In the year 1636 of Airadia's Third Epoch, Blackwing's Lair still attracted adventurers who were keen on seeking death. After all, there weren't many famous foreign factions that one could come into contact with in the Northlands. The only ones that people could see were Blackwing's Lair and the Elven Forest. (The Flying Apes of Monster were in a friendly relationship with the Northlands.)
Due to the closed ecology and kind nature of the Elven Forest, only the slave-hunting teams would head there. The more serious adventurers with ambitions would make Blackwing's Lair their first target.
In the past three years, people had developed the misconception that "Blackwing's Lair had many monsters and riches." Now, there were even merchants selling "maps of the terrain of Blackwing's Lair" that were even more detailed.
Everything was because they knew that there was a dragon living there. To humans, dragons meant magic and treasures.
Although the Blackwing Clan had always dealt with adventurers cruelly, the skulls hanging at the edge of the green field didn't scare the adventurers. Instead, they surged forward even more fiercely.
(Blackwing Clan: the collective name for all of the Black Dragon's descendants.)
Everyone had beautiful dreams of slaying a dragon. It was as if as long as they entered that place, they would immediately gain fame and wealth. Not only would they be able to kill the master of Blackwing's Nest, they would also be able to pick up two dragon eggs and raise them. They would then become dragon tamers and live a carefree life.
It seemed that no one had thought of this before. Indeed, Airadia had slain countless Pentashade Dragons, but the ones who died the most were always those so-called dragon slayers.
However, the current situation was also caused by the fact that the legendary "Dragon King" had never appeared before the public. Although the rumors in the northern kingdoms were vivid and colorful, until now, no one could guarantee that they had seen the real face of the Dragon King, nor could they clearly describe the size, power, magic, and nature of the Dragon King.
Such uncertainty not only aroused people's curiosity, it also promoted the adventurers' wishful thinking. Many people suspected that the dragon had been severely injured in the battle with the Mother of Poison and was at death's door. It was waiting for a hero blessed by the gods to slay it with a single slash. From there, it could enter the upper class and be sought after by all the noble ladies and madams.
This was a common plot in bards and poems. People were deeply affected by it.
Of course, adventurers weren't all muddle-headed fools with delusions. There were also some groups with true strength and experience, such as this twenty-five man group.
They had come from the central free trade city-states and had spent a full three months gathering intelligence in the Northlands, purchasing weapons, and finally setting off for Blackwing's Lair after everything was ready.
Now, the most experienced of course.... and's were experienced thieves estimated that if the terrain here was as described on the market, they would only take a day's time to reach the core of Blackwing's Lair as long as they didn't cause a commotion — of course, under the ideal situation where they wouldn't be harassed by the Blackwing Clan's.
However, the result was almost certain: they had lost their way.
Of all the maps circulating in the markets of the various countries in the Northern Lands, there was not a single one that wasn't randomly fabricated. Up till now, there were very few people who had come out of Blackwing's Lair alive. The only exceptions were those few minor nobles who had been captured and ransomed back. As for those minor nobles, for the sake of their dignity, they would definitely keep their mouths shut and not talk about it. In fact, they would even wish that they could forget about this period of time.
"Damn it, these northerners are really despicable."
Gray spat on the ground and pushed aside the thorns in front of him. He carefully stretched out half of his body and said, "These damned bastards, let them be captured by the demons. Bastards who can even fabricate exploration maps don't deserve to live."
"Don't talk so much. We should have thought of this. There isn't even a decent guild in this place. Those snakes, scorpions, and insects will naturally come out."
Soratul leaned on the tree to his right and said, "To be honest, if we're lucky and see that Black Dragon, we really don't know how to fight. The information we've gathered before probably won't count."
"That's true."
After taking a few glances in that direction, Gray shrank back. This was a tall and sturdy man with a face full of stubble and bulging muscles. He held a broadsword with a single edge. He was a warrior in charge of patrolling the camp after setting up camp.
The warrior sat down and took out a piece of smoked meat from his pocket. He took two bites and said to his companion beside him, "I heard that it's an old Black Dragon. We've never hunted one of this age before. Also, this place is its lair. Hey, do you know how wizards equip their mage towers with magic?
I guess it's the same for dragons. "
"It's not the same."
Soratul's expression was solemn and his words were sharp. This guy called himself a ranger, but in reality, he was a thief who acted as a scout and assassin in the team. "There won't be so many squires in a mage tower."
The two of them patrolled the camp in the dark and used idle chatter to drive away the tiredness that was constantly invading them. Gray looked at the snoring tent and suddenly asked, "Hey, miss, I don't think the captain really wants to slay a dragon, right?"
Soratul was, of course, not a woman, but he was very skinny and liked to beat around the bush when fighting. He always hid behind the back and used dirty tricks, so he was affectionately called 'miss' by the members of the team.
"Of course not."
Soratul, who was used to it, did not mind. He continued his companion's words and said, "You didn't see … anything!"
Halfway through his sentence, the thief suddenly shouted and sounded the alarm.
In the darkness, countless fine red dots suddenly appeared. The members of the team who were still sleeping quickly got up and picked up the weapons in their hands. They looked around vigilantly.
The camp had been surrounded.
Gnolls walked out of the darkness with grins on their faces. They held the same standard flail in their hands, and most of them were wearing light armor. They greedily stared at the humans in the encirclement, sticky saliva dripping from their mouths.
"Gnolls?"
The leader of the team walked out of the tent and looked at the number of gnolls around. He was slightly relieved, but then he frowned and said, "There aren't many of them. But why are these guys wearing armor?
They look like humans. "
He even suspected that he had seen wrongly. Gnolls were the greediest and most ferocious race. They would not communicate with other intelligent species, and their abilities were limited. Even the simplest light armor was not something these gnolls could make.
Where did these gnolls get their armor?