The surrounding warriors watched in silence as the scene unfolded. The natives of Middle-earth said nothing further. Lord Elrond’s unfinished words had just been made crystal clear by what they saw: the limit of life was only a hundred and fifty years, but these people had lived far, far longer—well past that deadline. If, after giving up immortality, the world came to collect its debts like a bank chasing a loan, they’d be wiped out in an instant, just like the dragon before them—turning to dust, gone without a trace.
Yeah, Arwen didn’t vanish right away, and neither did Sauron. But maybe the reckoning isn’t instant—maybe it creeps up on you over a couple years? Or maybe Sauron’s got some secret trick to hang on for a while?
When it comes to life and death, who dares to be casual? There are just too many doubts, too much unknown, too many guesses, suspicions, and even paranoia.
Is that really how it works? Nobody can say for sure.
But honestly, who would dare risk their own life to find out?
“These dragon wings are pretty impressive, honestly. They survived intact. And even the Grand Refining Technique couldn’t extract their essence, so I’m guessing these wings are the extraordinary element of the Blackgold Dreadwing. Maybe we can use them to craft something cool later—they’ve gotta be special.” Teacher Yang, who’d been busy prospecting, walked out from the pile of ashes, his sleeves billowing, not a speck of dust on him. Behind him, the massive dragon wings remained whole, gleaming with a mystical shine—a clear sign they weren’t ordinary.
In Teacher Yang’s hand was a blood-red orb, about the size of a ping-pong ball, glowing fiercely. He used his lunar chill technique to seal the blood, but the energy inside was so intense that, with his current martial arts skills, he could only form a thin candy-like ice shell on the surface—it wasn’t enough to freeze it solid.
“This old dragon’s been dead way too long—most of its blood is just toxic waste and corpse poison. I refined it for ages and only managed to get this little bit of dragon blood essence.” He tossed the blood orb to Jasper Xiao. “Here, take it.”
“For me?” Jasper Xiao took the blood orb, inspecting it. It was truly a condensed bead of precious dragon blood. Small as it was, the energy inside was staggering—probably half of all the power left in the Blackgold Dreadwing’s blood. With all the natural dragon poison, fire toxin, and corpse poison removed, this blood orb was nothing short of a priceless treasure.
If you brought this thing to the Marvel universe, you’d have a swarm of mad scientists lining up to study it. Who knows, maybe you’d end up with a new superhero—or a brand-new supervillain.