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

Green Tile has always been a bit dim-witted, so Rolin ignored her and turned away, but Motu couldn't just leave her alone.

He lowered his head and looked at his right forepaw.

Her sharp claws and the spaces between her fingers were stained with dark red blood belonging to Green Tile, which had not yet fully congealed and still carried the warmth of her body.

Blood beads slowly condensed and dripped down the curved claw tip, hitting the cold rock below with a soft but clear pattering sound.

Upon closer inspection, the edges of those bloodstains were even covered with extremely faint, almost dissipated, pale golden glimmers.

That was the last remnant of holy power carried out with the blood.

When the fingertips touched it, a subtle but distinct stinging sensation came through, as if countless cold, fine needles were pricking them at the same time.

He clenched his claws, holding the bloodstains in his palm.

This is not a favor done for someone to shield me from harm.

Given Green Tile's personality and fighting logic, her actions just now were by no means a deliberate act of self-sacrifice to protect someone.

She was just fighting her battle, giving it her all, refusing to back down, and then... she got knocked down.

It was only because she was at the forefront and endured the fiercest and most fatal attacks that... he survived.

It's not "I risked my life to protect you".

Instead, it's like saying, "I'm fighting my own battle, and by the way, you're not dead."

But this is also a profound and undeniable sentiment.

Motu stood up, walked to Green Tile's side, bent down, carefully placed her relatively intact right forearm on his body, and then used his waist to lift her extremely heavy body up from the pool of blood.

Green Tile's weight far exceeded that of ordinary creatures. Even with severe injuries and blood loss, its solid skeleton and muscle density, typical of dragons, still put significant pressure on Motu.

Broken ribs, torn pterygium, and a pierced chest cavity—these injuries did not seem to have significantly reduced her weight.

"Ouch... Be gentle! That hurts!"

Green Tile grimaced and muttered something, but it didn't struggle or push away the claws it was using for leverage.

And so, in the hazy moonlight and the lingering night fog, this scene unfolded.

A blue dragon with a torn left wing and bleeding profusely, half-supporting and half-carrying a green dragon with a tattered right wing, whose chest bandage was still seeping medicine and blood, and which was walking unsteadily, limped slowly toward the direction of the auxiliary defense team's camp.

Luo Lin's figure had already disappeared ahead.

The corpse of the final judge of the temple was dragged by an invisible force, following closely in the direction where Rolin disappeared, leaving a long and silent drag mark on the gravel and muddy ground.

The cool moonlight cast a hazy silver rim on the mist over the swamp.

The right wing, with its green tiles drooping limply, trembled helplessly in the night wind, its huge tear in the wing membrane like the tattered banner of a defeated warrior.

Her blood, warm and dark red, mixed with a faint medicinal smell and an even fainter stinging sensation of holy power, dripped onto the scales supporting Motu.

Motu did not loosen his grip.

He adjusted his posture to make the green tile more stable, and then continued walking, treading the path home stained with blood and moonlight.

three days later.

The sun was shining brightly on the open ground at the edge of the camp.

Green Tile's injuries have mostly healed.

After Rolin's potent potion cleared away the residual holy power, the powerful regenerative ability derived from the Hydra bloodline within her body regained its absolute advantage.

The once gaping, menacing hole in his chest is now completely covered by newly grown, slightly unevenly arranged pale green scales.

The new scales were much lighter in color than the surrounding dark green scales, like a piece of old cloth that had been carefully repaired but whose traces were still visible.

The tear on her right wing membrane that had nearly torn her wing in two had healed, leaving only a light-colored, tough scar that snaked from the middle of the wing bone to the wingtip.

At this moment, she was lazily squatting on the open ground outside the barracks, recovering from her injuries. Her huge head was lowered, and she was teasing a small, grayish-brown lizard that had wandered into the area with the tip of her tail.

The lizard, no longer than a hand and with a row of inconspicuous fine scales along its back, was extremely anxious because its path was firmly blocked by the constantly swaying, dark green tail tip, which was thicker than its body.

The lizard charged left and right, but could not break through the green dragon's tail blockade, and could only spin around in vain.

The green tiles are clearly enjoying themselves.

She deliberately controlled the speed and angle of the tip of her tail, always stopping the lizard just as it was about to pounce.

Each time the lizard missed its target, her exposed serrated dragon teeth would tremble slightly, emitting a barely audible hiss with a hint of mischievous triumph.

It didn't look like a mighty dragon; it looked more like a child who had found a new and exciting toy and was eager to play.

The morning sun streamed in from behind the eastern ridge, generously showering her with light.

The light shone on her newly grown pale green scales, reflecting an exceptionally warm and slightly bright luster, which contrasted sharply with the dark-colored old scales around her, as if they had just been gently washed by a rain.

Motu stood on the stone steps outside the barracks, glancing at the blueprint for the Dragon Blood Wand in his mind every now and then, and then at the green dragon.

I've looked at the blueprints many times.

Every word, every number, every line has been etched into his mind.

But his gaze remained fixed on that line of text.

"Required Dragon Blood: A large quantity of primordial active dragon blood with regenerative properties is needed. Ordinary dragon blood lacks regenerative factors and cannot support the core inscription cycle. It is recommended to obtain dragon blood individuals with a regeneration capacity rating of C or higher."

He raised his head.

Green Tiles was still teasing the lizard.

The lizard finally gave up its attempt to break through from the tip of its tail and instead tried to go around from the side, but Green Tile's other tail was already waiting there and blocked it back.

The lizard was so angry at the sight that its vertical pupils turned upwards, even though its pupils were naturally vertical.

The sunlight perfectly outlined the silhouette of the green tiles, and especially illuminated the newly formed, shimmering pale green scales on her shoulder blades.

Beneath that thin, newly formed keratin layer are countless cells rapidly dividing, proliferating, and repairing—a powerful regenerative ability bestowed upon her by the Hydra bloodline, far surpassing that of ordinary dragons and almost etched into the very essence of life.

That was the most direct and vivid proof of the existence of the regeneration factor required on the drawing.

Motu's gaze lingered on the newly formed scales for a long time.

Deep within those golden, vertical pupils, thoughts surged intensely, like an undercurrent beneath the ice.

Do I need to speak?

How should I start the conversation?

On what grounds?

A transaction? A request? Or...?

The sky outside the camp was a somber gray-blue, typical of the border region, with low-hanging clouds like a thick, gray-white quilt pressing heavily on the horizon.

In the vast reed marshes in the distance, the occasional hoarse and lonely cry of a migratory bird breaks the silence, only to be quickly swallowed up by the boundless emptiness and return to silence.

In the end, Motu said nothing and turned back into the house.

Inside the stone house, Motu laid his heavy body on the cold stone bed. He closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking into that deep sea of ​​awareness.

The [Path of Truth] panel, emitting a faint glow, floated silently.

The progress bar for Task 2 still shows: [In progress: Collecting wand core materials (0/6)].

He didn't touch it or do anything with it.

I just watched quietly.

Outside the window, a damp breeze blew in from the direction of Mirror Lake, passing through the camp's simple wooden fence, bringing with it the unique crispness of reeds and the coolness of the river water.