Chapter 66: He Fell Like a Crimson Meteor Across the Sky (Request Subscription!)

The setting sun bled crimson, staining the sky like a flowing canvas of molten fire; the sinking sun resembled a pierced wound, oozing thick auroras along the horizon.

Luo Si bathed in the blood-red, flame-like afterglow, every black-iron scale on his body reflecting dangerous glimmers.

He beat his wings, fine scales grinding together to spark threads of fire, his body straight as he pierced through clouds and shattered the air, hurtling toward New Moon Valley and the cliffside lair of the Serpent Dragon, like a drawn blade slicing through the thickening dusk.

Whenever he sensed danger.

Whenever he felt his life threatened.

Luo Si could never suppress his boiling killing intent—he wanted to erase the source of that danger.

This was not an effect of his dragon bloodline.

As Luo Si knew, few dragons held thoughts like his; most dragons, due to their innate arrogance and pride, believed they could overcome all dangers, felt the world should kneel beneath their wings, and considered themselves invincible—thus lacking any real sense of peril.

Luo Si had carefully analyzed this.

He ultimately concluded.

It was most likely because he had once died by sheer luck, having felt the despair, fear, regret, and resentment of death—thus cherishing this dragon life all the more, wishing to live long, and from the depths of his heart, wanting to strangle every risk and factor threatening his survival in the cradle.

This seemed somewhat paranoid.

A touch of delusional persecution.

One could also say it was a flaw in Luo Si’s character.

Just as he could never force himself to swallow two magic gems in a row, when faced with threats to his life, he found it hard to restrain his killing intent—he wanted to eliminate them by any means necessary; if the gap was too great and success was impossible, he would choose strategic retreat, withdrawing to safety.

Yet, for now,

this “flaw” actually benefited him.

Under these circumstances, whether it was a flaw or a strength had become ambiguous.

But regardless, the Cliffside Serpent Dragon had to be dealt with.

Luo Si disliked a nomadic life; he had just settled in Needleleaf Valley—did he now have to relocate again because of the Serpent Dragon’s hidden threat?

This serpent dragon was not yet strong enough for that.

Luo Si did not wish to relocate, nor did he want to be ambushed by the hidden Serpent Dragon.

If so, eliminating it preemptively was the best course.

“A desperate fight with it might poison me severely.”

“Think through the battle strategy—minimize the cost and finish off this Cliffside Serpent Dragon.”

The Red Iron Dragon drew a deep breath of the cold night air, his eyes gleaming.

The killing intent swelling in his chest did not cloud his mind—it made him even colder, calmer.

His wings beat, leaving trails of starlike sparks that traced glowing paths through the dusk; as time passed, Luo Si drew ever closer to New Moon Valley.

New Moon Valley.

Night had deepened; moonlight fell like still water from the sky.

The valley itself appeared tranquil.

Yet beneath that calm, currents churned.

The wolf knights, howling werewolves, and wolf archers—the young, strong warriors of the Howling Moon Clan—patrolled their territory as usual, fully armed; but if one carefully observed from high above, one could faintly discern their positions forming a loose encirclement, ready to surge through obstacles and launch a fierce assault on the open ground at the valley’s center.

Beyond that,

the elderly werewolves and wolf pups.

All the weak, sick, and old of the Howling Moon Clan had been moved outside the territory—none remained within.

Every young warrior, while patrolling normally, had muscles tensed beneath their fur, expressions occasionally tense, yet instantly replaced by resolve.

The Graymane werewolves were inherently cruel, yet valued blood ties and kin of their own clan.

For the clan’s future, they had prepared to die in battle.

“Elder, we are ready.”

Werewolf Chief Russell lowered his voice, his tone excited yet tense.

The old shaman nodded solemnly: “Remember—you must wait until Rogus steps into my array. Only when I activate the binding spell and give the signal, then strike together—only then can we minimize clan casualties.”

Hearing the word “casualties,” Russell’s expression darkened.

He gripped the hilt of his blade: “All orders have been given.”

“When you blow the bone whistle a second time, every warrior of the Howling Moon Clan will surge forward at once and kill it!”

After careful deliberation and discussion,

the shaman and chief had decided to eliminate the Cliffside Serpent Dragon rather than relocate their territory.

The wilds teemed with peril; relocating was no simple matter.

Leaving their familiar land for an unknown place to rebuild carried immense risk—half their clan surviving would be a miracle.

Either way, casualties would be heavy.

Better to fight the Cliffside Serpent Dragon!

The warriors of the Howling Moon Clan would not fear battle!

Shh—

The bone whistle sounded for the first time.

The old shaman stood in the center of the open ground, where fresh prey lay scattered.

Hearing the whistle, the Cliffside Serpent Dragon slithered from its cave, coiling its long body down to the shaman’s feet, then without hesitation, opened its maw and bit into one of the prey, savagely tearing at its flesh.

The Cliffside Serpent Dragon injected a potent venom into its prey during feeding, intensifying its pain.

The prey screamed in agony, its skin and flesh shredded by the serpent’s fine, needle-like fangs as if flayed alive.

The bloodiness of the scene made even the old shaman frown slightly.

At the same time, he noticed the serpent dragon’s tail.

The broken end had sprouted fleshy buds—like a nascent tail—and given the dragon’s regenerative speed, it would likely be fully restored within days.

Originally, the old shaman had sought to ally with the dragon that had wounded the Cliffside Serpent Dragon.

But he knew nothing of its origin or whereabouts.

With no means of communication, the idea of borrowing its power became fantasy—so he ultimately resolved to gather the clan’s strength and eliminate the Cliffside Serpent Dragon.

Feeding continued.

The Cliffside Serpent Dragon slowly moved toward the center of the open ground.

Beneath its sight, a pre-set array waited to be activated.

A flicker of tension crossed the old shaman’s wolf face; seizing the moment the serpent dragon’s attention was fixed on its meal, he drew a deep breath and prepared to blow the whistle and activate the array.

Shh—!!

Air was compressed into a piercing whistle, approaching from afar.

That’s not right—I haven’t blown the whistle yet?

The old shaman’s eyes widened in confusion; before he could activate the array, he saw the Cliffside Serpent Dragon suddenly rear up, its tail thrashing the ground, its face enraged, its crimson dragon eyes blazing with malice as it stared fixedly into the night sky.

Including the old shaman,

all the werewolves looked up—and simultaneously held their breath.

A crimson meteor plunged from the clouds.

No—it was not a crimson meteor.

It was a dragon, blazing like a crimson meteor.

Its size did not yet merit the term “giant,” but the sheer force and oppressive aura it carried made every werewolf, the moment they saw it, instantly conjure the only impression that fit—

—a giant dragon, a powerful giant dragon!

Luo Si tore through the night sky, hurtling straight toward the Cliffside Serpent Dragon.

His speed, now accelerated, was extreme; each wingbeat sent out dense sparks, as if countless embers flowed across his body, the shriek of fine scales and feathers scraping the air sounding like ten thousand swords drawn at once.

The sound began as a high-pitched metallic vibration, then, as altitude dropped, deepened into a continuous, thunderous roar.

The Cliffside Serpent Dragon’s raised head was forced downward by the sonic wave; its forked tail curled involuntarily. Faced with Luo Si’s unstoppable, rolling dragon aura, it felt a flicker of fear.

But that flicker of fear vanished instantly, replaced by the serpent dragon’s innate ferocity and madness.

Hss—

It hissed, steam hissing from beneath its scales as it exploded upward into the air.

(End of Chapter)