A dragon, leaning on a scepter carved from a branch of the World Tree, hobbled out.
He was far too old.
His golden Scale Armor had long lost its luster and was covered in dark spots. His skin was shriveled, clinging to his bones as if a gust of wind could blow him over.
There was no trace of spirit in his murky draconic eyes, only the deathly stillness and apathy left by the passage of time.
But this life, which seemed on the verge of being extinguished at any moment, exuded a supreme majesty that made all dragons bow in submission.
In his hand, he held a Bronze Bell no larger than his palm.
The bell was of an ancient, simple design. Carved on it were three small seal script characters, which were too far away to be seen clearly.
He was the current patriarch of the Caesar Clan, the one and only king of the Celestial Dragon's Nest—Augustus Caesar.
Augustus's murky gaze swept over the ten thousand prostrating dragons below, a flicker of natural satisfaction in his eyes.
