After breakfast, Leon arrived at the temple's front courtyard, where he spotted Roswitha speaking in murmurous tones with Anna, seemingly discussing some sort of handover.

Leon approached with his hands in his pockets, glanced briefly at the head maid nearby, and then turned his attention to Roswitha, greeting her enthusiastically:

"Good morning, wifey!"

The term "wifey" was pronounced with a clarity and firmness that made it sound like a declaration of allegiance to a cause.

The queen shot him a look of exasperation.

She knew exactly why this rascal was so uncharacteristically eager—because Anna was present, and they had to play the part of a loving couple convincingly.

If, afterward, she teased Leon about it, asking, "Admit it, you secretly wish I were your real wife, don't you?"

Leon would counter with something like, "Anna was watching—we had to sell the act, right?"

"Acting" was a convenient excuse—one that worked perfectly for both of them.

"Good morning, hubby."

Though inwardly cursing this cheeky man for taking the opportunity to call her "wifey" and take liberties, Roswitha thought that saying "hubby" in return unexpectedly improved her mood.

It was weird.

Witnessing the scene, the head maid covered her mouth to stifle a laugh before composing herself and speaking earnestly:

"I will do my best to fulfill the task assigned to me by Her Majesty. Please rest assured."

"Mm, I appreciate it, Anna. We’ll be back by tomorrow night."

"Understood, Your Majesty."

With that, Anna gave a slight bow, nodded politely at Leon, then turned and returned to the temple.

When Anna was out of earshot, Leon asked,

"Back by tomorrow night? Where are you going?"

"Did you not pay attention to what I just said?"

Leon shrugged. "Did you say something?"

"I'm not going anywhere. *We* are."

Leon blinked. "So... where are *we* going?"

"Sky City."

"A date?"

"No!"

"Alright, alright, not a date. No need to be so defensive, as if you don't like going on dates with me."

"I *don’t* like going on dates with you," Roswitha declared, with perfect righteousness.

"Sure, sure, you don't like it, you don't like it. I'm the one who's always been hesitant to ask you out, and you've *never* invited me out. Happy now?"

A slight blush appeared on the queen's delicate face, and with a flick of her tail, she swatted Leon on the backside.

Leon could’ve dodged, but he didn’t bother.

Fortunately, Roswitha held back, landing only a symbolic smack that didn’t hurt at all.

This kind of playful exchange might seem trivial, but there was a term for it: “flirting.”

"So, why are we going to Sky City?"

"For a meeting."

With those words, Roswitha spread her dragon wings and instantly transformed into a massive silver dragon.

Lowering herself to a height that Leon could climb onto her back, she said,

"A secret Dragon Kings and Queens summit."

...

The Twilight Tower stood proudly at the heart of Sky City, symbolizing its supreme authority.

It was said that the Twilight Tower had existed since Sky City first opened its gates to the entirety of the Dragon Clan. The tower's owner was also the city's founder.

As the centerpiece of Sky City, the largest neutral city among the Dragon Clans, the Twilight Tower naturally served as a neutral platform for discussion among Dragon Clans.

Although the Dragon Clan had since fractured into various factions, certain topics still necessitated dialogue.

Matters such as trade, culture, external wars, and other such issues brought the Dragon Kings and Queens to this tower for deliberation.

Today, for the first time in many years, the highest-level conference room at the top of the Twilight Tower reopened, welcoming the most exalted Dragon Kings and Queens.

The meeting was scheduled to begin in about half an hour, and the Dragon Kings and Queens were gradually arriving.

A long table dominated the conference room, and several Dragon Kings had already taken their seats on either side.

"Senior Odin! I hadn't expected you to attend."

"Sir, have you had time to consider the diplomatic proposal we discussed last time?"

"Honorable King of Thunder Dragons, I’ve long admired your reputation. Meeting you in person today, you truly are extraordinary."

"..."

Several younger Dragon Kings rose to pay respects to an elder sitting near one side of the long table. Their words were deferential—they knew better than to take liberties in front of the Thunder Dragon King, Odin, who possessed both seniority and power.

Yet amidst the barrage of compliments, an outlier broke the solemnity with an incongruous remark.

"Well, well, Old Man Thunder Dragon Odin! Even you showed up for this meeting. This must really be a big issue, huh?"

Odin ignored the flattering chatter from others, keeping his eyes closed as if resting.

But when that loud voice rang out, Odin had to respond, or else even he would start to feel awkward.

What? Why would Odin feel awkward?

Because if that guy isn’t embarrassed, everyone else will be.

"Morgan, does rudeness run so deeply in your family that it’s still going strong in your generation?"

"More than that—my son Anton has perfected our family’s talent for sharp tongues."

Grinning, Morgan plopped into the seat next to Odin and slung an arm around his shoulders like they were old drinking buddies.

"By the way, during the combat exercises in the far north last time, my son came back and told me that your eldest daughter, Yuna, performed excellently!"

The Thunder Dragon King cast him a glance as if saying "Do I need you to tell me that?" and stopped engaging with him.

Morgan came from the Golden Sands Dragon Clan, one of the oldest tribes.

It was said the Golden Sands Dragon Clan still possessed ancient magical texts dating back to the Dragon God Tiamat's era.

However, their Dragon King, Morgan, was the antithesis of 'ancient wisdom'—more like an overgrown delinquent in an elder's body.

Who would guess that this cheeky "man-child" was part of the same generation of emerging Dragon Kings as Odin?

Perhaps because of this, Odin tolerated Morgan's antics more than he did with others. If not for their long-standing rapport, Morgan wouldn’t dare play at being chummy with the universally revered Thunder Dragon King.

While the Dragon Kings chatted quietly, the conference room doors opened again.

This time, a striking woman entered.

With flame-red hair and a scarlet dress, a flawless, imposing beauty stood there, her features set off by meticulous makeup and an unmistakably queenly air. Her cold, world-weary gaze only added depth to her aura.

"The Red Dragon Queen? What’s her connection to Constantine?" Morgan muttered.

The purpose of this summit was to address the threat posed by Constantine, who had gained Primordial Power.

Odin's calm gaze landed on the red-haired beauty, and after a brief pause, he replied:

"Apparently, before Constantine obtained the Primordial Power, he launched an unprovoked attack on Isa’s territory. So her presence at this meeting is unsurprising."

Morgan nodded. "That explains it."

Isa took her seat, crossing her legs and resting her chin in her hand. Her sharp eyes scanned Dragon Kings within the room. Finding no familiar faces worth striking up conversation with, she closed her eyes, feigning rest.

Dragon Queens were exceedingly rare within the Dragon Clan, and Isa's peerless beauty naturally drew attention.

Of course, as Dragon Kings of considerable stature, no one would stoop to the point of attempting to flirt on the spot—it would be pointless.

A few even preferred to quietly admire her presence from a distance.

A few more minutes passed, and the sound of high heels echoed outside.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Wow, are we heading into some kind of Dragon Clan gender revolution? Why are there so many Dragon Queens attending today?"

Odin remained silent, his gaze fixed on the doorway.

Female or not, he didn’t particularly care.

What he cared about was the faintly familiar aura radiating from the next one entering the room.

It tickled the edges of his memory...

Moments later, a cascade of blue hair came into view, drawing every Dragon King’s attention.

Compared to the youthful red-haired Isa, this woman was slightly older, her radiant, mature charm exuding an air of undeniable elegance.

"I think I recognize her. Isn’t she... uh, the Water Dragon—"

"Sea Dragon," Odin corrected promptly.

"Right, right, Sea Dragon Clan. But haven’t they been reclusive for years? Why would one show up for a meeting about Constantine?"

Pausing for a moment, Morgan added, "And I thought their Dragon King was Old Man Poseidon. How did he suddenly turn into a stunning beauty?"

"Watch your tongue, Morgan. Her name is Claudia, and she’s Poseidon’s eldest daughter," Odin said, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "The fact that Poseidon sent her in his stead speaks volumes."

Morgan tilted his head thoughtfully for a second before realization dawned. "Claudia’s going to be the next Sea Dragon Queen?"

"Perhaps."

Morgan shifted in his seat, casually leaning back as he set his hands behind his head. "Well, if she ascends to the throne, I might just crash her coronation ceremony."

"Without a guide from the Sea Dragon Clan, you’d never make it to their underwater palace."

"Hey, I was just saying. Why do you have to be so serious all the time?"

Odin let out a faint snort, deciding the fool beside him wasn’t worth engaging further.

"But come to think of it," Morgan remarked, scanning the room again. "Most of us are here now, but the stars of today’s meeting seem to still be missing."

He looked at the two remaining empty seats opposite him. Every other seat at the table had been filled.

Odin pondered Morgan’s observation for a moment, then let out a soft, knowing laugh.

"The protagonist always makes a grand entrance."

As soon as these words fell, the two of them heard Isa, who was sitting across from them, enthusiastically greeting someone at the door,

"Little Ros, brother-in-law, you're here."