The wilderness of the rainy season was soaked by continuous rainfall. The originally clear scents of prey were washed away and mixed, becoming difficult to distinguish; streams swelled, washing away tracks and traces, causing trackers to lose their direction.
The flesh of prey decayed faster in the sweltering heat and humidity; even if successfully hunted, it was difficult to preserve for long.
The Gnolls of the Red-Eye Clan.
The Lizardfolk of the Ripped-Claw Clan.
They all coincidentally chose to cross the routes controlled by their clans when the rain weakened, arriving at a certain section of the Scale-Earth Rift Road to begin ambushes and looting.
According to the past experience of the clans.
They knew that the rainy season in the Serel Wilderness would not end so quickly. Above the drizzling curtain of rain, the dark clouds in the sky were gathering and brewing even more violent storms that could descend at any time. Therefore, no matter what they did, it was best to start when the rain was not strong.
Strangely enough.
The Ogres of the Bone-Chewing Clan still remained huddled within their territory, not venturing out in large numbers.
Even with one clan missing.
The few merchant caravans passing through the Scale-Earth Rift Road, after being exploited and plundered by the Gnolls and Lizardfolk, simply could not reach the section occupied by the Howling Moon Clan. Those that could reach it were large merchant caravans that the Red-Eye Clan and Ripped-Claw Clan did not dare to touch, and the Howling Moon Clan also lacked the confidence to plunder them.
"The Red-Eye Clan and the Ripped-Claw Clan."
"Gnolls, Lizardfolk."
Garros's eyes narrowed slightly as he calculated in his heart.
He hadn't personally investigated the general situation of these two clans, but had gained some understanding through the Howling Moon Clan.
Individual Gnolls were weaker than Grey-mane Werewolves, but the comprehensive level of the Red-Eye Clan was similar to that of the Howling Moon Clan.
Their leader was an Overseer.
Gnoll Overseer—in Gnoll society, it was not just a status, but also a type of class.
The strongest and most ferocious individuals in a Gnoll group were promoted to Overseer through a ritual of eating the hearts of other Gnolls. The probability of death from ritual failure was very high, but once successful, they would gain many extraordinary skills.
A Gnoll Overseer could strengthen their surrounding kin, granting their attacks extra damage or gaining movement advantages, making them brave and fearless of death. They themselves could also burst forth with power far exceeding that of a normal Gnoll.
Besides the Gnoll Overseer.
The Red-Eye Clan also had a Priest.
A Priest was different from a Shaman.
A Shaman gained extraordinary power by communicating with nature spirits, ancestral spirits, and the spirits of beasts and plants through meditation and totems. A Priest, on the other hand, received corresponding blessings by serving a deity and offering sacrifices to that god.
The deity worshipped by the Gnoll Priest was the Gnoll God, Yeenoghu.
He was a god, and also a Demon Lord.
Having received his blessings, the Gnoll Priest's survival skills were inferior to those of a Shaman, but they mastered many cruel sacrificial rituals and divine spells.
What was certain was.
Both the Gnoll Overseer and the Priest were level 7 lifeforms.
"The Ripped-Claw Clan and the Bone-Chewing Clan are larger in scale and have stronger clan power."
"In that case, let's start with the Red-Eye Clan."
Garros thought to himself.
Pick the soft persimmons first.
The Overseer and Priest of the Red-Eye Clan were hard to provoke in the eyes of the Howling Moon Clan, but they were nothing to Garros. Although he was cautious, he was very clear about his own power level.
For creatures like Gnolls.
Even if they were several times more numerous at the same life rank, it would be difficult for them to pose a life-threatening danger to Dragonkin.
The Ripped-Claw Clan and the even stronger Bone-Chewing Clan had individuals with higher life ranks, but to be honest, with Garros's current power, he could actually go directly to their doors if he wanted to.
But Garros didn't like that.
He also liked fighting above his level, but not upwards.
If conditions allowed.
Garros wanted to 'over-level' and crush level 6, level 5, and level 4 creatures.
He didn't have the determination of a strong person to swing his blade at those even stronger, nor did he have much ambition. Perhaps he would in the future, but for now, he believed in the principle of his own life being paramount. He only wanted to live for a long time, and if possible, living more comfortably would be even better.
Garros said to the Werewolf Shaman, "Continue to dispatch werewolves to lie in ambush on the Scale-Earth Rift Road. The other clans will soon no longer pose a threat to you."
"What do you plan to do?"
The Werewolf Shaman asked.
Garros grinned, revealing sharp dragon teeth. "Starting 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 who communicated with all things in nature year-round, it had keen perceptions. As it spent more time with Garros, it gradually realized that although Garros claimed not to be an Evil Dragon, he gave it a faintly 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 to itself, feeling somewhat fortunate and not regretting its choice at the time.
Garros did not treat them cruelly. The only thing that made the werewolves somewhat shrink back was that he liked to demand the werewolves besiege him, leaving them half-dead from exhaustion, but this was also a form of training for the werewolves.
Furthermore, Garros liked to hone his combat skills through hunting and did not require the werewolves to provide food. Even when hunting the surrounding Vicious Beasts and magical creatures, if he was full and had killed more, he would give rewards to his retainers.
The Vicious Beasts and magical creatures that Garros set his sights on were rare delicacies for the Howling Moon Clan.
Garros's protection was also very important.
His Dragonkin aura made the Vicious Beasts that used to attack the clan not dare to approach at will, and the sense of threat from other clans was also greatly reduced, putting the werewolves' minds at ease. They were able to focus their energy on other things; in the past few days, several female wolves had become pregnant.
"The Howling Moon Clan is on standby at any time!"
"As long as you give the order, the werewolves will become your claws and teeth, your vanguard."
The Shaman prostrated itself on the ground again, its voice firm, expressing its loyalty.
Having received Garros's protection and gifts, it was also prepared to fight for him.
However, Garros shook his head dismissively.
"There is no need for you to fight."
After a pause, he added, "Let the young and strong of the clan rest well and give them the best food. I hope their claws and teeth become sharper, preferably enough to leave scars on my body and make me bleed."
The Old Shaman fell silent, speechless.
Was the knowledge of Dragonkin recorded in the clan's ancient texts somewhat incorrect?
It thought.
If it had known earlier that Dragonkin were like Garros, it wouldn't have needed Garros to give it a choice. When it first saw Garros, it would have definitely led the entire clan to bow down immediately!
The ground of the wilderness was full of obstacles.
Now that it was the rainy season, weeds were overgrown, the ground was muddy everywhere, and shrubs were growing wildly.
Garros disliked the movement speed of the werewolves on the ground and did not plan to have them join him in attacking and pressuring the Red-Eye Clan. With their speed, who knew how long it would take for them to reach the Red-Eye Clan.
He might as well handle it himself.
His purpose for taking in retainers was not primarily to have them fight for him.
Garros flapped his wings and soared into the air in the drizzle, disappearing into the thick dark clouds in the blink of an eye.
At the same time, as he rushed toward the Red-Eye Gnoll Clan.
In the western part of the Serel Wilderness, near the Boiling Sea, a giant clan composed of more than a dozen Stone Giants was forced by necessity to pack their belongings and prepare to migrate northward.
"Elder, will we ever come back?"
Standing on a high place and looking back at the surging Boiling Sea, a young Stone Giant asked the Stone Giant Elder in a gruff voice.
"When our strength is sufficient to kill this group of Blue Dragons, we will return and reclaim the territory that belongs to us."
The tall and sturdy Stone Giant Elder with grey skin spoke in a deep voice, sounding like rolling stones rubbing together, coarse and heavy.
In the Cliff Strait, their clan had fought a campaign for several years against a Blue Dragon clan for territory.
As time passed, the Stone Giants gradually became unable to keep up. Of the original thirty-plus Stone Giants, only eleven remained alive, and more than half of them were minors.
If the war continued, they were at risk of being completely wiped out.
Out of necessity.
The Stone Giants chose to abandon their original territory and migrate, temporarily avoiding the sharp edge of the Blue Dragon clan and fleeing to the north.