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

The minor leader, wearing half-body chainmail, rushed out.

He held tightly in his hand a short spear with a unique shape and intricate dark red runes engraved on its tip.

Seeing the several corpses lying in the camp and the pervasive stench of blood, a flicker of horror and fear flashed uncontrollably in his human eyes. However, his long years of adventure forced him to suppress the urge to escape, and a ferocious look, like that of a trapped beast, appeared on his face.

He let out a low growl, gripped the short spear tightly with both hands, and the runes on the spear tip suddenly lit up with a dazzling dark red light, clearly accumulating some kind of offensive energy!

Motu's gaze was icy. He gave his opponent no chance to unleash his skills.

The Mage's Hand has been activated once again!

The target this time was an empty stone jar that had rolled off the ground and was originally used to hold dragon blood.

An invisible magical tendril curled up the stone jar and hurled it like a slingshot at the leader's face!

The whistling wind drew closer, and the squad leader, still retaining his fighting instincts, instinctively turned his head to dodge.

It was that moment of distraction!

The electric arcs that had been gathering at Motu's claws were ready to be unleashed, and now they shot out like a precise sniper shot, striking his right wrist, which was holding the runic short spear!

"ah--!"

The leader cried out in pain as a burning, numbing pain shot through his wrist, causing his fingers to involuntarily clench.

"Clang!"

The runic short spear, gleaming with a dangerous red light, fell to the ground, its tip glowing like a extinguished flame, quickly dimming and going out.

Before he could make his next move, Green Tile's massive, dark green figure rushed towards him from the side, accompanied by a fierce gust of wind!

The three forked tails, like giant pythons emerging from their caves, instantly coiled around his waist and abdomen, while the sharp bone spikes at the ends found their way in and pierced the gaps between the chainmail plates!

"Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!"

The dull thuds of bones piercing flesh echoed one after another.

"Ugh—!"

The leader's scream lasted only half a second before turning into a short, hissing sound, like a leaky bellows, as Green Tile's tail tightened and strangled him, before falling completely silent.

Green Tile loosened its tail, and the body clad in chainmail collapsed softly to the ground, lifeless.

The valley camp, shrouded in thick fog, fell into a deathly silence.

Only on the iron frame, at the throat wound of the long-dead gray-brown dragon blood creature, thick, dark red blood still slowly dripped, drop by drop, following the force of gravity.

The blood splattered onto the blood-soaked mud below, making a soft, rhythmic pattering sound.

Green Tile squatted beside the body of a poacher, and as if it had discovered something new, it excitedly stretched out its claws and picked up a leather water bag hanging from the man's waist.

She pulled out the stopper, picked it up with her mouth, tilted her head back and took a big gulp, then wrinkled her face and spat it all out with a "pui" sound.

"What is this? It's not alcohol!"

She tossed the water pouch aside with disdain and wiped her mouth with the back of her paw.

She stood up and looked around the camp that she and Motu had just cleared.

Six human corpses lay scattered about; the battle ended even faster than she had anticipated.

She flicked her tail, and the burning fighting spirit in her emerald green vertical pupils had not completely subsided. On the contrary, she seemed somewhat unsatisfied because of the overly brief and almost brutal encounter.

Motu ignored her.

He strode toward the heavy iron frame in the center of the camp, looked up, and silently gazed at his fellow humans hanging on it, who had already lost all life.

The grayish-brown scales, under the hazy moonlight filtering through the mist, had a dull, lackluster luster, like dusty, inferior metal.

The huge gash on the chest and abdomen had exceptionally clean edges, clearly the result of a skilled butcher making a precise cut with a specially made, sharp knife.

Its head drooped limply to one side, and its vertical pupils, which should have been fierce or at least wary, were now completely dilated, unfocused, and wide open in a hollow manner.

Deep within his pupils, the blood moon radiating red light was perfectly reflected in the sky.

Motu crouched down, extended its front paws, and probed into the roughly opened chest cavity.

The tentacles were cold and sticky, a mixture of remaining internal organ fragments and congealed blood clots.

He carefully examined the area, and as expected, the location of the crystal core was empty.

This core energy source is naturally the primary target of poaching teams, and at this moment it is either hidden in a tent or in someone's personal bag.

He got up and searched the bodies in the camp again.

There is no crystal nucleus.

Green Tile strolled over and kicked a half-full, specially made sealed container at its feet with its paw.

The container rolled twice on the ground with a dull thud.

"Are these red liquids valuable?"

She tapped the container with the tip of her tail, her tone tinged with curiosity.

Motu opened the sealed lid of the container, and a strong, pungent smell of blood mixed with the scent of preservative herbs wafted out.

He moved closer, but did not touch it directly; he simply sniffed the residual magic within.

It was indeed dragon blood, but it had undergone basic processing and had alchemical agents added to prevent coagulation and decay.

However, the quality was not high, and the time since death exceeded half a day, so the regeneration factor had already disappeared.

Ordinary dragon blood doesn't fetch a good price in dragon's nest territory, let alone be used to make wands.

"Ordinary stuff, low quality, worthless." He put the lid on the container.

Green Tile tilted its head, its emerald vertical pupils filled with confusion: "Blood has different qualities?"

"It depends on factors such as live blood collection, time of death, processing methods, and blood concentration," Motu explained briefly.

"What a hassle."

Green Tiles curled its lip, clearly showing little interest in such meticulous division.

She stopped asking questions and turned around to rummage through the poachers' belongings, trying to find something more interesting or tangible.

Motu walked straight toward the small gray tent.

The tent was simply furnished.

A cot, a half-open rough wooden crate, and a few changes of clothes reeking of sweat and blood were piled haphazardly in the corner.

He walked up to the wooden box and pried open the lid with his paw.

Scattered inside were six or seven ordinary gold coins, several bottles of low-quality healing or stamina-restoring potions with simple labels and weak magical fluctuations, and a fist-sized, dark-colored dragon blood crystal with many impurities inside.

Finally, there was a hunting team flag from the Kingdom of Shane that I had specially collected.

Motu used his claws to lift the flag and flip it over.

On the rough linen back of the flag, a thin, tanned animal hide, about the size of two palms, was sewn with sturdy leather thread.

On the animal hide, a simple yet clear topographical map was drawn with charcoal.

The main channel of the winding Youshui River, several iconic marshlands, and the outline of several rolling hills.

The map was marked with several symbols whose meanings were unclear, one of which was heavily circled in charcoal.

An inverted equilateral triangle, inside which is a simple, pupil-less eye.

There are no text annotations next to the symbols, but their locations on the map are clearly marked.

Located deeper in the Youshui River basin, it is an area surrounded by several dense short lines representing canyons.

Motu's golden vertical pupils stared at the strange symbol for several seconds.

He had never seen this mark before, but its simple yet eerie graphic, and the deliberately circled gesture, suggested some unusual meaning.

After taking a few more glances, he memorized the shape of the symbol and its corresponding geographical location.

Then he folded the map and stuffed it into the gaps between the scales.

When he stepped out of the tent, Green Tile was squatting next to the iron frame, holding a bulging leather wine bag that he had found in the bag of a poacher.

She used her paws to pull out the cork, brought it to her nose and took a deep sniff. Her emerald green vertical pupils lit up instantly, and a satisfied look appeared on her face.

Without any hesitation, she tilted her head back and took a big gulp, emptying half of the wine bladder.

The spicy liquid slid down her throat, making her let out a loud, satisfied burp.

"Did you find anything good?"

She shook the wine flask in her hand and gestured to Motu.

"This is good, it's genuine, would you like some?"