Golden Dragon: Six Thousand Years of Empire

"Truly, dragons never give you peace!"

Noah lamented thoughtlessly, having sent his eldest son, still a juvenile, to a continent without any troops, expecting him to expand territory and act as a king of the region.

By any nurturing standard of the Metallic Dragon Race, Noah's actions could be deemed reckless, as any slightly responsible Colorful Dragon would raise its offspring to a juvenile dragon before driving it out of the Dragon Nest.

Nevertheless, Noah did not feel there was anything wrong with his actions. After all, he had granted a whole region to his son, and when it came to generosity, few dragons in this world could rival him. Even compared to the Dragon God, he shined brighter.

After visiting his eldest son, Noah was prepared to check on his youngest son, to see how he was faring in the Demon King City, if he had adapted, and to correct the completely unnecessary habit of excess spell indulgence.

Noah could sense the location of his youngest son, but he chose not to visit him in the same way he did his eldest, as his youngest was in the Great Graveyard, a place not simple, posing some threat to Noah. Frequent visits could also cause substantial trouble for his grandnephew.

"Great uncle!"

However, linking with his grandnephew Wayne, his expression seemed somewhat uneasy, as if he had encountered something difficult to articulate.

"What happened?"

Noah's expression was calm and his tone steady, because in his perception, his youngest son Terramus was in good condition, his life signs normal. Since it was not a matter of life and death, other matters were minor issues.

"Some unexpected little accident occurred."

The Demon King, who ruled over countless undead, tried hard to control his expression, constantly recalling the countermeasures he had thought of after long contemplation.

Though this was not a responsibility he actively took, but rather one forcibly handed to him by this great uncle, it was a fact that he accepted it and didn't do well.

The situation developed beyond his expectations, but such things were unpredictable regardless of who was involved. Who could have thought a dignified pure-blooded Golden Dragon would willingly learn Death Magic?

"So, what you're telling me is that my offspring, without any guidance, has self-taught and mastered Death Magic, becoming a Necromancer?"

Hearing his good grandnephew's downplayed recounting of Terramus' experiences at the Great Graveyard, Noah nonetheless distilled the essence and naturally asked in return.

This indeed was something beyond ordinary imagination. Not to mention the Metallic Dragon Race, even among the Colorful Dragon Clan, learning and mastering Death Magic, even transforming into a Black Dragon lich form, was universally scorned; even the White Dragon would dare to mock the undead Black Dragon.

A dignified Golden Dragon learning Death Magic would only be considered a joke, hardly believed, yet it had truly happened at this moment.

"Although I'd like to deny this, I feel there's no point in hiding it."

Wayne's face showed a look of helplessness,

"I tried correcting it with violence, destroying all the undead he controlled, but it was futile. Here in the Great Graveyard, he can create more undead whenever he wishes."

"Let me see his current state!"

Noah, unlike his grandnephew had anticipated, did not react with fury; instead, there wasn't even a trace of anger or irritation. On the contrary, he expressed significant curiosity, looking eager and intrigued.

Thus, the Holy Dragon Noah, hailed as the Golden Sun, saw the current state of his own son—an infant Golden Dragon, guarded by dozens of Lords of Corpse and hundreds of exquisitely beautiful high-rank ghosts.

Even in such immature form, the rigorous tempering from numerous battles had instilled in this young dragon a demeanor of cold aloofness, solemn grandeur, and a kingly bearing of strategic control.

The young dragon lay atop a dragon couch assembled from bones, commanding his enslaved Lords of Corpse and ghosts, methodically slaying the continuously emerging low-level undead, all while he coiled atop the bone dragon couch, leisurely turning the pages of a book, utterly absorbed and self-possessed.

"..."

Initially worried whether his youngest son could adapt to life underground in the Great Graveyard, Noah saw the kid's current state and realized how well he was flourishing in this environment.

However, Noah observed that the young one wasn't truly in a state of forgetfulness; everything happening within his room was under precise control.

For instance, from the ever-approaching undead, attempting to harass him from all directions, he could precisely select individuals of excellent quality, then forcibly seize and claim their control.

Noah watched intently as the young one, in a remarkably short time, picked out three delicate and beautiful female ghosts from the tides of howling ghosts, then added them to his ghost maid ensemble, seeming quite satisfied.

"What's the matter? Don't you have a decent Necromancer at your command? How did it allow him to seize control so easily?"

Such a scene led Noah to glance at his grandnephew, beginning to hold him accountable.

This young one, so young and already up to no good. Still just a young dragon, and already forming such an extensive ghost maid team—truly outrageous.