Galos did not trust Nick’s words.
Honesty? Trust? These words do not appear in a rchant’s dictionary, especially for a shrewd rchant like Nick, who dares to boast even among a pack of wolves. If he were to be honest, Galos might even call himself a benevolent Dragon.
Through the Elder Shaman, he said to Nick:
"Your caravan only has five nearly-defunct Steam Trucks, carrying so cheap and useless Chicken Blood Stones. How am I supposed to believe you can bring back Black Oil and Magic Energy Stones for ?"
Pausing for a mont, he continued: "Think carefully before you answer. You have only one chance."
The lives of himself and his companions depended on the answer that followed.
Nick’s breath hastened, feeling imnse pressure.
The Elder Shaman in front of him, though hunched with mottled fur and without any apparent deterrent presence, seed to harbor a Giant Dragon within those old, clouded eyes, making Nick feel a mountain-heavy oppression.
He initially wanted to habitually weave lies to gain the other’s trust.
But as the lie was about to spill out, Nick stopped himself.
No lie is ever more trustworthy than the truth.
After a few seconds of silence, Nick took several deep breaths and then began to eloquently tell his story.
At eleven, Nick clutched half a sack of stolen pepper in his arms, bartered the pepper for a slly herring from a fisherman, and then resold it to a drunken sailor, earning his first Copper Coin in life.
At twenty, Nick was the youngest trader in the Jade rchants Association, relying on his skill of packaging moldy oats as exclusive Northern Territory goods, amassing his first fortune and forming his own large caravan, reaching the pinnacle of his life.
At twenty-five, Nick t Erin at an auction, a Female Mage with silver-rimd glasses who captivated him. He pursued her like a moth to a fla and eventually married the noble Female Mage in his capacity as a rchant.
At thirty, Nick woke up next to a ditch, because the divorce decree ca more suddenly than a blizzard. Due to the prenuptial agreent with the Female Mage, he lost everything; ordinary people and noble Casters ultimately belonged to different worlds.
At thirty-two, in the Gray-haired Werewolf Territory, to survive and stage a coback, Nick narrated his story.
"There’s no better or superior rchant in this world than ."
"I even once sold pleasurable toys to the most prudish nun, granting her solace in the deep of night."
"The only mistake I’ve made in this life was overestimating myself and believing in love."
"But please believe, I will never make the sa mistake again."
For the first ti, Nick restrained his smile and spoke in a solemn and dignified tone.
Across from him, the Elder Shaman scrutinized him.
Under the gaze of this Werewolf, Nick felt his legs go weak, overwheld by inexplicable oppression and fear.
What he didn’t know was.
Another Dragon was quietly observing him, the source of his oppression and fear was the Dragon’s gaze, intangible but carrying a palpable pressure.
After several seconds.
The Elder Shaman bared its not-so-sharp wolf teeth and said to Nick, "I believe your words, but that’s not enough."
It took out so ink-colored pills and said, "This is a poison I’ve concocted, consu it, and only then can true trust be established between us."
Nick smiled faintly, took the pill, and swallowed it without hesitation or delay.
The others hesitated sowhat, but ultimately swallowed the poison to survive.
Imdiately, the Elder Shaman gestured, and the adult Werewolves carried over two cargo boxes, placing them in front of Nick and opening them.
Nick recognized these as the boxes previously carrying the Chicken Blood Stones, but the inferior Chicken Blood Stones had vanished, replaced by a box of dark green scales and a box of herbs of the sa hue.
"What are these?"
Nick picked up a scale, asking uncertainly.
With his knowledge, he couldn’t discern the origin of these items.
"Scales of the Cliff Snake Dragon, and the top-grade poisonous herbs grown in its habitat."
The Elder Shaman said.
It was not lying; these Dragon Scales were shed by the Cliff Snake Dragon during its growth, and the poisonous herbs grew under its breath.
Hissing... Nick shivered montarily, tossing the dark green Dragon Scale back.
He had heard of the Snake Dragon.
It’s an extrely terrifying Dragon Race, its very blood is venomous, and a re touch could be lethal to ordinary humans.
However, any Dragon Race materials represent wealth.
"In a month, I will return to the Scale Earth Rift with the Black Oil and Magic Energy Stones you desire."
Nick bead with excitent, saying.
After discussing so more details, the Werewolves knocked out Nick and his associates again and carried them away.
When they awoke, they were back at the spot where they first encountered the Werewolves, with the Steam Trucks standing intact, loaded with the precious Dragon Scales and poisonous herbs.
"Nick, are you really going to do business with these Werewolves?"
Tiefling Maggi hesitated and worriedly said, "While in their territory, I vaguely sensed a deep fear, which is not normal. There must be a big secret hidden in the Werewolf Territory."
Nick smiled and said, "The wilderness is fraught with crisis; it’s unusual if they don’t have secrets or so reliance."
He paused, then turned to Maggi and said, "Maggi, once I earn enough money, I promise to take you to a place free of discrimination and prejudice, to enjoy a peaceful life."
Nick had stumbled over Casters before, vowing not to fall in love with any Casters again.
However, he had developed a fancy for the Female Mage.
The Female Mage scoffed and said, "I never promised to live with you."
Then, the caravan set out again, under the invisible night sky, where Galos silently hovered, gazing down at the vast wilderness below.
The Werewolves lurked in the Scale Earth Rift, awaiting the next caravan to arrive.
In this wilderness, nurous small caravans abound.
Galos didn’t intend to put all his eggs in one basket, so he planned to control more caravans to establish trade channels with the Southern Countries, bringing back what he needed.
The Dragon Race is made entirely of high-grade materials.
Galos could trade the scales shed from himself, even his saliva, for resources to accelerate his growth.
However, to prevent Casters or Mages from possibly using materials from his body for Casting or tracking, he wouldn’t trade materials from his body.
"There are more Monster Race clans around the Scale Earth Rift than just the Gray-haired Werewolves."
"If the Howling Moon Clan acts too frequently, it might cause trouble by attracting the attention of other Monster Races."
Galos narrowed his eyes, contemplating silently: "Forget about the others for now, but I must keep the intelligent beings’ clans near the Scale Earth Rift within my grasp."
He needs to ensure this branch road of the Thousand Snake Mark is under his complete control.
For safety and for future developnt.
The night grew deeper, and Galos ordered the Werewolves to gather and organize more intelligence on the surrounding clans, then flew toward Needleleaf Valley.
As the saying goes, a cunning rabbit has three burrows.
Galos frequently visited Crescent Valley, which was his second territory, but the Werewolves of Crescent Valley did not know where Galos was at other tis.
Thus.
If one day the Werewolf clans were to be hunted by the Lothern Federation due to attacks on caravans, he would have a better way to cope.
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