"The Northern Polar Dragon King, that old man, still refuses to take action?"

In the southern part of the demon kingdom, a nearly three-meter-tall dried corpse suddenly spoke. He had dragon horns on his head, a beard trailing to the ground, and unusually sharp, withered nails. Black aura surrounded him, and any vegetation touched by it withered and died, even the ground began to crack.

He was the Antarctic Dragon King, one of the Four Dragon Kings.

"My brother has always been gentle. If it weren't for the master's desire to return to the ancient times, he might have stayed underground for a lifetime."