Dragon Tribulation of All Realms

Chapter 271 - Spoilers are a bad habit

The sound was easy to understand.

The content is unimaginable.

Even in Jon Snow's wildest dreams, he only hoped to be recognized by the Starks, to truly bear the Stark name and shed his bastard status. Now, however, a man of unknown origin, but certainly no ordinary person, claims to have been chosen to be king.

“How could that be!” He stood up abruptly, waving his hands. “I have no land, no army, and my origins are common knowledge. How could I possibly become the King of Westeros!”

He looked at the man, yet he couldn't make out his face no matter what he did. A certain invisible impulse stirred within him, and he realized then that he should have questioned him loudly or opposed him from the very beginning.

The man, however, paid no attention to his subtle inner changes.

“You have only pointed out the obstacles, but you have not denied them. It seems that deep down you also harbor the ambition to become king.”

Jon wanted to say no. But he couldn't bring himself to say it. The man before him exuded mystery, yet he failed to ignite even a spark of hostility in Jon. And he had a premonition that this stranger's words possessed a power far greater than he had imagined.

“I…” he said, that was all he could say.

“You already have an army,” the man said calmly. “You have a force of thirteen hundred warriors under your command. They are all skilled in weaponry and physically strong. With just a little discipline, they can unleash power far exceeding that of a conventional army.”

“…That’s not my warrior,” Jon said somewhat nervously. “I’ve only…become the First Ranger. And those barbarians…freemen, they only listen to Mance Red.”

“They only listen to power,” the man said calmly. “And you can easily defeat him. You can even heal his severed hand in front of everyone before defeating him again. And then, everyone will acknowledge that you are the chosen King of Westeros.”

He opened his mouth.

"...How could I possibly do that?"

“You can do it.” The man raised his hand, a faint light appearing at his fingertips. It was the radiance of life, a manifestation of miracle. Just by looking at it, Jon felt his heart race and his breath quicken.

This was undeniable evidence, and when that glimmer of light flowed into Jon's palm, he knew he could use this power at any time—even a wound that had shattered half his body could be healed instantly. Jon had only ever heard of such magic in legends and stories.

A conjecture that had been swirling in his mind from the very beginning finally escaped his lips.

"You...you are an ancient god?"

He received no answer. The man before him simply watched him silently.

"Now you have an army. And when you return to Winterfell, you will also receive a piece of land."

“...I will not take my brother’s things. Only Robb is the rightful heir to Winterfell. And my father, Lord Eddard Stark, is still in his prime.”

A strange smile appeared on the man's lips. That subtle smile gave him a sense of foreboding.

The next moment, he saw the future, a vision yet to come—he saw his beloved father caught up in a plot to kill the king in King's Landing, framed, imprisoned, and forced to confess his crimes in front of everyone. Yet that blond, disgusting, hellish bastard couldn't wait to utter those cruel words.

"Guards! Cut off his head!" The king's order was carried out, and the father's head was severed alive. It was pierced by a spear and placed against the moat. His sister, Sansa, was forced to stand beneath the spear, spitting it with venomous words.

Pain gripped Jon's heart in an instant. He saw Robb, filled with rage, draw his sword and lead his army south to slaughter. While Robb was skilled in warfare, he knew nothing of governance—he had betrothed a high-ranking nobleman for victory, only to break it after winning. And at that bloody wedding, he and his direwolf were beheaded.

But this was not the end. He saw more illusions—he saw the Ironborn on the Iron Islands declare themselves kings, he saw the hostage sent to Winterfell, his other brother… his former brother had betrayed the North. He saw the Ironborn plundering the ports and cities of the North. He saw the traitor bearing Theon's name conquering the empty Winterfell, hunting down his young brother, and many familiar faces dying by the Ironborn's sword.

Grief and shock overwhelmed him in an instant, transforming into a raging inferno. He repeatedly mulled over the names of conspirators and traitors, and he knew that the man before him, whether he claimed to be a god or not, had no reason to lie.

The growth happened in an instant. He knew his brothers and father were always strong—they wouldn't compromise and wouldn't be ruthless to the seemingly innocent. This meant someone had to stand up and protect them, and make those despicable people pay a bloody price.

It can only be him, it has to be him.

Therefore, he could not abandon this land. Even if it meant betraying it...

“You don’t need to betray.” Yet the stranger’s voice still echoed in his ears. “You were rightfully entitled to be the king of this land. For you are the child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. The blood and power of dragons and wolves flow in your veins.”

Targaryen is the surname of the previous rulers of Westeros, while the current Baratheon is the usurper king. However, even as a usurper, Robert Baratheon was able to ascend the Iron Throne because his ancestors were related to the Targaryens by marriage; the blood of the king flows in his veins.

However, in terms of bloodline, Jon Snow is undoubtedly more legitimate than that king.

Jon suddenly remembered his wolf, Ghost, who had white fur. And as far as he knew, all Targaryens had silver hair.

"And now, you can feel it right away."

The howl of a wolf resounded in his heart, accompanied by the roar of a dragon. An invisible and powerful force surged from his limbs and bones, and he saw illusions in his eyes.

He saw his own wolf.

He saw the pure white wolf cub rapidly swell in the storm. He saw hundreds and thousands of dire wolves gather at the foot of the Black Castle amidst Bai Ling's howls, while Bai Ling's eyes were fixed on him atop the castle.

"Come here," he said instinctively.

He saw Bai Ling respond to him joyfully, her nimble limbs climbing nimbly along the cliff face. But only a moment later, the window he had sealed was pushed open forcefully, and the still agile Ice Wolf, even as it grew, pounced on his lap.

Now he had a cavalry force. And he had a feeling that these wolves would continue to grow until they could carry agile warriors on their backs. Therefore, on that basis, there was truly nothing that could stop him from seeking kingship.

“Go, Jon Snow.” The stranger’s figure faded into the background of the voice.

“Go and win everything you deserve. Then…”

"Don't look north of the Great Wall until you feel strong enough."

(End of this chapter)