Peace Order
Chapter 580 - 41: Making a Name, the Dragon King Comes!_2

Chapter 580: Chapter 41: Making a Name, the Dragon King Comes!_2

The aide said, "Big brother, are you saying..."

The Angry Scale Dragon King said, "If it were only famous generals and top-tier strategists, they would be able to hold this situation."

"But if it were a Heroic Ruler of the world, he would completely tear apart all sides, swallowing up this entire Jiangnan area. Currently, Ying Country’s target is Chen Country, yet Chen Country is also dealing with internal turmoil caused by the Regent King of the Western Regions. Thus, top-notch troops and Divine Generals from both sides are unable to mobilize here."

"Let’s see if he has the grand bearing to swallow this land in one gulp."

"This time, all of you stay!"

The aide and the young man, Gan Xianglong, clad in brocade that looked like patterns, both looked greatly changed.

"Big brother!"

"Old man! What are you going to do!"

With graying temples but still possessing a robust physique, the Angry Scale Dragon King said, "If I were to lead my troops and surrender, although it would be a submission, isn’t it also about carrying one’s own prestige to occupy a favorable position? However, such a leader with grand bearing can no longer utilize such petty strategies."

"Clamping down on Jiangnan, like a tiger retracting its claws."

"At this age, I still get to meet such a person."

"I will go there myself, prepare yourselves, and bring out our last assets."

The aide and the young man’s expressions suddenly changed, they looked intently at the robust figure´s back. The Angry Scale Dragon King exhaled and didn’t respond; hence their gaze shifted away, falling on the very center of the main camp of the Seventy-two Linked Villages.

Ropes stretched down from a tall pole, pulled in all directions, with other small boats tied to these ropes; finally, the boats connected one to another, and the boats linked together, forming an environment akin to a forest of mountain villages.

That was the center of the Seventy-two Linked Villages.

The Angry Scale Dragon King strode over there, walking past these boats, stepping over the streams, and ultimately, under the curious gazes of men and women, young and old, he reached the core thing of the Seventy-two Linked Villages, a massive object covered with different fabrics stitched together to avoid direct sunlight and exposure.

The Angry Scale Dragon King was already aging.

He had slid from his peak condition, but standing here, he clearly felt the blood in his chest, closing his eyes, seemingly still hearing roaring voices in his ears, and the booming sound of war drums carried on the wind.

He stretched out his hand, pressing on his chest.

His heart was beating forcefully; the blood had not yet cooled down.

For decades, the war drums that had been haunting him, were his heartbeat.

He stretched out his hand, touching the massive fabric made from scraps from thirty thousand households, whispered, "Sorry, old buddy, I let you sleep so long. Look at me, I’ve gotten this old, but..."

"Let’s return to the battlefield, before I die of old age, I still want to command you to charge through the waters of this world."

"Great changes are upon us!"

"Can you still fight?!"

He clenched the brocade-like material and suddenly pulled it down.

Boom!!!

The sunlight seemed to be blocked as thirty thousand impoverished fishermen’s fabric transformed into a sword scabbard, sealing this being while, under the roar of the Qilin, the sword’s edge was revealed again.

Accompanied by the falling fabric.

One by one giant masts appeared, like dragons raising their heads, baring their fangs.

Nine giant masts, the number reaching to the sun.

Twelve giant sails, representing the Twelve Yuan Chen.

The sides and the stern had huge rudders, like the claws of a giant dragon.

Five-story buildings, each level surrounded by three-foot-tall low walls, arrow towers, with hardwood-made war grids, warriors inside as if protected by giant shields, all sides covered in leather, capable of defending against arrows.

The heavy fabric slowly fell, unveiling like a curtain.

The intense movement seemed to stir this object, with water roaring, crashing into the edge of the village core, exploding layer by layer of water waves. The young man in brocaded pattern, Gan Xianglong, was stunned, such massive commotion, like hearing a giant dragon roaring.

Eventually, the fabric completely slipped into the water.

At the top level was a fierce dragon sculpture, as if gazing at the sky.

As the wind and waves rose, white hair fluttered.

Gan Xianglong looked at his father, who was standing in front of that monstrous-like warship with his back to him, feeling an indescribable sense of unfamiliarity. This man did not resemble the furious murderer of the past, nor the widely connected and supportive bandit chief of the forest villages.

Suddenly, he felt a surge of killing intent.

It wasn’t directed at him, but this killing intent was like a fierce tiger reawakening in the valley amidst thunder, he abruptly turned his head, seeing the slightly gray-haired aide standing straight, his gaze solemn, eyes filled with nostalgia.

Yet the surging deadly aura nearly overwhelmed Gan Xianglong into silence.

The usually good-tempered aide softly said:

"In the Red Emperor’s World, the main warship of the Azure Dragon fleet."

"Forty-four zhang long, eighteen zhang wide, bearing warriors, seven thousand eight hundred people."

Gan Xianglong felt tingling on his scalp.

Shit!

Nearly ten thousand people’s transport capacity?!

He saw his father, who used to laugh heartily while playing with the children, turn around, his gaze solemn and tranquil, unlike anything he had seen before, taking big steps: "All units under my command, raise anchor, stand by. After I meet with the Qilin, follow immediately."

In the chaos about to extinguish, the flame rekindled during the battle with the Qilin that shook the world; the aging Azure Dragon still clenched his teeth, staking everything he had, the old Dragon King would carry his last blood and fire, along with his long-silent old comrades, toward their final resting place.