Garros spread his wings, spiraling upward into the air shrouded by the night.
The air currents above Coniferous Valley carried the pungent, characteristic scent of sulfur.
He adjusted his altitude.
He ensured the shadows cast by his dragon wings over the moonlight swept across the canopy without alerting the creatures on the ground.
Looking down with lowered eyes, Garros could see Storm Bears in the valley, some dozing, others scratching their backs against the rough, hard mountain rocks.
Mobel, the new Storm Bear Leader, was currently among a group of female bears.
He was nuzzling their heads and licking their fur, cultivating relationships with the females.
He saw Samantha sticking her bottom up while teasing ants, playing a childish and immature game.
A lone dragon, yet she was perfectly content.
He saw the Faerie Dragon Vera lying on a treetop, her wings and tail drooping as she slept unsteadily, looking as if she might fall at any moment—yet she always stayed just short of it, making one want to reach out and push her off.
At this height, he could clearly observe the details of the ground below.
Yet he would not expose his presence.
"Time to go check on my neighbors."
After circling the valley three times, Garros chose a northeastern direction and began his investigation.
Under the cover of night, he soared among the drifting winds and floating clouds.
His massive wings flapped unhurriedly, controlling his speed and noise to avoid being noticed.
His gaze was fixed on the surface below.
Mountains, barrens, forests, and lakes—all sorts of landscapes were reflected in Garros's dragon pupils.
He observed silently, noticing many Vicious Beasts and monsters hunting in the darkness.
The Serel Wilderness was a paradise for Vicious Beasts and monsters.
By comparison.
The number of tribes and clans formed by intelligent races was small, and their lives here were difficult and dangerous; however, any wilderness tribe that could survive tended to be fierce and powerful.
Time trickled by with every beat of Garros's wings.
About half an hour later.
Hidden within the clouds, Garros focused his gaze downward, his vertical pupils locking onto a crescent-shaped valley.
At the bottom of the valley.
In an area where the moonlight could not reach.
A group of creatures with blue-grey fur were active.
They walked upright, with adults standing over two meters tall.
Their hunched backs rose with exaggerated muscular curves, their bodies covered in a layer of hair as hard as steel needles. At their necks were grey manes like those of lions, and their protruding snouts were filled with crisscrossing fangs.
—Grey-mane Werewolves.
A branch of the werewolf race.
Legend has it.
The ancestors of the werewolves were once human.
Because they offended and angered the Moon God, they were cursed to become bloodthirsty monsters in the form of half-man, half-wolf. However, other theories suggest that the werewolf ancestors turned themselves into this form through forbidden dark experiments.
From ancient times to the present.
Werewolves have developed many different branches.
Some werewolves can normally maintain a human form, with speech and intelligence no different from a normal person.
But once provoked or bathed in the light of a full moon, they transform into a half-man, half-wolf state, becoming bloodthirsty and fierce.
As for the Grey-mane Werewolves, living in the wild lands year-round, they had long ago completely discarded their human forms.
They lived in their werewolf forms at all times, possessing cruel temperaments yet human-like intelligence.
If they were further exposed to the light of a full moon, or stood on the brink of death with intense emotions.
They would go a step further, completely transforming into a giant wolf form. Their combat power would increase drastically, and they would gradually lose their sanity, becoming immersed in battle and slaughter.
Several houses built of hardwood or rock stood in Crescent Moon Valley.
On the outside were walls formed by stacking blocks of marble, bonded together with mud and resin.
Inside the walls.
On an open space next to the valley's stone walls.
Adult werewolves were training their pups. They threw heavy, hard Iron Birch logs into the air, and the pups immediately leaped three meters high, gnawing with their tender fangs and leaving pits of varying depths on the wood.
"They're much more diligent than dragon Young Dragons; they even know to train."
Garros thought silently.
Dragons possessed too many unique, heaven-sent talents.
From birth, every dragon knew they would stand at a peak most could never reach, but this also bred laziness. Outliers like Garros were few and far between.
Back when he was still in the Iron Dragon Mother's territory.
The Red Dragon Samantha and the Iron Dragon Gordon.
Day after day, the two did nothing but eat, sleep, and wander around. Even though their Legacy contained countless treasures of knowledge that ordinary people would scramble for, they never took the initiative to dig it out or learn, let alone exercise their bodies to sharpen their claws and teeth.
"Is it possible that Evil Dragons drive their Young Dragon offspring away to force them to change their lazy habits through the pressure of the external environment?"
A guess popped into Garros's mind.
But after thinking about it, he felt he was probably overthinking.
It was more likely that the Evil Dragon Mother was simply too lazy to look after her descendants.
Garros focused his mind and continued to scan Crescent Moon Valley.
There were several crooked Bone Towers on the territory's walls.
Grey-mane Werewolf sentinels stood on the Bone Towers with longbows on their backs. Their eyes, unaffected by the darkness, scanned the surroundings like wolves, their ears twitching as they listened for any suspicious movement.
On the outskirts, some werewolf cavalry riding giant wolves were on patrol.
When they stopped to rest, they ignored themselves and prioritized feeding and watering their mounts.
Moreover, some pairs were very close, nuzzling each other and licking each other's fur.
It didn't look like a normal relationship between a knight and a mount.
Garros noticed this.
Initially confused, he'searched' through his Legacy knowledge and then understood.
If a werewolf remains in giant wolf form for too long, they will gradually sink into bestiality, completely losing themselves and becoming unable to change back, turning into a giant wolf Vicious Beast.
Only the werewolf with the closest original Bloodline could soothe them, engaging in a form of mental communication through their Bloodline.
In a society of completely feral werewolves like the Grey-mane Werewolves.
There were often Bloodline bonds between the knights and their mounts.
They might have originally been spouses, parents and children, or siblings.
It was also because of this relationship that the way these knights and mounts interacted was unusual, and their coordination was more seamless and powerful than that of ordinary knights.
"This territory has over thirty Giant Wolf Knights. Not counting pups and adolescents, there are at least a hundred prime adult werewolves."
"I haven't seen their leader or anyone like a Shaman or Wizard yet."
Garros remained hidden in the clouds, silently assessing the strength of this 'neighbor'.
In a tribe of this size, there would normally be at least one Wizard or Shaman. Garros also noticed Totem Poles standing in their territory.
As his gaze continued to sweep across, Garros's eyes narrowed when he noticed the western corner of Crescent Moon Valley.
He saw the wreckage of a metal Transport Wagon, covered in bite and tear marks, with several wolf pups using the sheet metal to grind their teeth.
This Grey-mane Werewolf tribe had raided a caravan passing through the Thousand Snake Scars