"So this is how fun a dragon can be! Hahahaha, now I finally understand why canned dumb knights can slay, dragons!"

Zilvra made the Black Dragon even more uncomfortable because the ring bearer merely said calmly, "I see, your head is hard. So, do you have any other abilities?"

The Black Dragon really wanted to melt these two guys into a puddle of black mush with a sneeze. Or use his claws to flatten them even smoother than the marble floor. But the power of the Prisoner Dragon Ring forced him to lower his head and slowly reveal his abilities.

No matter how you look at it, dragons are the most powerful species on the continent. Those stronger than them are far fewer in number; those larger in number fall vastly short in strength. At the same time, it is a perfect fusion of magic and physical prowess, with an unrivaled adaptability in battle—not unless it encounters a high-level mage like Lynch, defeating a dragon is extremely difficult.

And the Black Dragon before them possessed abilities that surpassed those of his usual kin. Ordinary magic was utterly futile against him; only weapons on par with Zilvra's paired swords wouldn't break against his scaly defenses. His prolonged spit attacks and ever-changing spell combinations could drive any enemy to madness. Even Lynch didn't dare give him space to unleash his power, instead setting traps to capture this Black Dragon.

Once Lynch's power waned, this Black Dragon could escape the Prisoner Dragon Ring and regain freedom. However, as long as Lynch could continuously use the power of the Magic Origin, the giant dragon was forced to remain dormant. Usually, a Dragon Clan could increase their power just by eating and sleeping, yet Zilvra's Black Dragon had an even stronger longing for freedom.

"I must say, you are quite a capable dragon." After listening to the Black Dragon, Zilvra finally decided to show some respect instead of indiscriminately calling it a 'lizard alligator.' "If you comply with orders, I can let you come out more often to eat up some stupid folks for a snack. How about that?"

The Black Dragon ground his teeth vigorously, making a cracking sound. Although he calculated devouring the two in front of him, and in his mind constantly envisioned the image of a Red Robed Mage being chewed up in his mouth, he still acted impatiently. The Black Dragon nodded eagerly, waving his claws as if in anticipation.

Zilvra retracted the Black Dragon into the ring and then said to the Halfling, "In the end, this Black Dragon behaves like a pug; he must be putting on an act."

"What's the big deal? As long as it works." Felps stared at Zilvra's ring, with his other hand caressing the magic necklace he wore. 'What's the purpose of this thing Lynch gave me?' filled the Halfling's mind.

"Felps, I'm going to the Shine Celebration. Have your people stay far away. I don't want to get blood from fools on me." Zilvra kept her hand in her cloak, on the hilt of the thin sword. "Also, if Lynch returns, have someone inform me. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't want to attend such a gathering at all."

Littlefinger scratched his head, hesitating on whether he should retract some of the undercover operatives sent there. In case Zilvra got excited and released the Black Dragon on Pate the archbishop, he should avoid losing manpower. In Ratris City, he had long heard of Zilvra's insane deeds, as the title of the Silver-haired Butcher didn't arise from nothing. If it weren't for Lynch's power far surpassing Zilvra, Littlefinger would have certainly informed the mage about these things, letting him prepare for everything.

Seeing Littlefinger starting to daydream, Zilvra lost patience in waiting for his reply. The female Drow turned and disappeared into the dark passage, sprinting towards the mansion through the gaps in the shadows. She still had many things to prepare.

Everyone attending the Shine Celebration had their own purpose, each different. Everyone naturally believed their own reasons were the most important and reasonable. But before the archbishop appeared, they had plenty of time to chat with each other, boasting of their extensive experiences.

The nobles always had endless imagination in enjoying life and taxing the poor's heels, while for Priest Pate, those trivial matters were simply a torment. Kuboert had just finished a seven-hour prayer, and then, hearing a fat man next to him chatter on, his fatigue immediately began to take effect, making this priest feel a bit dizzy.

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