Ashen Dragon

Looking at the smug Dragon Scale Cultivator, the dwarves were overcome with rage, waving their warhammers and axes, cursing furiously: "Damn it, that bastard is too arrogant!"

"His mouth is even filthier than an Orc's!"

"Evil Dragon Kin, meet your death!"

A dwarf warrior, his face filled with indignation, raised his warhammer high and jumped into the air, roaring in fury—a jump slash, the eternal romance of warriors.

However, the Dragon Scale Cultivator had long since noticed the dwarf's sneak attack, his muscles tensed, ready to respond to any threat.

Imperial gene modification granted him hummingbird-like neural reflexes, enabling him to sense danger within mere 0.2 milliseconds.

"Haaa——"

With a blood-curdling roar, the dwarf warrior smashed his hammer downward toward the back of the Dragon Scale Cultivator's head.

It must be said, this was a meticulously crafted heavy hammer by the dwarves. If it connected, even the toughest scale armor would struggle to resist its sheer blunt force.

The Dragon Scale Cultivator didn't even bother turning his head. Anticipating the attack, he raised his Chainsaw Sword, its point aimed squarely at the dwarf's chest.

The dwarf warrior's face twisted in horror, his body twisting mid-air in a desperate attempt to evade, but it was already too late.

"Szzz——"

The tip of the Chainsaw Sword mercilessly pierced through the dwarf's chest, skewering him clean through, leaving his body hanging lifelessly from the Dragon Scale Cultivator's weapon.

Soon, the jagged edges of the Chainsaw Sword began spinning at high speed, shredding the dwarf's flesh relentlessly.

Blood sprayed everywhere as the dwarf's skin, flesh, and even bones were torn apart by the rotating saw. Brain matter, internal organs, and intestines gushed forth grotesquely.

"Damn, that's just disgusting." The Dragon Scale Cultivator spat on the ground, shaking his hand forcefully.

The dwarf's mangled corpse split into several pieces, flung outward like a discarded rag, piled hideously on the ground in a shape beyond recognition—utterly indescribable except as a gruesome mess.

"Tyrone!"

"You—you dare treat a brave and fearless warrior like this!" The dwarves' voices trembled with shock and fury.

The Dragon Scale Cultivator nonchalantly wiped the blood off his face, once again grinning hideously: "Want to avenge him? Then come and kill me. Hahaha!"

Witnessing their fallen comrade's dreadful fate and the Dragon Scale Cultivator's abhorrent desecration, the dwarves' eyes brimmed with fury, itching to tear the monster in front of them to shreds.

A dwarf commander raised his heavy hammer and shouted, "Comrades, all together now! Smash his skull into fragments!"

"Kill the monster!"

"Die already!"

Driven by hatred, the dwarf warriors gathered into formation, closing in tightly from multiple directions to launch a coordinated assault on the Dragon Scale Cultivator.

"Come on, come on...." The Dragon Scale Cultivator murmured softly. He had already loaded his ammunition, waiting for these "little pests" to converge—just so he could test his new weaponry.

As the dwarves clustered together, the Dragon Scale Cultivator's lips curved into a cruel smile, his expression becoming increasingly sinister.

The bomb gun mounted on his right arm slowly lifted, its barrel like a cavernous maw aimed straight at the crowd.

"Bang!"

A deafening gunshot echoed along the wall. A specially designed bullet shot from the barrel, exploding before it even hit the dwarves, spraying lethal shrapnel outward.

The tightly packed dwarves bore the brunt of it, their bodies mercilessly torn apart by the dispersing shards.

This was the Metal Storm Fragmentation Bomb—a perfect ammunition type for dealing with lightly armored enemies in groups.

Designed to detonate before impact, dispersing shrapnel to shred its victims, the bomb's close-range explosive replaced large-scale reactive warheads, with diamond bullets replaced by rupturing shells.

Such ammunition was specially distributed by the Imperial Military for Dragon Scale Cultivators, purpose-built to eliminate clustered foes, turning these humanoid killing machines into unstoppable forces within the enemy camp.

And judging by the current results, its effectiveness was undeniable.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Under the sophistication of Imperial military engineering, even this oversized bomb gun was capable of rapid fire!

The Dragon Scale Cultivator laughed maniacally, spinning in place while repeatedly pulling the trigger to spray fire in all directions, mowing down the dwarves.

Even more horrifying, he pulled two metal balls from his Dimensional Bag, throwing them into the air. The spheres lit up midair, expanding into floating turrets that unleashed a torrential downpour of bullets.

Amidst the thunderous explosions, the dwarves fell like wheat being scythed, collapsing in waves.

But dwarves were, after all, a stubborn and courageous race. They feared not death in battle.

Faced with such carnage, the dwarf warriors showed no signs of retreat, climbing over the corpses of their comrades to charge forward, braving the relentless onslaught of shrapnel and bullets.

Even as they neared the Dragon Scale Cultivator's position, they were met head-on with the blood-drenched, high-speed spinning Chainsaw Sword, which sliced them cleanly in half at first contact.

From afar, some dwarves tried using hand crossbows and bows and arrows to eliminate the monster, but his entire body was covered in impenetrable scales and exoskeleton—rendering him nearly invulnerable.

Arrows clinked harmlessly against his armor and dropped to the ground.

"For Aivendel!" A dwarf, eyes red with fury, swung his heavy hammer and charged from behind.

The Dragon Scale Cultivator turned calmly, raising his gun barrel.

"Bang!"

Under immense impact force, the dwarf was flung backward, slamming violently into the wall, his body riddled with bullet holes, blood pouring out like a stream.

"Aivendel shall never..." The dwarf struggled to speak as he sat on the ground, but before finishing his words, he breathed his last.