"Such dense ominous aura... could this be a Dragon Vein Nail?"
In her claws lay a relatively small iron nail. It was not made of any high-grade material, yet it repulsed the Flood Dragon. Recalling what the villagers had said and the other clues, she felt that this was the legendary nail used to pin down dragon veins. She had no idea why the bandits had possessed one.
Unfortunately, they had all been trampled to death, leaving no one to interrogate for clues.
But the Flood Dragon did not care. Having roughly figured it out was enough; there was no need to fuss over every twig and leaf.
With a casual toss, the large iron nail bounced up. Her sharp claw tips flashed in rapid succession, slicing the nail into scraps. She had never been in the habit of keeping evil objects and instinctively destroyed it while she was at it.
She glanced at the temple atop the stronghold's mountain, tucked in her limbs, twisted her body, and swam away into the distance.
In the darkness, the villagers still held grimly to the stockade walls. In a cave on Back Mountain, a little boy dreamed of becoming powerful someday. Perhaps because the Flood Dragon's lingering aura was unusual, no carnivores dared approach to eat the horse heads and several pools of mangled flesh.
She continued traveling through the night, swimming toward the direction that guided her from somewhere beyond.
Ever since transforming into a flood dragon, she had traveled in her true form, too lazy to take human shape. She found this more comfortable; although a human form was convenient, it always felt somehow wrong.
Hovering several feet above the ground, she gently swished her tail to propel herself forward.
Her head swayed from side to side, rising and dipping