hinting at hidden dangers.

In the imperial study, the flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows on the carved jade desk, highlighting the emperor’s furrowed brow—each faint beam of light seemed to whisper a secret of unease.

The emperor was engrossed in a stack of letters that had just arrived, delivered by Viscount Black.

The words on the pages revealed a shocking conspiracy—the pampered nobles dared to cut off the capital’s main food supply, severing its economic lifeline!

The emperor’s fingers tightened on the letter, his knuckles whitening as suppressed rage simmered in his eyes.

Finally, as he read the last line, his anger could no longer be contained. He slammed the letter onto the jade desk with a resounding thud, causing the candle flame to flicker.

“Those hypocrites!” the emperor roared, his voice low but filled with icy fury. “They dare to cut off the capital’s food supply! How dare they act so brazenly under my very nose!”

Standing nearby, the steward, Lucien Vale, remained calm but deep in thought.

He knew this was no accident but a sign of the nobles’ growing rebellion.

He mused: If the granaries had been tampered with, it signaled a deeper power struggle. But out of loyalty to the emperor, he kept his thoughts to himself.

The emperor slowly flipped through the letters, each word dripping with betrayal and intrigue.

The lenient policies he had once implemented to win over city lords had now become a heavy financial burden and a broken supply chain, threatening his war-torn reign.

“The kindness of the past has become the sacrifice of today’s schemes…” the emperor muttered bitterly.

“These city lords, none of them are loyal…” he whispered, a chill running through him.

Even his own brothers had become city lords, and they had turned on each other. Now, with the situation on the brink of collapse, it would only grow harder to control.

He considered that Viscount Black, while still a pawn in his hand, was far too few to counter the vast and corrupt forces of the rebels.

As the emperor sank deeper into anxiety, he turned to the silent steward and asked urgently, “Lucien Vale, if the rebels truly plan to revolt, how should we secure our food supply?”

Lucien Vale’s face remained calm, but his mind was in turmoil. After a moment of contemplation, he replied, “Your Majesty, the situation is indeed precarious. The nobles have always been restless, and if you act rashly, they will only cause more trouble.”

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Some of your decrees… may no longer reach the city lords as smoothly as before.”

Lucien Vale maintained his composed demeanor, as if the emperor’s anger were but a breeze over water, leaving no mark. Yet, beneath the surface, his thoughts churned like a hidden current—the seeds of rebellion had been sown, and they would not be easily uprooted.

He lowered his gaze slightly, masking the complexity in his eyes, and spoke in a measured tone, “Your Majesty, the situation is indeed… quite delicate. The nobles have always been unruly, and if you act too harshly now, it may… backfire.”

He lowered his voice further, speaking slowly but with a hint of concealed excitement. “Your Majesty, I have already taken covert action. Recently, I secretly contacted the capital’s storytellers and propagandists, spreading rumors of an impending invasion by the red dragons of the Elden Beast Mountains. This has created panic among the populace.”

At this, a faint smile tugged at his lips, and a glint of cunning flashed in his eyes. “This plan serves three purposes. It stirs fear among the people, sows discord among the nobles, and allows us to openly gather military supplies and weapons under the guise of preparing for the dragon threat. In doing so, we can secretly build our strength and seize the opportunity to turn the tide.”

Hearing this, the emperor’s expression softened slightly, and a hint of approval flickered in his eyes. After a moment of thought, he said gravely, “Lucien Vale, you are indeed a capable steward. Such a clever plan. Please elaborate on your next steps.”

Lucien Vale took a deep breath, his eyes gleaming with cunning as he continued, “At this stage, the propaganda has already taken effect. Most of the capital’s citizens are aware of the rumors, but they haven’t reached the city lords’ territories yet. We can use this opportunity to levy taxes and gather grain under the pretense of preparing for the dragon invasion. At the same time, we can sow confusion among the nobles, making them doubt each other. This way, we can both mislead the rebels and strengthen our own reserves of food and weapons, laying a solid foundation for future crises.”

The emperor listened, inwardly impressed, but also wary. Though Lucien Vale was a skilled strategist, the emperor knew that even the most loyal servants could turn against him in critical moments. As he weighed his appreciation against his caution, he said, “Once this situation is resolved, I will send you to the countryside to enjoy a peaceful retirement, lest you cause further trouble.”

Hearing this, Lucien Vale felt both relieved and a pang of sadness. As someone who had navigated the treacherous waters of court politics for years, he knew that even the most loyal could be doubted. Yet, he resolved to remain steadfast, finding solace in the thought of a peaceful life.

As the emperor’s thoughts swirled, he picked up his brush and began drafting several secret letters. He carefully crafted nearly identical messages, sending them to various down-and-out nobles in an attempt to gather more allies to counter the growing rebellion. Meanwhile, the spies he had once personally dispatched had mostly been assassinated, forcing them to operate in the shadows, quietly rebuilding their once-abandoned networks under assumed identities.

Once the letters were complete, the emperor, following the red dragon invasion plan, ordered Lucien Vale to deliver them swiftly to the nobles he deemed trustworthy. The goal was to quickly gather food, weapons, and other supplies, using the opportunity to increase taxes and secure the capital’s logistics.

As Lucien Vale rose and bowed before departing, his figure gradually disappeared into the long, dark corridor. Outside the palace, the night grew deeper, and the cold moonlight bathed the silent walls, as if silently observing the undercurrents of intrigue and deception within the court.

The emperor sat alone behind the carved jade desk, the candlelight casting heavy shadows before him, mirroring the weight of his thoughts. He clutched the stack of secret letters tightly, his gaze as heavy as lead as he scanned each one. The words on the pages seemed to flicker like ghostly flames before his eyes. “The food supply is cut off… the nobles are disloyal… internal and external troubles are like a festering wound, deep in the marrow…”

He muttered to himself, his voice dry and weak, “If the ‘red dragon plan’ is just a drop in the bucket, unable to reverse the decline… this empire may…” Before he could finish, hurried footsteps echoed from outside the palace, growing louder and louder, pounding against the quiet night and the emperor’s already taut nerves…

The palace was enveloped in silence. Just then, the door to the imperial study burst open, and a messenger rushed in, his low but urgent voice breaking the stillness. “Your Majesty!”

The messenger’s tone was calm but his words were clear: “Tonight, unidentified groups attacked the eastern food supply route under cover of darkness, cutting off the grain shipments to the capital. The situation is critical! According to our spies, these individuals acted with great secrecy, likely connected to the rebellious nobles!”

The emperor’s expression darkened, his brows furrowing as rage boiled within him. He slammed his hand on the jade desk and cursed, “It seems the situation is far more complicated than I anticipated… The rebellion has spread to the food supply. If this continues, the very foundation of the empire will crumble!”

Without hesitation, the emperor stood and ordered the hidden attendants to summon the general immediately. “Send the general to the eastern route at once! Protect the grain shipments at all costs! Do not let the rebels succeed! Also, order our trusted allies to strengthen border patrols and prevent any further infiltration by enemies or traitors!”

Outside the study, heavy footsteps echoed like war drums, pounding against the hearts of all who heard them. Before anyone could react, a towering general clad in armor strode in. His imposing figure exuded an aura of battlefield ferocity, and his sharp gaze seemed to cut through the stifling air of the room.

He knelt before the emperor and spoke in a firm, resonant voice, “Your Majesty! I have assembled three thousand elite troops and will head to the eastern route immediately. I swear to crush the rebels and protect the capital’s granaries!”

His words left the imperial study in solemn silence, as if even the wind had paused.

Hearing the general’s response, the emperor felt a slight easing of his anxiety, but the cold dread within him remained. He walked to the large window and gazed out at the dark night sky, thinking to himself:

“Power is being quietly eroded by various factions. Allies who once swore loyalty now harbor ulterior motives, their true intentions hidden. Tonight’s events are just the tip of the iceberg. If I don’t act swiftly to restore order, this empire will descend into even greater chaos.”

As the night deepened and the emperor fretted over the food supply crisis in his study, the atmosphere on the other side of the capital was starkly different. In a secret meeting room on the outskirts of the city, candlelight flickered, illuminating the grim faces of a group of nobles. They whispered among themselves, the air thick with a different kind of tension.

The meeting room felt as if it were under an invisible weight, the candlelight dim and the atmosphere suffocating. Ronald Bex, dressed in luxurious gold-embroidered robes, was the first to break the oppressive silence. His lips curled into a cold smile, as if freezing the air itself. “‘Red dragon invasion’?”

He let out a derisive laugh, unable to hide his anger and scorn. “What a… clumsy trick!

Look at all these ‘secret letters’ flying around. The capital’s pigeons must be exhausted. Grain levies? Troop conscription? Ha! What the emperor really wants is to dull our claws and strip us of our armor! The red dragons of the Elden Beast Mountains are nothing but an excuse to eliminate his rivals!

What he fears isn’t dragons—it’s the throne beneath him, teetering on the edge!”

Ronald’s words were like a stone thrown into a calm lake, rippling through the room. The nobles, who had been maintaining a facade of composure, could no longer contain their true feelings. Some muttered curses, others snorted in disdain, while a few exchanged knowing glances. Discontent surged like a tide, and ambition sprouted like spring grass, growing wildly in the oppressive atmosphere.

The elder and more composed Durwin sighed softly. “Exactly. Now, the emperor and we no longer trust each other, each harboring ulterior motives. Only by uniting can we protect our interests. But how should we act? We cannot recklessly rebel, or we risk burning ourselves.”

As the nobles pondered their next move, a side door to the meeting room quietly opened, and a figure slipped in. It was the young noble Everis, who had long been close to Ronald. He whispered, “Word has come from the border. Aside from the food supply being cut off, there are rumors of ‘beast’ howls in a certain area, as if something strange is happening. Perhaps we can use this to sow confusion and gain more leverage.”

A cold smile spread across Ronald’s face as he said slowly, “Good. While the emperor is busy with the food supply, we can use the ‘beast disaster’ to carve out our own territory. As long as we hide the truth within lies, we can turn the tables on that fool of an emperor!”

Meanwhile, in the dark alleyways outside the meeting room, several pairs of secretive eyes watched intently. In hushed voices, it seemed someone was plotting an even greater scheme, aiming to manipulate both the court and the noble factions…

Back in the palace, the lights dimmed as the emperor returned to his desk, still clutching the stack of secret letters. He knew the current situation wasn’t just about the granaries or the border—it was a ticking time bomb threatening the balance between imperial authority and regional power.

With this in mind, a sense of determination welled up within him. “Though I am constrained, I cannot sit idly by. Since those nobles are plotting against me, today I must take a firm stance to make the world understand: the throne is not to be defied!”

With that, he picked up his brush and began drafting another secret letter, each word resolute and forceful. The letter aimed to mobilize all loyal generals and regional officials while secretly deploying the long-concealed “Heavenly Might Plan.” It was said that once activated, this plan could instantly quell internal strife, crushing those who coveted the throne in their infancy.

As he finished the letter, the emperor let out a long sigh and muttered to himself, “Though the situation is perilous, it is not without hope!” He carefully sealed the letter and handed it to his trusted imperial guards, ordering them to deliver it swiftly to all corners of the empire. He vowed to use an iron fist to stabilize the crumbling court.

The cold night wind howled like a beast, tearing through the thick palace walls and wailing through the ancient, shadowy corridors, as if the goddess of fate herself were softly chanting a prelude to the end.