Jean, with her high standards, was a force to reckon with. "In our world, there are over a dozen dragon types, but the most revered are split into four categories: the powerful elemental dragons at the pinnacle, followed by the sturdy metal dragons, the neutral gem dragons, and lastly, the notorious five-color dragons of the chaotic evil camp."
"The five-color dragons, weak and despised for their malevolence and chaos, aren't typically acknowledged as true-blooded dragons by their peers."
This perception had permeated widely. Despite their full dragon lineage, their lesser strength and chaotic nature spurred the belief that they were not 'real' dragons.
"It's a bit of an ironic twist," Logan mused aloud, "considering that in many dragon-slaying tales spread across the mainland, these five-color dragons often emerge as the central figures, overshadowing even the dragon beasts and mutant dragons."
Holding the dragon blood potion in his grasp, Logan felt a surge of appreciation for Jean's father, who had so readily offered such a valuable gift despite their brief acquaintance.
"What are you staring at? Just drink it already!" Jean chided, a hint of impatience lacing her voice.
"I'm right here," she continued. "If anything feels off, just let me know, and I'll help you through it."
"Alright!" With a nod, Logan removed the potion's cap, bracing himself against the strong scent of blood emanating from within. It was a valuable concoction, after all.
Suddenly, the system chimed in unexpectedly:
Potion: Dragon Blood Potion
Level: Grandmaster
Composition: A blend containing one ten-thousandth of a quasi-legendary white old dragon's blood, and one percent of its heart, expertly crafted by a grandmaster alchemist.
Safety level: Perfect, no adverse effects known.
Stunned by the system's proactive analysis, Logan paused, realizing the true potency of what he was about to consume.
The so-called quasi-legendary white dragon, it turns out, belonged to the elderly and least impressive of the five-color dragons.
"It's recorded that these old dragons live for at least four hundred years," Logan reflected, comparing this dragon's age to his relatively young in-laws; his father-in-law was only fifty-one, and his brother-in-law Fisher just thirty-one. Quite the disparity in age without achieving legendary status.
As he tilted the bottle, the dragon's blood potion slid down his throat. Initially, there was only the metallic tang of blood, but as the last of the liquid passed his lips, an intense chill spread through his body, as if he had swallowed an iceberg.
"Don't be alarmed," Jean reassured him with a knowing smile, her emerald eyes twinkling mischievously. "The white dragon is an ice type, its blood infused with icy elements. Just endure it for a moment."
Almost immediately, system notifications chimed:
Occupation:
- Level 5 Warrior (Experience 67/100) (Reputation 2478/1000) (Practice 9/10)
- Level 1 Ice Mage (Experience 67/100) (Reputation 2478/1000) (Practice 3/10)
Position: Chief of the Silvermane Tribe
Population: 3873
Soldiers: 753 warriors, 206 warg cavalry
Territory: 1620 square kilometers
Notable Establishments: Mall (opened)
Special Abilities: Professor Inheritance (already activated), Sub-professional Inheritance (already activated)
Logan observed the status report before him, his young features reflecting a mix of surprise and determination. Promoted to the esteemed fifth level, with his cultivation nearing a perfect 9/10, the prospect of ascending to the next level was tantalizingly close. A mere push, and he could ascend to the esteemed rank of a sixth-level warrior.
The suggestion for a reputation breakthrough stirred a flurry of emotions within Logan. Memories of his clashes with the formidable Jean flooded his mind, a reminder of the trials he had faced as he remembered being taken advantage off. The temptation to bolster his reputation was undeniable, a chance to reclaim his honor from past encounters where he felt overpowered.
Yet, a shrewd calculation prevailed in Logan' mind. With his cultivation on the brink of advancement, a premature reputation breakthrough would only squander his potential. Patiently, he resolved to bide his time, to maximize his gains. Why settle for incremental progress when a strategic delay could yield exponential rewards?
Thus, with a firm resolve, Logan resisted the allure of instant gratification. He chose to prioritize long-term gains over immediate rewards, poised to seize the moment when the time was ripe for an optimal leap in his journey of martial prowess.
Turning off the system interface, Logan quickly put on his clothes. He didn't know whether it was him or Jean who took off his clothes last night, but right now he was completely naked.
After slipping into his attire, Logan descended the staircase, his footsteps echoing through the silent halls, a stark contrast to the bustling morning outside. As he approached the dining area, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint scent of pancakes.
"Morning," Logan greeted, glancing at the empty seat where Jean usually sat. His absence lingered like a silent question in the room.
"It must have been quite painful for him," Logan mused aloud, his voice carrying a hint of concern. "Running off at dawn like that."
As he settled at the table, the conversation shifted, Tyton's eyebrows knitting together in surprise as Logan unveiled his plan.
"You're planing to buy slaves?" Tyton's voice carried a mix of astonishment and curiosity, mirrored by the intrigued expressions of Cardia and the others gathered around the table.
Logan nodded, his expression resolute. "Yes, indeed. I'll be returning to the tribe in a few days. And when I do, I'll be bringing back those Beastmen and quilboars who aren't keen on staying here. But with the inevitable manpower shortage upon my return, hiring a group of slaves seems like the prudent choice."