Chapter 76: The Female Mage and the Female Warlock

Garos did not trust Nick's words.

Honesty? Trust? These words would not appear in a merchant's dictionary, especially not in the dictionary of a shrewd merchant like Nick who dared to boast even among a pack of wolves; if he were honest, Garos could claim to be a good dragon.

Through the old shaman, he spoke to Nick:

"Your caravan has only five steam wagons on the verge of scrap, carrying some cheap and useless chicken-blood stones; how can I believe you can bring me back black oil and magic energy stones?"

Pausing for a moment, he added, "Think clearly before you answer; you have only one chance."

The lives of himself and his companions all depended on the answer that followed.

Nick's breathing quickened, feeling immense pressure.

The old shaman before him was clearly hunched with mottled fur, bearing no aura of intimidation, yet Nick felt that within those ancient, cloudy eyes hid a great dragon, filling him with an oppression as heavy as a mountain.

At first, he wanted to habitually weave lies to gain the other's trust.

But just as the lie was about to leave his lips, Nick stopped.

No lie can be more trustworthy than the truth.

After a few seconds of silence, Nick took a few deep breaths, then spoke gently, telling the story that belonged to him.

At eleven, Nick had a half-bag of stolen pepper in his arms; he traded the pepper with a fisherman for a stinky herring, then resold it to drunken sailors, earning his first copper coin.

At twenty, Nick was already the youngest trader in the Emerald Merchant Association; relying on his skill in packaging moldy oats as a northern specialty, he saved his first pot of gold, formed his own large caravan, and reached the peak of his life.

At twenty-five, Nick met Erin at an auction, a female mage wearing silver-rimmed glasses who captivated him; like a moth to a flame, he spared no effort to win her favor, and finally, as a merchant, married the noble female mage.

At thirty, Nick woke up beside a sewage ditch because the divorce decree had arrived more suddenly than a blizzard; due to the agreement signed with the female mage before marriage, he lost everything; ordinary people and noble spellcasters ultimately did not belong to the same world.

At thirty-two, in the territory of the Grey-Maned Werewolves, to survive and to rise again, he told his story.

"There is no better, no more excellent merchant in this world than me."

"I have even sold toys of pleasure to the most rigid nuns, allowing them to find some comfort in the dead of night."

"The only mistake I have made in my life was overestimating myself and believing in love."

"But please believe me, I will never make the same mistake again."

Nick, for the first time, restrained the smile on his face and spoke in a serious, solemn tone.

Across from him, the old shaman scrutinized him.

Under the gaze of the werewolf, Nick felt his legs go weak, an inexplicable oppression and fear.

What he did not know was:

There was another dragon quietly observing him; what made him feel oppression and fear was the dragon's gaze, invisible yet carrying a tangible sense of pressure.

Ten-plus seconds later.

The old shaman bared his not-too-sharp wolf teeth and said to Nick, "I believe your words, but that is not enough."

It took out some ink-black pills and said, "These are poisons I have refined; eat them, and only then can true trust be established between us."

Nick smiled slightly, took the pills, and swallowed them without hesitation or delay.

The others hesitated a bit, but ultimately, to save their lives, they also swallowed the poison.

Immediately, the old shaman beckoned, and the adult werewolves carried two cargo boxes over, placed them before Nick, and opened them.

Nick recognized these as the cargo boxes that had previously held chicken-blood stones, but the inferior chicken-blood stones were gone; in their place was a box of dark green scales and a box of herbs of the same color.

"What are these?"

Nick picked up a scale and asked uncertainly.

With his knowledge, he could not identify the origin of these things.

"Scales of the Cliff Serpent-Dragon, and the supreme poisonous herbs that grew in the place where it lived."

The old shaman said.

It was not lying; these dragon scales were shed by the Cliff Serpent-Dragon during its growth, and the poisonous herbs grew under the influence of its aura.

Hiss. Nick shivered and tossed the dark green dragon scale he had just picked up back.

He had heard of serpent-dragons.

They were an extremely terrifying type of dragon; even their blood was deadly poison, and ordinary people would die upon a single touch.

But any dragon material meant wealth.

"One month; in one month, I will return to the Scaled Earth Rift Road with the black oil and magic energy stones you desire."

Nick, beaming with joy, said.

After communicating some more details, the werewolves knocked Nick and the others unconscious again and carried them away.

When they woke up, they had already appeared at the place where they first encountered the werewolves; the steam wagons were parked there intact, with two boxes of cargo on them containing precious dragon scales and poisonous herbs.

"Nick, are you really going to make a deal with these werewolves?"

The tiefling Maggie hesitated and felt uneasy, saying, "When we were in their territory, I vaguely felt a deep fear; this is not normal; there must be a great secret hidden within the werewolf territory."

Nick smiled and said, "The wilderness is full of dangers; it would be abnormal if they had no secrets or any means of support."

Pausing for a moment, he turned to look at Maggie and said, "Maggie, once we have earned enough money, I promise to take you to a place without discrimination or prejudice, to enjoy a peaceful life."

Nick had stumbled over a spellcaster and vowed never to fall in love with any spellcaster again.

However, he had become infatuated with female warlocks.

The female warlock spat and said, "I never promised to live with you."

Immediately, the caravan set off again, while in the night sky they could not see, Garos circled silently, gazing down at the vast, boundless wilderness surface.

The werewolves lay in ambush at the Scaled Earth Rift Road, waiting for the arrival of the next caravan.

On this wilderness, small caravans were numerous.

Garos did not intend to put all his eggs in one basket, so he prepared to control more caravans, opening channels for trade with the southern nations to bring back what he needed.

Dragons are entirely high-grade materials.

Garos could trade even the scales shed from his own body, or even his saliva, for resources to enhance his growth speed.

However, to prevent any spellcasters or sorcerers from using the materials on his person to cast spells and trace his origins or perform similar acts, he would not trade the materials on his own body.

"The monster clans surrounding this Scaled Earth Rift are not limited to the Grey-Maned Werewolves."

"If the Howling Moon Clan acts too frequently, it will cause trouble and draw the attention of other monster clans."

Garos narrowed his eyes slightly, thinking silently to himself: "Setting aside the rest for now, the intelligent creature clans near the Scaled Earth Rift must be under my control."

He intended to bring this branch road of the Thousand Serpent Scar completely under his control.

For safety, and for future development.

As the night grew increasingly dense, Garos ordered the werewolves to collect and organize more intelligence on the surrounding clans, then flew toward the Conifer Valley.

As the saying goes, a cunning rabbit has three burrows.

Garos now frequently visits Crescent Moon Valley; this is his second territory, but the werewolves of Crescent Moon Valley do not know where Garos is at other times.

In this way,

should the Werewolf Clan ever face a campaign of retribution from the Lothren Federation due to an attack on a caravan, he would have a better means of response.

(End of this chapter)