"Old Monk," Arthur said slowly, looking at the Old Monk. "I give them release, not because of the Seven Gods, but because of you, Old Monk."
Arthur had a good impression of this old man.
In the future, when war came, the Riverlands would be ravaged, turning into a thousand miles of scorched earth, with bones littering the fields and no human habitation.
This old man walked through the Riverlands, narrating the tragic lives of these ordinary people from his perspective, bringing a glimmer of hope to the war-torn people of the Riverlands.
But now, this old man had not yet experienced the cruelest and bloodiest phase. He most liked another one of the old man's sayings.
"The real danger is being a commoner when others play the game of thrones."
He had no time left; he needed fame, no matter what kind, only then could he become a part of the game of thrones.
The Old Monk looked at Arthur and sighed softly. "The flames of hatred can burn down enemies, but they can also consume oneself."
He was referring to Arthur's soldiers; he had already noticed their hatred for the wildlings and their anger towards him.
These soldiers no longer cared about the gods. Before Arthur arrived, they had already planned to kill him.
They were even discussing placing his head on the highest point of the wildling hill.
Killing the gods' shepherd in the mortal world, and desecrating the body of the gods' shepherd in the mortal world, even bandits wouldn't do such a thing.
"Monk, in Westeros, if you don't burn others, you'll be burned by others," Arthur replied, his expression unchanged.
"Besides, isn't this good?" Arthur countered, his voice devoid of emotion. "I promised them revenge, I gave them hope to live, otherwise they would have already given up on life."
"The Seven Gods oppose giving up one's life, don't they?"
"Old Monk, I do all this not because of the Seven Gods, but because of you. I respect you."
Arthur took a few steps forward. "The Seven Gods are high above, but have they ever truly pitied mortals? When the wildlings killed their families, where were the Seven Gods? When they prayed to the Seven Gods for help, where were the Seven Gods?"
"I don't need the elusive protection of gods, nor do I need the so-called sacred bloodlines of nobles."
"I want to ascend, to reach the highest point."
"If in your eyes this is disrespecting the Seven Gods, if I am a lost lamb, then I would rather be lost forever."
Arthur turned to look at Meribald, saying each word distinctly: "When you take a sword to deprive others of life! You must be prepared to have your life taken! I am ready!"
"Only by moving upwards! Can everything be changed! Not by watching others die like you do! Watching others suffer! Watching them defy everything the gods stand for!"
"If the Seven Gods truly exist! Who will they punish?!"
Arthur really liked the High Sparrow from the original story; at least he was trying to change everything.
The Old Monk paused, listening to what seemed like rebellious words, but his tone softened slightly: "When I walked through your territory and the Riverlands, I heard people talking about you."
"They said that you are a different kind of person."
"You are kind to your people, your soldiers pay for what they take, and they do not harm the people of the Riverlands in the slightest. You even pay farmers after burning their land and killing their livestock."
"Now it seems, you truly are a different kind of person."
"Go on, child."
"The Faith and nobles of Westeros need a wake-up call."
"I only wish that when you reach the heights, you will still remember why you started."
The Old Monk said no more, only giving Arthur a deep look, as if seeing that he had been consumed by ambition and power, then he bowed slightly and slowly turned to leave.
Leading his donkey and dog, his figure merged into the night, as if he had never appeared.
Arthur turned to look at the piles of wood that the soldiers had gradually stacked, signaling them to come down.
"Light it!" he ordered.
The soldiers immediately stepped forward, throwing their torches onto the piles of wood surrounding the hill.
The dry wood caught fire instantly, and the flames quickly shot up, soon converging into a raging inferno.
The flames burned the wood and the wildlings' heads, making crackling sounds that illuminated the surroundings.
Heat waves washed over him, and Arthur narrowed his eyes, watching the soaring flames.
The flames danced, twisted, and distorted in his eyes.
Arthur's heart pounded fiercely.
He turned to Hakon: "Hakon!! What's in the fire!! What do you see?!"
"I don't see anything, Lord Arthur?" Hakon looked at Lord Arthur strangely.
He then looked at the flames, frowning, wondering why the fire was burning so fiercely and so large.
Arthur felt an inexplicable tremor, not from fear, but an indescribable stirring.
He instinctively took a small step back.
"Do you… do you see it?" His voice was a bit dry, with a tremor he hadn't even noticed himself.
The surrounding soldiers were focused on the large fire.
Hearing Arthur's question, they turned their heads in confusion.
A soldier closest to him answered, puzzled: "Lord Arthur, see what? The fire is burning fiercely."
Another soldier echoed: "Yes, my Lord, this fire is really big, it can burn all those scumbags' heads to ashes!"
Hakon and the soldiers looked at Arthur strangely, not knowing what was happening. The fire was only a little more intense than usual, with no other changes.
Arthur walked towards the flames, and heat waves swept over him. He felt as if his entire body was engulfed in flames.
But the more he looked, the clearer it became.
This made his hair stand on end.
Because what he saw was!!!!
A dragon!!!!!
The shape of the flames in Arthur's eyes began to change, no longer merely burning, but seemingly coalescing into some kind of entity.
A huge, ferocious silhouette flickered in and out of view within the flames.
A massive dragon, hundreds of meters in size, entirely composed of fire, coiled above the burning wooden heads.
Its scales were dancing sparks, its wings were rolling waves of fire, and its colossal mouth opened, spewing hot, thick smoke.
Those eyes, formed from the brightest flames, were fixed intently on Arthur.
"Roar——————!!!!"
A low, majestic roar, as if directly echoing in his mind, carried a breathtaking aura.
Within that roar, there seemed to be some incomprehensible meaning, as if it was saying something to Arthur.
Arthur's very soul trembled. He didn't know what it was saying; he only felt that his ears had lost the ability to hear sound.
He could only step forward into the flames, step by step. He felt sparks landing on him, and he could even smell the scent of charcoal burning on his body, but he had lost control. His soul seemed to be drawn by that giant dragon.
He wanted to hear what it was saying, what a beautiful creature.
Until he was tightly pulled back by the soldiers who rushed to him, preventing him from going further.
"Fire!!!"
"Flame!!!"
"Blaze!!!!!"
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