The followers of the Molten Iron Clan formed a long line.
Like a winding giant serpent, they slowly advanced through the mud and gravel of the wilderness.
Ogres carried heavy supplies on their thick shoulders with steady steps; Gnolls bared their fangs, vigilantly scanning every suspicious shadow; Kobolds carefully looked after the young followers, leading them through the rugged terrain with their rough claws.
The Dire Bear pack, originally from Coniferous Valley, had also joined them.
These massive magical beast followers opened the path ahead alongside the Red Dragon and Iron Dragon.
Yet the dangers of the wilderness remained, following them like a shadow.
Hungry Dire Lion prides wandered on distant ridges, their amber pupils gleaming with greed; venomous snakes lurked in the withered grass, their scales rasping against the sand; occasionally, wandering undead crawled from the ground, their decaying skeletons making hair-raising clicks in the wind.
These threats forced the procession to slow its pace.
Several Kora Giant Eagles patrolled the perimeter, acting as sentinels and letting out shrill cries to alert the group of any trouble.
Garros circled at the highest altitude, his black eyes sharp as blades as he scanned the distant horizon. His dragon pressure acted like an invisible barrier, intimidating the surrounding airspace; hawks and winged beasts gave him a wide berth, not daring to approach.
However.
The threats on the ground did not diminish because of this.
Whenever a reckless magical beast lunged from the undergrowth, the Red Dragon Samantha would suddenly charge out, fierce dragon flames erupting from her fangs to incinerate the attackers into charred remains.
The Iron Dragon Sorog was like a silent god of death, using his iron-like claws to tear apart the cunning Vicious Beasts attempting to ambush them from the flanks.
Although the Faerie Dragon Vera had a frail body, she possessed the keenest spiritual perception.
She flew gracefully above the procession, her illusions of a dragon's roar often scaring off lurking threats.
If she encountered a stubborn enemy, she only needed to call out, and the Red Dragon and Iron Dragon would descend like thunder to utterly crush the threat.
As time passed, the dark clouds gradually dispersed, and long-awaited sunlight fell upon the migrating procession.
The northward journey made this warmth feel like such a luxury.
The temperature in the air dropped bit by bit.
Exhaled white mist quickly dissipated in the cold morning light.
The surrounding vegetation gradually thinned, with low shrubs replacing the dense forest, and the desolate, cold atmosphere grew heavier.
The Red Dragon Samantha was particularly sensitive to the cold, her irritable emotions churning beneath her scales.
Her attacks became increasingly fierce; even if it were a non-threatening Vicious Beast, as long as it entered her sight, it would be met with a ruthless baptism of fire.
The group continued northward, each step taking them further from the sweltering wilderness and closer to the frozen tundra.
"It's different from before."
"As our foundation develops and the number of followers and followers increases, the migration path has become long and slow."
Garros looked down at the earth, taking in the panoramic view, and thought silently to himself.
He still remembered when they first migrated from Hemlock Hills to Coniferous Valley; he basically only had to worry about himself, and the entire migration process was quick, not taking much time.
At Garros's speed.
If he were migrating alone, he would have already reached his destination.
Migrating with the entire Molten Iron Clan was much more troublesome; however, one couldn't only feel that the followers were a burden during migration while forgetting the convenience they provided before.
Most of the time, Garros did not bother with the followers; they were now primarily managed by Sorog.
Weighing the pros and cons, compared to the various conveniences brought by the follower clans, this bit of trouble was acceptable. If he were to abandon them and recruit new followers, it would only waste more time.
"If the Molten Iron Clan expands further in the future, migrating again will be even more troublesome."
"I hope this kind of forced migration is the last time."
"Next time something similar happens, it should be my enemies who flee, forced to avoid my edge."
Garros's eyes flickered, imagining himself routing the Lothern Federation legions in the future, no longer needing to run away due to wariness of the army.
After a dozen seconds.
He took a deep breath, suppressing his churning, restless emotions, and then continued to circle in the high sky.
Meanwhile.
Viscount Ironthorn's Dragon Hunting Group was following the direction guided by the Blood Curse, crossing through the mud and thorns of the wilderness.
Although this tracking Spell was vague, it was enough for them to lock onto the general northern direction.
"The tracks are becoming clearer; we are pursuing in the right direction."
The Conjurer crouched down, his fingertips brushing against a patch of crushed moss that still held a faint, Rank smell of monsters.
"These monsters seem to want to leave the wilderness and head toward the tundra."
The Conjurer nodded, a hint of greed appearing in his eyes: "They prepared for migration before they went on a rampage and attacked the ore vein. They are both intelligent and decisive, and they move in a group. It's been a long time since I've encountered such Young Evil Dragons, especially the leading Hybrid Dragon; it will bring us new glory."
The vice leader, wearing black heavy armor and carrying a Dragon-Slaying Greatsword on his back, said with a solemn face, "We need to speed up."
"If these monsters cross the Estonia Great River, it will be harder for us to pursue."
Viscount Ironthorn nodded silently, his gaze dark.
Following the guidance of the Blood Curse, the Dragon Hunting Group pushed through the thorns and crossed the wilderness, continuing their pursuit.
By dusk of the fourth day, near the southern bank of the Estonia Great River, they finally spotted the target group. They first noticed the Kora Giant Eagles and the Iron Dragon circling in the sky, then slowly approached under the cover of a stealth Spell cast by the Conjurer.
Including Viscount Ironthorn, the Dragon Hunting Group had an average life Rank of around 12.
They were few in number, but each was an elite.
They were experts in stealth and highly experienced, evading the eyes of the Iron Dragon and Giant Eagles patrolling the sky, as well as the hidden sentries on the ground.
They saw the group of monsters stretching for two miles, resting by the riverbank.
Gnolls were fishing in the shallows; Ogres used urine to mark the boundaries of the temporary camp; Lizardfolk and Kobolds, monsters skilled in construction, were making large wooden rafts with the help of various tribal sorcerers for the upcoming river crossing.
Most eye-catching were the two Dragons.
The Red Dragon Samantha was irritably drying her wing membranes, which were damp from the river's mist.
The strong and imposing Hybrid Dragon was pressing his head against the ground, using his neck to support his rolling body, not forgetting to exercise even during the migration.
"Now is the perfect opportunity."
"The most powerful Hybrid Dragon is on the ground."
A Dragon Hunter whispered.
The Viscount's gaze subtly swept over the numerous monsters, and he frowned, asking, "How should we handle these monsters? Although their Rank isn't high enough, there are a lot of them, and there are some elite leaders."
"There are too many monsters here."
"They could completely wear us down."
"The members of the Dragon Hunting Group were all elites, but they were not beings blessed by heaven like the Dragonkin after all. Their physical stamina and Demonic Energy were not abundant enough; facing a siege of numerous monsters with Young Dragons present, it would be easy to meet their downfall."
The Conjurer smiled slightly.
"The Viscount need not worry."
"We are a professional Dragon Hunting Group; we live for hunting Dragons and take pride in it. We have long considered the matter of Dragonkin followers."
As he spoke, the Conjurer took out a red stone tablet carved with reverse-scale patterns and dense, complex magic lines that would make one dizzy at a glance.
"It is called the gladiator array disk, our Dragon Hunting Group's greatest reliance, and the proudest lifelong work of an alchemy Great Master."
The Conjurer said, "Once the gladiator array disk is activated, it creates an independent space and drags the target into it. Since we have placed marks in advance, we will enter at the same time."
"At that time, unless one side is completely dead, no one can escape from it."
"Furthermore, it also has a teleportation effect. The winner can teleport once within a hundred miles, allowing us to avoid the risk of being besieged."
Relying on the gladiator array disk.
They once ignored swarms of monster followers and hunted a newly matured Black Dragon in a swamp.
"Target the Hybrid Dragon first; he is the leader."
"Once we hunt him, the group will be leaderless. Then, whether we retreat or continue hunting, it will be much easier."
The current target was a Young Dragon; although he was a Red-Iron hybrid and far beyond what a Black Dragon could compare to, his age group was still here. His life Rank could not possibly exceed that of an adult Black Dragon, and he would certainly not be more powerful than one.