Frey was crouching beside Newt, staring in a daze at a line of centipede ants on the ground.
These little creatures were pitch-black all over.
Each pair of legs resembled a miniature scalpel, and their backs gleamed with a metallic luster as they worked together to carry a leaf many times their size.
“Grandfather,” Frey suddenly said, “can we do some magical beast breeding? I mean, on a large scale.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’ve been thinking about it. Organizations like the Nine Dragons Society exist because of profit. Poachers risk their lives because rare materials are marked up to astronomical prices on the black market.”
He pointed toward the backpack:
“What if we bred magical beasts ourselves? For example, that Peruvian Vipertooth inside. Its periodically shed dragon scales, its molted skin, even periodically harvesting a tiny bit of blood that doesn’t affect its health. If we can steadily produce these materials and drive down the black market prices, the profit from poaching will shrink. Without hyper-profits, the Nine Dragons Society won’t have any motivation. And with money, we can build a real, massive sanctuary in Scotland or somewhere to take in those little guys made homeless by deforestation or war, instead of just stuffing them into a bag.”
“Take a test tube and gather some of these ants. Use some sap to draw a line into the test tube; they’ll crawl in on their own. Ask those stubborn old folks at St. Mungo’s later if they need centipede ant stingers to treat that endless seasonal arthritis.”
Frey’s eyes lit up: “Grandfather, does this mean you agree?”
“The Scamander family is yours to run in the future.
I’m just an old man about to retire.
But you must remember, Frey.
We must guarantee their living conditions.
Material harvesting must be painless and dignified.
If we cause them pain for profit, we’re no different from the Nine Dragons Society.
And… you have to calculate the costs.
The cost of artificial feeding is different from the cost of poachers picking them up in the wild.
It might not be profitable.”
“We can do deep processing,” Frey said confidently.
“Find someone to turn them into potions or alchemical products. Kneazles can be sold directly to pet shops.”
“Try it on a small scale first,” Newt mumbled.
“But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Your study workload for the next school year is terrifyingly heavy. Don’t fall behind on the important business in two years.”
Just then, Hermione and Long Jiu emerged from the backpack, and Newt immediately fell silent.
Hermione had changed Long Jiu into a very ordinary white T-shirt.
But on the voluptuous Long Jiu, who was a full head taller than her, the originally loose T-shirt was stretched into a tight-fitting crop top.
Frey stared at Long Jiu’s swelling curves, his breath catching slightly.
He couldn’t tell if this was a purely teenage flutter or the influence of the dragon blood.
Hermione turned to look at the fabric-stretching bulge on Long Jiu’s chest, then looked down at her own reasonably well-proportioned curves, and finally at Frey’s eyes glued to Long Jiu…
“All my clothes were bought according to a normal girl’s size,” Hermione snapped, slamming her notebook shut.
“They certainly weren’t meant for some… wild beast.”
Long Jiu seemed not to notice the hostility in her words.
Stepping in her high heels, she softly said, “I’ll go get some food.”
The moment she finished speaking, her figure twisted, and the Taowu landed, silently slipping into the dense forest.
Disappearing with her was Banco, who had been tied to the tree.
A few minutes later, the originally quiet upper reaches of the river suddenly churned with a muddy, turbid current.
It seemed some massive creature was fleeing frantically underwater.
Almost at the same time, the Taowu leaped out of the jungle.
“Roar!”
A muffled, low roar exploded underwater.
The three of them only saw water splashing everywhere.
The Taowu lunged into the water, churning up massive muddy waves.
Then, locking its thick, powerful forelimbs around a struggling creature, it dragged it onto the pile of rocks by the shore.
It was a black caiman, but strangely, it had no tail.
“That easy?” Hermione looked at the caiman, whose throat was pierced by Long Jiu’s saber-teeth.
“Fine, I admit you’re still quite useful. But… where’s the caiman’s tail? I remember Dick saying caiman tail meat is the most delicious.”
The Taowu shook its soaking black fur, playfully splashing water all over Hermione.
Then, in a play of light and shadow, it transformed back into Long Jiu.
Pointing toward where the caiman had drifted from, she said:
“There are seven or eight river wolves over there. Those maniacs eat nothing but caiman tails. This guy was cornered by them and ran into me in its blind panic. I just got an easy bargain.”
As she spoke, she took a blowpipe from her waist and handed it to Frey.
Without further word, she dragged the caiman and crawled back into the backpack to process it.
Newt’s sharp eyes noticed that the blowpipe was the very one the Shuar man, Banco, had used to shoot him.
“You’re injured,” Hermione cried out, catching sight of something and stopping Long Jiu.
Long Jiu looked down.
There were indeed several thin, long scratches on her waist and arm.
“It’s fine. Hand-to-hand combat makes it inevitable,” Long Jiu laughed carelessly.
“I heal fast. It’ll be gone in a few days.”
Hermione stood frozen for a moment, then turned to Frey.
To guard against potential pursuers from the Third Salem, the four of them set off in a hurry, eating dinner on the dugout canoe.
The canoe drifted like a lonely fallen leaf along the fast-flowing river.
The four of them sat in a circle in the cabin, each holding a golden, roasted, dripping caiman claw.
Long Jiu’s cooking skills were indeed excellent.
Even under crude conditions, she used spices from the bag to give the caiman meat a unique, exotic flavor.
However, unfortunately, besides the caiman meat, Frey’s plate had four neatly stacked roasted potatoes.
Hermione had placed them there herself.
“You’re big, eat more,” Hermione said, gracefully tearing at the caiman meat, not even looking up as she stuffed another potato into Frey’s bowl.
“I know this is your favorite. Eat it all, no wasting.”
Frey looked at the pile of potatoes, his mouth twitching.
He thought despairingly: *Tonight, I’m definitely going to dream of potato spirits riding broomsticks to hunt me down.*
“Long Jiu,” Frey quickly changed the subject, “you said earlier that you have a way to send a letter to Britain?”
Long Jiu, who was eating with zero regard for her image, pulled a crumpled paper crane from her pocket, flattened it out, and handed it over.
“This is the last one. Write whatever you want to say all at once, and make sure the address is clear. When you’re done, burn it with fire. Tell your people to meet us in Iquitos, Peru.”
“How does it know where to go?” Hermione leaned in curiously.
“It goes to the United States Postal Service in Miami, and their owls there will handle the subsequent overseas delivery.” Long Jiu explained with her mouth stuffed full of food.
“Isn’t a post office in Quito or Brazil closer?” Hermione asked.
Long Jiu gave Frey a strange look.
“I hadn’t had time to go to the Quito post office to bind the location before I was pinned against the wall. Seriously, I’ve never met anyone in my life who could restrain me with sheer brute force.”
Long Jiu grabbed a half-bitten potato from Frey’s plate, completely unfazed by his germs, and took a big bite.
“If you’re not eating this, give it to me. We Maledictuses consume a lot of energy. Just don’t complain that I eat too much.”
Frey felt as if he had received a grand pardon.
Ignoring Hermione’s glare, he quickly pushed the rest of the potatoes in front of her.
Newt unfolded the paper crane and quickly wrote a letter to Rolf.
Frey pulled out his wand and ignited the paper crane.
In a strange wisp of smoke, the paper crane seemed suddenly injected with a soul.
It flapped its wings in midair a few times, traced a golden stream of light, and vanished into the sky.
“Incredible…” Hermione marveled.
“It’s just Chinese talisman technique. I can’t use spells, so I can only buy this stuff for self-defense.”
Long Jiu gripped the wooden paddle again, stabilizing their direction.
“Hold on tight. A few more miles ahead and we’ll enter the gorge. The Third Salem won’t choose to cross the gorge. I hid from them here last year. Once we get in, we’ll be temporarily safe for tonight.”