Garros did not trust Nick's words.
Honesty? Trust? These words would not appear in a merchant's dictionary, especially for a merchant as shrewd as Nick, who even dared to talk big among a pack of wolves. If he were honest, Garros could claim he was a good dragon.
Through the Old Shaman, he said to Nick:
"Your caravan has only five Steam Trucks that are about to be scrapped, carrying some cheap and useless Bloodstones. How can I believe that you can bring back black oil and Demonic Energy Stones for me?"
After a pause, he added, "Think clearly before you answer; you only have one chance."
The lives of himself and his companions depended on the next answer.
Nick's breathing quickened as he felt immense pressure.
The Old Shaman before him clearly had a hunched body and white fur, without any sense of intimidation, but Nick felt as if a giant dragon was hidden within those old, cloudy eyes, giving him a pressure as heavy as a mountain.
Initially, he wanted to habitually weave a lie to gain the other's trust.
But just as the lie was about to leave his mouth, Nick stopped.
No lie is more trustworthy than the truth.
After a few seconds of silence, Nick took a few deep breaths and then spoke eloquently, telling his story.
At eleven, Nick had half a bag of stolen pepper in his arms; he used the pepper to trade a smelly herring from a fisherman, then resold it to a drunken sailor, earning the first copper coin of his life.
At twenty, Nick was already the youngest trader in the Emerald Chamber of Commerce. Relying on his ability to package moldy oats as a Northlands specialty, he saved his first pot of gold and formed his own large-scale caravan, reaching the Peak of his life.
At twenty-five, Nick met Irene at an auction, a female Mage wearing silver-rimmed glasses who obsessed him. Like a moth to a flame, he did everything to please her, and finally, as a merchant, he married the noble female Mage.
At thirty, Nick woke up next to a gutter because the divorce decree came more suddenly than a blizzard. Due to the prenuptial agreement with the female Mage, he lost everything; ordinary people and noble Casters ultimately did not belong to the same world.
At thirty-two, in the territory of the Grey-mane Werewolves, Nick told his story to survive and make a comeback.
"There is no merchant in this world better or more excellent than me."
"I even once sold toys of pleasure to the most conservative nun, so she could find a little solace in the dead of night."
"The only mistake I've made in my life was overestimating myself and believing in love."
"But please believe me, I will never make the same mistake again."
For the first time, Nick reined in the smile on his face and spoke in a serious, solemn tone.
Opposite him, the Old Shaman scrutinized him.
Under the gaze of this werewolf, Nick felt his legs go weak, experiencing an inexplicable sense of oppression and fear.
What he didn't know was...
There was also a dragon quietly observing him. What made him feel oppressed and fearful was the dragon's gaze—invisible, yet carrying a tangible sense of pressure.
A dozen seconds later.
The Old Shaman grinned, revealing wolf fangs that weren't very sharp, and said to Nick, "I believe your words, but that's not enough."
It took out some ink-colored pills and said, "This is a poison I refined. Swallow it, and only then can true trust be established between us."
Nick smiled slightly, took the pill, and swallowed it without hesitation or delay.
The others hesitated a bit, but eventually, to stay alive, they also swallowed the poison.
Immediately after, the Old Shaman gestured, and the adult werewolves brought over two cargo crates, placing them in front of Nick and opening them.
Nick recognized these as the crates that previously held the Bloodstones, but the low-quality Bloodstones were gone, replaced by a crate of dark green scales and a crate of herbs of the same color.
"What are these?"
Nick picked up a scale and asked uncertainly.
With his experience, he couldn't even recognize the origin of these things.
"Scales of the Cliff Snake Dragon, and the top-grade poisonous herbs that grow where it lives,"
The Old Shaman said.
It wasn't lying; these dragon scales were shed by the Cliff Snake Dragon during its growth, and the poisonous herbs also grew under the influence of its aura.
Hiss. Nick shivered and dropped the dark green dragon scale he had just picked up.
He had heard of Snake Dragons.
This was an extremely terrifying type of Dragonkin, whose very blood was toxic; an ordinary person would die upon contact.
However, any Dragonkin Materials meant wealth.
"One month. In one month, I will return to the Scale-Earth Rift Road with the black oil and Demonic Energy Stones you want,"
Nick said with a beaming smile.
After discussing a few more details, the werewolves knocked Nick and the others unconscious again and carried them away.
When they woke up, they had appeared at the place where they first encountered the werewolves. The Steam Trucks were parked there intact, with two crates of cargo containing precious dragon scales and poisonous herbs.
"Nick, are you really going to trade with these werewolves?"
The Tiefling Maggie said with some hesitation and unease, "When we were in their territory, I vaguely felt a deep fear. This isn't normal; there must be a big secret hidden within the werewolf territory."
Nick said with a smile, "The wilderness is full of dangers; it would be abnormal if they didn't have secrets or some form of support."
After a pause, he turned to Maggie and said, "Maggie, once we've made enough money, I promise I'll find you a place without discrimination and prejudice to enjoy a peaceful life."
Nick had stumbled because of a Caster and swore he would never fall in love with another Caster.
However, he had become infatuated with a female Sorceress.
The female Sorceress spat and said, "I never agreed to live with you."
Immediately, the caravan set off again, and in the night sky they couldn't see, Garros circled silently, looking down at the vast wilderness below.
The werewolves lay in ambush on the Scale-Earth Rift Road, waiting for the next caravan to arrive.
On this wilderness, there were quite a few small caravans.
Garros didn't plan to put all his eggs in one basket, so he prepared to control more caravans to open up trade channels with the Southern Kingdoms and bring back the things he needed.
Dragonkin are covered in Advanced Materials.
Garros could trade his shed scales, or even his saliva, for resources to speed up his growth rate.
However, to prevent any Casters or Sorcerers from being able to cast spells using his Materials for tracking or similar purposes, he would not use his own Materials for trade.
"The monster clans around this Scale-Earth Rift Road aren't limited to the Grey-mane Werewolves."
"If the Howling Moon Clan acts too frequently, it will cause trouble and be noticed by other monster clans."
Garros narrowed his eyes and thought to himself, "Regardless of the others for now, the intelligent species' clans near the Scale-Earth Rift Road must be within my grasp."
He wanted to bring this branch road of the Thousand Snake Scars under his complete control.
For safety, and for future development.
As the night grew deeper, Garros ordered the werewolves to gather more intelligence on the surrounding clans and then flew toward the Coniferous Valley.
As the saying goes, a wily hare has three burrows.
Garros now frequently went to Crescent Moon Valley, which was his second territory, but the werewolves of Crescent Moon Valley did not know where Garros was at other times.
This way...
In case the werewolf clan was ever suppressed by the Lothern Federation for attacking caravans, he would have a better way to respond