Chapter 66: He Like a Crimson Meteor Swept Across the Sky (Please Subscribe!)

The setting sun, like blood, dyed the sky into a flowing canvas of molten fire; the sinking sun resembled a pierced wound, oozing viscous twilight along the horizon.

Bathed in the afterglow as crimson as blood and fierce as flame, every black-iron-like dragon scale on Garos reflected a dangerous gleam.

His wings beat, fine scales grinding against each other to spark streaks of fire; his body straight, he pierced the clouds and split the air, racing swiftly toward Moonfall Valley, toward the cliff where the Cliff Serpent Dragons dwelt, like a drawn blade cleaving the deepening dusk.

Whenever danger was felt.

Whenever a threat to life was felt.

Garos could never suppress his surging killing intent, wanting to erase the source of that danger.

This was not an effect brought by dragon bloodline.

As far as Garos knew, few dragons harbored thoughts like his; the vast majority of dragons, due to their innate arrogance and pride, believed they could weather all dangers, believed the world should prostrate beneath their dragon wings, believed themselves unbreakable, and thus possessed little sense of crisis.

Garos had seriously analyzed it.

He ultimately concluded.

Most likely, it was because he had died by sheer luck once, having felt the despair, fear, regret, and unwillingness of that moment before death, and thus cherished this dragon life all the more, wishing to live long, so from the bottom of his heart, he wanted to strangle every risk and factor affecting his survival in its cradle.

This seemed somewhat suspicious.

A bit of paranoia.

It could also be said this was a flaw in Garos's character.

Just as he could never force himself to eat two magic gems in a row, when facing risks threatening his life, he found it hard to suppress his killing intent, wanting to eliminate it by any means necessary; if the gap was too great and truly unmanageable, he would choose strategic retreat, withdrawing to a safe place.

However, for now.

This character "flaw" actually held certain benefits for him.

Under such circumstances, whether it was a flaw or a virtue became somewhat blurred.

But regardless, the Cliff Serpent Dragon must be dealt with.

Garos did not like a life of wandering; he had just settled and taken up residence in Needleleaf Valley; was he to relocate again because of the hidden threat of the Cliff Serpent Dragon?

This serpent dragon was not yet strong enough for that.

Garos did not wish to relocate, nor did he wish to be ambushed at will by the Cliff Serpent Dragon, which was hidden while he was exposed.

In that case, resolving it beforehand was the best course of action.

"Fighting it to the death without regard for consequences might poison me and leave me severely injured."

"Think over the battle strategy ahead; strive to deal with this Cliff Serpent Dragon at the smallest possible cost."

The Red Iron Dragon drew a deep breath of the night sky's icy air, his gaze flickering.

The killing intent filling his chest did not make him lose his head; instead, it made him even calmer.

His beating wings formed threads of starry fire, trailing a trajectory like fireflies in the dusk; as time gradually passed, Garos drew closer and closer to Moonfall Valley.

Moonfall Valley.

At this moment, the night deepened, the moonlight calm as water, pouring down from the sky.

Inside the valley, the scene was likewise calm.

Yet beneath that calm, undercurrents surged.

The Giant Wolf Knights, Howling War Wolves, and Wolf Archers—the young and strong combat forces of the Howling Moon Clan—were, as usual, fully armed, patrolling inside and outside their territory; only if one carefully surveyed from high above could one vaguely discern that their positions subtly formed a surrounding formation, ready at any moment to pierce through obstacles and launch a fierce assault on a clearing in the middle of the territory.

Besides this.

The elderly wolves and wolf cubs.

The old, weak, sick, and disabled within the Howling Moon Clan had, at some unknown time, been moved outside the valley, not remaining within the territory.

All the young and strong, while conducting normal patrols, had muscles tensed beneath their fur; their expressions were occasionally somewhat tense, but in an instant were replaced by resolve.

The Grey-Maned Wolves were naturally ferocious, yet they valued bloodline bonds and valued their own kin within the same clan.

For the future of the clan, they were prepared to die in battle.

"Elder, all is ready."

The Wolf Chieftain, Russell, lowered his voice, his tone both excited and nervous.

The old Shaman nodded, speaking sternly: "Remember, you must wait until Rogus walks into the array I have set up, until the array is activated to bind it, until my signal, and only then act together; only thus can we minimize the clan's casualties."

Hearing the word "casualties," Russell's expression grew much heavier.

He gripped the hilt of the blade at his waist and said, "All have been instructed."

"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 much deep consideration and discussion.

The Shaman and the Chieftain still decided to eliminate the Cliff Serpent Dragon rather than relocate the territory.

The wilderness was fraught with dangers; relocating the territory was no simple matter.

Leaving familiar lands to develop anew in strange places was a process filled with peril; for their clan to survive with half its members would already be fortunate.

In any case, casualties would be massive.

Better to fight the Cliff Serpent Dragon to the death!

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

Whoosh—

The sound of the bone whistle rang out for the first time.

The old Shaman stood in the middle of the clearing, where fresh prey was laid out.

Hearing the bone whistle, the Cliff Serpent Dragon crawled out of its cave, then, winding its long body, descended before the old Shaman; without ceremony, it opened its blood-filled maw and bit into one of the prey, tearing it apart cruelly.

When feeding, the Cliff Serpent Dragon injected a potent toxin into the prey that intensified the sensation of pain.

The prey let out a piercing wail as its skin and flesh were torn away by its dense, sharp teeth in a manner akin to slow slicing.

The gruesomeness of the process made the old Shaman unable to help but frown slightly.

At the same time, it noticed the Cliff Serpent Dragon's tail.

The previously broken area had already grown flesh buds, resembling the rudimentary form of its tail; with the recovery speed of dragonkind, it was estimated that within a few days, it would fully regenerate.

At the very beginning, the Old Shaman had intended to seek out the dragon that had injured the Cliff Serpent Dragon and cooperate with it.

However, it knew nothing of its origins nor its whereabouts.

Without any channel for communication, the idea of borrowing its power became mere fantasy; thus, in the end, it resolutely decided to unite the clan's strength to eradicate the Cliff Serpent Dragon.

Feeding continued.

The Cliff Serpent Dragon gradually reached the center of the clearing.

Beneath the ground, invisible to it, a pre-set formation stood ready to be activated at any moment.

A flicker of tension crossed the Old Shaman's wolf face; then, taking advantage of the Cliff Serpent Dragon's attention being fixed on the food, it drew a deep breath, preparing to blow the bone whistle and activate the formation.

Whoosh—!!

The air was compressed into a sharp whistle sound, traveling from far to near.

No, I haven't blown the whistle yet?

The Old Shaman's eyes widened in confusion; before it could activate the formation, it saw the Cliff Serpent Dragon suddenly straighten its upper body, its tail slapping the ground, its face filled with irritability, its blood-red dragon eyes brimming with murderous intent, staring fixedly at the night sky.

Including the Old Shaman.

The many werewolves raised their heads to look at the night sky, then simultaneously held their breath.

A crimson meteor dove down from between the clouds.

No, not a crimson meteor.

But a giant dragon resembling a crimson meteor.

Its size could not yet be called "giant," but the momentum and oppressive pressure it carried made every werewolf, the moment they saw it, immediately conjure the only impression that fit in their minds.

—A giant dragon, a powerful giant dragon!

Garos tore through the night curtain, charging straight at the Cliff Serpent Dragon.

His speed, now accelerated, was already extremely fast; between the flapping of his dragon wings, dense sparks erupted, like countless star-fire flowing over them, while the sharp whine produced by the friction of feathers, fine scales, and the air sounded like ten thousand sharp swords being drawn simultaneously.

This sound initially was a high-frequency metallic tremor, then, as the altitude decreased, gradually evolved into a continuous, muffled thunderous roar.

The head the Cliff Serpent Dragon had just raised was forced down by the sound waves; its forked tail tip involuntarily curled up; facing Garos's unstoppable, surging dragon might, it felt a touch of fear in its heart.

But this flicker of fear was, in an instant, replaced by the Cliff Serpent Dragon's innate ferocity and madness.

Hiss—!

It let out a hissing cry; high-temperature steam hissed out from beneath the scales on its body; its speed exploded, and it soared into the air.

(End of this chapter)