After Obsidian's divine words fell, the dragons were silent as mountains, with only the wind and snow whistling.
Tonight, over a hundred Proto-Dragons had gathered here.
This was the first gathering of the Storm Peaks' Proto-Dragon swarm of such a scale in nearly a century.
Some ancient Proto-Dragons, whose wills were as firm as cold iron, fixed their deep gazes on Obsidian.
They looked at this "god" who claimed he was not a Titan, but in essence, would not be much different.
Besides the "benevolence" he spoke of, there were no further substantial promises or guarantees.
They really wanted to spit at him, but unfortunately… they couldn't win.
They could only remain silent, hoping their descendants would make the correct choice.
"Now, it's your turn," Obsidian's voice, like the tolling of a judgment bell, broke the silence, "It's time to give your answer!"
As the declaration ended, a brief, deathly silence enveloped the peak. Immediately, changes began.
An ancient female dragon, with grizzled scales showing the marks of time, was the first to slowly step forward.
She silently lowered her proud head, her massive body prostrate in the cold snow.
Like a silent signal, the dragons behind her also moved, following the footsteps of this matriarch, expressing their submission to Obsidian.
Next, two reclusive blue male dragons leaped down, their claws steadily landing on the cliff top.
The third, the fourth, the fifth…
About fifteen minutes later, a total of twenty-nine attending Proto-Dragons prostrated themselves under everyone's gaze, stepping into Obsidian's circle of faith, becoming the first batch of converted Proto-Dragons.
Nearly thirty other dragons, though not explicitly converted, remained in place, their gazes steady, clearly choosing to observe, or tacitly acquiescing to the will of the strong.
As for the rest—over thirty dragons flapped their wings and flew away without hesitation, disappearing into the snowfield and broken valleys, with even a few dragons letting out disdainful roars before leaving, indicating their rejection of divinity itself.
Obsidian did not stop them.
He merely stood silently, his profound gaze seemingly piercing through the wind and snow, staring at the nearly hundred colossal beasts flowing away like a tide before him.
The old mother dragon stood beside him, deep worry showing in her ancient eyes: "My Lord, this… is another division, a division of the dragon race. May the future you promised be enough to bear the price we pay today."
"This is not a division," Obsidian's voice was calm and unwavering, containing an undeniable certainty, "I already have a plan in my heart, a plan that can unite all dragons."
Obsidian was not just drawing a pie in the sky; he genuinely had a plan, it just needed more time to be perfected.
The old matriarch bowed again, respectfully saying: "As my Lord commands. We shall follow your guidance and embrace the future you foretell."
After all the Proto-Dragons who chose to leave had flown far away, Obsidian swept his gaze over the remaining Proto-Dragons and nodded slightly.
The number was more than he had expected.
"Quantity is not the key," he slowly began, his voice clearly reaching every dragon's ear, "Only unity of purpose."
"You," Obsidian's gaze swept over the prostrated believers, then fell on the silent observers, "are my second batch of believers… and followers."
The Proto-Dragon swarm remaining in the area began to fold their wings, their gazes once again turning to the god.
Those followers who had not yet converted stood further away, silent as stone;
While the converted ones, who had already prostrated themselves, gathered around Obsidian, awaiting the next divine instruction.
The grizzled old female dragon slowly raised her head, her eyes still filled with doubt and contemplation: "My Lord, now that we have converted to you, what should we do next?"
Another younger, ice-blue male dragon immediately followed up: "We do not understand what a 'church' is? Is it to erect idols? To chant your name day and night? Or to spread your power in all directions?"
At this question, the other Proto-Dragons all looked sideways, and though they did not speak, their eyes all held the same question.
Obsidian quietly watched them.
These primitive behemoths, who once only knew how to hunt in the snow mountains, now bowed before him, not with the humiliation of defeat, but with a genuine desire for knowledge.
"Church?" Obsidian spoke lightly, his tone composed.
"It is the vessel of order, the Context for transmitting faith, the framework that unites believers."
"In mortal kingdoms, it manifests as clergy, houses of prayer, enshrined altars, and binding laws."
"If interested, you can learn and establish a church yourselves."
Obsidian paused, his gaze sweeping over the curious dragon faces, "But for you, the existence of a church is not to restrain you."
"It is to—make you stronger."
At these words, ripples of excitement spread through the dragon swarm, and low dragon roars contained excitement and understanding.
They understood this sentence.
"I will not demand you recite lengthy prayers, nor will I force you to prostrate yourselves before idols all day, chanting with closed eyes."
"Everything is from the heart."
"For you, what is truly crucial is to temper your will in the struggle of blood and fire, and when confronting the shackles of fate, to possess the strength to tear them apart!"
"For this—"
Obsidian suddenly raised his head, his sharp claws pointing directly at the center of the Storm Peaks' deep, perpetually stormy, cloud-churning sky!
"I shall build a floating city there!"
"It will belong to all dragons, become the cornerstone of dragon unity, and furthermore, it will be the sanctuary where your faith converges and your power sublimates!"
"The first thing you must do is help me—build it!"
This earth-shattering declaration stirred a silent tempest among the Proto-Dragon swarm.
They did not cause an uproar like mortals, nor did they question the god's decision.
However, a few young converts exchanged glances, and one male dragon finally couldn't hold back, asking with the directness characteristic of dragons:
"My Lord, we have never built anything."
His voice was not timid, but rather held the frankness and simplicity of a dragon, "Our clan's nests, the valleys for hatching young… they were all just randomly found caves or valleys."
A dragon with bluish-green scales next to him let out a low snort, adding: "Fighting, hunting, breathing fire—these are the instincts of our claws and teeth. But you want us… to build? With these claws?"
He slightly opened his massive maw, revealing his fearsome fangs, "What we are best at, I'm afraid, is crashing mountains down."
The surrounding dragons stirred slightly, a few growling in agreement.
Even Frost Fang secretly glanced at Obsidian, seemingly feeling that he didn't even have the ability to "crash mountains."
Obsidian did not mock them, but he also did not refute them.
He simply raised a claw, signaling the dragons to be quiet, then said in a deep voice:
"I don't expect you to build it by tomorrow."
"This isn't a matter of one or two years, or even ten or twenty years—this is a grand project that will take centuries."
The dragons fell silent again.
Obsidian looked around, his voice still steady:
"You don't need to transport stones or pile up high walls."
"Your task is to find materials—ores that can bear divine power, crystal cores containing the essence of wind, floating rocks that can resist gravity. At the same time, during this period, train, select, and cultivate true elites."
"As for the most core component—" Obsidian's claw slashed through the air, and shadows and golden light outlined an arcane and massive circular trajectory in the churning clouds, "that 'Ring of Trials' inscribed with my will, will be forged by my own hands."
"What you need to do is lay its 'foundation'."
As soon as he finished speaking, the grizzled old mother dragon lowered her head:
"As my Lord commands."
Obsidian nodded slightly and continued: "Before the floating city is built, you can temporarily station yourselves in my lair."
He pointed to the icy cliff at the border of ZulDrak and Storm Peaks:
"Shadow Wing knows the way, and the other dragons will follow him."
"From today onwards, the Obsidian Lair will be the temporary stronghold of the church."