Transmigrated with a Demon-Refining Pot: Hehehe, Refine in an instant

Ron didn't catch it. He dodged to the side, patting Margaret on the neck at the same time. Margaret understood, jerked her head away, knocking the brass dragon aside, and then turned and swooped down.

The target is not Windsor, but the main camp of the Duchy's army.

Ron knew that his army would be at a disadvantage if he fought the Bronze Dragon head-on, so after revealing his strength, he planned to strike at the enemy's vitals.

"Stop him!" Windsor roared.

The brass dragon caught up, but Margaret was faster and didn't bother with it at all.

The silvery-white figure crashed to the ground like a shooting star. The soldiers of the duchy looked up and saw the giant dragon swooping down, and their legs went weak.

Margaret opened her mouth, and a torrent of frost-covered dragon breath poured down. The pale blue chill covered an area of ​​hundreds of meters, instantly freezing soldiers into ice sculptures wherever it passed.

The armor shattered in the extreme cold, the spears broke into pieces, and the cavalrymen and their horses turned into blocks of ice.

Due to the intense fighting on the battlefield, a single blow wiped out nearly a thousand enemy soldiers.

"Ron! You're asking for it!" Windsor's voice came from above, filled with rage.

He saw Ron using his dragon powers to slaughter his soldiers, and immediately began to curse Ron's family.

Seeing that Ron wasn't getting entangled with the brass dragon, he had no better options. While pursuing it alone, he ordered the brass dragon to turn around and dive down into the Silver Army's formation.

Golden flames erupted, engulfing an entire row of soldiers. The flames burned through their armor, scorched their flesh, and filled the air with the acrid smell of burning flesh.

Now it's the Silver Army's turn to taste the dragon's breath.

Ron didn't take Windsor's counterattack seriously at all.

It's time to test the loyalty of these lords; only those who survive will be Ron's good men.

Ron did not turn back. He continued to let Margaret rampage through the Duchy's army, unleashing a burst of fiery dragon breath followed by a burst of frost dragon breath.

The duchy's army experienced firsthand what it meant to experience both extremes of life and death.

The duchy's soldiers collapsed.

They were not afraid of the enemy's swords or cavalry, but they feared the dragon.

With each breath of icy breath from the silvery-white dragon, hundreds of people were turned into ice sculptures. No one could fight back, no one could escape; they could only stand there and wait to die.

The brass dragon was not to be outdone. Each breath of its golden flames could incinerate hundreds of silver soldiers, and even Ron's banner was reduced to ashes.

The Silver Army's formation began to crumble. The surrendered lords had never seen anything like it before, and some had already started running back.

And so, the entire battlefield became a hunting ground for the two dragons.

Both armies had lost all will to fight and were desperately trying to escape and hide, fearing they would be killed by a sudden dragon's breath at any moment.

On the principality's side, there are 120,000 people.

In less than fifteen minutes, nearly 20,000 were lost. A small portion were killed by the dragon's breath, but most perished in the chaotic trampling.

Everyone was busy trying to escape; once someone fell, it was almost impossible for them to get up again.

When one person falls, many more will be tripped up, so most of the soldiers lost were trampled to death by their own men.

The Duke of Windsor's eyes reddened.

Ron doesn't care about his losses, but he does.

Many of them are directly subordinate to the duchy, representing the wealth of his Brass family.

He unleashed his fighting spirit to stop Margaret's actions; Ron had been waiting for this opportunity for a long time.

He suddenly turned around with Margaret and came face to face with the Duke of Windsor.

The Duke of Windsor looked at Margaret's gaping maw, about to unleash its breath, and felt a chill run through him.

"Oh no! I'm hooked."

The Duke of Windsor desperately unleashed his fighting spirit to dodge, barely managing to escape the dragon's breath. A patch of his hair was singed, but before he could even catch his breath...

He was then whipped away by Margaret's tail as she came to meet him.

This wasn't like the one Ron had been hit with before; this was a real, full-force lash, a solid blow.

The Duke of Windsor was sent flying backwards, and some fragments of his internal organs could be vaguely seen being expelled in mid-air.

Having landed a successful blow, Ron did not press his advantage.

Seeing that the brass dragon had turned around again, he gestured for Margaret to go around it and continued to attack the duchy's army.

After being beaten, the Duke of Windsor finally came to his senses and, with the help of the brass dragon, drank several bottles of potions to stabilize his injuries.

We can't continue fighting them; they're barefoot.

Even if they exhaust all the people in the pioneering lands below, they probably won't feel bad. When they have no more scruples, riding dragons to wreak havoc in the duchy will be disgusting.

Having come to terms with reality, the Duke of Windsor is a man who can let go of what's in store.

Even though he suffered a great loss, he decided to make peace with Ron.

He clutched his wound, sat atop the brass dragon, and spoke to Ron, who was still wreaking havoc:

"Lord Ron, stop! Let's talk!"

Ron had been keeping an eye on the situation with the brass dragon and Windsor, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he heard that Windsor had publicly backed down.

He patted Margaret's neck, and she stopped her dive, hovering in mid-air. She was panting heavily, her blue eyes filled with murderous intent.

Ron took the opportunity to give her a large amount of magic potions to replenish her magic power, and then led Margaret forward.

The two dragons stared at each other from hundreds of meters away, both panting heavily. On the ground, both armies were retreating, neither daring to approach the battlefield ravaged by the dragons' breath.

"Want to talk?" Ron's voice, amplified by his battle aura, echoed throughout the wasteland.

"How do you want to talk?"

Windsor clutched his chest, the blood still fresh from his mouth. His armor was torn in several places, and his helmet was nowhere to be found.

He rode on the back of the brass dragon, facing Ron across hundreds of meters.

"Stop first," Windsor said in a hoarse voice.

"If this fight continues, no one will benefit."

Ron glanced down at the ground. The duchy's army had completely collapsed, with hundreds of thousands scattered across the wasteland, heads covered, running wildly in all directions, while others knelt on the ground waving white flags.

On their side, it was about the same; the brass dragon hadn't held back at all.

The Silver Army suffered equally heavy losses; the lords who had surrendered either fled or scattered, with only Hart, Aiba, and their direct troops still holding out.

Ron, of course, wouldn't agree with the Duke of Windsor's statement, and said nonchalantly.

"You jest, Duke of Windsor. I can afford this loss."

Windsor didn't want to argue with Ron anymore, her gaze complex as she looked at him:

"Lord Ron, you also come from the Duchy of Brass. The Duchy has not treated you unfairly in any way. There is no need for us to fight to the death like this."

"You are very young to have become a dragon knight, which is something many people dream of their whole lives."

The Duke of Windsor paused, perhaps thinking of himself, before continuing:

"In short, your strength has been recognized by the duchy, and you are qualified to sit at the table. The duchy will not stop you from establishing your own country."

But that's all.

"The bottom line for the principality is that you must leave us a piece of land to develop."

You cannot extinguish the Duchy's hopes for expansion; this would be going against all the nobles, large and small, of the Brass Duchy.

I hope you can think about this calmly.

After hearing what the Duke of Windsor said, Ron also realized that he might have attacked them a little too hastily.

If he really takes over all the territory, leaving no openings, wouldn't these guys be constantly looking for trouble to cause him?

After thinking for a while, Ron agreed to return Ironrock Fortress to the Duchy of Brass.

Let them exchange this last piece of land they have left for us.

After Ron made this suggestion, the Duke of Windsor considered it and agreed.

With a northernmost settlement, they could still continue their northward expansion.

Most of the lords of the original territory of the duchy were incorporated into the government, and many of those who escaped died and were sent to the Iron Rock Fortress territory.

This is at least a passable explanation.

The two then discussed trade and the issue of borrowing a route, and after reaching a consensus, they each rode their dragons back to their camp.

However, Ron suddenly had another idea and turned to mention it to the Duke of Windsor:

"Now that you've arrived riding a dragon and leading a large army, you can go and conquer the expansion of the neighboring Black Iron Duchy!"

Don't worry, I won't trip you up. If you make a move, I'll definitely help you out!

After saying that, he left immediately.

The Duke of Windsor grinned as he watched Ron ride away on his dragon, and remarked with a sigh:

"I'll fuck you, fuck you!"