Chapter 167: Dragonblood Against the Fiendmen

Across the boundless expanse of the earth, Otholis stared at the figure standing proudly opposite him, his pupils contracting sharply.

By this time, Alan's appearance had undergone a drastic transformation. Not only had his physical form begun to mutate, but the ferocious aura radiating from him—reminiscent of a legendary beast—was enough to send involuntary shudders of dread through Otholis.

Yet, despite this, having suffered the previous heavy blow, Alan was far from unscathed. Tiny wounds crisscrossed his entire body, oozing droplets of crimson blood tinged with a golden hue.

"Impossible! To have taken that direct hit from me and still not be finished off."

"And furthermore, this irresistible bloodline majesty... it's practically more terrifying than the bloodline of royalty."

Although his expression remained completely placid, shock raged within his heart, making him feel as though his entire worldview was collapsing.

In his eyes, the Fiends already possessed an immensely formidable, high-tier bloodline, and the royalty among them were even more terrifying, virtually unmatched across this entire world.

Yet right before his eyes, pushed to the brink by his own onslaught, some dormant catalyst had been triggered. Alan's bloodline had been violently awakened, and his aura was now on the verge of surpassing even the Fiend monarchs.

This, however, was only natural.

As a Dragonkin, even throughout the wider multiverse, he belonged to one of the most supreme bloodlines, incomparable to mere Fiends. Not to mention, Alan was the Child of Destiny born with the sacred mission of suppressing the Fiends. With such an identity, even other Dragonkin would have to lower their heads before him, beyond any comparison.

Yet, sensing the situation unfolding before him, Otholis instead grew excited, a fiery glint flashing across his eyes as he gazed at Alan's body.

"What a pure and powerful bloodline!"

He lowered his head and offered a cold, sinister smile. "If I can devour it, even if I fail to break through to royalty, I imagine it won't be far off."

"Who is devouring whom is not for you to decide."

From ahead, an icy voice rang out, startling Otholis. "This is... the ability to sense minds?"

Before he could dwell on it, however, Alan abruptly raised his head, a single scale flashing with a crimson glow.

Roar!

A magnificent roar filled with formidable dragon might echoed through the air, shaking mountains and rivers alike.

In the sky, a tempest began to churn, kicking up miles of dust and transforming into a ferocious, scaled-and-horned giant dragon that glared downward.

The colossal dragon soared through the heavens, whipping up boundless storms, seemingly reinforced and magnified in power by an undercurrent of Source Energy.

Sparks flashed within the endless gale, coalescing into a tangible draconic tail that swept forward.

Otholis's expression shifted as massive surges of magic manifested to shroud his entire body. With a loud roar, his muscles rippled and mutated, one of his arms swelling dramatically as he thrust it out.

The space shattered under his punch, and his magic condensed into a giant arm that met the incoming dragon tail head-on.

Boom!

An explosion erupted on the spot, causing the earth to violently tremble.

"My gods..." Far in the distance, clansmen watching this display of god- and demon-like power were left utterly dumbfounded.

Only Elder Eta wore a solemn expression, worry etched deep into his eyes.

"Damn it, a Fiend this powerful is probably little different from a monarch. How did one manage to track us down all the way out here?"

"And of all times, Yarl's condition is unstable right now. Though the boy Alan has exceeded all expectations, I'm afraid he still won't be able to hold off this Fiend."

Staring at the misty battlefield ahead, he clenched his teeth and sprinted toward the ancient tree.

Back on the battlefield, the explosion continued unabated, a haze of dust billowing to obscure the surrounding vision. Within the fog, two figures moving at blinding speeds flashed back and forth, frequently unleashing thunderous collisions.

After a brief moment, as the mist finally dissipated, the scene on the ground was revealed.

The earth had split open, gouged into deep craters by the immense force of the two combatants. At the center, the two figures stood locked in a stalemate.

Alan was drenched in blood, his flesh a mangled mess, yet his silver-white pupils remained chillingly cold, seemingly untouched by the agony racking his body.

Opposite him, Otholis looked no better.

His appearance, too, had drastically changed. The polished gentleman in evening attire was entirely gone. His originally handsome face was now grotesquely distorted, two small horns protruding from his brow. Across his torso, alongside his four normal arms, an extra crimson arm grew out from his chest, lending him a malformed look.

This was a Five-Armed Fiend, a variant of the Four-Armed Fiend whose bloodline was in no way inferior to an ordinary Six-Armed Fiend—second only to royalty.

Yet at this moment, his body was similarly mutilated, and one of his arms was snapped clean in half, making him appear utterly wretched.

Even amidst the stalemate, however, Otholis wore a sinister smile. "Finally... I've got you."

Alan raised his head, a pair of silver-white eyes brimming with boundless dragon might fixed upon him.

On Otholis's chest, the hitherto dormant fifth arm was slowly stirring, creeping forward at a pace both sluggish and unyielding.

The movement was agonizingly slow, appearing entirely non-threatening. Yet a profound sense of impending doom violently surged within Alan's heart.

Sensing this, he began to struggle, his semi-draconic body trembling as he tried to break free from the binding restraint.

"It's useless. Obediently become my nourishment."

Otholis looked down at him coldly, boundless excitement in his eyes. From the fifth arm, crimson tentacles slowly extended, inching closer to contact Alan's body.

Roar!

At the very instant of impending success, a crimson brilliance flared intensely in Alan's eyes. A flash of arrogance and tyranny broke through, followed by a heaven-shaking roar laden with draconic might and overwhelming power.

Pristine white energy gathered, condensing before Alan to slam directly into Otholis.

The momentum of this strike was majestic, imbued with potent draconic nature. Otholis's pupils constricted and he instinctively tried to dodge, only to find his body firmly locked in place, utterly unable to move.

He let out an angry roar before taking the blow head-on. A massive hole was blasted straight through his chest, frost blooming over the wound and rapidly spreading to engulf his entire body.

Another explosion rocked the ground as raging ice elements roared, burying the area and transforming it into miles of glaciers.

On the icy plain, Alan stood panting, drenched in blood and appearing deathly weak.

Clearly, after unleashing that final blow, his strength was entirely spent. After all, even as the protagonist of destiny, he was currently just a young boy; achieving a feat like this was already the result of his Primordial Dragon bloodline pulling out all the stops.

"It... it's over," he murmured, the tyranny in his silver-white pupils fading as reason, previously suppressed by his bloodline, began to return.

"Alan, watch out!" At that moment, an urgent cry echoed from behind. Cassie watched in frantic terror as Alan reverted to his normal form.

Instinctively turning his head with a lingering flash of crimson in his eyes, Alan was sent flying instantly, swatted away by a massive fleshy arm.

On the ground, scattered patches of minced meat shifted and morphed, countless tentacles stretching out and slowly coagulating to reform a humanoid shape.

"What terrifying power. To possess such dread at such a tender age..."

"Pity that, in the end, it still fell just a bit short."

A flash of crimson light illuminated the spot as Otholis re-materialized, smiling as he looked at the fallen Alan ahead. "Well now, after unleashing such terrifying power, do you still have the strength to stand?"

Hearing this, Alan's face turned ashen. He stubbornly tried to force himself back up, but found it utterly impossible.

In fact, his entire body was covered in cracks of varying sizes, threatening to shatter him like a porcelain doll—a truly horrifying sight.

This was the backlash of the bloodline. When one's physical container was insufficient, a more powerful bloodline would trigger a greater backlash, even leading to death.

Given the tyrannical nature of the Dragonkin bloodline, the fact that Alan hadn't died on the spot was entirely thanks to the plot armor of a protagonist.

Above his head, a sliver of purple Source Energy was still roaring, though compared to before, it had been heavily depleted and appeared exceedingly frail.

Otholis stepped forward one pace at a time, staring down at Alan as the fifth arm on his chest split into countless tentacles that reached out toward the boy.

Witnessing this, Cassie's eyes in the distance filled with despair, the flower in her hand dropping unheeded to the ground.

Stubbornness and unyielding defiance burned in Alan's eyes as he struggled desperately to rise, yet failed repeatedly.

Despair blanketed the entire scene.

Yet right at that moment, a soft chime rang out from the heavens, accompanied by a faint ripple.

Heaven-shaking divine power transformed into a spear, aggressively piercing into the earth to block every threat before Alan.

"What is this?!" Otholis's expression shifted as he looked toward the distant tribal settlement.

Another overwhelmingly mighty divine fluctuation erupted, bearing formidable natural force and divine majesty to suppress the surroundings, creating a wondrous spectacle in the sky.

Within the magnificent void, specks of divine power converged with vital energy, condensing into a tall, imposing shadow of a god and demon. A mere sweeping glance from it was enough to instill an intense sense of divine awe.

Otholis wore a solemn expression. Sensing this aura, he unleashed floods of magic to shroud his entire body. Glancing once more at Alan before him, he flicked his wrist, sending several magic-condensed blades flying forward.

Alan let out a muffled groan, his face draining of all color as the magic blades ruthlessly pinned his limbs deep into the earth, blood flowing incessantly.

Pale-faced and enduring the excruciating agony, he still stubbornly glared fixedly at Otholis, brimming with pride and defiance.

"Hmph, I'll deal with you later." Catching the boy's gaze, Otholis sneered before transforming into a streak of light, rocketing toward the center of the tribe.

Meanwhile, at the heart of the settlement, an ancient tree stood tall and proud, its upright posture casting a vast domain of nature power all around.

Beneath the ancient tree, a ball of light floated, radiating a massive aura. Sensing the demonic presence outside, it was stirring incessantly, as though eager to break free.

A crimson flash shattered the silence as a figure wreathed in magic materialized. Staring at the ancient tree, the figure was left utterly dumbfounded.

"Damn it, such overwhelming power!"

Otholis whipped his head around to gaze at the glowing cocoon before him, breaking out in a cold sweat as he sensed the profound aura sealed within.