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“Silence!”

“You must submit to me completely.”

Cassius fully unleashed his commanding aura, causing a heavy, oppressive force to descend upon every minion present.

Wyverns, the chimera, ogres—all instinctively bowed and prostrated themselves.

Once all his minions were lowered to the ground, the red dragon Cassius slowly used his claw to make an incision on his palm.

His palm, lacking scales but covered in thick, resilient skin, was hard even for him to cut open.

The cut widened, and warm blood began to flow from the wound, gathering and dripping down.

“Drip. ”

“Drip. ”

“Drip. ”

The crimson blood continuously trickled onto the massive stone, pooling in the shallow indentation.

All the minions kept their heads bowed low, with an air of silence filling the surroundings.

No one dared to glance upward, not even by accident, fearing the dragon’s wrath.

“Bloodline Gift.”

Cassius murmured.

With his will activating the special ability, an unusual power within his aura connected him to the blood.

Instantly, Cassius sensed that the flowing blood was no longer inert but closely linked to his body and bloodline.

It felt like an extension of his essence, reaching further and deeper.

As the blood fully transformed, he felt a portion of his strength being divided.

But it wasn’t a mere act of giving; it was like sowing seeds that would, upon “blooming,” eventually give back to him.

The still-warm blood in the indentation began to flow gently.

Contained within it was an unimaginable power.

This was the Gifted Blood.

The minions didn’t know the progress of the ritual or its success, so they kept their heads down.

The air in the valley was nearly stagnant, with thousands of creatures crowding together yet in perfect silence.

Finally, Cassius broke the silence himself.

“You may rise.”

At their master’s command, the minions sighed in relief, standing up en masse.

But as they noticed the pool of flowing crimson blood in the indentation, they all held their breaths, brimming with nervous anticipation.

Who wouldn’t want to be the lucky one granted long life and powerful strength?

“Langpu.”

Cassius called the first name.

This ogre mage was the red dragon’s appointed steward, a rare spellcaster among monsters, and instrumental in the Ember Nest’s development. Even more valuable was his unwavering loyalty, devoted to Cassius’s grand vision.

Cassius needed him to embody strength and authority, a positive example for the other monsters.

Langpu adjusted his glasses, trying to maintain a calm demeanor, as if he had anticipated being chosen.

But truthfully, he’d been shaking with nerves, barely containing his excitement when Cassius called his name, forcing himself to look composed.

Langpu clambered onto the stone, waiting silently.

The blood rose up, flowing toward the ogre’s mouth.

Only a portion of the blood entered Langpu’s mouth—far from enough for the three-meter-tall ogre.

Normally, he could drink the blood of an entire mammoth.

Yet, as soon as the “Gifted Blood” entered his mouth, Langpu’s body began to shake violently.

His mass of flesh trembled continuously.

“Ah—”

Elemental energy surged down his throat.

The ogre’s eyes turned red, his face twisted in agony, and his massive mouth opened wide, abandoning all pretense of composure.

The blazing fire element burned down into his stomach, inflaming his belly like a raging inferno inside him.

Ogres boasted iron stomachs, capable of digesting anything, but for the first time, Langpu felt an unbearable pain in his gut.

“It’s burning, burning!”

Langpu collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony, his huge frame rolling and thrashing as he pounded the stone to relieve his torment.

His fists hammered the rock with resounding booms as the dragon blood churned within him.

In his convulsions, the blood infused with elemental energy was pumped by his heart, ready to transform his entire body.

*Panting heavily,* he lay sprawled on the stone, his massive body bloated and red-hot, wisps of steam rising from his skin, like an overinflated balloon on the brink of bursting.

The dragon’s power was almost too great for the lowly ogre’s bloodline.

Langpu’s growls turned to faint whimpers, and his eyes regained clarity as his life force waned.

The dragon blood greedily drained his vitality, filling him with a torrent of elemental energy.

Was it failing?

Cassius said nothing, watching in silence.

If Langpu perished, Cassius would regret losing a useful subordinate, but only that.

The other ogres clenched their clubs, anxious for their elder’s survival. Though ogres felt little kinship, they still hoped for the survival of the one who always “found food” for them.

Meanwhile, the hobgoblin leader Dolo watched with bated breath.

He had been stifled by Langpu for too long, and if the ogre died, he could seize the chance to rise, becoming the true steward of the Ember Nest.

The thought brought a slight smirk to Dolo’s face.

Just then, something unexpected happened.

“Ah—”

After a long silence, the ogre roared out.

He crouched on all fours in a strange posture, his swollen body continuing to expand as he greedily absorbed the surrounding energy, leaving the air around him dry.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Three breaths.

His body swelled and shrank with each breath.

His form expanded from three meters to four, then over five meters before finally stopping.

Spiny ridges emerged along his back.

His hands and feet sharpened, transforming into something akin to dragon claws.

His thick skin cracked, splitting open to reveal newly grown, hardened red scales underneath, like a snake shedding its skin.

Cassius noticed that the ogre mage wasn’t passively receiving the transformation but channeling the elemental energy within the dragon blood to construct a “fireball” spell model inside his body, drawing even more deeply from the dragon blood.

It was a high-risk move but promised immense rewards.

And thanks to Langpu’s dedicated study, his spell control had reached an astonishing level.