Chapter 21: The Brother-in-Law Pays a Visit

The morning mist had yet to disperse, and the air in Dustwallow Marsh was already thick with a pungent chemical odor—a scent that the Dragonkin now found strangely comforting.

"Third batch of fertilizer! Load it up! Quickly!" A Dragonkin foreman, his scales a dull, grayish-blue, stood on a wooden platform, cracking his whip as he shouted. The tip of the whip whistled sharply through the air, yet it always maintained a safe distance from the workers' backs. Ever since the implementation of a "performance-based wage system," the foremen had discovered that gold coins were far more effective than lashes.

Six sturdy Dragonkin hoisted bulging sacks, marching in unison toward the pier. Their newly acquired leather shoulder pads shone in the morning light, purchased from a goblin merchant with last week’s bonuses. With every step, the clumping fertilizer inside the sacks emitted a soft, rustling friction.

"Watch the reaction vessel!" Onyxia’s sharp reprimand echoed from the acid-fog-filled shed. Floating in mid-air in her elven form, she poured sulfur powder into a massive cast-iron container. Her dark red hair was casually tied back with a copper wire, a few strands sticking to her neck with perspiration. Suddenly, a strange "gurgling" sound erupted from the vessel, and she leaped back three steps with lightning speed.

"BOOM!"

A cloud of yellowish-green smoke erupted from the observation port, corroding honeycomb-shaped holes into the freshly painted anti-rust ceiling. Several Dragonkin apprentices skillfully grabbed spare neutralizers and sprayed them over the area; the foam hissed acidly upon contact with the toxic mist.

"Thirty-seventh recipe refinement failure." Onyxia wiped the black soot from her face and pulled a parchment notebook from under the workbench. Seeing the entry "Material loss: 2 gold coins, 15 silver coins," her dragon tail unconsciously snaked out from beneath her skirt, twitching irritably against the floor.

Clanging and hammering sounds drifted from the newly built residential area on the east side of the marsh. Over twenty Dragonkin were constructing the sixth row of wooden cabins, their tails deftly curling around hammers to drive nails, looking for all the world like a group of giant lizard tailors. A young Dragonkin was admiring himself in a newly purchased gilded mirror, but his hand slipped and the mirror shattered—his nearby companions immediately let out pained, empathetic cries.

Dren crouched on the newly built watchtower, a makeshift quill made of a feather tucked in his mouth. His ledger was densely packed with figures:

"March 17th:
Dragonkin wages paid: 47 gold, 32 silver
Goblin Express freight: 8 gold
Jaina’s land tax: 5% of net profit
The 4th thermometer broken by Onyxia: 1 gold, 50 silver"

Suddenly, a commotion erupted from the direction of the beach. The captain of the goblin merchant ship *The Gold Coin* waved his gold-trimmed tricorn hat. "Mr. Dren! The Steamwheedle Cartel wants an additional three hundred tons! Here is the deposit!"

When the iron chest filled with gold coins slammed onto the pier, the entire marsh fell silent. Every Dragonkin’s pupil narrowed into a thin vertical slit.

"Extra dinner tonight!" Dren announced, stepping onto the wobbling chest. "Whole roasted ox! Dragon-breath barbecue sauce for everyone!"

The cheers startled the vultures in the marsh. Onyxia appeared behind Dren, her claws, still stained with chemical reagents, resting on his shoulder. "Does this mean overtime?"

Dren replied without changing his expression, "There's overtime pay, of course!"

Dusk descended on the marsh. The acid mist was dyed a magnificent purple by the sunset, and smoke smelling of sulfur drifted from the new chimneys. The Dragonkin passed barrels of ale around the bonfire.

Early the next morning, the morning mist was torn to shreds by a sudden gust of wind.

The Dragonkin were carrying sulfur sacks toward the reaction vessel when they all shivered in unison—an instinct carved into their blood, just like an antelope hearing the footsteps of a lion. Ripples appeared in the solution within the reaction vessel without cause, and the small pebbles on the ground began to tremble.

"Is it going to rain?" A young Dragonkin looked up at the sky, his shovel clattering to the ground.

There were no dark clouds in the sky. There was only a shadow that kept expanding, spreading like ink dropped into clear water. As the shadow swept over the marsh, the sulfur particles began to vibrate collectively.

Onyxia was carving protective runes into a new reaction vessel. Her dragon-claw blade suddenly struck sparks three meters long against the rock wall, her dark golden pupils shrinking to pinpricks: "...Nefarian."

The air detonated.

The dragon wings that blotted out the sun whipped up a hurricane, and twelve sacks filled with ammonium nitrate were swept into the high air like feathers. The roofs of the newly built cabins were ripped away with a "crack," and a gilded toilet someone had just purchased traced a shining parabolic arc through the sky.

A black dragon, even more massive than Onyxia’s true form, slammed onto the ground, the mud of the marsh crystallizing into obsidian the moment it touched his claws. Nefarian elegantly folded his wings, each scale shimmering with a cold light forged in a laboratory—a perfect defense cast from the flesh and blood of hundreds of chromatic dragon whelps.

"Little sister." His voice sounded like magma flowing over granite. "Father is... curious." His dragon tail swept across the reaction vessel, causing the special steel to groan under the strain. "What kind of 'house' are you playing, just to operate this..." His nostrils flared, spraying a cluster of sparks, "...fertilizer workshop?"

The entire marsh was deathly silent. A piece of glass jewelry in a Dragonkin's hand was crushed into powder.

Onyxia’s elven form looked as small as an ant in the shadow of her brother's true form. But she stood straight, and the dragon tail emerging from beneath her skirt smashed three floor tiles with a "bang." "Watch your tone, brother." A ghostly glow of shadow-erosion magic flickered at her fingertips. "This is a 'workshop' with an annual profit of fifty thousand gold coins."

A flicker of surprise flashed in Nefarian’s pupils—this figure was equivalent to the income generated by ten years of slave labor in Blackrock Mountain. His gaze swept over the trembling Dragonkin workers and suddenly locked onto a human hiding behind the reaction vessel.

Dragon pressure descended like a physical weight, and Dren’s bones began to creak. Yet, he actually walked out under the pressure, holding an open ledger. "Lord Nefarian, I have long heard of your reputation. Allow me to introduce the projected earnings for the next quarter..."

The black dragon’s breath, like a massive gust of hot wind, nearly scorched the hair on Dren’s forehead. "Human, you carry the two scents I despise most." His claw pointed at Dren. "The stench of copper, and..." His nostrils contracted violently, "...my sister’s scent."

Three meters away, Onyxia stood in front of Dren, black flames gathering at her fingertips to help him block her brother's enthusiasm.

"In fact," Dren suddenly poured a pile of gold coins from a space bag. "These shiny little darlings are the bond connecting me and the Princess. Don't you think they are extremely adorable?"

"I was actually wondering when I might visit the Princess's brother. After all, you are one of her closest kin. Now that the Princess has found such a good opportunity to make a fortune, how could she leave out her own family?" Dren said leisurely, his fingers constantly fiddling with the pile of gold coins.

Nefarian’s facial muscles twitched. His eyes remained fixed on the pile of gold. Although these few hundred coins were not a significant amount to him, the thought of his sister having enough gold to let a mortal handle hundreds at will made his heart ache.

He mulled over his words for a moment, then, without making a fuss, withdrew his dragon form and transformed into a high elf. Landing in front of Onyxia, he cleared his throat and greeted his sister politely, as if they were truly the closest of siblings. He then turned to Dren and said, "You are that human pet and agricultural consultant of hers, Dren?"

Dren said respectfully, "Yes, yes, yes, it is an honor that you have heard of a mortal like me. Since you have graced us with your presence today, why don't we discuss how to cooperate to make the agricultural fertilizer business bigger and stronger."

Nefarian nodded, acting as if Dren were begging him and he was reluctantly listening. Dren led him into a nearby wooden cabin and ordered the Dragonkin to serve good tea. Nefarian watched curiously as the Dragonkin brewed the tea with practiced skill, a look of contemplation in his eyes.

Once the Dragonkin had served the tea and left, Nefarian looked at his sister, who was sitting with Dren, and fell into thought. Dren immediately opened the conversation: "Your Highness, you see, the Princess and I are currently engaged in Kalimdor agricultural development. The new type of agricultural fertilizer we produce is in short supply. In a year, she has an income of tens of thousands of gold coins, and it’s a unique business—even the goblins are coming to us for cooperation. But goblins, as everyone knows, only recognize gold, not people. They’ve started to squeeze us on raw material supplies, hoping for more favorable terms and better shares. Although the Princess has strong deterrent power, she cannot stand alone. It’s perfect that you are visiting, brother; you must help her out. After all, her money is essentially the Black Dragon's money. Rather than letting the goblins earn it, it’s better for you to help share the burden."

Nefarian was very willing to help his sister share the burden of earning gold. But he didn't understand any of it. He asked curiously, "What can I do? I don't know much about making fertilizer."

Dren explained slowly, "I heard the Burning Steppes are your territory?"

Nefarian nodded. "That's right, that's my home base."

"That's perfect. I hear that place is full of volcanic lava, so there should be plenty of sulfur. It just so happens that Princess Onyxia’s fertilizer workshop needs a large amount of sulfur, and the higher the purity, the better. The prices the goblins are charging are becoming outrageous. Why don't you become an alternative raw material supplier? Give us a 'family discount.' Payment upon delivery." As Dren spoke, he rubbed the pile of gold coins on the table. After finishing, he pushed several dozen coins toward Nefarian. "It's rare to have such a distinguished guest; a small token of respect. I hope you accept."

Nefarian said, "Oh, I couldn't possibly," while simultaneously waving his hand to sweep the coins into his space bag. The smile on his face was nearly impossible to hide.

Onyxia, with a cold face, snorted. "Father sent you to investigate me. What are you going to do?"

"Everything is normal!" Nefarian stated firmly. "She is merely stirring up relations between the goblins and the humans, attempting to increase racial conflict through bribery. Oh, and she is using the pretext of producing fertilizer to attempt to pollute the farmlands of the entire continent."

Faced with her brother's deadpan fabrication, Onyxia opened her eyes wide, staring at him in disbelief.

Dren calmly took out a ledger. "Come, come, come, Your Highness, let's talk about the specific commercial cooperation."

Nefarian looked at his sister suspiciously. "Your pet is making decisions for you?"

"Yes, he has the authority to decide on commercial matters," Onyxia said with certainty.

"Good." Nefarian looked deeply at the two of them, feeling that he had discovered something extraordinary. But what did it matter? As long as he could obtain a large amount of gold, his experiments could continue. As for his sister’s affairs, who cared!

Subsequently, the Black Dragon Prince began discussing the terms of cooperation with a human. It was finally agreed that Nefarian would hold a 10% stake, but the sulfur would need to be delivered to Onyxia’s marsh factory. Dividends would be settled quarterly.

Nefarian was quite satisfied with the result and decided to carry it out to see how it went. If there was an annual profit of fifty thousand gold coins, he would get five thousand, and all he had to do was send his subordinates to collect the useless sulfur from the Burning Steppes and deliver it to his sister. It was essentially a business with zero cost.

When the massive black dragon left Dustwallow Marsh, his eyes had already turned into the symbol of gold coins. In a good mood, he retracted much of his dragon pressure and flew away, humming a tune.

Onyxia watched her brother’s departing figure and couldn't help but wrap her arms around Dren’s shoulders. "Pet, you did well. Even my brother cannot resist the magic of gold coins."

"Heh heh, whether it's dragons, humans, or goblins, who isn't a servant to these shiny little trinkets? Of course, except for some orcs who only know how to use brute force to rob. But that won't last long; they too will soon realize how powerful the magic of gold is," Dren said with anticipation.

"Don't forget our plan," Onyxia reminded him in a low voice.

"Don't worry, everything is under control." Dren reached back and grasped the dragon's hand.