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

Motu did not respond to Green Tile's comments.

His mind was racing, conducting a calm battlefield assessment.

Without a doubt, this was a dragon-hunting team, as evidenced by the flags planted diagonally next to the camp.

Although the flag was filthy from its long journey, the design on it still clearly indicated the team's origin.

A crossed longsword and crossbow bolts—this is a common symbol used by registered hunting teams or adventurer squads in the Kingdom of Shane.

The current situation is actually quite clear.

Dragonblood species are everywhere in the Dragon Nest territory, and wyverns with low dragonblood concentrations are even more numerous.

To the dragon's nest, they are worthless.

Every year, the Nest Mother releases tens of thousands of dragon eggs into the breeding farm, which have been optimized and modified by the wizard's bloodline technology. Those that survive are the result of natural selection and are far more valuable than wild, free-range dragon bloodlines.

However, the situation is quite different for the Kingdom of Shane, a human nation that has long been hostile to the Dragon Nest forces and has relatively scarce extraordinary biological resources.

Even the most ordinary adult dragon bloodline is a treasure from head to toe.

Dragon blood is a core ingredient in high-grade potions and alchemy; scales are the raw material for crafting top-tier armor; claws, teeth, and bones can be processed into weapons or magical ornaments; and crystal cores are a source of energy…

If they can successfully hunt it down and bring it back to China, the profits would be enough to make an ordinary person rich overnight, or even to build a small family.

The enormous profits drive these desperate criminals to cross dangerous borders and infiltrate the Dragon's Nest's territory to engage in this high-risk, high-reward poaching activity.

Motu shifted his gaze from the gruesome corpse in the center of the camp, and at the same time, quietly spread his magical perception to calmly analyze the layout and personnel composition of the entire camp.

Five people, no, six people.

A sentry stood guard behind a dead tree on the outskirts of the camp, holding a barbed crossbow and scanning the direction of the valley entrance.

Four people were handling the bodies in the center of the camp: two were responsible for bleeding, one for dismembering, and one for putting them into canisters.

There was another one inside the tent, but I couldn't see him clearly. However, my magical senses detected his presence, which was stronger than the others outside. He was probably a minor leader.

"Make a move?"

Green Tile's voice was low, but a fighting light had already ignited in his vertical pupils.

"Wait until dark." Motu's gaze remained fixed on the camp.

Why?

Green Tile was puzzled; in her view, those two-legged creatures below were utterly vulnerable.

"They have heavy crossbows, and more than one. If we fly in during the day, we'll be too big a target. At night, they can't see us, but we can."

Green Tile thought about it and felt that it made sense, so he said no more.

She rested her head on her crossed front paws, lowered her body, and lay quietly on the thick tree trunk like a moss-covered rock, only occasionally letting the tip of her tail twitch impatiently.

"Then we'll wait."

It gets dark very quickly.

Night falls earlier in the swamp than on the plains. As soon as the sun sets, fog rises from the ground and engulfs the entire valley.

Motu made the first move.

He slid silently off the tree trunk where he was perched, landing on all fours with almost no sound.

Instead of taking off immediately, he crouched low, using the fog and low bushes for cover, moving silently along the ground towards the camp entrance like the most experienced stalker.

Green Tile followed closely behind, slightly spreading her three forked tails, the bony spikes at the ends appearing and disappearing in the thick fog like ghostly fangs.

Magic perception fully activated.

This wizard's trick, like an invisible sonar, fed back the surrounding three-dimensional images into Motu's consciousness.

At the edge of the camp, the sentry post behind the dead tree remained in place, but its vigilance had clearly decreased significantly.

The crossbow hung at his side, and he even raised his hand, let out a long yawn, and leaned slightly against the tree trunk.

Motu gestured to Green Tile. Green Tile nodded and walked around it from the side.

Her footsteps were very light. The dragon's several-ton body landed almost without a sound.

She quietly circled around to the very back of the sentry post, closing the distance to less than five meters.

The three forked tails rose silently and in unison, the three dagger-like bone spikes at their ends reflecting a cold luster in the mist, precisely aiming at the sentry's unprotected nape and spine.

There was no roar, no sound of wind.

Only extremely brief and slight—

"Click."

A crisp sound, almost absorbed by the mist.

The sentry's body suddenly stiffened, then, as if all the bones had been removed from a skin bag, he slumped forward limply.

The crossbow slipped from his hand and was about to hit the ground with a sound when the tip of one of Green Tile's tails, like a nimble snake, emerged and gently hooked it, catching the crossbow steadily before silently laying it flat on the grass beside him.

The entire process was clean and efficient, without disturbing the camp in the slightest.

At the same time, Motu had already crept into the outer perimeter of the camp from the front, like a shadow blending into the fog.

His mage's hand quietly began to move.

A translucent magical tentacle, under the cover of night, like the most nimble hand of a thief, gently and swiftly wrapped around the crossbow of the nearest poacher, and with a gentle pull.

The crossbow slipped from the man's hand and floated into the air.

The man was stunned for a moment, looked down at his hand, and before he could react, Motu's claw had already slapped the back of his head.

"Bang!"

A muffled thud, deliberately suppressed.

The poacher didn't even utter a sound before collapsing to the ground like a rag doll, losing consciousness.

But this slight noise still startled the burly man who was concentrating on dismembering the dragon's corpse not far away.

He looked up and followed the sound.

In the mist, a pair of vertical pupils gleaming with a cold blue light, and the massive, metallic-sheen outline of scales, crashed into his eyes like a nightmare!

His eyes widened to their limit, a surge of intense fear gripping his heart. His survival instinct made him instinctively open his mouth wide, about to sound the alarm.

"enemy--!"

The first syllable had barely escaped halfway from the throat!

From the side, the thick fog suddenly broke through!

A dark green figure lunged out like a ghost!

It was Green Tile that had already circled around to the flanks, poised to strike!

She bit down precisely on the strong man's neck, her three-layered serrated mouth suddenly closing, silencing his terrified screams and all subsequent sounds in his ruptured trachea and blood vessels!

"Pfft!"

Dark red blood spurted from between the serrated edges, with a few drops even splashing onto the grayish-brown scales of the dragon blood corpse on the nearby iron frame, adding a new, scalding crimson hue to it.

"There are enemies!"

On the other side of the camp, the poacher who was originally responsible for drawing the dragon's blood and was now frantically trying to rush towards the tent to warn others finally shouted out a broken half-sentence.

However, instead of a response, he was greeted by a faint, pale blue arc of electricity that suddenly shot out from the mist!

"Sizzle!"

The electric arc struck his right calf with pinpoint accuracy.

The intense numbness and pain caused his legs to buckle, and he screamed as he collapsed forward to the ground.

Before he could struggle, Green Tile pounced on him like a shadow, its heavy dragon claws carrying immense power, slamming into the side of his head!

"Snap!"

The muffled sound of the skull shattering was particularly eerie in the mist.

All sounds ceased abruptly.

Just then, the curtain of the gray tent at the edge of the camp was suddenly ripped open!