"How did you provoke these Weak Water Crickets? I remember these things shouldn't have much territorial instinct, and even if they chased prey, they shouldn't chase it to the point of becoming a disaster..." Roland looked doubtfully at the Weak Water Crickets churning within the Dragon Breath.
"Um... Your Majesty..." Aragorn came over hesitantly, his gaze shifting as if he wanted to say something.
"What is it? Is there something you want to say?" Roland froze, a trace of confusion flashing through his eyes.
"Those are all Gold Coins! Hurry and have your Dragon Knight withdraw his divine powers..." Aragorn looked at the Weak Water Crickets being shredded into fragments within the Dragon Breath, his eyes full of heartache, full of the sound of Gold Coins vanishing.
"Hm?" Roland was stunned, and the others were also taken aback.
"These Beginner Beasts aren't even as good as Low-level Beasts. Their magic crystal yield is almost zero, and there shouldn't be many that were shredded by the Wind Element. Don't worry!" Thorin looked at this thrifty clan leader and gave a comforting smile. Looking at Aragorn, he thought again of himself leading his clansmen in their struggle to survive in the Blue Mountains. It was not that life had been especially hard, only that the feeling of being uprooted had caused every dwarf incomparable pain. Compared to physical suffering, the root of dwarven agony was the soul having nowhere to belong. The Descendants of Durin were wandering in exile...
"No, that's not it..." The corner of Thranduil's mouth twitched.
"What he probably means is the core magic material of the Weak Water Cricket—the Weak Water Wings!" Thranduil grimaced.
"Yes, it's a high-grade magic material!" Thranduil added.
"Yes, Weak Water Wings are a high-grade magic material. They're very valuable..." Aragorn smiled awkwardly.
"Uh,