The night breeze sighed through the forest, carrying scents of pine needles, dragon dung, and blood.
Zheng Qing felt a wave of irritation and looked toward the edge of the forest.
The boundary between the moonlight and the woods was shrouded in shadows; a tall mill leaned to one side, resembling a staggering drunkard in the night. Further away, the faint song of a few robins could be heard from the apple trees, which, having lived alongside the dragon grounds and helped elder Fire Dragons rid themselves of parasites, had developed a degree of immunity to the dragons' presence, livening the blood-soaked solitude of the area.
"Those are the remnants of the Fire Dragon's struggle."
Vas Eagle noticed the Hunting Team Leader's gaze fixed on the mill and explained simply, "The one that died was an adult Romanian Longhorn Dragon, naturally hot-tempered... When the sprites attacked, it frantically spewed dragon breath in every direction... and destroyed that mill."
