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

The flight continued for some time, and the landscape below gradually transitioned from a barren swamp to areas with more traces of human activity.

Finally, the outline of Kuroki Market came into view at the edge of the horizon.

It was a cluster of low-rise buildings located right next to a tributary of the You River, with no planning whatsoever.

The gray-white stone houses, wooden sheds, and even animal skin tents are crammed together haphazardly, like stubborn stones of varying sizes carelessly scattered on the riverbank by a giant hand.

Narrow alleyways connect the buildings, and these alleyways are crowded with stalls and people.

From above, one could see dark red and deep blue robes moving among the crowd, with one or two higher-level robes occasionally reflecting the luster of runes.

At the edge of the market, a faint, almost transparent pale blue halo could be seen, like an inverted giant bowl, enveloping the entire market area.

In the early morning light, it was almost impossible to see with the naked eye, but Motu's magical perception could clearly detect the existence of that energy barrier.

A basic protective and isolation barrier clearly separates the order inside the market from the disorder of the external wilderness.

There was a checkpoint at the entrance, where two human guards in leather armor, holding short spears, were checking people coming in and out.

Same as last time.

Motu landed on a rocky clearing about 100 meters away from the barrier's light membrane.

Its heavy body stomped on the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust.

Una carefully slid down his broad back, her legs visibly weak when she landed, and she staggered before barely managing to stand.

The flush on her face had not completely faded, and her breathing was slightly rapid.

But in those dark gray vertical pupils, the previous extreme tension had been replaced by a strange feeling, a mixture of excitement from flying and a lingering sense of disorientation.

Motu took out his pre-prepared shopping list from under the scales.

A thin, rough-edged animal hide had only one line of instructions written on it in charcoal:

[The tree must be over 100 years old to grow into a *Tetracentron sinense*.]

Below is a three-dimensional material model he created based on the blueprints for the Dragon Blood Wand, depicting the approximate appearance of the Thunderwood.

He handed the animal hide to Una.

"I'll wait here," he said succinctly.

Una took the animal hide, her fingers unconsciously tightening, pinching tiny wrinkles into the tough paper.

She lowered her eyelids, avoiding Motu's gaze, and simply nodded slightly, letting out a barely audible "hmm."

Then, she took a deep breath, turned around, tightened the wicker basket on her shoulder, and strode toward the market entrance.

The guard's gaze swept over her.

A slightly thin, dragon-woman girl covered in dark gray scales carried a common herb basket.

She is not a "purebred dragon" or "large dangerous wyvern" that is explicitly prohibited from entering the list.

The guards didn't say anything to stop her, but they glanced at Una a couple more times as she hurried through the archway with her head down.

His eyes held a habitual scrutiny and indifference toward non-human races.

Una didn't stop, and her figure quickly disappeared into the other world behind the archway, a world composed of architectural shadows and noisy voices.

Motu watched her disappear at the entrance, then took a few steps back to a crooked tree on the outskirts of the market that had long since withered and was bare of branches.

He leaned against the rough, cracked tree trunk and waited.

The dead tree had almost no bark, revealing grayish-white, cracked wood, and looked lifeless in the sunlight.

The sparse branches cast scattered, twisted shadows on the ground, barely providing a small patch of shade.

"Hopefully, we can find some blackwood at the Blackwood Market."

Mo Tu thought to himself.

--------

Inside, Una walked along the main street of the market.

Stepping inside the barrier, a cacophony and chaotic atmosphere immediately assaulted the senses.

On both sides were various stalls, some with sunshades, and others just an old cloth spread on the ground with goods on it.

Potion ingredients, monster bones, crystal cores, old books, alchemical artifacts, rune tools...

It has everything.

The air was filled with a mixture of smells.

Herbs, metal, preservatives, and a smell like burnt food.

Most of the stall owners were wizarding apprentices or low-level wizards, dressed in robes of various colors. Some were shouting, some were tidying up their goods, and some were haggling with customers.

Una walked slowly, but her path was clear. This wasn't her first time here.

Even an old woman selling herbs, seeing her pass by, raised her wrinkled face, nodded, and greeted her in a hoarse voice, "Young lady, here to sell again?"

Una responded with only a very faint, indistinct nasal sound, and continued walking forward without stopping.

After quickly scanning some of the large stalls, she walked through two alleyways and turned into a relatively quiet side street.

There are fewer stalls and fewer customers here, but the items are often cheaper than on the main street.

Because stall owners don't need to pay such high stall fees.

Many individual vendors who set up temporary stalls here sell the things they obtained in the wild.

Finally, she stopped in front of an inconspicuous corner stall.

The stall owner was a thin wizard wrapped in an old, dark gray robe, the large hood almost completely obscuring his face.

On the ground in front of him lay a tattered cloth of indeterminate color, upon which were scattered several pieces of different kinds of wood, a few pieces of dull-colored ore, and some strange materials whose original form was difficult to discern.

The stall owner was currently looking down, intently using a small, sharp carving knife to slowly carve something on a piece of wood the size of a palm.

The blade tip rubbed against the wood, producing a subtle and continuous rustling sound, seemingly oblivious to the surrounding noise.

Una crouched down, her gaze sweeping over the scattered pieces of wood on the stall.

Most of them are common oak or walnut cores, or scraps of a few hardwoods unique to the border regions. They are of ordinary quality and have limited value.

However, beneath a pile of unremarkable scraps of wood, likely sold as add-ons or leftovers, her gaze caught a glimpse of something unusual.

She reached out her hand, covered in fine gray scales, carefully brushed aside the debris on top, and took out the piece of wood.

It is about the length of a forearm and less than the diameter of a fist.

The wood itself is a restrained dark brown, almost black, with fine silver-white veins on the surface, resembling the marks left by lightning strikes.

These silvery-white textures meander and twist, still gleaming faintly with a metallic sheen in the dim light.

It is virtually identical to the illustration drawn by the Blue Dragon.

Una held it in her hand; its heavy texture far exceeded that of ordinary wood, and its density was extremely high.

She turned the wood to its cross-section, where the growth rings were clearly visible.

She held her breath, her fingertips gently tracing the closely spaced concentric circles, silently counting in her mind.

One lap, two laps, three laps... ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred... one hundred and three.

Thunderwood.

More than a hundred years ago.

There are still three years left.