Reincarnated as a blue dragon, he collided head-on with a wizarding civilization.

Fine beads of blood began to seep from between the scales of the rock lizard.

The blood droplets weren't flowing from the wound, but seeping from beneath the intact scales, as if some force was forcibly drawing the blood out of its body.

Blood droplets gathered into thin streams, and thin streams gathered into blood mist, rising from all parts of the rock-armored lizard's body, condensing into a dark red blood line in the air.

The line of blood, like a snake, snaked its way into a crystal bottle held in the wizard's left hand.

The crystal bottle was small, about the size of an adult's fist, and completely transparent, with densely packed runes engraved on its surface.

The moment the blood entered the bottle, the runes lit up simultaneously, and then the dark red blood gathered at the bottom of the bottle, like a small patch of solidified lava.

The rock-armored lizard's struggles grew weaker and weaker.

Its scales lost their luster, fading from dark brown to grayish-white.

Its body was shrinking, its limbs were getting thinner, and the bone spurs on its back were falling off piece by piece, shattering on the ground.

Its eyes were still open, but the light in its vertical pupils was gradually fading.

It took no more than ten breaths.

Six breaths later, the rock-armored lizard was still struggling.

Its tail could still twitch after eight breaths.

After ten breaths, it stopped moving.

The six-meter-long body lay shriveled on the ground like a specimen with its internal organs removed, its grayish-white scales reflecting a pale light in the twilight.

Having collected all the materials, the wizard put the crystal bottle containing the blood into his robe sleeve, glanced down at the corpse of the rock-armored lizard, and seemed to confirm that it had indeed lost its value.

Then, she turned her head away.

I glanced in their direction.

Just one glance.

Separated by tens of feet, by collapsed boulders and narrow cracks, by dead tree trunks and grayish-white moss.

That gaze was like a needle, precisely piercing the crevice in the rock where the two dragons were hiding.

In that instant, the world fell silent, and Motu felt his heart skip a beat.

However, just as the blue dragon's scalp began to tingle, the wizard with the pale gray eyes made no further move; she simply withdrew her gaze.

This process was like realizing someone was watching her and glancing back.

That's it.

Then, less than fifty paces in front of the crevice where the two dragons were hiding, the figure in the dark red robe gradually disappeared into the mist.

The riverbed has returned to calm.

The carcass of the rock lizard lay on the pebbles, its blood drained, leaving only a shriveled scabbard encasing its bones.

The bone spurs are still there, but they have lost their luster and lie scattered on the ground like withered branches.

Motu and Shabai squatted in the crevice for a long time.

long time.

Only when they were certain that the figure would not return, and only when the sound of the wind and rolling stones remained on the riverbed, did the two dragons slowly crawl out.

Shark White's legs were trembling.

It wasn't the kind of trembling caused by fear, but rather an instinctive bodily reaction; as the adrenaline subsided, the muscles began to twitch involuntarily.

When it crawled out of the crack, its legs were weak, and its front paws slipped twice on the gravel before it could stand up.

Bai Long opened his mouth, as if to say something, but his throat seemed to be choked by something, and he could only utter a muffled "uh".

Motu emerged from the crack, stood before the corpse of the rock-armored lizard, and stared down at it for a long time.

His vertical pupils reflected this withered body.

Six breaths ago, this was a second- or even third-tier magical beast that could roam freely in the Dark Forest, the kind that could crush him and Shark White together.

After six breaths, it turned into a pile of grayish-white scales and a shriveled mass of flesh.

The wizard used only two hands from beginning to end.

One hand grips tightly, the other pulls out.

There was no incantation, no spell materials, and no staff.

There was nothing there.

Motu remembered a word.

Knife and chopping board. Fish and meat.

In the wizard's eyes, everything in this dragon breeding farm is fish and meat.

The Fierce Claw Dragonhawk is, the Rock Armored Lizard is, the injured red dragon is, and so are he and Shark White.

The only difference is that some fish are harvested earlier and some are harvested later.

"Walk."

Motu's voice was so calm that even he himself felt unfamiliar with it.

Shark White has finally found his voice again:

"...Go? Go where?"

"Let's get out of here first."

Motu turned and walked towards the other side of the dead forest.

"There was quite a commotion here just now. Who knows what it might attract? What if another wizard suddenly appears and discovers we're here—"

Without saying a word, Shark White scrambled to catch up.

The pickaxe rattled on its back, but it didn't bother to adjust. It took off running on all four legs, trying to cover ten steps in one stride.

The two dragons ran a long way before stopping.

Shark White leaned against a withered tree, panting heavily, his chest heaving violently, his three-layered serrated teeth agape, and his tongue lolling out like a dog driven mad by the heat.

Its scales finally began to lie flat, but the fear that hadn't yet dissipated lingered in its vertical pupils.

"That...that's the wizard of the Tower of Holy Blood?" Its voice was hoarse.

Motu did not answer.

He leaned against the withered tree opposite him, his mind filled with the scene from just now.

A tall tower, a blood moon, a dark red robe, silver runes, a grasp of the void, blood flowing backward, and in ten breaths, a rock-armored lizard of rank two or higher, as tall as a small hill, was reduced to a withered corpse.

He pulled out the kobold's pickaxe, his claws tracing the crooked runes on its surface.

He previously thought this was just "a derivative of knowledge from the wizarding world," something to keep for research, nothing more.

But now, having witnessed the wizard's power firsthand, the meaning of this pickaxe has changed in his eyes.

This is their only material connection to that powerful world at present.

People of that class, dressed in dark red robes, could casually collect what they considered terrifying beings as blood material.

To survive in such a world, relying solely on the bloodline of the dragon race is probably far from enough.

He needs more.

Greater power, deeper understanding.

Perhaps... the path of a wizard?

Blue Dragon shook his head; now was not the time to think about such things.

He hasn't even mastered the Blood Moon Meditation Technique yet.

After putting the pickaxe away, Motu looked up at Shark White and found that the other was still breathing, but his eyes had gradually stabilized and the light in his vertical pupils had returned.

It wasn't the light that was filled with fear, but rather the relief of surviving a catastrophe and discovering that I was still alive.

"That wounded red dragon,"

The white dragon thought for a moment, then turned to the blue dragon with a solemn expression and said...

"This is the last trip."

"Let's get out of this awful place as soon as we finish this job!"

Motu glanced at him, nodded, and then handed over the kobold's pickaxe.

"Let's go," said Blue Dragon.

There was no nonsense, no questions, not even the usual muttering.

Bai Long silently took the pickaxe, fastened it back on his back, and made sure it wouldn't fall off on the road.

The two dragons set off again, heading deeper into the dead forest.

Behind me, the carcass of the rock lizard lay across the twilight, its grayish-white scales peeling off, crumbling, and scattering among the dead leaves in the wind.

The wizard did not take away its corpse.

In the eyes of the wizards of the Holy Blood Tower, the most valuable part of a high-level Rock Armor Lizard was already in that crystal bottle; what remained was just trash.

As the two moons rose, the two dragons disappeared at the edge of the dead forest, heading instead towards the red dragon cave indicated on the map.

--------

P.S.: Here's a little side story scene from when we were collecting the kobold loot, explaining why the two dragons were carrying pickaxes.

In the Dark Forest, on the rocky hill, after the battle with the Dragonborn kobolds.

"Want to give it a try?"

The shark's white vertical pupils lit up, and its tail swished loudly.

"Let's see what this rune is actually for."

Motu glanced at it and handed it the pickaxe.

Shark White took the pickaxe, gripped the wooden handle with both claws, and, mimicking the kobold's posture, smashed it down on a head-sized boulder beside him.

"clang--"

The gravel split open with a snap, breaking in two from the middle, the cut surface as smooth as if it had been cut with a knife.

Shark White paused for a moment, looked down at the pickaxe in his hand, then at the two pieces of rubble, a hint of surprise flashing in his vertical pupils.

"It seems... to be sharper than a regular pickaxe?"

It then struck another rock nearby, this time not with full force, but just a light tap.

The pickaxe cut into the rock as if it were cutting into a piece of weathered wood, encountering almost no resistance.

"That's interesting."

Shark White examined the pickaxe several times, turning it over and over. The three layers of serrated edges parted, and his eyes widened in astonishment.

"This broken shovel actually has some tricks up its sleeve."

Motu took the pickaxe, his claws tracing the crooked runes on its surface.

He didn't recognize these symbols, nor did he know what they specifically represented.

But this was his first encounter with anything related to the wizarding world.

Even if it's just an ordinary pickaxe, even if it's just a basic rune.

"Keep it."

He said to put the pickaxe aside.

"This is the first time we've come across anything related to wizards."

Even if we don't need it now, we can study it later.

Sha Bai gave an "oh" and didn't say anything more.

It looked down at the pile of gem fragments that had been turned over, thought for a moment, then reached out with its paws and picked out the few brightest pebbles, which it then held in its hand.

"I'll keep these!"

It said with righteous indignation,

"Consider it spoils of war!"

Motu didn't argue with it.

Those things aren't really worth much money, and Shark White likes shiny things.

This is an innate instinct in the bloodline of dragons, just like their love of soaking in water; it cannot be changed.

Shark White stuffed the pebbles under its scales, patted its belly, and stood up contentedly.

It glanced at the bloodstains on the ground, then at the stiff dog-headed corpse in the distance, its three-layered serrated edges splitting into a gleeful laugh.

"Let's go."

It shouted.

"I don't want to stay in this awful place for another second. It stinks horribly."