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

Following the map left behind by the kobolds, the two dragons found the mine at the end of the dead forest.

The entrance to the cave was larger than Motu had imagined.

The collapsed rubble partially obscured the entrance, leaving only a narrow gap large enough for one person to squeeze through. However, judging from the curvature of the rubble pile, the original opening was at least five meters high and two meters wide.

It is large enough to accommodate a young red dragon to come and go freely.

The stone walls at the cave entrance were covered with black burn marks, not ordinary smoke, but charred layers left after being licked by high-temperature flames.

The crystalline structure on the surface of the stone was burned away, turning into a brittle, charcoal-black substance that crumbled at the slightest touch of a finger.

A strong smell of sulfur, mixed with the stench of rust and rotting flesh, permeated the air, seeping out from the cracks in the cave entrance like the breath of a giant beast.

A faint, pungent smell of blood wafted from the cave, but it wasn't fresh blood; rather, it was the smell of blood that had been sitting for a few days and had begun to spoil.

Shark White brought its head close to the cave entrance, its nostrils flaring rapidly, as if trying to discern the scent more clearly.

But the next second, he suddenly shrank back, his three-layered serrated teeth instantly wrinkled into a ball, his whole face twisted into a bitter gourd shape, and even the tip of his tail trembled.

"This flavor is way too strong!"

He slapped his nose with his paw and bared his teeth as he yelled.

"There's a strong stench of blood inside! This mine definitely hides something! Something alive!"

At this moment, Motu was crouching down, seemingly searching for something in the pile of rubble at the cave entrance, his movements somewhat cautious.

Suddenly, he stopped moving.

Carefully using its claws, it brushed aside the last layer of rubble, and in the crevice, a dark red scale was quietly embedded in the stone.

A glimmer of light flashed in Motu's eyes. He held his breath, gently pinched the edge of the scale with his fingertips, and slowly pulled it out of the crevice in the rock.

The scales were about the size of a palm, with irregularly curved edges, and the fine texture on the surface had a matte finish under the dim light.

The bloodstains on its back had long since turned black and hardened, yet one could still smell a unique scent of dragon blood mixed with sulfur.

Motu's lips slowly curled up. He brought the scale close to his nose and sniffed it, then looked at the cross-section of the scale's edge.

It didn't fall off naturally; it was torn off. The cross-section is uneven, with several fine cracks radiating from the edge to the center.

It's exactly the same as the one the kobolds collected.

"This is it."

Motu put down the scales, stood up, and looked at the narrow crevice at the cave entrance, his tone resolute.

"A Tier 1 Red Dragon, injured."

Upon hearing the definite news, Shark White swallowed hard, stared at the gap with his vertical pupils for a long while, and then turned to look at Mo Tu.

Are you sure you want to do it?

Its voice was a few decibels lower than usual, and its tail was unconsciously tucked between its legs, carrying a timid tone.

"Although it's injured, it's still a dragon bloodline. It's not in the same league as the old crocodile we fought before."

That old crocodile wasn't of dragon blood; its bite felt like a mere tickle.

This is a genuine Tier 1 dragon bloodline, and it's the infamous Red Dragon!

Even if you're injured, it's hard to say whether your bones could withstand a single breath of dragon's breath.

Motu did not answer.

He simply looked down at his claws; the bronze sheen between the scales was particularly noticeable in the dim light.

"I'm sure," he said.

Sha Bai stared at him for three seconds.

Then it took a deep breath, and the three layers of serrations slowly opened, revealing a hint of ferocity.

"Okay. I'll back you up."

It puffed out its chest, pulled its tail out from between its legs, and flicked it twice behind it.

"If you can't win, run! That's a promise! No playing the hero!"

Motu simply nodded, then bent down and squeezed into the narrow crevice.

Shark White followed behind, muttering to himself as he burrowed:

"Why is this hole so narrow... Damn it, it's going to scrape my scales off... Motu, wait for me..."

The interior of the mine is much more spacious than the entrance.

After Motu squeezed through the narrow gap, the view suddenly opened up before him.

A naturally formed domed cave, about ten meters high and seven or eight meters wide at its widest point. The cave walls are covered with traces of human excavation, and ancient mine tunnels extend out from the main cave, penetrating the mountain like blood vessels, dark and endless.

But Motu's attention was not on the mine tunnels.

Deep inside the cave, a dark red figure was curled up.

Red Dragon.

It is nearly five meters long, a size larger than the Motu.

Dark red scales, like dried blood scabs, covered its massive body, gleaming with a dull, matte sheen in the dark cave.

The scales were covered with wounds, some old wounds with healed edges, leaving hideous scars; others were new wounds, with broken scales revealing tender pink flesh underneath, still oozing blood.

Its right hind leg was noticeably bent unnaturally, as if it had been broken by something and had not healed properly.

When walking, he dared not put his leg on the ground, and could only support his body with three legs, limping and with each step trembling slightly.

But what truly made Motu's pupils constrict was not its injuries.

It's what's beneath it.

On the ground where the red dragon was curled up, a large number of bones were scattered.

These are not bones from ordinary wild animals.

Motu was all too familiar with the size and shape of those bones.

Those are the bones of a dragon beast.

It has a skull, a spine, ribs, and limb bones.

Large and small, scattered here and there, covered the ground.

Some bones still had dried meat and tendons remaining, while others had been gnawed clean, their surfaces having a matte finish from the corrosive effects of stomach acid.

It ate its own kind.

It's not hunting, it's devouring.

It wasn't for territory, nor for food, but to recover from those extremely severe injuries.

Motu's gaze fell on the nearest wreckage.

That was the corpse of a mud-eating dragon, smaller than him, probably only the size of the dragonborn kobold he had encountered before.

The corpse hadn't been finished eating yet; a large hole had been torn in its chest, its internal organs had been removed, and its ribs were protruding, resembling a blooming flower.

But the head was still there, the eyes were still open, and the vertical pupils had spread into a murky gray, reflecting the darkness of the cave ceiling.

Its expression was frozen between fear and pain.

Shark White poked its head out from behind Motu and was suddenly struck by the scene inside the cave. Its three layers of serrated teeth snapped shut, and a low, angry growl came from its throat.

Dragons do not eat their own kind.

This is a taboo for a group that prides itself on being a civilization.

But the red dragon before us has gone mad.

It lost not only its sanity, but also its last shred of humanity as a dragon.

It is now just a beast covered in dragon scales, a monster that will eat anything to survive.

Motu remained silent, his gaze growing cold.

He just stared at the pile of bones, at the corpse that hadn't been completely eaten, and at the red dragon curled up in the pile of bones.

Then he stepped forward.

The red dragon moved.

Its reaction speed is astonishing.

The moment Motu's claws touched the first pebble, the coiled giant beast raised its head.

Dark red vertical pupils lit up in the darkness, like two embers about to go out, a murky, insane light devoid of any reason.