Chapter 80: Blood Burst! A New Direction of Evolution

For several days straight, torrential rain had blanketed the wilderness, but its fury finally began to subside.

What was once a thick curtain of rain connecting earth and sky now fell as fine silver threads, pattering against rocks and vegetation; deep in the damp soil, seeds long dormant greedily drank in the water, gathering energy to sprout and grow.

It had been three days since his encounter with the Copper Dragon.

After leaving behind words like “I’ll be back,” the Copper Dragon turned and left; Garos made no move to stop it.

In his eyes,

this Copper Dragon was like a gift box that arrived unpredictably, delivering wealth and gear—and he found it quite pleasing.

As for the Copper Dragon’s claim that it would defeat him,

Garos paid it no mind.

The nature of dragons being what it is, the Copper Dragon might briefly rally after defeat, striving to hone its claws and fangs as Garos had, to grow stronger—but sustaining such relentless accumulation over years was nearly impossible.

Moreover,

as long as it could not make up its mind to abandon its life-saving protections,

it would forever remain separated from true danger by a veil, never receiving the genuine trials of the wilderness.

If it were Garos,

he certainly

could not make that decision either.

He longed too deeply for the life-saving talismans bestowed by his metallic dragon parents; unfortunately, his birth doomed him to grow up without safety or stability, forced to walk hand in hand with danger.

From the Copper Dragon, Garos had also learned the effect of the horn ring he took.

It contained a powerful spell—Blood Burst.

This spell could temporarily enhance all of one’s attributes, but carried a side effect: after use, the body would grow weak; if the user failed to defeat their enemy while under Blood Burst, the ensuing weakness would plunge them into grave danger.

Yet for Garos,

this was better than any alchemical item he had seized before.

He tried it once and discovered the Blood Burst spell directly altered his bodily state.

During the spell’s duration, his dragon blood nearly boiled within him, surging like a torrent, his heartbeat pounding like a frantic engine.

This meant that if he used the Blood Burst horn ring often enough, his body might gradually adapt and evolve a structure capable of triggering Blood Burst without needing alchemical items.

A bodily talent evolved by Garos himself would suit him better, its effects far surpassing those of alchemical items.

Alchemical items would eventually be rendered obsolete.

But his bodily talent would not—it would grow stronger alongside him.

Garos also began to understand, gradually realizing the correct way to use alchemical items on himself—to use them as stimuli and guides, as keys to unlock his own evolution.

For a moment,

Garos even looked forward to meeting the Copper Dragon again, hoping to obtain other alchemical items similar to the Blood Burst horn ring.

At the same time,

having mastered the use of the Blood Burst horn ring and with the rain weakening, Garos resolved to unify the clans of the Scale-Tear Path.

New Moon Valley.

The wolf-kin of the Howling Moon Clan attacked the Red Iron Dragon from all sides, each wielding their own methods.

Their claws and fangs struck the Red Iron Dragon’s hide, sparking fleeting embers that flickered in the rain.

The elder shaman swung his oak staff, summoning a wind totem.

Sharp wind blades became a storm, scattering rain and sweeping over the Red Iron Dragon, sending countless sparks flying like blades slicing through an unbreakable iron hide.

As time passed,

after more than ten minutes,

the intense “battle” left the young and strong wolf-kin nearly exhausted; the elder shaman panted heavily, his vision blurring with the faint, flickering presence of his wolf ancestors, as if calling to him.

This assault was not betrayal.

It was precisely the method that pleased the Dragon Lord.

And this made the wolf-kin realize just how terrifying a creature they followed and served: within its youthful dragon form lay strength and defense surpassing even that of adolescent dragons, hiding unparalleled potential.

“Dragon Lord, your scales are as thick as the earth.”

Russell, the wolf chieftain who revered strength, knelt on one knee, humbled by the hybrid dragon.

Garos stretched his wings in the drizzle, noticing fresh claw marks on his outer dragon scales.

Burst Scales, evolved from Buffer Scales, offered excellent resistance against impacts and blunt force, but performed merely averagely against sharp-edged cuts.

Yet beneath the Burst Scales lay the black-red scales.

They possessed no buffering, no recoil, no such features.

They were simply, purely “hard.”

Like cast steel, yet harder than true steel, unbreakable.

When a wolf-kin’s claw scraped through a gap in the Burst Scales and struck this layer, the claw snapped—leaving not a single tear.

One could imagine

the psychological shock of any creature unfamiliar with Garos, who, after exhausting itself to strip away all his Burst Scales, discovered beneath them another layer of unbreakable scales.

Immediately,

Garos ordered the other wolf-kin to disperse, leaving only the shaman—the wisest and most experienced among them.

He was the eldest of the Howling Moon Clan, revered and wise, the true leader, intimately familiar with every matter within the tribe; by contrast, the wolf chieftain Russell was young, more like a “general” leading the clan in battle.

Garos asked: “What have you gathered from the Scale-Tear Path these past days?”

Nick’s caravan still needed about half a month to return.

Garos would not wait idly—he had ordered the Howling Moon wolf-kin to continue lying in wait along the Scale-Tear Path, selecting suitable targets and establishing trade routes with the southern civilizations.

The elder shaman bowed his head, his aged body prostrate on the ground, offering his apology.

“Forgive me, I have disappointed you. Aside from the first caravan, our clan’s patrols along the Scale-Tear Path have gained nothing.”

He said.

“Stand up. Tell me what happened.”

Garos said.

It couldn’t be that looting came with a beginner’s bonus, and after Nick’s caravan, there was simply nothing left.

The elder shaman rose again, his fur soaked in mud and rainwater, yet he made no effort to wipe it away.

Through reading his clan’s texts, he knew most dragons were capricious; though Garos had shown himself relatively mild, not like a cruel dragon, the elder shaman felt it was always safer to appear humble before a dragon.

The mud on his body was not dirt.

It was loyalty. It was reverence. It was humility.

Under Garos’s calm gaze, the elder shaman whispered: “In recent days, the heavy rain and terrible weather kept all caravans from passing the Scale-Tear Path.”

“Once the rain lessened, the Crimson Eye Clan and the Crackclaw Clan also set ambushes along the Scale-Tear Path, robbing passing caravans.”

“They occupy more favorable positions along the route, always getting there before us.”

The clans settled around the trade path were not close to it—too near, and they risked being wiped out by the Thousand Serpent Scar, the Federation’s monster-clearing guard force.

Each raid required long journeys back and forth, and constant vigilance against attacks from monsters and demons.

There was intelligence in the wilderness too.

After long years of trial and error, several clans had learned to avoid the territories of powerful monsters and demons, carving out fixed routes and occupied stretches of road.

The Howling Moon Clan’s stretch was poor, positioned far behind.

A caravan would pass safely through several earlier stretches before reaching the Howling Moon Clan’s territory.

Normally, monsters did not frequent the trade path often.

On one hand, the Scale-Tear Path was merely a minor side route, with few caravans passing—most ambushes yielded nothing but wasted time.

On the other hand, too frequent appearances, too many raids, would draw attention from caravans—and even the guard force—leading to retaliation.

Therefore,

though the wolf-kin’s stretch was poor, some caravans still passed through other stretches and reached their territory—though in small numbers, and after filtering out those with strong escorts, the viable targets grew even fewer.

(End of Chapter)