<h4>Chapter 17: I am the Saint of Dragons</h4>


    Three days passed quickly, and the atmosphere in the Darkveil vige grew increasingly somber.


    The surrounding environment became more deste and silent, as if awaiting the arrival of death itself.


    The trees withered, their branches sparse and leaves scarce.


    When the wind blew, the rustling leaves sounded mournfully deste.


    The sky was overcast and gloomy, devoid of any trace of sunlight.


    The whole world seemed shrouded in darkness, as if the light would never return.


    A thick air of sadness pervaded everywhere.


    In the vige, many of the tribespeople wept silently, their tears streaming down their faces without a sound.


    Their eyes were filled with endless pain and despair, as if they had lost all hope for the future.


    Owen''s anger surged within him; the fate of the disadvantaged races shouldn''t be like this, nor should the continent be like this.


    In this deste vige, there was no joy of harvest, no celebration of festivals, no sweetness of love.


    There was only endless toil, the hardships of life, and a longing for a better future.


    However, this longing seemed forever unattainable, as the fate of Darkveil was sealed.


    It was doomed tonguish in this barrennd, a constant target for the whims of intermediate races.


    Owen''s eyes glowed red, like the only source capable of piercing the darkness.


    Footsteps approached from outside the vige, apanied byughter that seemed mocking to the vige''s plight.


    Upon hearing the footsteps, terror crossed the faces of the Darkveil vigers.


    They quickly hid their children in secretpartments built inside their homes.


    Aka stood at the entrance of his small yard, anxiously watching Owen in the center of the road.


    He had learned from Nina that Owen would help them against the intermediate race.


    Aka, fed up with the oppression, wanted to offer some assistance.


    Owen declined, knowing Darkveil''s help was minimal.


    Without even a silver-tier fighter, how could they resist the mekin?


    Despite knowing their own weakness, Aka was willing to stand behind Owen, united against the outsiders.


    This was Darkveil''s only savior!


    Their only chance!


    It was a matter of life or death!


    The footsteps drew nearer, belonging to three individuals.


    Owen could now see their faces clearly.


    They were all around two meters tall, muscr and robust, exuding a sense of immense strength.


    Their skin was a deep red, like roaring mes, radiating intense heat.


    The three individuals had hair resembling mes in color and form, orange and red, long and curly, fluttering in the wind like dancing fire.


    Their eyes were like gems glinting with a red light, akin to two brilliant pearls in the heart of a fire, filled with wildness and fervor.


    Their facial features were also distinctive: eyebrows arched upwards like mes, exuding fierceness; their noses and mouths had a sharp, angr appearance, like the sharp points of a me; their ears were pointed, resembling small whirlpools within the fire.


    The leader narrowed his eyes at Owen, who clearly wasn''t a Darkveil viger: "Who are you?"


    Owen''s lips curled slightly, revealing sharp, white teeth: "This vige, from today on... is under my protection."


    "Hmph, just a tender-skinned human, seeking death!" one of the two-meter-tall red-skinned individuals bellowed.


    With that, the battle was imminent.


    Owen immediately disyed his astonishing speed and strength.


    He moved like a streak of golden lightning among the mekin warriors, his ws tracing icy arcs in the air.


    Each strike brought a burst of cold, overwhelming the mekin warriors, leaving them gasping for breath.


    As a Gold dragon, inheriting the characteristics of various dragons, Owen naturally used the power of the Ice Dragon branch against the mekin.


    "How arrogant," one of the mekin reacted, sneering, "Let''s see if you have the strength to back up those words!"


    The three were no ordinary foes, summoning me spears in their hands.


    Each mekin warrior wielded their fiery weapon, fighting back fiercely.


    The mes intensified under their assault, as if to reduce Owen to ashes.


    For a moment, Owen found himself in a challenging one-against-three situation.


    However, Owen, with his powerful ice energy, staunchly resisted the mekin''s attacks.


    In the blink of an eye, they had exchanged dozens of blows.


    Owen, undaunted, suddenly leapt up, transforming into a massive golden dragon in midair.


    Circling above, Owen opened his fearsome maw and unleashed a burst of icy dragon breath, instantly freezing one of the mekin warriors into a block of ice.


    It was the skill of the Ice Dragon - Frost Breath.


    The remaining two mekin, their pupils shrinking in shock, felt their mes falter for a second: "You... you''re a dragon? Why didn''t you say so earlier!"


    Owen bared his fangs, letting out a dragon''s roar at the remaining mekin, "Words are wasted on your kind."


    Then, swinging his sharp ws, heunched a ferocious attack on the other two mekin warriors.


    His ws, like des, whipped up a whirlwind with every strike.


    Agilely rolling in the air, he dodged the mekin warriors'' spear thrusts.


    Then, with a swift movement, he extended his ws and viciously grabbed one of the mekin warriors.


    The mekin warrior tried to defend with his me spear, but Owen''s ws, hard as steel, easily tore through it.


    His ws continued forward, ripping into the mekin warrior''s body, tearing him apart.


    Thest remaining mekin warrior, sensing danger, immediately summoned a surge of fiery energy, enveloping himself in it.


    Nourished by this fiery force, his body became even more powerful and ferocious.


    "We mekin have always been on good terms with the dragon race. If you kill me, this will escte into a major conflict!"


    Hearing this, Owen''s draconic maw split wide open: "What are you to dictate my actions?"


    "If you be an enemy of the mekin, our elders may punish you. I advise you not to take this too far. You won''t withstand the punishment from your own elders," the mekin, spear in hand and fear in his eyes, cautioned Owen.


    Dragons, being invincible within their realm as an advanced race, were formidable, and Owen appeared unfathomably powerful.


    Owen flicked his dragon tail, making the ground tremble: "Punished by my elders? I doubt they have the authority to do so..."


    The mekin gasped, "Could it be... you are a Sinister Dragon?"


    (Sinister Dragon: Dragons not governed by their kind, corrupted by dark magic.)


    Owen scoffed, "Sinister Dragon? I am the saint of dragons!"


    "What?"


    Thest mekin widened his eyes in shock, momentarily forgetting to attack.


    Owen let out a fearsome dragon''s roar, "Thus, those who dare offend my domain, only face death!"


    "No, no, no, I don''t want to die... Even if you kill me, even if you are the saint of dragons, I will bite a chunk from you!"


    Thest mekin, eyes wide with a desire for life, mes zing more fiercely on his body, wielded his me spear for a final charge at Owen.


    Owen, seeing his fierce opponent, did not dare to be careless.


    He gathered a powerful icy energy, infusing it into his ws.


    Instantly, his ws became as hard as diamonds, shimmering with dazzling light.


    As the mekin warrior charged at Owen, Owen thrust out his ws.


    A burst of icy energy surged from his ws, striking the mekin warrior directly.


    Beneath the thickyer of frost, the mekin warrior''s body was instantly frozen, transformed into a statue of ice.


    Owen slightly shook his body,nding on the ground, transforming back from his dragon form to human.


    He contemted the battle that had just unfolded.


    The three mekin were of the gold-tier, not particrly strong, which allowed him to resolve the fight with ease.


    But how to solve Darkveil''s troubles?


    Standing before the corpses of the mekin, Owen exuded a powerful aura, as if a deity had descended to the mortal realm.


    His hands still bore the fresh blood of the mekin.


    The vigers of Darkveil gathered around him, their faces etched with shock and joy.


    Some even cried out in excitement: "The honored guest is of the dragon race, an advanced race!"


    Tears slid from the corners of some eyes as they clutched their fists to their chests:


    "The scum of the mekin are finally dead, do you see this, my people?"


    "We can finally be free from the threat of the mekin!"