The Dragon-Keeper Lord's body was the flesh of a god, and with five flood-dragons coiled around him, two of which had transformed into his weapons, his strength was doubled again.
Although the Dragon Tamer Sect was also founded by the Dragon-Keeper Lord, it only specialized in controlling and riding dragon-serpents and other exotic beasts, lacking the ability to borrow the true power of dragons. In contrast, the Dragon-Keeper Lord’s Dragon-Controlling Mantra could channel the strength of flood-dragons to bolster himself.
Moreover, the Dragon-Raising Codex he gave Quinn was not his complete system; he deliberately kept some secrets. Although Quinn’s copy was much more complete than the Dragon Tamer Sect’s techniques, the most crucial battle methods were omitted—the Dragon-Keeper Lord never recorded them.
He wielded flood-dragons as dual maces, his strength so overwhelming that with one strike, the eardrums of Quinn and the others in the palace rang with a piercing buzz, leaving them instantly deaf and unable to hear anything.
Not only that, this blow instantly drained all the air from the surroundings, as if a chunk of space had been smashed flat, sucking away every bit of air nearby.
This was unlike any battle Quinn had seen between other powerful figures.
Quinn had witnessed many clashes between top experts—even battles between Cult Master–level figures, and had personally seen the Imperial Preceptor suppress a rebellion. In those fights, the impact of divine arts and spells exploded outward, surging in all directions with devastating force.
But the Dragon-Keeper Lord’s physical power was so immense that the shockwaves collapsed inward, with no energy leaking out. Every ounce of destructive force was focused together, letting his strength erupt without restraint!
By contrast, shockwaves that spread in all directions might look vast and terrifying, but their power was scattered. By the time spells hit their target, much of the strength had already been diminished.
This meant the Dragon-Keeper Lord’s control over his strength had reached its absolute peak!
This is the beauty of strength—a kind of beauty that only those who have studied power to its utmost can truly appreciate.
Inside the palace, Quinn and the others had no time for admiration. The air was sucked out in an instant, and Quinn, Warren Moran, Cindy Mu, and Ronnie Long immediately felt an unbearable oppression—even the air inside their chests was gone!
A crushing force pressed in from all sides, as if about to burst them apart. At the same time, the vacuum made their flesh swell outward: eyeballs, heart, lungs, bladder—all ballooned, blood and urine nearly spilling out uncontrollably.
They were swept up by a turbulent wind surging inside the hall, helplessly floating in midair, limbs flailing as they were dragged toward the falling dragon-mace of the Dragon-Keeper Lord—like volunteers marching to their own doom.
If they were sucked under the Dragon-Keeper Lord’s dragon-mace, they would be crushed like ants, with no hope of survival!
Quinn hurriedly reached out and grabbed the stag’s thick antlers with one hand, and with the other, seized Cindy Mu’s palm. Cindy’s fluttering sleeves wrapped around Ronnie Long’s legs, and Ronnie instantly grasped Warren Moran’s hands.
The tearing force stretched the four of them into a straight line. The stag’s four hooves skidded wildly, but it couldn’t stop itself from drifting toward the edge of the hall.
The stag opened its mouth and bit down hard on the Dragon-Qilin’s tail. The Dragon-Qilin yelped in pain, but despite the tremendous force, he remained immovable.
Boom—
A thunderous crash erupted outside the hall—likely the Dragon-Keeper Lord’s blow colliding with the Mute Smith, shaking the four violently in midair as if struck by countless bolts of lightning.
It wasn’t lightning striking them—it was the collision of the Mute Smith and the Dragon-Keeper Lord, their physical power making space itself ripple violently. The space around them surged like waves, tossing them about without mercy.
Blood trickled from the corners of their mouths. The spatial ripples not only battered them, but twisted their bodies as well—their organs nearly dislocated, bones creaking under the strain and cracking with sharp snaps!
“So strong!”
Dragon-Qilin shouted, “I’m about to throw up!”
Quinn, his friends, and the stag all felt so miserable they could cough up blood, yet that fat Dragon-Qilin was still talking, voice booming as ever.
Just then, a burst of blinding light erupted outside. Their eyes went completely dark—brightness to the extreme becomes blackness. Some unknown divine art left their vision pitch black, tears streaming as they frantically activated their eye techniques to protect their pupils.
Bang, bang, bang.
They crashed to the ground, but the shockwaves from the second collision reached them—the impact was farther away this time, yet the tremors made the floor rise and fall like ocean waves, bouncing even the heavy Dragon-Qilin into the air.
Crack, crack, crack—their bodies were slammed against the palace ceiling.
“Who built this palace for Granny Sue? It’s so sturdy…” Quinn wiped blood from his lips, swallowed the blood rising in his throat, and muttered bitterly.
Back when Cult Master Quinn tore down houses and palaces, he’d never run into anything this tough before.
Even the palaces atop Holy Demon Mountain were easy for him to dismantle. Imperial palaces, the Grand Academy, the Golden Palace—he could tear them down at will, not just the buildings but the dragon veins beneath them.
But Granny Sue’s palace was unimaginably sturdy. Smashing into the ceiling nearly shattered their bones, yet the hall itself remained untouched, not even a crack.
The shockwaves from the third clash hit, and Quinn, his companions, and the Dragon-Qilin all crashed to the floor in a heap—Cindy Mu at the very bottom, then Warren Moran, Ronnie Long, Quinn, the stag, and finally the Dragon-Qilin.
Everyone scrambled to their feet, only to find Cindy Mu, the senior martial sister from Little Jade Capital, had been squashed until her eyes rolled back.
Quinn quickly pried her mouth open and poured in a bottle of Dragon Spittle Elixir, finally reviving her.
The fourth shockwave was farther away, but still powerful enough to make their bodies tremble and jolt, the spatial ripples stretching and squashing them—when space compressed, even the slender Cindy Mu puffed up into a round little ball; when it stretched, even the chubby Dragon-Qilin was pulled thin and lost his belly.
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By the fifth shockwave, the effects had finally faded—they all breathed a sigh of relief.
When gods battle, mortals suffer. Even though they were top-tier spellcasters, against such powerful beings, one careless move could mean a gruesome death.