Chapter 171: Chapter 163: Pale Wings: Mere Juvenile Dragon!

After an indeterminate amount of time passed.

When Nick felt he was about to faint, the centaur finally stopped, and he was brought to a grassy area, into the Centaur Camp.

In a daze, he got off the centaur’s back, his mind still not clear, until a deep and resonant voice, like that of a giant creature, echoed in his ears.

“I heard you wanted to see me.”

At these words, Nick shivered, as if doused in a bucket of ice water, and his mind cleared up.

Then he abruptly looked up and saw a gigantic beast beyond the realm of imagination.

The moonlight shattered into countless silver beams on its scale armor, the spines on its back like a forest of rebellious spears and halberds, rising and falling with each breath.

The most chilling was that sense of oppression; even standing still, explosive power surged beneath those sinewy muscles, the incredibly powerful frame akin to steel forged through countless trials, each scale like a shield tempered by fire.

The distance between them now was very close.

Nick could almost see his reflection, twisted into an ant-like black dot within those pupils.

He involuntarily knelt, prostrating on the ground, his mind recalling the titles of the young dragon circulating in the Raymond Duchy.

“Great Sky-Splitting Wings, the Death Omen Star.”

“Your loyal and humble servant is finally fortunate enough to see your true form.”

In the Centaur Camp, Galos watched the merchant prostrate on the ground.

After observing for a few seconds, the corner of the Red Iron Dragon’s mouth curled up in a smile, and he asked, “Sky-Splitting Wings, Death Omen Star—this is what humans call me?”

Nick replied, “This is a title circulated from the Raymond Duchy, and there’s a bounty on you.”

Hearing that the Raymond Duchy regarded him as an enemy, Galos did not get angry over such expected matters.

On the contrary, he nodded in satisfaction, feeling the title wasn’t too bad.

In the Molten Iron Clan, when followers praised Galos, they often used the honorific Master of Red Wings, but such honorifics were essentially from subordinate clans and did not carry much weight.

To the Dragon Race.

Only titles widespread among the ranks of strong adversaries were truly worth recognizing, as such titles would spread more widely.

However, such titles were often uncontrollable and might become subjects of ridicule.

For instance, when Galos first slaughtered intelligent creatures, wiping out an entire Goblin Race, if such achievements were spread, he could possibly be branded with a title like Goblin Slayer.

Titles linked to inferior creatures.

To a Giant Dragon, it’s as unpleasant as having eaten something disgusting.

Galos didn’t care much for vain titles, but having a pleasant-sounding title was certainly better than those like Goblin Slayer.

“Sky-Splitting Wings is alright.”

“But this Death Omen Star sounds too sinister.”

Galos thought to himself, then asked, “Are there any other titles?”

Nick thought carefully, hesitating slightly, then whispered, “There are also titles like Vein Raider and Golem Tearer.”

These sounded quite ordinary.

Not hearing any appealing titles, Galos didn’t pursue the matter further and gazed intently at the merchant.

“Humans always harbor hostility or are filled with fear towards me, yet you dare to come before me. What is the reason? Don’t say it’s to show loyalty and reverence.”

As he spoke, the massive and majestic body of the Red Iron Dragon leaned slightly forward.

A shadow overwhelmingly enveloped the human before him.

Feeling a heavy sense of oppression, Nick took a deep breath, then raised his head, still wearing a smiling face: “Those ordinary people fear your fiery flame, but I see the future in you.”

He praised in a lyrical tone: “I have never seen or heard of a young dragon like you.”

“You understand the importance of trade, rather than reckless plundering. You know when to conceal your claws, rather than being wantonly arrogant. You grasp when to bare your fangs, rather than constantly retreating.”

Galos listened quietly.

The followers of the Molten Iron Clan often flattered him as well, but they mostly praised his strength and might, while Nick’s flattery from an aspect of wisdom intrigued and amused Galos slightly.

Of course, he is not like Solrog or Samantha.

These honeyed words pleased him but did not change his thoughts.

“I am a merchant.”

“I see the immeasurable value in you, and I am certain that being by your side will be the greatest opportunity of my life.”

“I wish to build my own large chamber of commerce, to empower my family, so my descendants can enjoy a higher status, and to achieve this dream, I must rely on something strong; I must cling, tightly, to your leg.”

“Even death cannot shake my determination.”

As he spoke, he presented a mithril-plated ring, saying, “This is a space item I commissioned from a Dwarven Alchemist. It can change size and hold many things. It is my gift to you, and I hope you like it.”

Galos accepted the ring.

He didn’t put it on immediately but kept it for the time being.

He looked at Nick, his gaze piercing as if straight into his soul, and said calmly, “Is it just for the family and descendants, nothing more?”

Tonight was an important night for Nick.

Because Galos wanted an informant from the Southern Countries who could bring him intelligence, convey messages, and establish influence in the human realm, not just engage in trade.

At present, Nick was a promising candidate.

If he passed Galos’s scrutiny, he would receive more support from him.

If it were purely for family or descendants, such a person wouldn’t be reliable.

If Galos found him unsuitable, due to knowing too much, he would keep this human here forever.

Under Galos’s calm gaze, Nick’s heart skipped a beat.

He pondered deeply for a few seconds, then slowly exhaled, saying, “The most important thing is for myself.”

Raising his face, now etched with many wrinkles, he sighed and said, “You know, compared to your kind, our human lives are as fleeting as fireflies. I yearn for a longer life.”

After a pause, he lowered his head to the ground, earnestly saying, “I hope that when my body becomes old and frail, I can be granted your mercy and blessing, giving me a chance at Dragon Vein Transformation.”

Galos examined the human before him.

“It’s difficult to survive the process of Dragon Vein Transformation.”

He stated bluntly.

Nick gritted his teeth and said, “No matter what, there’s always a glimmer of hope. I will find something to increase the success rate of the transformation, and I’m not in a hurry to transform right now.”

“Even if the transformation fails, my soon-to-be-born child and the family I develop will still serve you faithfully.”

The moment his words faded.

The Red Iron Dragon suddenly raised its head, eyes narrowing as it gazed toward the sky.

The air suddenly carried a coldness, as if a chill was sweeping in.

More importantly, it smelled the presence of the Dragon Race, like polar glaciers, cold and savage.

Soon, a flash of a white dragon shadow glided across the night sky, body exuding extreme cold, drawing closer and causing an uproar among the centaurs.

“It’s the Pale Wings, she’s come again!”

Silver Mane’s expression changed slightly, he said.

Pale Wings, the evil dragon driven off by the White Mane Clan twenty years ago.

The centaurs had nearly killed Pale Wings through feigned submission followed by a surprise attack, but Pale Wings also made them pay a price.

The former Clan Leader of the White Mane Clan had died from severe injuries sustained in the battle with Pale Wings, weakening over time due to aftereffects.

The younger generation of centaur warriors had only heard of the clan’s glory in chasing the White Dragon, unaware of the price paid back then.

“It’s the White Dragon driven off by the White Mane Clan years ago.”

Galos had heard of this White Dragon’s existence.

A 16-meter-long White Dragon was circling in the sky, cold eyes staring down at the ground below, also noticing the Red Iron Dragon in the centaur camp, with eyes narrowing.

“White Scale? What brings you here.”

Galos looked at the White Dragon in the sky and subconsciously asked.

The bloodlines of the Red Dragon and Iron Dragon instinctively made him call her White Scale.

Hearing this, White Dragon Trish, originally intending to ask what was going on, suddenly felt her dragon face darken, her whole body emitting even more intense cold, almost tangible, eyes filled with anger, fixed on the Red Iron Dragon below.

Her initial purpose was revenge on the centaurs.

But now, they were ignored.

Damn it! Arrogant Mixed-blood Dragon!

Such a young dragon dare to disdain the great Pale Wings!

White Dragon Trish was furious.

At the same time, realizing he had been influenced by a stereotype, Galos politely added.

“Oh no, it’s White Dragon, sorry, I accidentally misspoke.”

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