Twilight draped a thin veil of dark blue over the valley. The Giant Wolf Knights lowered their bodies, slowly advancing against the rock walls, passing through the narrow entrance and entering the suddenly spacious interior of the valley.
The werewolf leading them was Russell.
He was originally the Clan Chief of the Howling Moon Clan. Later, after the clan was reorganized into a warband, he became the warband leader of the Crimson Iron Cavalry because he shared a spiritual connection with his giant wolf mount—which had been one of his former mates—and his skills surpassed those of the Gnoll and Lizardfolk knights.
Compared to several years ago...
The gray fur on Russell's body had increased, and some white whiskers had appeared on his face.
Werewolves do not have long lifespans. He had already passed his Peak, and his condition was now gradually declining, making his position as the Crimson Iron Cavalry warband leader somewhat precarious.
The mission to scout an unknown valley was extremely dangerous.
But he still volunteered to lead the team into the valley.
The reason was simple: he wanted to prove himself and establish more merits to trade for an opportunity for Dragon Vein Transformation. After becoming a dragon-vein creature, his lifespan would increase dramatically, and he would no longer have to worry about the passage of time and his declining state.
Garros had been very open when collecting dragon blood, making no secret of it.
The monsters all knew that the opportunity for Dragon Vein Transformation had come. Their motivation had significantly increased recently, and they had begun competing with each other, both openly and secretly, hoping to gain attention and an opportunity.
Russell gently patted the giant wolf's neck.
This silver-gray giant wolf understood immediately. Its paw pads stepped silently across the ground, its wolfish eyes glowing with a faint green light in the dim twilight.
The interior of the valley was more fertile than imagined.
The surface of the central lake rippled with lead-gray waves, and many animal skeletons were piled on the shore, but fresh tracks showed that reindeer herds often came here to drink.
Russell crouched down, his fingertips brushing over the hoofprints in the mud. The still-damp earth proved they had only just left.
Patches of White-leaf Pines grew beneath the eastern rock wall. The needles of these cold-resistant trees were rich in oil, making them excellent Materials for torches. Even more surprising to the werewolf knights was the discovery of numerous Red Berry bushes at the edge of the pine forest; these berries could stave off hunger and could also be ground into potions to treat minor injuries.
The Giant Wolf Knights explored the valley at a slow pace.
Suddenly, Russell's ears perked up, and he said in a low voice, "On guard!"
He had heard a strange noise.
The sound of the wind was mixed with a certain rustling of leather rubbing against rock, and the already dim twilight was shrouded by a massive shadow.
The Giant Wolf Knights looked up, their pupils shrinking.
There were actually ten Dragons!
They had dark brown skin. Even the smallest one was over eight meters long, and its wingspan was exceptionally large, nearly twenty meters. When spread, they blotted out the sky, casting massive shadows on the ground. Their tails were long and thick, ending in sharp, venomous stingers.
Hiss!
Roar!
They emitted hoarse, snake-like hissing sounds and low growls that seemed squeezed from the depths of their throats. Together, they crawled out from caves on the western mountain wall and dived down through the twilight.
The moment these Dragons appeared, the Giant Wolf Knights lost their composure.
If it were any other Vicious Beast, they wouldn't have been so panicked. After all, they knew very well that the powerful Dragon Lord and his brother were circling in the sky, serving as their solid backing.
But these were Dragons.
With so many Dragons, the situation was completely different!
Only Russell reacted immediately, shouting, "Don't panic! They aren't True Dragons! They're just a pack of Wyverns!"
He was well-versed in the clan's ancient texts, and his understanding of Dragonkin far exceeded that of his peers.
He recognized the identity of these creatures—Wyverns.
These monsters were not True Dragons; they possessed a thin trace of Dragon Bloodline and belonged to the Sub-dragon category. They were more powerful than ordinary Vicious Beasts or monsters, but inferior to True Dragons.
The panicked hearts of the Giant Wolf Knights eased slightly.
"Circle formation!"
Russell barked another command.
The Giant Wolf Knights instantly contracted, forming a defensive formation with their steel spears pointed diagonally toward the sky.
But the Wyvern pack cunningly dispersed.
Three Wyverns feinted from the front, while the others flanked them from the sides.
The leading Wyvern was powerfully built, with hideous scars on its face-plate. It was about thirteen meters long and far stronger than the other Wyverns. Its pair of hind legs were covered in coarse scales and sharp claws that looked as if they had been long polished and tempered. Its tail was also exceptionally thick and long.
The Wyvern leader's sinister gaze locked onto Russell.
With a flick of its dragon tail, it struck through the air.
Russell could only barely see a blur. He thrust his war spear forward, but missed. Immediately after, a sharp pain shot through his chest, and his entire body was sent flying through the air.
The other Wyverns also broke the knights' formation and were about to begin the slaughter.
At that moment, the entire valley suddenly went dark.
A deafening sonic boom rang out, as if thunder from a distant mountain had been dragged right before their eyes.
The Wyverns all shuddered, halting their pursuit of the Giant Wolf Knights, and looked up warily at the sky.
A crimson meteor tore through the twilight, falling at high speed, and gave its wings a powerful beat a hundred meters above the ground.
A physical shockwave swept past, kicking up dirt and stones, crushing branches and canopies, and blowing the Wyvern pack into disarray.
The Red-Iron Dragon did not attack immediately but hovered a hundred meters in the air, his gaze sweeping over the Wyvern pack.
After the show of force, he spoke succinctly: "Mongrels! Kneel!"
A heavy dragon pressure descended.
One by one, the Wyverns tucked their tails, shrank their heads, folded their wings, and landed on the ground. They then spread their wings again, pressing their entire bodies flat against the earth to express their submission and awe.
Faced with a True Dragon more powerful than themselves...
Almost all Sub-dragons, due to their innate Bloodline suppression, cannot even think of resisting and will immediately submit.
But 'almost all' does not mean all; there are exceptions.
In any group, there is no shortage of brave and fearless individuals.
That Scar-faced Wyvern actually let out a defiant shriek and spoke in dragon language.
"The strong do not respect Bloodline! I only submit to those stronger than me!"
Wyverns are an intelligent species with humanoid-level wisdom; they simply don't like to formulate speech when facing weak creatures.
Its voice was quite sharp, and its physical features were female. Her strength and ferocity were rare, and she dared to bare her teeth before a True Dragon, wild and untamed.
Garros was about the same length as her, but his formidable and powerful body made her wary.
However, in her eyes, that was only one factor in determining victory. The prime-aged Wyvern, over two hundred years old, believed that with her battle-hardened combat and hunting skills, she would not be weaker than the Young Dragon before her.
Immediately following...
This Scar-faced Wyvern lunged forward instead of retreating, fiercely pouncing toward Garros.
Garros remained calm and composed, waiting for the attack to arrive.
He intended to recruit her, and the simplest and most direct way was to crush her pride and confidence head-on.
The Scar-faced Wyvern's pounce carried the precision honed through years of hunting.
As she neared Garros at about ten meters, she suddenly flipped her body, her pair of thick talons tearing toward Garros.
Wyverns stand only on two legs; their hind legs are naturally strong, and they are adept at using their talons.
Her left claw aimed for Garros's wing membrane joint, while the right claw went straight for his dragon eye. The entire sequence was as smooth as flowing water, a killing move refined through a thousand life-and-death battles.
Garros did not dodge but instead reached out his claws to meet the Wyvern's attack.
His claw strike was clearly not fast, and its trajectory seemed simple, yet it passed perfectly through the Wyvern's legs. It even struck first, landing on the Wyvern leader's chest, making her the first to validate his martial arts skills.
Previously, Garros relied primarily on pure strength in battle.
But now, it was a combination of strength and technique.
He could better utilize his power and speed.
Boom!
The Wyvern leader felt as if she had been struck by lightning. Her body, like a kite with a broken string, flew backward and slammed into the mountain wall, causing a depression and spiderweb-like cracks.
The Scar-faced Wyvern spat out a mouthful of acidic blood, yet she roared and pounced again.
This time she switched to a tail-whip sweep. Her thick dragon tail tore through the air, aiming straight for Garros's neck.
The venomous stinger at the end of her tail lunged toward Garros's eyeball.
But when it was just inches away from the eye, it could no longer advance a single step.
Garros's hand had gripped the Wyvern's tail. Her tail struggled like a giant python, yet it could not escape the Iron Dragon's vice-like grip.
The Wyvern leader tried to kick Garros with her talons, but her body was no longer under her control.
Garros held her by the tail and swung her in a wide circle, spinning her around.
After a dozen rotations, he suddenly let go, hurling her against the mountain wall.
With a thunderous crash, a deep crater was smashed into the rock wall, and the Scar-faced Wyvern was embedded in the rubble like a mural.
As she struggled to crawl out, her vision was filled by the close-up, majestic and fierce Red-Iron Dragon.
"Submit, or die."
Garros gave the choice briefly, his voice calm, yet leaving no room for negotiation.
Opposite him, the Scar-faced Wyvern's chest heaved violently as she breathed raggedly.
The intense pain from being slammed into the rock wall made her thoughts somewhat scattered.
Once she regained her senses, she saw her twisted and deformed right claw.
That hunting weapon she took such pride in was now dangling at a bizarre angle, with blue-black blood seeping from the gaps between her scales. Her proud offensive techniques were not even worth mentioning before him, and her physical attributes were not even in the same league. Despite having similar body sizes, she was completely unable to contend with Garros's strength.
Being crushed head-on had dismantled all of her pride.
"I..."
A hoarse sound squeezed out of the Wyvern's throat.
"My name is Tasha."
"I am willing to forge your throne with my flesh and blood, and pave your path with my bones."
She finally lowered her head, exposing her most vulnerable neck scales to Garros's claws—the gesture of a Sub-dragon showing total submission.
This valley was officially taken over by the Ignas Siblings following the submission of the Wyvern pack.