Chapter 26: The Evil Dragon and the Knight (Starts of Arc 2)

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Chapter 1

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The story begins with a defense and attack game.

Since it was the weekend and summer vacation, the usually quiet elderly care center was especially lively that day with people coming for the big game. An hour had passed, but no winner had emerged yet. The atmosphere was extremely tense.

“Zhuo’er!! Come out and eat!”

His mom’s voice was piercing.

Zhuo’er stared at the computer screen, not even turning his head, he raised his voice, “I know! You guys eat first, don’t mind me, just leave some for me!”

“Every day, it’s just about playing games! Now that it’s vacation, how many times have you even stepped outside?! Can’t you just pause that stupid game? Can’t you wait until after dinner to continue?!”

Zhuo’er’s father, a man who feared his wife, could see that his wife was angry, so he carefully ate his meal, trying to avoid making any noise. He didn’t dare let his chopsticks touch the edge of the bowl, fearing that even the smallest sound would bring the wrath onto him.

But even with all this caution, he still couldn’t escape being scolded.

Everyone knew that when someone was angry, it was impossible to reason with them. Anything would make them angrier. Zhuo’er’s mom rambled on for a while, and when she turned to look at her husband, who was eating like nothing was wrong, her anger flared up even more.

“You! You, as a father, can’t you even manage your son? What else can I expect from you?!” And with that, she started digging up old grievances, “When I was pregnant with Zhuo’er, you were exactly like this…”

Zhuo’er, on the other hand, was already used to it. He could even tell the progress of the argument just by the vague sounds coming from outside. “Looks like it’s going to take a while,” he thought, completely absorbed in his game at a crucial moment, unable to spare any attention to her.

His mom had said these things to him more than once.

Although Zhuo’er’s mother usually didn’t play games and preferred to watch dramas, she genuinely believed that games could be paused just like her TV shows on her tablet—something she could watch whenever she wanted and pause at will.

Zhuo’er had explained countless times to his mom that games were different. Once the game started, there was no pause button; you had to wait for a match to end. If he left midway, his teammates would lose.

It seemed that the old grievances were finally wrapping up. Zhuo’er took off one of his earphones, and, knowing the drill, he raised his voice towards the door, “Hey! You guys eat first! So annoying!”

He didn’t even need to listen closely to know what his mom was saying.

“How could that happen? How could I be angry? I can hear your voice, and it sounds pretty strong. And this was something you promised.”

At the start of the new school year in his senior year, Zhuo’er’s mom had promised him that as long as he did well in the college entrance exams, even if he didn’t get into a top-tier school but managed to get into a second-tier one, she wouldn’t bother him.

In the end, who could have predicted that during the exams, Zhuo’er performed exceptionally well, even better than in the practice tests. He barely made it into the first-tier school line, just scraping by.

This brought immense joy to the whole family.

So, during this summer vacation, when all the other students were either preparing to retake exams or planning vacations, Zhuo’er stayed at home, playing games in retaliation. At first, his parents were too busy celebrating to bother him much.

Even his father, who was afraid of his wife, was so happy that he secretly pulled out some savings to treat him, saying the name they had given him was perfect.

Zhuo’er had heard the story of his name many times.

Zhuo’er, Zhuo’er, someone who stands out.

“Then why didn’t you name me Zhuo Buqun (meaning ‘doesn’t blend in’)?” Zhuo’er said jokingly.

His dad gave him a light tap on the head, “Come on, let’s have a drink, just the two of us.”

That summer, Zhuo’er finally turned eighteen.

He was officially an adult.

But in reality, Zhuo’er was still in the late stages of a “second adolescence.”

During the time preparing for the college entrance exams, while other parents might have been worried about early romance, Zhuo’er’s parents were also concerned about this, so they searched his room and finally found a locked box.

Eagerly, they opened it, only to find a bunch of Gundam models and an Ultraman transformation device. There wasn’t a single item related to girls.

In the end, they subtly asked Zhuo’er about his relationship with the girls in his class and who the “class beauty” was. While eating at the dinner table, Zhuo’er looked up, confused, and said, “Huh? How would I know?”

His dad asked, “Do you know that Bandai has released new products…?”

“No, the earliest news only came out last week…”

Bandai is a company primarily known for producing Gundam and toy models. Zhuo’er’s dad was frustrated. His son knew so much about new Bandai products, but when it came to the girls in his class… there was no sign of interest whatsoever.

Zhuo’er’s dad was disappointed.

His son was quite handsome, so why couldn’t he just figure things out?

Zhuo’er, however, was completely unaware of his parents’ concerns and remained immersed in his game world.

Zhuo’er had a very strong rebellious streak, and he tuned out his parents’ constant nagging. Eventually, he locked his door and played games non-stop for two days.

Then, he suddenly… died of a heart attack.

Right before losing consciousness, the last thing he remembered was hearing an inexplicable voice in his head.

The voice asked him if he wanted to live. Well, that was a no-brainer—he had no hesitation at all and immediately chose to live.

Wait, what did the voice say it was?

Something like 58? 58 what city?

—[It’s 258.]

—[Oh, oh, oh… 258, 258, then where am I now? Why does this not sound like what you told me before…?]

Zhuo’er felt like he was in a completely enclosed space, pitch black, unable to see anything. He didn’t know where he was, and everything around him felt sticky.

Surprisingly, though, Zhuo’er didn’t feel any difficulty breathing, suffocating, or discomfort. In fact, he felt strangely comfortable, though he couldn’t quite explain why.

—[After detection, you are currently… inside an eggshell.]

—[What the hell!! Are you messing with me?? Didn’t you promise I’d be a mighty and fierce dragon?!]

The mechanical voice paused for two seconds, seemingly unable to comprehend the current situation. It then responded, saying it would check what went wrong.

After about ten seconds, the voice returned, speaking in a completely flat, emotionless tone, apologizing.

—[Due to your previous unauthorized actions, an error occurred during the transfer process. You are indeed a dragon, but there was a slight timing mistake…]

Zhuo’er’s ability to accept this situation came easily to him, mainly because he had read or played hundreds of novels, anime, and games about reincarnation into other worlds throughout his life.

The term “system” wasn’t foreign to him, so when a mysterious voice in his head told him that if he wanted to live again, he needed to go to another world for some kind of mission, he didn’t hesitate at all and immediately agreed. He even secretly looked forward to his new life. I’m the protagonist, right?!

For a while, Zhuo’er genuinely believed that everything around him was an NPC and that he was the only real person, with everyone else revolving around him. He thought he surely had some important mission to complete…

He often fantasized about what his future would be like.

The system’s words were too long to remember, and Zhuo’er never really paid attention to everything it said. He only selectively caught keywords that interested him.

For instance, he heard the system say that he would be transported to a Western fantasy world, one full of various races and continents. He would be reborn as a blood-red evil dragon… but as for the other details, he didn’t listen.

It seemed there was some kind of mission he needed to complete.

[… I think you should really pay attention to the instructions.]

The first tasker of 258 was very obedient and listened carefully to everything, following all the instructions without question. When told to close his eyes, he did so. When told not to open his eyes during the transfer process, he truly didn’t open them.

The second tasker, however, was a bit more rebellious, not as obedient. Even though they were about the same age, the difference between them was huge…

Humans… are truly strange creatures.

258 had two prerequisites for sensing a tasker: one, the person must have a strong and clear desire to achieve something, and two, their soul must be pure and untainted.

Every protagonist in a small world carries the essence of that world, but to approach the essence requires a soul of great purity. If someone with malicious intent tries to get close, they will be rejected by the world.

As for the memory of the previous tasker, it was automatically wiped when they left. So, 258 couldn’t remember their appearance or name, only that they were probably a very quiet child.

[Let’s see if there’s anything I shouldn’t see…]

Zhuo’er, being in his rebellious phase, completely ignored the system’s advice, or perhaps he didn’t hear clearly when the system told him not to open his eyes.

The system’s transfer corridor contained countless past lives and futures. In a sense, it was a timeline in motion, and if someone saw something they weren’t supposed to, their own timeline would naturally be disrupted.

[… I… I know I was wrong. I’ll listen this time.]

Zhuo’er immediately apologized when he realized it was his fault. He was very good at apologizing, especially at home. He was the type to easily bend and stretch.

As for the so-called corridor of time, Zhuo’er didn’t really understand much. He vaguely saw his childhood, along with many small boxes, densely packed together. He saw a colorful scene, glimpses of various lives, and the many forms of existence…

[… I’ll repeat it again.]

When Zhuo’er was in school, he hated language class the most because the teacher always read the text in such a… hypnotic way. The system’s voice had the same effect, even more effective than their teacher’s hypnotic tone.

[… Did you… fall asleep?]

258 suddenly began to miss the previous tasker!

258 felt it was important and repeated it three times.

Zhuo’er, however, listened carefully this time.

Basically, he was now a vicious dragon… or rather, a dragon egg.

Originally, he should have been a large, fully grown, evil dragon—one that often terrorized nearby towns after sneaking out of the dragon race’s lair, and in the future, would abduct a beautiful princess from a kingdom.

And such a bad, evil dragon would, of course, be slain by a righteous knight. Afterward, the knight would live happily ever after with the princess—this was the perfect, widely anticipated ending.

Zhuo’er was meant to play the role of this evil dragon: harassing towns in the beginning, and later, being slain by the knight after kidnapping the princess.

The task was fairly simple, with little difficulty.

What was more challenging was the so-called protagonist’s wish.

But even that wasn’t too hard. Zhuo’er could easily see from the story that as long as the protagonist killed him, they would earn the achievement of slaying a dragon and successfully join the knight’s order.

However, things went wrong now because of Zhuo’er’s own issue—he had transformed from a wicked, adult dragon into a young dragon still in its egg.

So, the progress of the task was marked with three question marks.

[This is a bug.]

“Sorry, I really know I was wrong.”

If Zhuo’er’s mother were here, she would immediately notice his lack of sincerity. After all, she had heard this phrase so many times over the years that it had become second nature to her.

Apologies didn’t help; no matter how many times Zhuo’er said it, it couldn’t change the fact that he was still trapped inside an egg. Apparently, the protagonist was still at the tavern, drowning his sorrows, and it would take a while before he would be tricked into accepting the bounty to kill the dragon.

In the protagonist’s script, he didn’t manage to kill the dragon in the first encounter. However, because of that first clash, when the dragon kidnapped the princess the next day, the protagonist was able to be the first to track it down…

As for Zhuo’er breaking out of his egg… the system said it would take at least three months.

Three months was enough for Zhuo’er to read through the protagonist Morrison’s life script countless times, to the point where he could recite it with his eyes closed.

During the remaining time, he kept pestering the system. At first, 258 would respond, but eventually, it just played dead and ignored him. Without anyone to chat with, Zhuo’er felt even lonelier.

He wasn’t hungry, just very lonely.

He could hear sounds from the outside. At first, he couldn’t distinguish them, but eventually, he was able to recognize the sound of flowing water, and even identify which bird was singing based on its call.

Zhuo’er was in the Red Cliff Valley, a very steep mountain peak. He wasn’t at the top but at the bottom of the cliff. Around noon, a bit of sunlight would shine in, so he could judge the passage of time based on the temperature of the egg shell.

He often thought back to the game he was playing before he died. Fortunately, he had finished it, or he would have been scolded—he was the main damage dealer in his team, after all.

—Still think I shouldn’t have switched that…

—The materials for the new event aren’t even finished…

—Would my parents miss me?

At first, Zhuo’er tried to count the days, figuring out when the protagonist’s progress would match up with the timeline, but as time passed, he stopped worrying about that.

After what felt like a long time, he finally felt the egg shaking, and he heard a series of strange foreign languages he couldn’t understand.

[System, system, system.]

Zhuo’er began calling out loudly for the system.

[This is serious, don’t ignore me. Come on! Come out!]

[…Speak.]

[You didn’t reply when I asked you to give me a golden finger earlier, fine. But now I can’t even understand what they’re saying, how am I supposed to do the task?]

[…]

Zhuo’er finally managed to convince the system with persistence and patience.

By that time, he could feel that he was being lifted. The protagonist first poked him, then looked around. Zhuo’er couldn’t tell exactly how big he was, but from the tone of the protagonist’s voice, he could tell that he wasn’t very big either.

The protagonist then said something about him being the egg of a small beast. Hearing this, Zhuo’er immediately reacted by shaking in displeasure. He was a dragon, after all!!

Zhuo’er had an extraordinary obsession and fascination with dragons.

Even though he was just a young dragon now, he was still a dragon!!

The protagonist, who seemed quite knowledgeable, carefully examined him and muttered a lot of things Zhuo’er couldn’t understand.

After the system gave its consent, Zhuo’er finally understood what the protagonist was saying. From the sound of his voice, he appeared to be a middle-aged man, with a slightly hoarse, distinctly foreign tone.

Zhuo’er recognized the type of voice—it sounded like the deep, husky voice he often heard online…

What was it called again? A “smoking voice”?

‘Could it… be its child?’ The protagonist immediately dismissed this thought. ‘It’s unlikely. Abyssal dragons are very strict with their young; they shouldn’t just leave them at the bottom of a cliff like this.’

“Could it be the egg of a lili beast?”

Just as the protagonist finished speaking, he felt the egg in his hand wobble slightly, as though the little creature inside was expressing its dissatisfaction.

“Oh?” Morrison spoke with a tone of curiosity, his expression very serious. Unfortunately, Zhuo’er, still in the egg, didn’t realize it. Morrison raised his voice a little, “Oh, it’s not? It’s a dragon egg then?”

After saying this, Morrison kept his eyes fixed on the egg, carefully watching even the slightest movement. The egg, adorned with intricate patterns, remained still.

Morrison pretended to pick up the egg and examine it closely. “But… it doesn’t seem like it…” As soon as he finished speaking, the egg began to wobble.

As expected, the little creature inside was reacting to the outside world and might even be able to understand what he was saying!

Zhuo’er had no idea what expression the protagonist had on his face. He only heard him muttering to himself for a while before preparing to put him down and give up.

That couldn’t happen! The system had said that after meeting the protagonist, Zhuo’er had to stay with him; otherwise, after hatching, he would go through a period of weakness… The system had specifically warned that if he died here, he would truly die—it wasn’t a joke.

The cold, emotionless tone of the system’s voice still echoed in his ears.

Fortunately, Morrison seemed like a good person. Zhuo’er even remembered that in the storyline, Morrison was supposed to be an orphan?

Perhaps it was because he was genuinely lonely, Morrison stayed in the Red Cliff Valley for a few more days. Not only did he make a simple little nest for Zhuo’er out of twigs, but he also laid down a soft bed of grass…

As for how Zhuo’er was able to see the outside world, it was, of course, the result of pestering the system relentlessly for a long, long time.

Through this, he finally got a look at the protagonist, Morrison.

Morrison had the quintessential Western face—sharp features, deep-set eyes, and slightly messy hair. His eyes were a pale shade of purple. Even under a somewhat oversized cloak, Zhuo’er could make out the well-defined muscles beneath. He was tall as well…

“…Tsk, no wonder this is the guy who slays dragons,” Zhuo’er thought to himself.

Morrison, not being a wizard and unable to read minds, had no idea what the little creature inside the egg was thinking. Initially, he stayed out of curiosity, intending to observe the egg.

He often ventured into desolate and perilous places, so for him, the seemingly dangerous and beast-filled Red Cliff Valley felt no different from any ordinary valley.

If anything, Red Cliff Valley was quieter, likely because humans rarely set foot there. Morrison set up a campfire by the stream and expertly caught fish to grill.

Zhuo’er watched as Morrison pulled one item after another from a small pouch that was barely the size of a palm. Out came various spices, as if the bag was connected to another dimension. It was like a certain blue robot’s treasure chest! Morrison even took out a jug of wine and a large jar of pickled fruits.

“What is that?! System!”

“It’s a type of storage pouch.”

“So cool, like a portable space! I want one too, I want one too!”

“…If you befriend a magician or wizard in the future, maybe they can make one for you…”

Zhuo’er, wanting everything he saw, acted like an overgrown child. The previous tasker had almost never asked the system for anything and would sometimes even apologize if they felt they weren’t performing well.

Zhuo’er, on the other hand, would also apologize, but his apologies were perfunctory at best.

---

While grilling meat, Morrison would often talk to the egg. He knew the creature inside could understand him, though he wasn’t sure to what extent it was sentient yet.

Regardless, Morrison, who hadn’t had normal human interaction for ages, found his alcohol-fogged mind clearing somewhat in the solitude of the Red Cliff Valley. He ended up talking to the egg about his past.

Zhuo’er was already well-acquainted with Morrison’s backstory, having gone over it repeatedly before meeting him. The last time Zhuo’er had been this studious was probably before his college entrance exams.

He could hear Morrison chewing and swallowing and could see him devouring chunks of meat. Just imagining the taste of grilled fish made Zhuo’er salivate.

—When can I finally hatch?

—I’m so hungry, so hungry…

In truth, Zhuo’er could feel himself wrapped in a thin membrane, which wasn’t particularly uncomfortable. That membrane provided him with all the nutrients he needed.

If he could observe himself from a third-person perspective, he’d clearly see the thin blood vessels spread across the egg membrane, all connected to his body.

From a biological standpoint, Zhuo’er wasn’t actually hungry.

His hunger was purely psychological—what could be called “eye hunger.” Watching Morrison eat made him want to eat, even if his stomach wasn’t truly empty.

Unfortunately, Zhuo’er’s thoughts and feelings couldn’t be conveyed to Morrison.

The protagonist, Morrison, was indeed agile. He rarely relied on the food from his storage pouch. Instead, he would disappear for a while, either in the morning or around noon, and when he returned, he’d be carrying or shouldering the carcass of some small beast.

The most common prey was an animal called the “Lili Beast,” known for its abundance of meat. According to the system, they were fairly nimble herbivores that looked like oversized rabbits—but much uglier than rabbits.

While skinning and processing the carcasses, Morrison would often talk to Zhuo’er.

“Yo! I’m back. Little Lili.”

“Little Lili” was what Morrison had called Zhuo’er since the beginning. No matter how many times Zhuo’er protested, it was all in vain. After all, he was just an egg and couldn’t do much to stop Morrison from calling him that.

Over time, Zhuo’er became so numb to it that he stopped trying to correct Morrison’s mistake. He consoled himself that “Lili” sounded decent enough—it wasn’t some nonsensical or embarrassing nickname.

Morrison would tell Zhuo’er stories about the places he had visited, and Zhuo’er was utterly fascinated by these adventure tales, listening with rapt attention every day.

For a while, the man and the egg coexisted peacefully—until one day, Morrison told Zhuo’er that he would be leaving for two days. He said he needed to visit the nearest town outside Red Cliff Valley, claiming he had received a signal from a friend and had something to ask of them.

And with that, the protagonist left…

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What Morrison didn’t know was that on the second day after his departure, the egg that had remained still for so long finally… hatched.

When Zhuo’er wanted to crawl out, the system suggested he wait a little longer, but having been cooped up inside the egg for so long, Zhuo’er couldn’t care less. He impatiently squeezed through a tiny crack in the shell.

Newborn dragons were incredibly fragile.

Covered in a layer of translucent, sticky egg membrane, Zhuo’er was immediately uncomfortable. However, he didn’t pay much attention to such small details—his overwhelming emotion was excitement.

Finally, he could smell fresh air. Looking down, the first thing he noticed was his claws. After being used to seeing hands, he found the sight of animal-like claws a bit disorienting.

Additionally, the way his beastly pupils refracted light felt different from human vision, making everything seem slightly off. But the most important thing… was the claws.

They were pink claws! His tender, newly-formed skin was so delicate that he could see faint red blood vessels beneath it.

At first, Zhuo’er didn’t realize that these claws were part of his own body. He moved them tentatively, and the little pink claws moved along with him.

Lying on the ground, Zhuo’er found that his perspective was quite low. Instinctively, he tried to stand up but found it impossible. Freshly hatched, his bones were still soft, and even crawling a few steps left him utterly exhausted.

In his imagination, he had pictured himself as a majestic dragon. But now? Pink? Pink? It felt so… delicate and girly! Zhuo’er was internally horrified, but what mattered most at the moment was getting a look at himself.

He struggled, panting, as he crawled toward the stream. Using the reflection on the water’s surface, he finally got a good look at his current appearance.

Because he had just hatched, his scales were still soft, their color a gradient of pink and white. Even his eyes were pink.

What the heck?! This wasn’t majestic at all! Even his dragon horns weren’t proper horns yet—just two small bumps on his head. And his wings? Tiny, almost comically so.

[Why?! This looks so weak…]

[You’re just a hatchling. Even for powerful dragon species, the juvenile stage is extremely vulnerable.]

Even 258, the system, couldn’t help but feel a little exasperated.

[Your scales will gradually harden with time, but for now… I recommend you avoid wandering around and get some proper rest.]

If Zhuo’er had a third-person perspective, he’d look like a dazed alien who’d just taken over an unfamiliar body and was struggling to adjust.

---

Unfortunately, he couldn’t see himself from that perspective. And because he had been so restless on the first day after hatching, his still-developing scales hadn’t fully formed yet. After all the exertion, Zhuo’er felt utterly exhausted and had no choice but to curl up in the concealment circle Morrison had set up before leaving.

He clambered back into the remnants of his eggshell, curling up tightly. His tail was still sticking out, so he made an effort to tuck the pink tail back into the shell as well.

[Is the concealment circle he set up really reliable?]

Red Cliff Valley was home to many dangerous beasts. As a newborn hatchling, Zhuo’er had no means of defending himself and could easily end up as someone’s meal.

[It’s reliable,] the system reassured.

Zhuo’er consoled himself that Morrison would return the next day. But when the next day came, Morrison was nowhere to be seen. By evening, snow began to fall in Red Cliff Valley, blanketing everything in white.

The valley had always been a beautiful and remote place rarely visited by humans. Now, with the snowfall, it transformed into an even more breathtaking sight. Every corner shimmered under the snow’s reflection, creating a scene so ethereal it could inspire countless poems on the spot.

If it had been the old Zhuo’er, he might’ve exclaimed something like, “Damn, this is gorgeous!” But by then, he was in no mood to appreciate the stunning snow-covered landscape. He was starving.

Back when he was still inside the egg, the egg membrane had provided him with nutrients, so he had never experienced true hunger. But after hatching, things were different—he needed food to survive.

Although his scales had become slightly tougher than before, he didn’t dare step outside the concealment circle Morrison had set up. It wasn’t out of mere caution but because he had already learned his lesson once.

Two days passed. Three days. Four, five…

When Morrison finally rushed back, it was already the seventh day.

He had originally planned to be gone for at most two days, but unexpected complications delayed him. Based on the egg’s condition, he had thought it would take a few more days to hatch. However, this world was never short of surprises, and the egg hatched earlier than he had anticipated.

By the time Morrison reached the base of the cliff, the first thing he saw was a tiny, pale pink hatchling dragon lying there, chomping on snow. The small dragon cub, sitting in the snow, was biting into the icy mixture of dirt and snow, its little body shivering. As it gnawed, it let out soft whimpering sounds, as if complaining about something. Although Morrison couldn’t understand what it was saying, the faint, weak tone in its voice was unmistakable.

It must have been starving… Morrison could only imagine how long it had survived like this.

Sensing Morrison’s approach, the pink dragonlet immediately lifted its head in alarm. Its pale pink crystal-like eyes were filled with wariness, and its soft scales visibly tensed. It was clear that the concealment powder Morrison had left behind had lost some of its effect over time, leaving the hatchling exposed and vulnerable. Who knew what kind of fright it had endured during this time?

But after a couple of seconds, when the dragonlet realized it was Morrison, it froze for a moment. Then, it started to cry out in short, high-pitched squeaks, the kind of sound a bullied little creature might make upon seeing its caretaker return.

Although Morrison was human and couldn’t understand dragon language, he found the little pink dragon’s cries utterly captivating. Its soft, babyish chirps, combined with its unique pale pink hue, hit right in the center of Morrison’s aesthetic preferences.

The memory of seeing the poor creature gnawing at snow and dirt tugged at his heartstrings. He crouched down, and the little dragon immediately burrowed into his arms. Morrison didn’t pull away, letting it rub its dirt-covered body all over him.

This little dragonlet is surprisingly affectionate, Morrison thought.

From a distance earlier, Morrison had only noticed the dragonlet eating snow and hadn’t paid much attention to anything else. But now, as the little pink dragon lay on his knee, he finally understood why its movements seemed so sluggish before.

One of its claws and the tip of its tail were injured.

The wounds had already scabbed over completely, indicating that they had occurred a few days ago. Being so freshly hatched, the dragonlet’s scales were still thin and soft, smooth to the touch. Its tail and claw areas had even thinner skin, making the wounds stand out starkly in contrast.

Upon closer inspection, the injuries on its claw seemed to be minor scratches, likely from something it encountered. However, the wound on its tail appeared more severe, as if it had been pecked by something.

Despite the state of the injuries, Morrison could almost feel the pain radiating from them just by looking.

The little pink dragon kept yowling at Morrison, its watery pink crystal-like eyes brimming with emotion. When it noticed Morrison looking at its tail, it slowly tucked the injured tail back behind itself.

“Yip-yip-yip… yip… yip…”

Not a single word made sense to him.

Morrison suddenly remembered something and rummaged through his storage pouch, pulling out a small, transparent glass vial filled with a dark red liquid. Drinking it would allow him to understand the dragon’s language—a solution he had delayed his return to obtain.

---

The pink dragon cub, clearly excited, circled him impatiently, letting out rapid, urgent yips. It clawed at him energetically, seeming desperate to communicate something.

As Morrison drank the potion, the previously incomprehensible sounds transformed into words he could understand. Finally, he realized what the little dragon had been trying to say all this time.

What Morrison didn’t know, however, was that there was a slight discrepancy between the actual meaning of Zhou’er’s words and the way they were translated into Morrison’s language.

Zhou’er was actually yelling:

— “Damn it, it hurts like hell!!!”

But what Morrison heard was:

— “It hurts so much… so, so much…”

This tugged at Morrison’s heart, and he reached out to gently pat the soft little bumps on Zhou’er’s head that would one day grow into majestic dragon horns. The texture was soft yet firm—a strangely pleasant feeling.

Zhou’er, meanwhile, was grumbling internally:

— “Where the hell have you been?! I’m starving here! Quick! Did you bring food? Let me smell it!”

He climbed all over Morrison, sniffing furiously, his enhanced dragon sense of smell kicking in.

Morrison, however, heard this:

— “I’m so, so hungry… Do you have any food? Could you give me just a little? I’m so hungry…”

The sight of the tiny dragon scrambling onto him made Morrison instinctively support its small, fragile body. When Zhou’er finally reached his face, he gave Morrison a quick nuzzle near his lips.

Morrison froze in shock, unable to move.

A dragon… just kissed him?!

Zhou’er, in truth, was grumbling:

— “I can’t believe you! Where on earth have you been these past few days?!”

But what Morrison heard was:

— “I missed you so much… I thought something happened to you… I was so worried…”

For the first time in his life, Morrison—a loner who had never cared for children—felt his icy heart melting into a puddle of warmth.

Carefully, he took out a soft, white handkerchief and began cleaning the dirt from Zhou’er’s wounds. There were small pebbles embedded in the injuries. While not too difficult to remove, Morrison worked with meticulous care, not wanting to hurt the little dragon further.

Zhou’er, understanding that Morrison was helping, stayed perfectly still, not even flinching when the wounds were accidentally touched. The tiny, thin scales on his body remained tense, but he endured the process without resistance.

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been gone so long…” Morrison murmured.

The pink dragon’s attention, however, had already wandered. It had spotted the gleaming red gemstone embedded in Morrison’s sword and started pawing at it with fascination.

The sword, usually stored away safely, had been left out by Morrison this time. Knowing dragons were naturally drawn to shiny objects, he wasn’t surprised, though he did worry the little one might hurt himself.

With a small sigh, Morrison applied a bit of force to remove the priceless ruby from the sword and handed it to Zhou’er as if it were a mere trinket.

“Here… you can play with it.”

The ruby was no ordinary jewel. It was a rare, pigeon-blood red gemstone of unmatched quality, with perfect cut, clarity, and brilliance. Its value was beyond measure, and it carried immense symbolic honor. Yet to Morrison, it was nothing more than a shiny rock—a relic of a past he now viewed with disdain.

Zhou’er seemed to sense Morrison’s gloom, letting out soft, babyish chirps as if to comfort him. Morrison, in turn, gently stroked Zhou’er’s still-soft scales.

Of course, this heartwarming moment was entirely Morrison’s interpretation.

In reality, Zhou’er was muttering:

— “Ugh, you’re so slow. I can’t with you.”

— “And could you talk normally for once? Seriously…”