"What?! It's actually real?"
The Research Commission members around the table let out simultaneous exclamations of shock. The scholar who had spoken first was so excited that his face flushed deep red, his eyes locked obsessively on the feathered scale lying on the table, utterly entranced.
"That's it! I saw identical scales on that white creature's tail. Just like a Nargacuga's, they're specialized structures for ranged attacks. But this scale is far more beautiful than a Nargacuga's—look at that pure white sheen, the elegant curve, how thin yet sharp it is. It's practically a naturally forged dagger.
I'd bet its value far exceeds gold of the same weight—at least 3000z or more."
"That's not the point!"
A young man in a white scholar's robe and glasses couldn't help but interject.
"A hybrid of Zinogre and Nargacuga—if such a creature truly exists, it would completely overturn current taxonomic theory. How could money possibly measure that? We need to gather more data on it. Ideally, capture it alive for a detailed physical examination.
Unfortunately, we're severely short-staffed right now. Who knows when the Second Fleet will finally arrive."
The young man with brownish-dark skin sitting at the head of the table pondered briefly before speaking:
"Next year should be the scheduled date. A large group of artisans will arrive then, and manpower will ease up considerably. As for that white creature—who's willing to continue the investigation?"
"I'll go!" The girl in sleeveless leather armor raised her hand. "I don't have any current tasks anyway, and I already have some leads on this creature. It probably won't take long to track it down."
"Good. Then Yuan Ye will take charge of this matter."
...
Logan had no idea he'd already been targeted. At that moment, he was sprawled comfortably in his spacious lair, lying on his back and sleeping soundly.
He wasn't worried about sneak attacks from other creatures. He had long ago strung countless spider silk threads throughout the long tunnel, dangling empty fruit shells filled with small pebbles. Anyone unfamiliar with the path would inevitably make noise if they tried to enter.
In his drowsy haze, he seemed to smell something singed—like the time as a kid when he accidentally burned his hair playing with fireworks. Then he heard a pitiful whimper. Opening his eyes, he saw a disheveled Zhu Peiniang limping in from outside the cave.
Her once-beautiful deep blue scales were now covered in soot and scorch marks. Her white mane was burned and curled, still dotted with black flecks.
"Something happened?"
The sight instantly snapped Logan awake. He leaped up from the ground and hurried over to examine Zhu Peiniang closely.
It was clearly the result of fire damage. Fortunately, she had escaped quickly—her scales looked blackened but weren't truly burned through. The fur was only singed on the surface and would likely regrow in ten days to half a month.
This realization eased Logan's heart. He began low, rumbling growls, asking what had happened.
Their long time together, combined with Zhu Peiniang's decent intelligence, allowed her to convey the gist of events. Though not detailed, Logan picked up key words: successful hunt, huge flying monster, fire breath, stole it.
Piecing them together, Logan quickly reconstructed the story: Zhu Peiniang's kill had been stolen by a massive flying monster that breathed fire.
His first thought was Rathalos. As one of the most successful Flying Wyvern species in this world, Rathalos were universally powerful, highly adaptable, and came in all sorts of bizarre subspecies.
The Great Ant Mound Wasteland happened to be a habitat for some Rathian. This season, their eggs should have hatched, with the juveniles growing rapidly and developing enormous appetites—yet still lacking full independence. This put tremendous hunting pressure on the mothers, making it unsurprising they'd steal prey from others.
Logan immediately had Zhu Peiniang lead the way. He wanted to see which bold bastard dared bully his "pup."
Of course, if the opponent proved too strong, a tactical retreat was perfectly acceptable. Rathalos weren't small fry like Bullfango or Velocidrome—they were massive, powerfully built, capable of terrifying flame breath, and most crucially… they could fly.
It had to be said: the Flying Wyverns of this world were absurd. Aside from a few disgraceful exceptions, nearly all occupied mid-to-upper tiers of the food chain. Flight was an innate advantage, but they also possessed bizarre breath weapons and robust, muscular bodies.
Think about real-world birds, bats, and pterosaurs: to achieve flight, they paid enormous costs—sacrificing ground speed, extreme lightweighting, and the ability to engage in intense close combat.
Take Quetzalcoatlus, for example: roughly giraffe-sized yet weighing under 300 kg—barely a fifth of a giraffe's mass.
Flying Wyverns, however, were entirely different. Armored in scales, powerfully muscled, some even covered in rocks—most could go toe-to-toe with Fanged or Brute Wyverns of similar size. They truly had the best of both worlds.
...
With Logan backing her up, Zhu Peiniang's spirits visibly lifted. She strode boldly out of the cave, leading him straight toward the swamp.
As the largest water source nearby, the swamp sustained countless plants and animals. Beyond abundant fish, the sheer number of herbivores alone made it a prime hunting ground rivaling the Ancient Forest.
They crossed the rocky badlands, feet crunching on dry, hard yellow sand. The farther they went, the heavier the air's humidity became, and the ground gradually softened.
Cooler temperatures seemed to have little impact on the swamp's vegetation. Calamus and water celery remained lush green, duckweed floated vibrantly on the water's surface, and the reeds along the shallows had bloomed with white plumes.
Following Zhu Peiniang, Logan arrived beneath a weeping willow in the adjacent jungle. This water-loving tree had developed red aerial roots clustered like dense capillaries. Like dawn redwoods, it could take root in muddy shallows.
But now, most of the willow's green leaves were charred, its branches yellowed and blackened, with faint embers still glowing on the bark.
At the roots lay a pool of dark red blood. The soft mud bore massive footprints. From scattered fur around the site, the Rath must have eaten part of the prey here before flying off with the rest to its nest.
---