I Transmigrated Into A Fantasy World To Farm And Build Houses!-Chapter 407: The Wrath of the Dragon

Entering the house, Henry flipped his hand and took out a small scroll from his waist. He untied the string, and as he opened it, words appeared. It was sent by Hasuo.

[Respected Highness Henry,

The beastmen seem to have noticed something unusual. Recently, a few beastmen keep appearing while we work; I can only send you messages at night.

Everything is normal here. The seeds you brought have all been planted, and there have been no transactions with other races. There are no traces of collusion with other kingdoms here either. The beastmen from the Golden Kingdom didn’t bring cotton seeds when they left.

Wishing you all the best.

Your most loyal subordinate,

Hasuo.]

Henry reached out and gently wiped the scroll, causing the words to vanish without a trace.

This was a sacred artifact left by his mother. After signing a pact with it, thoughts in one’s heart could be transmitted to the owner of the artifact through the pact.

Putting the scroll away, Henry fell into thought.

He had brought the guards who had signed a pact with this sacred artifact - those who could not betray him - mainly to protect his own safety; probing the beastmen’s movements was secondary.

As far as he knew, the beastman continent had changed its style of not interacting with humans in recent years. From last year to this year, more and more beastman slaves had drifted to various countries, all sold for high prices.

Among them, besides the tacit consent of the beastmen, there were also human nations hiding within to make a profit.

Henry didn’t want to get sucked into that vortex, so he had his subordinates work while observing more. His own identity was special; even if the attitude of the beastmen in this tribe could be called friendly, it wasn’t appropriate for him to walk around everywhere as soon as he arrived.

Now knowing that this place had no connection to human nations, he was relieved.

On this point, he trusted that little patriarch.

Having been in a high position for many years, he could tell at a glance whether a person’s thoughts were deep or not. Without this ability, one couldn’t grow up in such an environment.

The eyes of this little patriarch were clear.

That day by the muddy field, Henry saw the look in the little patriarch’s eyes as he looked at the fields and his tribesmen. It caused ripples in his heart that he couldn’t name, ripples that wouldn’t stop, to the point where he disregarded royal etiquette and left abruptly without warning.

This didn’t fit his personality, and he couldn’t figure out the reason clearly.

Suddenly, a violent wave of magical power arrived. Henry was startled, turned his head toward the source of the fluctuation, and raised his hand to draw a magic circle in the air. A picture gradually appeared in the center of the circle, the scene shifting from blurry to clear.

Henry had met this person before. He had even suspected this person was sent by some country to trade slaves, but he later extinguished this thought.

When they first met, he had been suspicious because of the opponent’s extraordinary strength.

At this moment, it astonished him even more. He saw that person, who originally had the strength of at least a Great Swordsman, radiating powerful magic. Golden scales began to appear on his face, and his body swelled!

In the next second, the person in the vision looked straight at Henry, seeming to have detected his probing.

In those dark golden eyes was a heavy pressure. That person’s gaze seemed to pierce through the scrying magic, letting out a ferocious roar.

Henry’s face turned pale. The magic circle in front of him began to shake violently. Unable to withstand this pressure, after a futile struggle, it shattered and disappeared.

He was knocked back a few steps by an invisible collision, spitting out a mouthful of fresh blood.

At the same time, Eric, who was not far away, also jumped up violently, looking around in astonishment.

"What’s going on? Why is there such a strong magic fluctuation in the tribe? It’s not from Henry’s house either. What on earth is it?"

Max quickly darted out of the house, pulled Eric into his arms, and looked up at the sky vigilantly.

"Careful!"

The weather today was sunny and cloudless, originally a day to make people happy.

But at this moment, Eric felt that breathing was becoming difficult. The pressure and the violent, powerful magic were getting closer and closer. Cold sweat began to break out on his forehead as he raised his hand to cast a shield for the two of them.

A semi-transparent green shield appeared in front of them, but it shattered before it could fully form. Eric concentrated and cast it again, but it shattered again.

Max wrapped the two of them in beast origin power. Only then was it a bit better, but this pressure of unknown origin was too strong; even he began to feel the strain.

The enemy attacking suddenly hadn’t even shown their face yet, and he was already showing weakness. He hugged his partner tightly in his arms, a sense of powerlessness rising in his heart.

The beastmen of the Hadu tribe, who were originally rejoicing over the return of their tribesmen, now had sinking expressions. They ran in terror toward the source of the pressure, which was also the direction of their little patriarch.

Hasuo and the other guards turned pale. No longer hiding their identities, they ran toward their master.

The situation was urgent. Henry no longer adhered to his usual status; he drank a bottle of high-grade recovery potion and immediately rushed out the door.

With Eric’s house as the center, countless beastmen flooded in quickly like a tide. The warriors rushed to the front, the other beastmen fell a step behind for now, and behind them were a few humans with tense, cold expressions.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye, but Eric, in the middle of it, only felt difficulty. His shield wouldn’t cast, so he could only constantly cast healing magic on Max.

The pressure got closer and stronger. Max hugged his partner tightly, resisting with all his might. The veins on his forehead bulged, his body tense, his teeth gritted tight to prevent his partner from getting hurt.

Between his eyebrows, a soft white light flickered in and out.

The speed of Snow Wolves running at full tilt was extremely fast; a group of beastmen arrived in front of Eric’s yard in just a few breaths.

But there was someone even faster than them.

"Arthur!"

Thomas, being older and wiser, arrived the fastest, stopping and roaring.

Getting closer, the pressure and magic became stronger, and his breathing also became difficult.

But Thomas didn’t have time to pay attention to this. His eyes widened in shock and anger as he looked at the person standing in front of him, radiating a chilling coldness.

Through the fragile courtyard gate, Eric heard Thomas’s voice and shouted in disbelief, "Arthur! What are you doing?"

Could it be that this dragon’s memory had fully returned? Even so, there was no reason to attack the tribe!

Could it be like in those melodramatic TV dramas where old memories returned but the memories of this period were forgotten, so he treated them as enemies?

If that was really the case, then this guy was too ungrateful! Eric had fed this stupid dragon so much food!

The courtyard gate and walls collapsed with a rumble. Dust flew up, obscuring the view, then slowly settled to reveal Arthur’s figure.

Golden scales lined both sides of his forehead, and his dark golden eyes stared coldly at Eric. Behind him, gigantic golden wings that blotted out the sky were spread wide, the cold scales reflecting blinding light.

Sure enough, Arthur had remembered everything.

Never having been looked at by him with such eyes, Eric was extremely angry. No matter what, he felt he had never mistreated Arthur.

On what grounds did he treat Eric like this as soon as he recovered his memory, and even destroy things!

Behind the giant wings, his tribesmen lay scattered across the ground.

That was because Arthur had suddenly spread his wings earlier, and the powerful gust of wind generated by the opening and closing had blown them down, showing its power.