The one-eared Werewolf at the head of the group paced over to the wagon, flaring its nostrils as it sniffed the cargo crates. Then it bared a row of gleaming white fangs.
"What's in here?"
It asked.
"Dragon—dragon blood..." Before the apprentice could finish, Nick cut him off. "Bloodstone. Just some cheap bloodstone."
The Werewolf ignored him and slashed with its claws, snapping the crate's lock apart.
The moment the lid was lifted, the piles of red bloodstone inside were exposed to the sunlight. Their color was bright and vivid, but they carried no magical fluctuations at all. They were purely inferior goods, utterly useless to the monster clans of the Wilderness.
"Do you have any Black Oil or Magic Energy Stones?"
The one-eared Werewolf asked in a low voice, its eyes brimming with ferocity.
Nick's gaze flickered as he hurriedly said, "Mighty Werewolf, I'm sorry to disappoint you. We did not choose to carry such goods on this trip, but if you need them, I guarantee that next time, I will return here with Black Oil and Magic Energy Stones to trade with you, at the best possible prices."
The one-eared Werewolf grinned.
"Whelps! Knock out every human here and take them away! Slaughter anyone who resists!"
Nick froze. "Wait, wait!"
Before he could finish, the one-eared Werewolf struck him with a claw.
The world spun around him.
Nick's final sight was the blazing white sky, while the cries of his companions and the Werewolves' low growls echoed in his ears.
With the scar-faced driver's fate as an example, the others did not dare resist. Besides, resistance meant death anyway. They obediently allowed themselves to be knocked out and taken away.
Crescent Moon Valley, territory of the Howling Moon Clan.
Under a night sky like black velvet, the unconscious