Praise for the Dragon Clan

“Long live the Dragon Race.”
The figure echoed back.

Then, he scanned Black from head to toe. Finding nothing suspicious, he asked:

“Your codename?”

“Yellow Dragon.”

Black replied flatly—devoid of emotion.

“Greetings, Mr. Yellow Dragon. My codename is Purple Dragon.”

Upon hearing “Yellow Dragon,” the masked man—Purple Dragon—became noticeably more respectful.

Clearly, Yellow Dragon was a higher rank than Purple Dragon.

Black gave a slight nod and said:

“I’m here for the handover.”

Hearing this, Purple Dragon looked surprised—frowning slightly.

“But… the handover isn’t due for another thirty minutes. You’re far too early.”

“Are you telling me how to do my job?”

Black’s expression turned stern—his tone sharp, offended.

“I would never dare!”

Purple Dragon looked terrified—afraid of angering someone above him.

“Recent events on this ship are chaotic. An Emperor-Tier Assassin suddenly appeared and attacked the empress. The royal family and Dragoncleaver Guards are now extremely alert—suspecting more infiltrators within.”

“To ensure our handover goes perfectly, I came early.”

After delivering his pre-prepared excuse, Black ignored Purple Dragon and walked forward.

He knew—Purple Dragon wouldn’t dare stop him.

“Yes… truly wise of you, sir.”

Purple Dragon exhaled deeply as Black disappeared into the darkness.

Good thing I didn’t offend him—otherwise, the consequences would’ve been dire.

In the Dragonblood Council, rank was determined by strength.
Insulting a superior? Severe punishment.

He was just a Level 51 High-Tier Sorcerer.
But Yellow Dragon? A Level 60 Assassin—untouchable.

Black also knew the Council confirmed identities through coded signals, not perception-based power checks.

That’s why he dared to impersonate.

After passing Purple Dragon, he soon met another—codenamed Blue Dragon.

“Second passphrase?”

“We are all descendants of the Dragon Race.”

“Codename?”

“Yellow Dragon.”

After explaining his purpose, Blue Dragon raised doubts—but ultimately stayed silent, respecting the rank gap.

Passed the second checkpoint—then the third: Green Dragon.

“Sir, the third passphrase?”

“When the Dragon Kings return, you shall all die.”

…

Smoothly passed again—exactly as Black predicted.

Can’t blame them for being careless.
Who could’ve imagined someone knew their secret codes and codenames?

The Dragonblood Council’s secrecy was legendary.

Every operative in this mission had a [Thousand-Gold Oath] spell cast upon them by the leadership.

Break your vow—leak secrets—and your heart would explode, blood pouring from seven orifices.
A high-tier, cruel spell.

So even if they suspected betrayal—they’d never believe the secrets were leaked.

That’s why Black had the confidence to face them directly.

After leaving Green Dragon, Black walked further—until a small, unremarkable room appeared at the corridor’s end.

Inside—the Dragonfang Blade.

As one of the Council’s Three Sacred Treasures, its storage protocol was extremely strict.

Beyond the three guards outside—the blade was guarded inside by Red Dragon.

Seven leaders were sent for this mission:
Black, White, Yellow, Red, Green, Blue, Purple Dragon.

Rank determined by order—highest to lowest.

To prevent theft, the Council set a storage rule:

The Dragonfang Blade rotated among the top three ranks—Black, White, Yellow Dragon—every three days.

During handover gaps—it was stored in the cargo hold, guarded by the other four.

If anyone stole it? The rest would unite to kill them.

A brilliant system—if not for Black.

Black took a deep breath—pushed the door open.

The room was narrow, covered in dust. On the table—a golden chest.

Surely, that held the Dragonfang Blade.

Black shifted his gaze to the woman standing beside it.

She wore a black bodysuit—accentuating her slim, curvy figure.
With each breath, her chest rose and fell gently.

The woman was startled by Black’s arrival—instantly alert.

After exchanging codenames, Red Dragon clearly doubted him.

“Mr. Yellow Dragon—you’re very early, aren’t you?”

Red Dragon’s rank was close to Yellow Dragon’s—her attitude far less respectful than the others.

“In these turbulent times, I consulted with Black and White Dragon. We agreed to move up the handover.”

Black adjusted his excuse. This woman—Red Dragon—was harder to fool.

“So now, I’ll take custody of the Dragonfang Blade.”

“But Black and White Dragon haven’t informed me of this.”

Red Dragon frowned—her voice full of suspicion.

“Extreme circumstances demand flexibility. The royal family and Dragoncleaver Guards are conducting widespread searches. We might be exposed at any moment.”

“The Dragonfang Blade is sacred—it must not fall into enemy hands!”

Black’s heart pounded—but his voice didn’t waver, sounding convincing.

Hearing this, Red Dragon fell into thought. She knew the chaos on the Hodir—knew this was a critical time.

Yet… something felt off.

Her instincts screamed—don’t hand over the blade so easily.

“Apologies, Mr. Yellow Dragon. Let me first confirm with Black Dragon.”

Red Dragon raised her hand—about to cast a spell to contact others.

But Black grabbed her wrist—stopping her mid-cast.

“You—!”

Just as Red Dragon believed he was definitely suspicious—

Black leaned close—whispered in her ear:

“Praise the Dragon Race.”

Those words froze Red Dragon—her eyes wide, staring at Black in shock.

“Praise the Dragon Race” wasn’t a regular code.
It was a high-level council secret—known only to elite members.

Among the seven leaders, only Black Dragon and she knew it.

Black Dragon knew because the leadership told him—as mission leader, he had the right.
Red Dragon knew because of her noble status—daughter of a high-ranking official.

By Council law—anyone who knew this phrase could unconditionally command all regional branches, even mobilize resources.

Thus—only the highest echelons knew it.

Yellow Dragon couldn’t possibly know this!