Overlord: Start from the Goblin Lair.

The snow has stopped in Flåm, but it is still falling in the north.

The crystal dragon's wings tore through the cold air currents in the clouds and carried Ron all the way north.

Crestos' actual flying speed is not that fast, but he is good at making use of his psychic power and changes in the surrounding airflow. Apart from the fact that the passengers have to suffer, it is quite convenient.

"Okay, this is it."

About half a day later, as the sky gradually darkened, Crestor lowered his flying altitude and finally landed in a secluded place on the mountain. Looking out from here, he could see endless animal skin tents in the daytime. Those were the camps of the northern tribes.

Since they were not allies in the traditional sense, the camps were clearly separated from each other, and they built high wooden fences to guard against each other. The largest camps on the periphery were the most exaggerated, and it seemed as if they came here to fight with other tribes.

"Orcs, haha," Crestor made some strange mocking noises, "These big guys have always been like this. Some of them were so blind before that they did the same in my territory. I had no choice but to ask them all to leave."

"Ron, this place is still some distance from the boundary of the God's Heir's perception range, but to be on the safe side, I'd better not show up with you for now, you - eh?!"

The crystal dragon turned around and tilted its wings to send Ron to the ground. However, when he looked back, he was shocked by Ron's appearance at this moment.

It’s not that Ron looks like he can stop an adult dragon from crying at night, but the “open-air plane” just now has had a significant impact on Ron. His face is now blue and purple, and his eyebrows, sideburns and stubble are covered with a thick layer of ice, and the solidified shape is quite wild. One can imagine how fast and fiercely Kleisto flew just now.

“Da da da… I never… thought… that being a dragon rider would be… a tough job… da da da…”

Ron's upper and lower teeth kept hitting each other, and he simply couldn't overcome this situation. The cold-proof props on his body were completely useless, or they were useful but not completely useful - without them, Ron would probably be frozen to death in the air!
Now it’s considered a good ending for Ron to be forced to become an old man with a white beard... This is too torturous!

"I'm sorry," Klesto quickly figured out what was going on and lowered his head guiltily, "I'm not used to having someone sit on my back... I should have provided you with some protection."

As a crystal dragon that spews out brilliant breath, Crestor could theoretically provide protection for Ron, but as he said, most dragons are not used to being used as mounts, so they are not used to keeping the broad area on their backs warm or out of the cold.

As for dragon knights, the dragons that serve as mounts and their riders usually have extremely tacit cooperation, and most of them are strong warriors. While they have guaranteed physiques, they also wear thick armor. Even the spellcasters among them generally do not wear only robes.

Ron finally got lucky this time.

"I have every reason to suspect that you did this on purpose," Ron glared at the crystal dragon fiercely. As the dragon's positive energy gently enveloped Ron's entire body, he slowly came to his senses. "So, I'm going to break in alone and rush to the God's Heir?"

"Just make some noise, enough to alert a Titan that's 20 to 30 meters tall," Crestor smiled, "I want to go with you, but this is his territory, I can't take the risk..." "I think you'd better take the risk. If the frost god takes you and your egg away, he will have no reason to keep my friends," Ron snorted, his face still numb and heavy. The positive energy treatment can heal his frostbite, but it can't melt the ice on his face. "So what are you going to do?"

"Well, of course I'm going to make some back-up plans," Klesto said, looking quite sincere. "Don't worry, we have the same demands. How could I do anything bad to you? This is all for the sake of you and your friends, I swear!"

"It's no use swearing," Ron sighed, and pointed to the taller buildings behind the orc camps, which were looming in the night. "That should be the camp of the frost giants, right? How many spells do you think I need to use from here to attract the attention of the Heir of God, and before I can contact him?"

"I'm just a spellcaster. Even in my full state, I'm no match for that God's heir. Do you want me to face him exhausted?"

Crestor blinked, opened his mouth, and took out a string of pearl necklaces from his mouth and spit them on Ron's head: "Hey - this, this is for you. This pearl necklace can restore the wearer's spell slots below six levels three times a day..."

"Not enough." He was the descendant of a giant god, and three hundred spell regens were not enough for Ron.

"Wow..." Crestos was really generous. Seeing Ron starting to slack off, he took out a bunch of gadgets without saying a word. "This quill pen allows you to rewrite in the spell book and prepare a spell immediately; on this piece of paper you can write down three spells as the spells you have prepared; and this staff can activate the fireball spell after twelve levels of upgrade; this dagger..."

Crystal Dragon began to introduce these little things like treasures. This was not because he was generous. These things were basically disposable. Besides the necklace, they were not the diamonds that fascinated him, or the ornaments that could refract light, prophecy collections, astronomical works or star maps. Although these were still his collections, they were not so precious. Now it was related to more important things, and these could be sacrificed.

Ron checked these odds and ends, quickly used up those props that could be used in advance, then nodded to the crystal dragon and walked quickly towards the camp.

His target was not those inconspicuous dwarf or human camps. Since he wanted to cause trouble, he had to choose the most eye-catching target - such as the largest territory other than the frost giant camp.

As he got closer, Ron straightened his collar and looked up. On the wooden sentry post in front of the orc camp, two strong orcs were warming themselves around a brazier. Their eyes kept scanning the darkness around them. If nothing unexpected happened, they should be able to discover him soon.

Sure enough, Ron took less than ten steps forward again, and one of the orc sentinels got up first, picked up the weapon beside him, and shouted at Ron:

"Stop! What are you doing!"

"This is the territory of the Yefeng tribe, stranger, get out of here!"

Ron did not move forward, but he did not retreat either. He stood 200 meters away from the sentry post, raised his white-haired face like an old man, smiled at the two orcs, and answered:
"It's not a stranger, it's a friend who has returned."

The frost-covered beard and hair were as hard as iron in the cold evening breeze: "'Old' friend." (End of this chapter)