Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

The humiliation of being treated like a toy enraged Immelt, the red dragon. She swung her only movable tail, intending to strike her father's left cheek. She failed; the martial arts master, Mr. Dragon, easily dodged the sweeping attack and used a Dragon Claw move to coil the red dragon queen into a dragon ball.

The humiliated Red Dragon Queen roared in defiance, "This is racial discrimination! What's wrong with dwarves?! Dwarves are cute too! It's none of your business!!!"

The dragon father was even more provoked; he opened his mouth wide, as if he wanted to swallow his daughter whole.

"What's wrong with me?! What's wrong with my taste?! My most beautiful darlings, I cherish them like they're made of glass!! I dressed you up so nicely before sending you off, and you come back looking like this?! Ugh! You look like a short, flat punk who's been punched flat!! And you're still thinking about your lousy beard!! What do girls need beard accessories for?! Are you crazy?! Anyone who wears a fake beard is fucking crazy!!!"

"I don't care what you do!! I'm your father!!!"

"You wait, one day I'll slaughter all those short, stocky guys!!!"

"Using my precious jade like charcoal!!!"

"In the name of the Devourer Yemotar, I will wipe out all those shorty bastards who covet my daughter!!!"

Chapter 759 The method is to make children?

Lyle and the leisurely Twilight Dragon Mother observed this competitive parent-child activity from the sidelines. Compared to Lyle's anxiety, Sylvie seemed relaxed about her daughter Immelt's predicament. She leaned against a boulder and chatted with Lyle with great interest.

The truth was not far off from Lyle's guess; the red dragon Immelt's dwarf grandmother appearance was exposed.

At the time of his death, the Dragon Lord had shown a fervent devotion to dragons, even though he was still a phantom dragon. Now, reborn as a dragon, his beloved dragons have become his offspring, and their two profound loves have merged. After his children reached adolescence and left the nest, the Dragon Lord's loneliness grew daily, and even his wife, the Dragon Queen, could not fully fill the emptiness in his heart. At Sylvie's urging, Yemotar, the Father of Dragons, under the pretext of inspecting the actual spread of faith among the dragons—that is, examining the results of Lyle's work—began collecting the spiritual statues offered by the dragons' families to their children, essentially creating collectible figurines of their faith.

Given Mr. Dragon's personal hobby, he collected more than twenty sculptures of each of his children. These included dragon-shaped sculptures, anthropomorphic sculptures, and sculptures depicting other spiritual or ideological themes—anything related to his children. Mr. Dragon would happily take them to his dragon nest and place them atop his pile of gold and jewels.

Initially, there were no problems. Mr. Dragon had no complaints about the dwarf-like sculpture of the Red Dragon's daughter. He understood the dwarves' needs quite well; creating an approachable image for his guardian would facilitate the spread of Immelt's faith. After all, the Black Dragon also had his giant statue, the Green Dragon's Emerald had elven decorations, the White Dragon's shell-painted tail resembled a fish tail, and the Blue Dragon Kristor's statue was almost identical to his dragon priest, the scholar. Sometimes, Mr. Dragon would even joke with his friend, the scholar, that his son's statue looked more like the scholar's son.

However, the image of the red dragon sculpture is uniquely fixed. Even though the dwarves all know that Immelt is a red dragon, and even though the dwarves affectionately call her the Red Dragon Queen, the beautiful ruby ​​sculptures always depict only a red-haired dwarf woman holding a hammer.

As a lich, Mr. Dragon has a great fondness for all sorts of bizarre and primal beasts, but he prefers the stylized forms of reptiles and mammals. As a dragon, Mr. Dragon's affections are also fixed on the slender human and elven races. Regardless of his form, Mr. Dragon's preferences are quite conservative.

When the two-hundredth red-haired dwarf woman sculpture was placed in his dragon's lair, the Father of Dragons could no longer contain himself. He opened a portal, rushed over to the dwarf workshop he often disguised himself as visiting, grabbed the bearded jeweler by the collar, and shouted angrily, "Couldn't you have sculpted my daughter a little better?! What did my little Mel do to you?!"

But to everyone's surprise, the dwarf craftsman also erupted with anger no less than his father's. He directly struck the stunned Father of Ten Thousand Dragons with his hammer. The Red Dragon Hammer, imbued with the power of the Dragon Father's own daughter, struck the Dragon Master's face, leaving him with mixed feelings.

"Are you insulting my work?! Insulting my beloved Red Dragon Goddess!! Defaming her? I realistically sculpted her after gazing upon the Queen's majesty!! Get out!! You idiot who desecrates the Red Dragon's appearance!!"

what?

Realizing the dwarf wasn't lying, the dragon didn't retaliate. Rather than reprimanding the arrogant dwarf, the dragon cared more about the true meaning behind his words.

"My little Mel, isn't she an adorable and beautiful elf girl?"

The father, who adored his daughter and was proud of Immelt's beautiful appearance, arrived at the Red Dragon's workshop. Upon witnessing the barrel-shaped, red-haired dwarf emitting a hearty laugh, the overwhelming connection of blood caused the Father of Ten Thousand Dragons to break down.

It was the kind of anger a father felt when he saw his daughter had a sweetheart and deliberately distorted her humble posture to please him. He was furious. After learning that the entire dwarf race had inappropriate thoughts about Immelt because of the Red Dragon Idol Project, the enraged dragon father wished he could exterminate the entire dwarf race.

Mr. Dragon was dragged back to the dragon's lair by Immelt, and at this moment, the ever-obedient red dragon daughter launched a magnificent rebellion against her father.

"Congratulations! Congratulations!" Daenerys Targaryen clapped her hands, not wanting to miss out on the excitement. "Yamtor, as a father, has always been too biased towards his eldest son. Finally, little Mel is also receiving a father's love education. Hmm, that's a big step in his growth."

Lyle had nothing to say about Daenerys's Spartan upbringing; his only concern was whether his still-angry father would be implicated, since he, as the Dragon King Priest, was the one who initiated the Red Dragon Idol Project.

"In the name of your father Yemotar, the father of all dragons, Immelt! You are confined! If you dare to take another step near the dwarves, that moment will be the moment of their destruction!" Mr. Dragon opened a portal, threw Immelt inside, slammed the door shut, turned his head, and snorted with explosive force as he approached Lyle with a thud.

"Lyle!!!"

The dragon father's roar made Lyle's legs go weak. If it weren't for Nia's support, he would have almost knelt down in fear of the dragon king priest.

"I was wrong!!!" Lyle wisely admitted defeat. The lingering influence of his mentor had not dissipated even after he was reborn as a dragon. Rather, Lyle was more afraid that his teacher, who now possessed the physique of a dragon, would suddenly give him a make-up exam for an advanced course in Bone Spirit Conjuring.

A chill ran down Lyle's head; the dragon father's sigh sent a gust of wind through him.

“What have you done wrong, my beloved disciple, my priest?” The dragon master was always very reasonable when facing Lyle. “You have done a great job in fulfilling the duties I entrusted to you, taking better care of my child than I expected. The fault lies with those dwarves! Really, those damned dwarves dared to dream of eating dragon meat.”

Feeling his anger rising, Wanlong's father looked apologetically at Longmu, and felt much relieved after realizing that his wife did not dislike his strictness towards the child.

He lowered his head again, looking at the students he rarely saw.

"You've come to see me because of something important, my beloved student."

"Dragon Mentor, I would like to ask you, how can I strengthen my race?"

The dragon father smiled humanely, his earlier anger vanishing as he rejoiced at Lyle's ambition.

"Oh, so you finally want to strengthen your race? Such a clear goal, it seems you consulted scholars beforehand. Then I won't repeat that redundant knowledge."

“Lyle, then I’ll just tell you the answer directly. Our method of the Spirit Summoning School is actually very simple.”

"Quality and quantity are the keys to strengthening the ethnic group."

Lyle frowned, not because he couldn't understand the dragon's words, but because he understood them too easily, and found the method absurd.

"The Spirit Summoning School, if I understand correctly..."

"Improving the quality of an ethnic group means carrying out advanced modifications to the group, such as taboo modifications."

"As for quantity, expanding the population, teacher... you wouldn't be suggesting I..."

Mr. Dragon nodded straightforwardly.

"Go and create! What kind of necromancer are you if you can't create your own population!"

As expected of the Dragon Father who single-handedly gave birth to the entire dragon race, he is truly convincing.

Chapter 760 Top-Grade Consumables

A necromancer is a race.

Imbuing the inanimate with souls, granting them a vitality displeasing to the Creator, manipulating blasphemous and twisted creations—this is the necromancer's duty and arrogance. A rebellious madman, coveting the power of creation yet unwilling to fulfill its obligations, its empty body dominated by a chaotic will, the Andrei Lich, unwilling to rest, awakens from death. Defining the Creator as boring, the necromancer disregards the world's rules, exploiting a flaw in the divine.

That's what the textbook says, and the lich who compiled the textbook is perfectly justified in doing so.

The Creator is the God of Chaos; rebellious forces compelled bloodlines to abandon their roots and pursue order, which is why the world is now constructed with rules and regulations. The pursuit of chaos is righteous; Andrei is merely a prodigal son yearning to return home, stubbornly embarking on an artificial atavism.

Lyle dismissed the words recorded by his colleagues and even laughed out loud when he saw the famous classics of the literary society.

They trace their origins back to ancient gods and worship them. These shameless scoundrels really love to gild their own lily.

Lyle didn't believe a word of it. He even suspected that the lich's repeated emphasis on his own "justice" was an attempt to circumvent someone's commandments.

The worship of such primal emotions that define social classes is something Andre despises.

The Andrei liches represent chaos; they do whatever they want.

Mr. Raymond represents power; he can beat whomever he wants.

But that would be going off on a tangent. In short, necromancers are an interesting type of spellcaster.

“But, teacher, my race, the Phantom Clan, is not my creation. They were born in a vanished kingdom, a forgotten race whose lineage has been severed. They have lost the ability to reproduce on their own, and there are less than ten pages in books recording their related technologies. How can I change such a race?”

Born to be servants, their lives defined by sacrifice, they are a defeated race incapable of malice. The Phantoms, as a race, are undoubtedly failures; the purpose of a normal race is not destruction.

"Oh, isn't this a rare race as beautiful as an ancient fossil? A buried history, a sealed race. Lyle, you're really lucky." The Father of Ten Thousand Dragons felt no difficulty whatsoever, only the delight of discovering yet another great discovery. Lost technology, a flawed race, encountering his own apprentice. This was precisely the trial that would help Lyle improve.

However, it was a process of creating something from scratch, much like the difficulties faced by pioneers of necromancy like the dragons in their early days. From followers of the technology to guides, the dragons held high expectations for Lyle's actions.

Lyle was unaware of the dragon father's thoughts. He was preoccupied with the worry of a lack of information, and the lack of a clear path forward left the young necromancer somewhat bewildered.

The dragons could certainly offer guidance, but that wasn't the right time. The Father of Dragons only wanted to provide spiritual support.

The noble dragon lowered its head, its enormous eyes staring directly at the tiny student. Before Lyle was intimidated by the dragon's imposing presence, the dragon's voice was calm and gentle.

“You can do it, Lyle.”

“I know my students very well, and I know that you are capable of reviving any lost art.”

"Ha, what are you worried about? Can't the Dragon King Priest, who single-handedly awakened the dragon race from the brink of death, save his own race?"

Lyle maintained his worried expression and retorted listlessly, "That's different, teacher. The plan to revive the dragons involves five dragon priests, you, and others. The dragon lineage has not been broken, so it's much simpler."

Mr. Dragon snorted.

"It's as if those old fogies could revive the dragon race without you."

Lyle left the dragon's nest dejectedly.

……

Posua, embroiled in war.

In a forgotten and isolated paradise.

A writhing tumor grew from the back of the black-clad figure wearing a bird-beak mask. The surface of the tumor was covered with tentacles and eyeballs, resembling a twisted black sun. The plague healer, holding a sleek white bone blade, calmly and slowly sliced ​​tissue from the twitching, living tentacles. His mask splattered with deep purple blood, and a cheerful humming sound emanated from within. The fallen fragments moved about, but those pieces didn't remain independent for long before being swallowed by the shadow beneath the black robe.

Sometimes you can be quite scary.

The shadows cleaned the ground, then grumbled at Lyle with some surprise. Less than a day after leaving the dragon's lair, his mood had completely reversed, and he rushed to the Phantom Clan's paradise to begin his dissection game.

Nia licked the blood off the mask; the blood of her own kind tasted even better than ice cream.

“I’m a genius.” One could imagine Lyle’s smug expression without even removing the mask. “I’ve solved the greatest challenge in necromancy, and grasped the universal key to creation. Who would have thought… to use the Child of the Unseen as the finest material for necromancy!”

Lyle brought the Unseen Children out of reality. As parts of Nia's body, they harbored a strong desire to become the incarnation of an evil god and showed affection for Nia's physical form. Nia did not devour these parasitic minions, a fact Lyle was grateful for, which gave him the opportunity to deal with them now.

The Child of the Formless is the residue flowing from the body of an evil god, possessing the ability to evolve into countless deformed worlds, making it arguably the most versatile consumable. It possesses the world's closest omnipotence to that of a god: immortality, malleability, and inclusiveness. It will not die even when disintegrated into dust, and its distortion and deformation will all be possible; as the source, it encompasses all laws.

Lyle's solution was simple: the process of elimination.

First, gather basic information about the Phantom Clan to obtain a general structural model. Then, using the all-powerful Primal Stone, the Child of the Unseen, continuously cut and remove "parts" that do not conform to the Phantom Clan's concept. Once the superfluous anomalies are eliminated, what remains is the correct answer. Based on the results, deduce the method to recreate the Phantom Clan's creative techniques. Although the method is somewhat crude, a typical example of using high-level resources to achieve miracles, the theoretical logic is still sound.

Lyle's race, the Phantoms, is a rare and lost race, very fragile, and Lyle is unwilling to cause them any loss through his experiments. But it is clear that the earliest knowledge is born from wounds, which is why Lyle encountered obstacles at every turn at the beginning of his research—not because he couldn't think of them, but because he dared not.

However, the Unseen Ones are immortal. Lyle felt no pity; his already subdued will would no longer rebel against their superiors. Nia felt no pity either; her stance was almost identical to Lyle's. Although she was cutting off her own flesh and blood, her mental synapses had all been transferred to the Unseen Ones' lower nervous system. Nia felt nothing, only that the taste was rather pleasant.

No one would have imagined that someone would use God's servants as experimental materials.

“【Snake】, use 【Mental Analysis - Reverse Thinking】 on me again, and I will soon be able to analyze the structure of the Phantom Clan.”

The enormous phantom raised its head, looking down at the fleshy head of the Invisible Child with a sorrowful expression.

“Lyle, please be kind to these unfamiliar companions.” The harmless phantom mistook the Child of the Unseen for one of its own, just as it had initially misunderstood Nia. But the Child of the Unseen instinctively loathed these deformed freaks, and the phantom’s expression of sympathy felt more like an insult that enraged it.

Lyle smiled gently, "I am very gentle."

"It's screaming."

"That was a joyous cheer."