CHAPTER 439: CHAPTER 263: THE IMPORTED SHIT STIRRER

The Human World’s most special winter feast had finally concluded, much like the moment David’s Dragon Breath fireworks eventually burned out.

Unfortunately, just as David had regained his strength, he discovered that his ambition to have another great brawl had been dashed.

It wasn’t that Nifadora and the others had human-like notions of secular shame; it was simply that their mating season had passed.

This was unlike humans. Humans weren’t without a mating instinct; instead, they had evolved into a perverse species that was in heat every single day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year.

Gathering the Chromatic Dragons during their mating season again would be quite difficult.

David felt quite regretful about this but did not insist.

Though he might guide them slowly, if he happened to be walked in on by those three dragon children, it wouldn’t be too good; David still needed to save face.

With the drive of desire gone, he naturally felt as serene as a sage and returned to the main topic of his journey.

After listening to David’s concerns regarding the High Elves’ intervention on the battlefield, Nifadora didn’t rush to answer. Instead, she nestled her now seemingly delicate body next to David.

They appeared like two big cats huddling together for warmth, tucking in their paws, and she asked, her eyes slightly squinted, "I remember you once told me that to get the Century Aroma seeds, you and Lord Attilicia once played the role of rogues by engraving a Teleportation Circle on the items?"

"Indeed." Remembering the foolish things he had done with his dragon dad when he was a young dragon, a smile of reminiscence appeared on his face.

It seems I have been in this world for so many years now.

But he still didn’t quite understand what this had to do with dealing with the incessant raids by the High Elves.

Then he saw Nifadora also smiling with a hint of ’malicious intent’ as she said, "I think we could play the role of ’Century Aroma seeds’ ourselves."

"Oh?" David’s eyes brightened as he finally grasped Nifadora’s intention.

Indeed, what those High Elves were doing now wasn’t much different from what thieves would do.

Especially since Pafila, the Dragon Mother, had caused the volcanic ash disaster. Even though the weather and climate had long returned to normal, the yearning for food remained deeply rooted in various races, including the High Elves.

Plus, with the existence of Magical Items like the Portable Cave, it was more likely for these elves to try to transfer these plundered war resources rather than simply burning them on the spot.

And such things weren’t uncommon. On neighboring Blue Star, there was also incessant news of weapons, provided as aid to a certain embattled smaller nation, flowing into Middle Eastern black markets.

It’s all business.

This was especially true for the High Elves currently besieging the Eight Peaks Mountain fortress on the Old Continent of Skanis, fighting a protracted siege.

They were in dire need of these resources.

They couldn’t bear to destroy them.

But then he voiced some regret, "This tactic can only be used once, though." It’s difficult to eradicate the problem at its root.

Because if this tactic were revealed even once, the High Elves would immediately become alert, leaving them with two choices:

Either they would be forced to give up on the plundered war resources.

Or they would increase the scrutiny from their Spellcasters over the plundered goods.

Given the nature of High Elves, it was even more likely that they would do both: selectively abandoning some resources while carefully screening the high-value ones.

"Once is enough. They are, after all, High Elves, and especially since their current leader is none other than Queen Arasya from Eternal Gathering Island of Toriel."

"Is there something significant about that?" David suddenly realized that compared to Nifadora, a Green Dragon and a natural enemy of elves, he didn’t understand these contradictory creatures very well.

"Have you heard of the organization called the Harpists?" Nifadora asked.

"The Harpists? Old friends," David suddenly laughed.

David more than just knew of them; in the Hell Fortress located in the Anauroch Great Desert of Toriel, at least a dozen of them were currently locked up.

They came one group after another, just like The Calabash Brothers trying to save their grandpa.

They were also known as ’the most meddlesome people in Ferren.’

Admittedly, each of these individuals could be considered ’good people’ in the eyes of intelligent beings. However, the composition of this group was extremely complicated. It included humans, half-elves, elves, some halflings, Dwarves, and even forest nymphs and centaurs. Furthermore, along the Sword Bay coast, there were quite a few ’sea police’ Bronze Dragons.

However, elves still made up the majority. This often led the group to use any means necessary to achieve their goals and to be overly ’black-and-white’ in their views.

Over time, they had become ’infamous’ in the eyes of many powers.

They were like a swarm of pervasive cockroaches, meddling in everything and stirring up any situation that displeased them.

So much so that sometimes their disruption to a region’s order was no less than that caused by their archenemies—the Santarin Society.

Nifadora also smiled. "You can understand this group we’re dealing with now as an offshoot of the Harpists that evolved in Elariya. However, they are under the command of Queen Arasya, and they’re called the Gloomy Lyre, symbolizing the guardianship of hope beside the Abyss."

The smile on David’s face grew more wicked. "That means," he said, "if we capture a bunch of them in one go..."

Nifadora’s tail slowly coiled around him. "The rest," she said, "will fall right into our trap."