The Mighty Dragons Are Dead - Chapter 215: 0215: A Row of Footprints towards the Castle (3rd update, Alliance Hierarch extra 11/22)

Chapter 215: Chapter 0215: A Row of Footprints towards the Castle (3rd update, Alliance Hierarch extra 11/22)
How dragons infected beasts and magical beasts was something Liszt didn’t understand.

But there definitely were strict conditions for infection, otherwise nobles and kings who owned dragons would have had their nations teeming with dragon breeds by now. In reality, though, the Sapphire Duke only had one breed of dragon horse, the Blue Blood Treasure Horse, and he cherished it so much that he wasn’t willing to let its bloodline flow outside.

Therefore.

Judging from this, acquiring a dragon’s bloodline must be quite difficult.

However, he had a hypothesis that the cows on the dairy farm might have acquired a dragon’s bloodline, mutating into dragon breed cows. This made him feel that perhaps acquiring a dragon bloodline wasn’t that hard; a Formless Dragon just had to visit a dairy farm and it could infect the animals with dragon bloodline.

“So how difficult is it to acquire, after all?”

“Can Fire Dragon Magic Power even infect a dragon’s bloodline?”

“If it can, which animals should I try to infect with the dragon bloodline?”

There were already dragon breed horses like the Black Blood Treasured Horse, and the cows were probably already dragon breed cows, so other animals like chickens, ducks, geese, pigs, sheep, and monkeys didn’t seem to have much value for infection.

“Maybe I can infect Douson, turning Douson into an Intermediate Dragon Breed Magical Beast?” He thought this idea wasn’t bad, and that Douson deserved to be nurtured.

Of course, this was just a thought. The study of Fire Dragon Magic Power was still in its initial stages, and without thorough research, its best use for now was as kindling for the kiln. Otherwise, with the explosive effect that came with Fire Dragon Magic Power, Douson might get roasted instead of turning into a Dragon Beast.

After locating the Little Fire Dragon, Liszt picked up shards of volcanic glass and returned to the castle.

The volcanic glass that Marcus had brought back was not in large quantities, but it was not insignificant either; it was all piled up in his Gemstone Space. If all this volcanic glass were smashed, it could probably condense into a Magic Little Fire Dragon the size of a washbasin—Liszt always liked to use washbasin-sized as an adjective for some reason.

He planned to have someone carve and piece together the volcanic glass to make jars.

To facilitate the extraction and storage of Fire Dragon Magic Power at any time.

This magical dragon magic power was indeed very valuable; any waste would be a significant loss.

“I need to find the crystal craftsman Brad for work again… I should find an opportunity to trick him into coming to Fresh Flower Town to work for me exclusively.” Unfortunately, craftsmen like Brad can live comfortably on their skills and are not willing to settle in a small rural town.

All morning, it kept snowing.

Wrapped in his cloak, Liszt traversed between the castle and the wasteland where the Little Fire Dragon was, attempting various researches. But he wasn’t a magician, and his means of research were limited; after much racking his brains, he did not glean much useful information. The only certainty was that he found volcanic glass could indeed block Fire Dragon Magic Power.

He discovered that when the Little Fire Dragon hit the volcanic glass, it would immediately disintegrate but would not cause an explosion.

The reason for the explosion was the physical reaction caused by Fire Dragon Magic Power coming into contact with other types of magic power. Without any magic stimulation, the Little Fire Dragon could maintain its fire dragon form indefinitely, scorching its surroundings as if it were a continuous and inexhaustible heat source.

Within a fifty-centimeter range of the Little Fire Dragon’s activity.

The Ice Snow melted, the ground dried up, and it had been scorched into scorched earth, cracking open.

“A mysterious Fire Dragon, no one knows how many years it has been dead, but its magic power still holds such extraordinary strength; if not for seeing it with my own eyes, who would believe it,” he mused, and it brought to mind a technology from Earth, “Isn’t this like controlled fusion? Commonly known as artificial Sun, whoever masters controlled fusion would have an endless supply of energy.”

He even thought that all dragons were equivalent to artificial suns with a lifespan of a thousand years.

They continuously produced energy.

The snow on the ground was roasted by the Little Fire Dragon, melting and vaporizing, creating a unique scene amidst the heavy snowfall. Liszt’s thoughts drifted back from the artificial sun, and upon seeing this, he couldn’t help thinking, “If I dig a pool, can I create a hot spring?”

Winter and hot springs are a perfect match.

Unable to resist the impulse, he immediately decided, “I’m going to create a hot spring in the castle, right inside the bathroom!” The bathroom had a large bathtub, and by partitioning a small section and placing the Little Fire Dragon in it, it would be equivalent to continuously adding hot water. No longer would servants need to carry up buckets of hot water from downstairs.

He rushed back to the castle to design the indoor hot spring construction plan.

He planned to implement the hot spring within a week.

By the time he drew up the first draft of the hot spring bathtub, Goltai had already brought the serfs back to Fresh Flower Town, but sadly seven serfs died on the way due to illness and cold. Including the previously mentioned children, only eight hundred and twenty-nine arrived in Fresh Flower Town, among them one hundred and forty-two craftsmen.

The deaths due to freezing were regrettable, and considering the weather, Liszt could only sigh.

Regardless, with the addition of these more than eight hundred serfs, the total population of Fresh Flower Town finally surpassed the three thousand mark. Just in terms of population, it was no longer a barren small town, achieving the population level of a medium-sized town. To reach the prosperity of Falcon Town, with a population of over four thousand, slave trading had to continue.

“This damn weather, it’s practically freezing people into ice cream,” Goltai complained loudly after greeting Liszt, “If it weren’t for the sudden drop in temperature, those who died could have had a chance to live and see the thriving land under the knight’s glory in Fresh Flower Town.”

“Stop complaining; just endure a few more days and strive to settle these serfs properly… there will be Juniper Wine at the dinner.”

“Of course, it’s my duty.” His complaint was more of a merit-seeking gesture toward Liszt, who promised Juniper Wine at the dinner, which immediately energized him.

He scolded the town officials and clerks loudly, making an already chaotic scene even more disorderly.

Then he re-entered the fray, displaying his managerial skills by reassigning tasks to each official, specifying the duties of clerks and patrol members, ensuring that no one could slack off—admittedly, as a noble, he had some insights on how to command his subordinates.

The castle’s servants also participated in arranging the new serfs.

Mainly, the kitchen would prepare a large amount of simple food to feed the serfs, and Mrs. Morson and the maids, in their spare time, would mend clothes, which would also be given to the serfs to keep them warm.

At this time.

Jessie led the team with several male assistants, carrying buckets of food mixed with flour, beans, and minced meat, walking along Douson Avenue towards the town.

When passing by Douson’s kennel, Jessie cheerfully greeted, “Good afternoon, Douson.”

Douson usually looked down on these servants, being loyal only to Liszt. But after Jessie’s greeting, Douson suddenly popped its head out of the kennel, sniffing around with its nose, looking here and there, as if it had detected something. However, all it saw were a few familiar humans.

Just lowly servants tasked with shoveling its excrement.

Therefore, shaking its head, it retracted back into the kennel—when it was cold, the kennel lined with a quilt was warmer.

Neither it nor the servants noticed that on Douson Avenue, cleared of snow and freshly covered again, a mysterious set of footprints appeared, stretching towards the direction of the castle.