Chapter 98: Barrel Black Oil—Too, Too, Too Right!

"I can tell—you have the heart of a strong one."

Garos gazed at Mane Fire and said unhurriedly.

"Your eyes are sharp as a torch!"

Mane Fire lifted his chin slightly and said.

Garos spread his wings wide, straightened his body, his gaze turning calm and dangerous, and said in a low voice: "I have heard a saying."

"The strong draw their blade toward one stronger; the weak swing it toward one weaker."

Mane Fire did not understand Garos's exact meaning, so he nodded along, trying to appear respectful, and said: "Truly words of great wisdom."

Garos suddenly grinned.

"Since you agree, then challenge me—prove your strength to me."

He said.

Mane Fire froze for a moment, staring at Garos's massive frame, the terrifying pressure radiating from him, his breath catching, the smile on his wolf face turning somewhat forced, and said: "Y-you must be joking."

Only at this moment.

Did he realize he had perhaps overstepped just now, and reined in some of his arrogance.

Garos took a step forward, walked up to Mane Fire, his sturdy body blocking out the moonlight, the shadow he cast enveloping Mane Fire.

"So then, everything you said earlier was just to toy with me?"

His voice turned cold and harsh in an instant, his eyes fixed straight on Mane Fire, making every hair on the young werewolf's body stand on end.

Still daring to bristle? Instead of dropping to the ground and begging for mercy.

"I wouldn't dare, please forgive me."

Mane Fire dropped to his knees, lowered his head, and said.

Garos's face was expressionless: "I admire your courage. As long as you can leave a single wound on me, the challenge is yours, and I will give you the position of chieftain."

Mane Fire's eyes lit up, and he was actually eager to try, standing up.

"Great Dragon Lord, I will do my utmost."

He said as much.

Immediately after, the other werewolves scattered in panic, clearing ample open ground.

Russell and the old shaman let out silent sighs, having already foreseen the reckless outcome for Mane Fire—the Dragon Lord had given more than one chance, but he had not seized any of them.

Mane Fire retreated several dozen meters, drew in a deep breath, every muscle in his body tensing like iron.

His hind legs gouged several deep furrows in the ground, a flash of vicious resolve in his eyes, his gaze fixed dead on the dragon before him.

Fierce beasts and monsters larger than Garos, Mane Fire had faced before, and had left many wounds on them, hunting them down successfully with the cooperation of his kin.

In his view, Garos, as a dragon, might be stronger than beasts and monsters of the same size, but not by much.

At the very least, leaving a wound on Garos's body—he could do it.

Roar—!

Accompanied by a deafening howl, the muscles beneath Mane Fire's fur swelled, he leapt up violently, his hind legs erupting with astonishing power.

His sharp claws glinted coldly in the moonlight, going straight for the vital point of Garos's throat.

This strike gathered all of his strength and skill, so fast it left afterimages in the air.

Garos didn't even bother to lift an eyelid.

*Pa! *

With a light sound, the dragon claw swept aside casually, like swatting an annoying flying insect.

Mane Fire's body paused strangely mid-air for an instant, then shot backward even faster.

*Boom! *

His body slammed heavily into the rock face, making the cliff tremble, loose stones pattering down, dust filling the air.

And when the dust cleared, the werewolves were horrified to discover that Mane Fire's body had been deeply embedded into the rock wall, twisted into a contorted posture.

Garos figured Mane Fire might have some hidden card, so the first strike had only used a faint amount of strength as a test.

The result greatly disappointed him.

This young werewolf had no hidden card—simply because his own talent was better than the other werewolves', he had become somewhat ignorant of his own limits.

He walked over slowly, lowered his head, and looked down at Mane Fire.

Mane Fire's eyes were still open, his chest bone completely caved in, frothy blood mixed with chunks of internal organs constantly spilling from the corner of his mouth.

"Too weak. Your arrogance is worth nothing."

Garos said calmly in assessment.

The wolf pack was deathly silent.

Frost Fang's claws unconsciously dug into the ground; only now did he understand why the old shaman always said, 'The dragon's might is unfathomable.'

That once-unstoppable Mane Fire wasn't even a toy before the Dragon Lord.

Growl… a growl of unwillingness escaped Mane Fire's mouth.

*Crack-crack-crack* sounds rang out from within his body; his grievously wounded body began to deform, fangs sprouting in his mouth, his body elongating, and in the blink of an eye he became a giant wolf streaked with blood, roaring as he lunged at Garos.

Garos flicked his tail.

*Bam! *

The giant wolf's body exploded instantly, becoming a puff of blood mist, his body directly shattered mid-air by the lash.

A few warm drops of blood splashed onto the faces of the nearest werewolves, but they didn't even dare wipe them off.

"Now."

Garos's voice echoed through the valley.

"Is there anyone else who wishes to prove the heart of a strong one?"

The answer to him was a uniform prostration and kneeling.

Under the moonlight, the werewolves pressed their foreheads tightly to the ground, keeping their breathing extremely light.

This was submission, and also relief—relief that they possessed a heart of awe.

The old shaman loosened his tightly gripped bone staff, a look of relief smiling on his aged face.

"Your dragon majesty grows day by day; now it even dims the sun and moon."

It said flatteringly.

Russell spoke in a low voice: "I beg you to pardon these few werewolves; they were bewitched by the Mane Fire, had no intention of offending, and moreover, they will be transformed into giant wolves to serve you under the clan's command."

The few werewolves he mentioned were the Mane Fire's close confidants, now trembling and paralyzed with fear.

Garos nodded slightly, signaling Russell to handle it.

After this minor incident, Garos looked at the old shaman and Russell: "Tell me what has happened in these six years."

The old shaman now spoke with slurred words and sluggishness.

Russell opened his mouth and said: "Shortly after you last departed, the Chewing Bone clan began a barbaric expansion."

It recounted the events in a flowing manner.

Because a watchtower was set up at the highest point of New Moon Valley, the werewolves discovered the approaching ogres immediately, so they decisively abandoned their territory and chose to flee; later, they found the ogres had left after consuming the remaining food reserves in their territory, and then returned.

Subsequently, on the Scaled Earth Rift.

Since the ogres occupied the best sections of the road and raided with high frequency, the werewolves of the Howling Moon clan failed to make contact with caravans again.

The good news is.

Before the rise of the ogres, that eloquent, cunning, and clever merchant Nick brought back much black oil, which was stored in the clan's cellars; moreover, the ogres had no interest in the inedible black oil, so there was no loss.

But that was only the first batch of black oil.

When Nick was brought to the Howling Moon clan again, he also brought a message stone, capable of contacting the Howling Moon clan across distances.

After the ogre clan occupied the Scaled Earth Rift, to prevent this merchant route from being destroyed, the old shaman used the message stone to tell Nick not to come for these few years, but to wait for his subsequent notification.

Over the six years.

Nick had to inquire about the situation via the message stone almost every month.

He was not afraid of the werewolves; on the contrary, because the trade with the werewolves had brought him great gains and hope for a comeback, this merchant paid special attention to the Howling Moon clan.

"My Lord, a powerful leader has appeared in the Chewing Bone clan, different from ordinary ogres."

"Under its leadership, the Chewing Bone clan is now at its peak, developing rapidly."

Russell wanted to remind Garos not to underestimate the Chewing Bone clan.

He had heard that dragonkind were always extremely arrogant and conceited, and thus easily targeted.

Unexpectedly, before he could finish speaking, his eyes widened as he heard Garos say casually: "No need to worry; the Chewing Bone clan has already submitted to me and, like you, are now Dragon's Kin."

"Your dragon majesty covers the world!"

Russell immediately offered flattery.

Six years ago, when he was young, he did not know this kind of rhetoric, merely standing beside the old shaman, listening to the old shaman's praise and flattery; now, with age, he had become more lively and learned to flatter dragons.

"Go, bring me some black oil first."

Garos said.

Russell nodded, and soon led clan members to carry over an iron barrel of black oil, weighing roughly fifty kilograms.

"There are ten barrels of such black oil in the clan in total, with a total weight of roughly one thousand jin."

Russell said.

Garos's eyes lit up as he lifted the black oil barrel.

He missed the taste of black oil too much; moreover, black oil in large barrels was far more abundant than what he used to steal from the Oil Earth and refine, allowing him to drink without such caution.

His sharp claws pried open the lid, and a pungent smell shot straight into his nostrils.

He tilted his head back, opened his mouth, and gulped the black oil into his mouth, gulp, gulp, gulp.

"Too, too, too, too... powerful!"

"This is the taste, this is the feeling!"

Hoo-hoo-hoo!

Dark red flames surged from the tips of Garos's wing bones, thicker and more violent than his previous limit state; like pouring oil on fire, in an instant, his body became a comet, breaking the sound barrier and shooting straight into the clouds.

(End of this chapter)