Chapter 59: Wolf Knights

Luo Si spread his wings and spiraled upward through the night-shrouded air.

The air currents above the needleleaf valley carried the sharp stench of sulfur.

Adjust altitude.

Let the Dragon Wings cast shadows that glide over the canopy without disturbing ground creatures.

Luo Si looked down and saw bears roaming the valley—some dozing, others scratching their backs against rough, hard rocks.

Mobel, the newly appointed leader of the bears, was now among the female bears.

Rubbing heads, licking fur, bonding with the females.

He saw Samantha squatting, poking at ants, playing a childish, immature game.

Alone as a dragon, she was perfectly content.

He saw the fairy dragon Long Weila lying on a treetop branch, wings and tail drooping, sleeping precariously, as if about to tumble at any moment—yet always just barely holding on, making one want to push her off.

This altitude allowed clear observation of ground-level details.

Without revealing his presence.

“Go see my neighbors.”

After circling the valley three times, Luo Si chose the northeast direction to begin his reconnaissance.

Under cover of night, he soared between drifting winds and floating clouds.

His massive wings beat slowly and steadily, controlling speed and noise to avoid detection.

His gaze fixed on the ground below.

Mountains, wastelands, forests, lakes—all terrains reflected in Luo Si’s dragon eyes.

He observed silently, noticing many ferocious beasts and demons hunting under the night.

The Ser Wilds were a paradise for ferocious beasts and demons.

In comparison,

the number of tribes and clans formed by intelligent races was small, and their survival here was perilous—but any wilderness tribe that endured was typically fierce and powerful.

Time dripped away with every beat of Luo Si’s wings.

After roughly half an hour,

Luo Si hid within the clouds, fixing his gaze downward, his vertical pupils locking onto a crescent-shaped valley.

At the valley floor,

where moonlight could not reach,

a group of bluish-gray furred creatures were moving.

They walked upright, adults standing over two meters tall.

Their hunched backs bulged with exaggerated muscle arcs, covered in stiff, needle-like fur; their necks bore lion-like gray manes, and their protruding muzzles bristled with crisscrossing fangs.

—Graymane Werewolves.

A branch of werewolves.

Legend held,

that werewolf ancestors were once human.

They were cursed into bloodthirsty half-human, half-wolf monsters for offending the Moon Goddess—but other accounts claimed their ancestors transformed themselves into this form through forbidden dark experiments.

From ancient times to the present,

werewolves had developed many branches.

Some werewolves could appear human in form, speech, and intellect, indistinguishable from normal people.

But once provoked or bathed in full moonlight, they transformed into bloodthirsty, ferocious half-human, half-wolf forms.

Graymane werewolves, living permanently in wild lands, had long abandoned their human forms entirely.

They lived always as werewolves—fierce in temperament, yet possessing human-level intelligence.

If exposed to full moonlight or pushed to the edge of death, their emotions surging intensely,

they would transform further, becoming full giant wolves, their combat power soaring while gradually losing reason, drowning in battle and slaughter.

In the crescent valley stood several huts built from hard wood or stone.

Outside, walls of stacked marble blocks, bound together with mud and resin.

Inside the walls,

on an open patch against the valley’s rocky cliff,

Adult werewolves trained the cubs by hurling heavy, hard iron-birch logs into the air; the cubs leapt three meters high, gnawing with their young, sharp teeth, leaving uneven dents.

“More diligent than dragon cubs—they actually train.”

Luo Si thought silently.

Dragons had too many innate advantages.

All dragons knew from birth that they would stand atop a peak few could reach—and this bred laziness; dragons like Luo Si were exceedingly rare.

When he was still in Iron Dragon Mother’s territory,

the red dragon Samantha and the iron dragon Gorton

spent their days eating, sleeping, and wandering—despite countless precious teachings in their lineage that ordinary beings would kill for, they never sought to uncover or learn them, let alone train their bodies or sharpen their claws.

“Could it be that evil dragons drive off their young to force them to overcome laziness through external pressure?”

A guess surfaced in Luo Si’s mind.

But after thinking, he decided he was overthinking.

It was more likely the evil dragon mother simply didn’t care to raise her offspring.

Luo Si gathered his thoughts and continued scanning the crescent valley.

On the perimeter wall stood crooked bone towers.

Graymane werewolf sentries stood atop them, armed with longbows, their eyes—unaffected by darkness—scanning the surroundings, ears twitching, listening for any suspicious movement.

Outside, werewolf cavalry rode giant wolves on patrol.

When resting, they ignored themselves, prioritizing food and water for their mounts.

Some even displayed unusually intimate gestures—nuzzling, licking each other’s fur.

It wasn’t the normal bond between knight and mount.

Luo Si noticed this.

He was puzzled at first, then “searched” his inherited knowledge—and understood.

If a werewolf remains in giant wolf form too long, they sink deeper into bestiality, lose themselves completely, and can never revert to human form, becoming monstrous giant wolves.

Only those with the closest bloodline can soothe them, communicating on a spiritual level through blood.

In Graymane werewolf societies, fully bestialized,

knights and their mounts often shared blood bonds.

Originally, they may have been mates, parents and offspring, brothers.

Because of this bond, their interactions were unusual, and their coordination far more seamless and powerful than ordinary knight-mount pairs.

“This territory has over thirty giant wolf knights—not counting cubs and juveniles; adult werewolves number at least a hundred.”

“I haven’t seen their leader or any shaman yet.”

Luo Si, hidden in the clouds, silently assessed this “neighbor.”

A tribe of this scale would normally have at least one shaman or witch—and Luo Si had noticed totem poles standing within their territory.

As his gaze swept further, it fixed on the western corner of the crescent valley.

He saw the wreckage of a metal transport cart, riddled with gnaw marks and tears; several wolf cubs were sharpening their teeth on the metal sheets.

This Graymane werewolf tribe had raided caravans passing along the Thousand Serpent Scar.

(End of Chapter)