Chapter 81: Over-Level Combat, But Downwards

The wilderness of the rainy season was soaked by continuous rain; the originally clear scent of prey was washed away and mixed, becoming hard to distinguish. The streams swelled, washing away footprints and traces, causing trackers to lose their direction.

The flesh and blood of prey rotted faster in the stuffy heat and humidity; even if successfully hunted, it was hard to preserve for long.

The Red-Eye Clan's gnolls.

The Split-Claw Clan's lizardmen.

They all chose, when the rain weakened, to pass through the routes controlled by their clans, arrive at a certain section of the Scale-Soil Rift Road, and begin an ambush to raid.

Based on the clans' past experience.

They knew the rainy season of the Sel Wilderness would not end so soon; above the drizzling rain curtain, dark clouds in the sky were gathering and brewing a more violent storm that could descend at any moment. Therefore, whatever they did, it was best to start when the rain was not heavy.

Strangely.

The ogres of the Chew-Bone Clan still huddled within their territory, not venturing out in large numbers.

Even with one clan missing.

The few caravans passing through the Scale-Soil Rift Road, after being exploited and raided by the gnolls and lizardmen, could not reach the section occupied by the Howling-Moon Clan at all. Those that could reach were large caravans that the Red-Eye Clan and Split-Claw Clan dared not touch, and the Howling-Moon Clan also lacked the confidence to raid.

"The Red-Eye Clan and the Split-Claw Clan."

"Gnolls, lizardmen."

Garos narrowed his eyes slightly, pondering and calculating in his heart.

He had not investigated the general situation of these two clans himself, but knew a certain amount through the Howling-Moon Clan.

Individual gnolls were weaker than the Grey-Mane werewolves, but the overall strength of the Red-Eye Clan was not much different from that of the Howling-Moon Clan.

Their leader was a Warlord.

A gnoll Warlord—in gnoll society, it was not only a status, but also a class.

The strongest and most ferocious individuals in the gnoll tribe advanced to Warlord through a ritual of devouring the hearts of other gnolls. The probability of death if the ritual failed was high, but once successful, they would gain many supernatural skills.

A gnoll Warlord could strengthen surrounding kin, making their attacks carry extra damage or granting them movement advantages, making them brave and fearless, unafraid of death; they themselves could also unleash strength far beyond normal gnolls.

Besides the gnoll Warlord.

The Red-Eye Clan also had a Priest.

A Priest was different from a Shaman.

Shamans communicated with nature spirits, ancestral spirits, and the souls of wild beasts and plants through meditation and totems to gain supernatural power; Priests, however, obtained corresponding blessings by serving deities and making offerings to spirits.

The gnoll Priest worshipped the deity of the gnolls, 【Yenogwu】.

This was a deity, and also a Demon Lord.

Blessed by him, the gnoll Priest was inferior to the Shaman in survival skills, but mastered many ferocious sacrificial rituals and divine spells.

What could be confirmed was.

The gnoll Warlord and the Priest were both Level 7 lifeforms.

"The Split-Claw Clan and the Chew-Bone Clan are larger in scale and stronger in clan power."

"In that case, start with the Red-Eye Clan first."

Garos thought.

Pick the softest persimmon to squeeze first.

The Warlord and Priest of the Red-Eye Clan were not easy to provoke in the eyes of the Howling-Moon Clan, but to Garos they were nothing; although cautious, he was very clear about his own power level.

Creatures like gnolls.

Even at the same life level, or even several times that, posed little life-threatening danger to dragonkind.

The Split-Claw Clan and the even stronger Chew-Bone Clan contained individuals of higher life levels, but frankly, with Garos's current power, if he wished, he could actually just visit them directly.

But Garos did not like that.

He also liked fighting above his level, but not upwards.

If conditions allowed.

Garos wanted to 'over-level' and crush Level 6, Level 5, and Level 4 creatures.

He had no determination to wield his blade against the stronger, nor did he have great ambition; perhaps he would later, but for now, he adhered to the principle of putting his own life first, wanting only to live long; if possible, it would be even better to live comfortably.

Garos said to the werewolf Shaman: "Continue sending werewolves to lie in wait and ambush on the Scale-Soil Rift Road; the other clans will soon no longer pose a threat to you."

"What do you plan to do?"

The werewolf Shaman asked.

Garos grinned, revealing sharp dragon teeth: "Start with the Red-Eye Clan; they will either be destroyed or become your companions."

Hearing this, the werewolf Shaman was slightly moved.

As a Shaman, it communicated with all things in nature year-round, with a keen mind; as it interacted with Garos, it gradually realized that although Garos claimed not to be an evil dragon, he subtly gave it a very dangerous feeling.

If it had refused to pledge loyalty back then.

What awaited the Howling-Moon Clan would probably have been destruction as well.

It thought, feeling somewhat relieved, with no regret for its choice back then.

Garos did not treat them cruelly; the only thing that made the werewolves somewhat shrink back was his habit of demanding they surround and attack him, exhausting themselves half to death, but this was also training for the werewolves.

Moreover, Garos liked to hone his combat skills through hunting; he did not require the werewolves to provide food, and even when hunting fierce beasts and demons around, if he was full and had killed a few more fierce beasts and demons, he would bestow rewards upon his kin.

The fierce beasts and demons targeted by Garos were rare delicacies for the Howling-Moon Clan.

Garos's protection was also very important.

His dragon aura made fierce beasts that used to attack the clan dare not approach casually; the threat from other clans was greatly reduced, making the werewolves feel much more at ease, able to focus their minds on other matters; in these past few days, several female wolves had become pregnant.

"The Howling-Moon Clan stands ready at all times!"

"At your single command, the werewolves will become your claws, your vanguard."

The Shaman prostrated itself on the ground again, voice firm, expressing loyalty.

Having received Garos's protection and gifts, it was also prepared to fight for him.

However, Garos merely shook his head, unconcerned.

"There is no need for you to fight."

Pausing, he added, "Let the young and strong of the clan rest well and give them the finest food. I want their claws and fangs to grow sharper; ideally, they should leave wounds on me and draw my blood."

The old shaman fell silent, having no words to reply.

Were the records in the clan's archives about the dragon kind mistaken?

It thought.

Had it known the dragon kind was like Garos, it would not have waited for Garos to offer a choice; the moment it saw Garos, it would have immediately led the entire clan to bow its head in submission!

The wilderness ground was fraught with obstacles.

Now, with the rainy season here, weeds grew thick, mud covered the ground, and shrubs surged wildly.

Garos, disdainful of the werewolves' ground speed, did not intend to let them join the offensive to pressure the Red-Eye Clan; at their pace, who knew how long it would take them to reach the Red-Eye Clan.

He might as well handle it himself.

His purpose in gathering his subjects was not primarily to fight for himself.

Garos flapped his wings, rose into the fine rain, and in the blink of an eye vanished into the thick dark clouds, disappearing completely.

At the same time, as he hurried toward the goblin Red-Eye Clan.

In the western Sel Wilderness, near the Boiling Sea, a giant clan composed of more than ten Shi Ju, forced by necessity, were packing up their territory, preparing to migrate north.

"Elder, will we return?"

Standing high, gazing back at the surging waves of the Boiling Sea, a young Shi Ju, voice rough and gruff, asked the Shi Ju elder.

"When our strength is sufficient to kill that group of blue dragons, we will return and reclaim the territory that belongs to us."

The Shi Ju elder, with gray skin, tall and burly, spoke in a deep voice, the sound like grinding stones, rough and dull.

At the Cliff Strait, their clan had waged a war for several years against a blue dragon clan over territory.

And as time passed, the Shi Ju gradually found themselves unable to cope; of the original thirty-plus Shi Ju, only eleven remained alive, and more than half of those were minors.

If the war continued, they faced the risk of total annihilation.

With no choice.

The Shi Ju chose to abandon their original territory and migrate, temporarily avoiding the might of the blue dragon clan, fleeing north.

(End of this chapter)