About forty nautical miles south of White Pearl Island, an island the Bullywugs called Bright Scale Bay basked in the slightly cool afternoon sunlight.
This bay was more open than White Pearl Island, the sea a deeper blue-green, coral reefs thick beneath the surface, and fish far more abundant.
Several burly Bullywug warriors stood waist-deep in the water, preparing to hunt. Their weapons were not crude stone spears but iron harpoons, their edges sharpened and flashing coldly in the sun!
Each powerful throw usually pierced a plump sea fish or impaled a crab waving its large claw.
On the shore, more Bullywugs bustled about, hauling the catch onto the sand and sorting it, the air heavy with the scent of brine and the satisfied clamor of a good harvest.
It was spawning season for the fish, and a season of plenty for the Bullywugs.
“Ribbit! Good! Good!”
An obese, deep-olive-skinned elderly Bullywug sat on a relatively dry rock thickly covered with seaweed, watching the scene with satisfaction.
He was the Frog King of the Bright Scale Bay tribe, “Ironjaw” Greg.
Around his thick neck hung a string of large, smooth, lustrous white pearls, which stood out sharply against his gray-green skin.
At his feet lay a large basket woven from tough sea vines, already filled with sorted top-quality pearls that shimmered softly in the sunlight.
“King Greg, ribbit!”
A similarly equipped Bullywug warrior, looking trim and armed with an iron short knife, approached and bowed respectfully, his eyes shining with greed and expectation. “With this basket of pearls, plus what we’ve saved these last few months, when the Longship Season comes next year it’ll be enough to trade for five—no, six long iron knives as sharp as the Bonebreaker! Ribbit! Maybe even a shiny round shield!”
Greg pinched a pearl between his rough webbed claws. “Ribbit, that’s right! With more and better iron tools, those stinking lizards from the Black Scale Tribe won’t dare covet Bright Scale Bay anymore! We’ll take back Sharpclaw Reef and Fishtail Isle! Let every Bullywug tribe know that Ironjaw Greg’s warriors wield the sharpest spears!”
After he spoke, the core warriors around him—elite members of the tribe at level 5—voiced excited agreement, striking the ground or each other’s scales with iron weapons in a dull, clanking rhythm, morale high.
The entire Bright Scale Bay tribe looked prosperous.
The warriors were tougher, well-equipped, even the cave entrances where they lived were reinforced with sharpened wooden stakes and stones. The tribe clearly had organization and defensive awareness.
However, as Greg’s ambitious daydream reached its peak, a high-pitched, panic-stricken “ribbit” that could not be suppressed crashed over the tribe like an icy splash, abruptly tearing through the noise!
The sound came from a makeshift watchtower at the island’s highest point.
A small platform built from coral reef rock.
The Bullywug sentry on duty was wildly flailing, pointing at the northern sky in terror.
“Idiot! What are you making a racket for!”
Greg’s dream was interrupted. He rose angrily and shouted.
“North, north… ribbit! Big, big shadow! So scary! Ribbit!”
The sentry leapt down from the tower, babbling, almost collapsing to the ground.
Upon hearing this, a sense of doom washed over Greg.
He could not scold; he shoved past blocking warriors and sprinted up to a higher reef rock, eyes with yellow sclera fixed on the north.
On the distant horizon, the formerly calm gray-blue sky had been disturbed.
Two enormous shadows, unmatched in size, tore through the clouds like startled amphibians and streaked toward Bright Scale Bay!
Their shadows, like death’s cloaks, quickly covered the sea.
The outlines grew clearer and larger…
Massive bodies clad in cold, jade-green scales, powerful wings beating with every flap that rolled out a deep thunderous roar!
Following them was a darker silhouette that tightened Greg’s chest with fear.
“Dragon! Ribbit… dragon! It’s a dragon!”
Greg felt a chill rush from his slippery spine up to his head; his blood seemed to freeze.
One Green Dragon, one Black Dragon!
Greg was not a stupid Bullywug; compared to those idiots on White Pearl Island, Greg was clever. He knew the Black Dragon had tremendous suppressive power over Bullywugs. Now two great dragons had arrived. If they bore hostility toward the tribe, the consequences would be unimaginable.
Greg forced down his instinctive terror, and to the few elite warriors beside him who were also trembling, he growled: “Drop your weapons, come with me to the shore! Act respectfully, show the proper posture! Ribbit!”
“Take those boxes of pearls!”
Saying this, Greg yanked the treasured giant pearl necklace from his neck, placed it in the woven large basket, then hoisted the basket and ran for the beach.
The elite warriors hastily abandoned their iron harpoons and short knives, followed Greg, prostrated themselves on the cold sand, pressing their foreheads into the wet grit.
The shadows in the sky grew larger, like two moving mountains.
The gale whipped by the dragons’ enormous wings howled over the sea, churning white waves, stinging the eyes of the Bullywugs on the shore.
Boom!
With the heavy thud of landing, a massive vibration rolled across the beach.
The two giant beings slowly folded their sky-shadowing wings.
Xia'er’s huge, grim dragon head lowered slightly, emotionless as she swept her gaze over the prostrate Bullywugs, pausing a moment on Greg and the strong warriors behind him.
The Black Dragon Saga stood like the most loyal shadow half a step behind Xia'er, silent, dragon breath rumbling low in his nostrils, his dark pupils scanning warily. Their invisible draconic aura pressed like tangible weight, making every Bullywug dare not breathe.
Black Dragons exerted extreme suppression over Bullywug tribes.
“Master of the sky and sea! Exalted true dragon!”
Greg flattered and added a measure of reverence as he prostrated himself. “The lowly soil of Bright Scale Bay, Greg! I, with the tribe’s bravest warriors, pay you the highest respects! Your majestic arrival sweeps the sea like a storm, humbling and dazzling us with your radiance!”
“Your scales are more majestic than the deepest abyss, your strength could rend the heavens! You are the living legend on this land!”
Greg piled on every flowery phrase he could think of, pushing the basket full of pearls forward.
“Great true dragon, you have come to our insignificant Bright Scale Bay. What are your commands? Speak to the humble soil Greg! We will offer everything to serve you!”
Greg finished and buried his head in the sand once more.
“Pearls?”
As Xia'er looked at the large basket reflecting sunlight, a trace of greed flickered through her gaze.
Dragons loved collecting treasures; gold coins were preferred, then rare ores and high-value items like pearls.
Even Xia'er was not immune to greed.
But Xia'er forcibly suppressed that glint of avarice, her authoritative voice rolling across the beach like distant thunder, cutting clearly over the sound of the waves: “You are far smarter than that foolish Matras on White Pearl Island. At least you know when to prostrate and when to present tribute.”
“I have come only to declare one thing.”
“From this moment, these islands, including you and your Bright Scale Bay, all Bullywug tribes henceforth fall under the dominion of the Jade Wing! My name is Xia'er, and I am your sole lord!”
“Submit, offer your loyalty and tribute, become vassal claws of my Jade Wing dragonflock, driven by my will. Or…”
Xia'er suddenly spread her wings wide. Though she did not breathe fire, small pores along the wing edges opened faintly, and a faint, briny-sweet green mist—tinged with poisonous scent—wafted out: “Like that foolish Matras, you will be turned into fertilizer to nourish this island! Ribbit cries will vanish from this island forever!”
Greg froze for a moment, thought a long while, and then said: “Great Jade Wing, the Bright Scale tribe is willing to submit to you!”