Chapter 324: The Kill Order of the Pureborn

Young Connington, who was guarding nearby, felt his heart race as the black and red flames filled the sky. His hand brushed the hilt of his sword, and he quickly recoiled as if shocked by the heat. The air around them had grown so scorching that even their weapons and armor had become too hot to touch.

He glanced at Dany, perched atop her silver dragon, relieved that it was she—not the dragons in a full rage—guiding the flames. Her restraint allowed the dragons to carefully avoid her allies on the ground.

Streaks of black dragonfire swept across the House of the Undying, reducing the once-fearsome building to rubble. The structure, which resembled an ancient temple, melted like ice under the relentless assault of dragonfire.

But Dany wasn't content with just burning the House of the Undying. Following Viserys's orders, she unleashed her dragons upon the surrounding black leatherwood forest and the Warlocks' Avenue. Beams of wood turned to charcoal, and stone crumbled into molten glass.

Suddenly, the Yellow Dragon plunged into the smoldering ruins and emerged, carrying a blackened, humanoid figure caked in ash. It was Viserys, clutching in his hand what appeared to be a shriveled, decaying heart—still faintly beating as though it had been preserved in formaldehyde for centuries.

Dany, riding her silver dragon, swooped down to his side. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Viserys scratched his now singed and balding head and grinned, "Not a problem!" He glanced toward the approaching torches in the distance—Qarth's army, no doubt. His expression hardened. "Don't land," he instructed Dany. "Stay up there and support me."

"Okay!" Dany called back as she took the other six dragons higher into the sky, their massive forms circling above. Viserys, still riding the Yellow Dragon, flew toward a tall stone arch nearby, carved with the image of two giant snakes entwined in a coiled embrace. The heads of the serpents provided a perfect perch for the dragon to land.

Though his body was charred and blackened from the flames, Viserys's imposing figure atop the dragon left no question as to who he was. As he surveyed the approaching soldiers, he noticed two familiar faces were missing—Xaro and Egon. With his voice echoing through the archway, he demanded, "Surrender the masterminds behind my ambush, or I will wipe this city from the map!"

Mathos, the commander leading the Qartheen troops, felt his knees buckle with fear. He knew that, even if Qarth wasn't burned to the ground today, it would face a punishment so cruel and drawn out that death might seem like a mercy.

Half an hour earlier, Xaro and Egon sat comfortably in a lavish restaurant near the House of the Undying, watching the events unfold through a pair of ornate binoculars. They focused on the crumbling building that had long became the 'Temple of Dust.' To their astonishment, it appeared to spring back to life, shimmering as though time itself had been reversed.

"It worked! They succeeded!" Xaro exclaimed, a wild excitement lighting up his face as he pointed toward the resplendent building. This was the sign of success that warlock Pree had promised.

"Could this be the true secret of the Undying Ones?" Xaro whispered, his tone now filled with curiosity rather than disdain. He had always looked down on the Warlocks, dismissing them as relics of a bygone era, full of lies and surrounded by skeletons. In Qarth, people often said, "The Warlocks' house is built on illusions." But now, after witnessing what seemed to be the end of a Dragonlord, Xaro saw the Warlocks in a new light. If they had truly vanquished Viserys Targaryen, their fame would spread throughout the world—and their power with it.

Standing nearby, Egon felt a similar satisfaction. With Viserys eliminated, his own standing within the Council of the Pureborn was sure to rise. They had just rid the world of a powerful threat, and with the Targaryen prince gone, their influence over Qarth and beyond would be solidified.

Meanwhile, aboard her ship, Shiera—herself of Targaryen descent—sensed that Viserys's life force was rapidly fading. Her brow furrowed as she connected with Dany, who was anxiously awaiting news.

Before departing for Qarth, Viserys had warned Dany to wait at least an hour, regardless of what she sensed or felt. Now, the time had passed, and Dany could hardly stand the tension.

"How is my brother?" she asked Shiera, her voice tight with concern.

Shiera, however, was perplexed. To her, Viserys's situation felt like that of someone suffering from a severe arterial hemorrhage—a life hanging by a thread. The first ten or thirty minutes of such a condition were the most critical, where death could come at any second. But Viserys had been in this state for two hours, and still, he clung to life. Shiera could only answer, "He's still bleeding heavily… but somehow, he's still alive."

Finally, it was time. Dany, unable to wait any longer, mounted her silver dragon. With the other six dragons, they took to the skies and descended upon Qarth, circling the House of the Undying like avenging gods.

When Xaro and Egon heard the distant roar of dragons, they froze. At first, they couldn't believe their ears. But when they saw Dany's dragons setting the House of the Undying ablaze, they realized their plan had been discovered.

Xaro, known for his foresight, understood the kind of torture that awaited him if they were caught. While the flames devoured the House of the Undying, he slipped away through a secret passage that led to the harbor. Egon followed closely behind, both men abandoning their grand plans in the face of the raging inferno. They boarded a small escape vessel under the cover of night, fleeing Qarth as fast as they could.

Neither Viserys nor the other rulers of Qarth expected them to escape so quickly, but in the end, they were just two men—neither of them with any magic to protect them.

Although Viserys couldn't sack Qarth as easily as he did Slaver's Bay, he knew he could exploit the situation for a massive payout. His military power in the East was relatively weak, and a direct confrontation with Qarth's formidable navy, boasting over a thousand warships and thousands of soldiers, could result in mutual destruction. The best course of action was to let Qarth continue to "raise sheep and harvest wool," while he extracted a fortune from them.

The true goal of his elaborate strategy had always been the eradication of the Warlocks. A direct assault with dragons might have left some of them alive to escape, but by luring them into this trap, he had wiped them out entirely. The Undying Ones were no more.

He looked down at the strange, still-beating heart in his hand, knowing that this heart held the key to controlling the remaining power of the Warlocks.

Over the next month and a half, despite Qarth's large navy and military force, Viserys's fleet, which had arrived with fewer than ten ships and barely a hundred soldiers, remained unchallenged. The Pureborn and merchant guilds didn't dare attack him. They knew full well that Viserys and Dany could simply escape on their dragons, leaving Qarth open to devastating retaliation from the skies.

The threat of the dragons was enough to keep Qarth at bay. Instead of aggression, the city's leaders resorted to appeasement. They sent truckloads of gifts, fine food, and treasures to Viserys's ships, desperately trying to avoid his wrath.

"Ser Connington, please buy us more time," said Mathos, now representing the Pureborn. "We haven't yet found Xaro and Egon. Every day we don't, the cost rises higher."

Ser Connington, standing tall and resolute, replied coolly, "Lord Mathos, His Grace the Emperor has already spoken. If you can't find them, it doesn't matter. The Pureborn of Qarth will face the punishment. Thirteen members of the Merchant Guild will be executed, 800 warships will be offered to the empire, and from this day forward, 500,000 golden dragons will be paid annually. Only then will His Grace forgive your mistakes."