Back when Zhao’er was still in his eggshell, he wasn’t entirely ignoring what the system said. As Zhao’er’s class adviser would put it, “He’s very smart, but he doesn’t apply it in the right ways. He only listens to things that interest him.”

When the protagonist left him, Zhao’er spent his nights huddled up and shivering. During that time, he had carefully listened to the system explain the background of this world.

This world was originally one massive continent. According to records, a cataclysmic event caused the continent to break into five pieces. The world wasn’t only inhabited by humans but also by beastfolk, dwarves, and the mythical dragons, as well as the reclusive elves.

Dragons were divided into three branches: red, black, and white. Each type of dragon specialized in different kinds of attacks. Regardless of the type, most dragons lived deep in the Abyss and rarely left their nests.

Whenever they did appear, their presence caused immense destruction across the other races.

Dragons were born with an overwhelming advantage, undoubtedly making them the rulers of the entire continent. In the cultural records of other races, dragons were often called “evil dragons,” seen as symbols of malice.

The dwarves, despite their small stature, were highly skilled in forging weapons. Their craftsmanship produced tools of exceptional durability, often with unique additional effects. This talent made them highly sought-after trading partners across all races.

The beastfolk’s territory bordered human lands, which led to constant conflicts between the two. Beastfolk were tall and burly, resembling a blend of human and animal. They lived in tribal communities and, though physically stronger than humans, had a fatal flaw: their simple minds, which often left them vulnerable to human schemes.

The elves were the most mysterious race. They were slender, extraordinarily beautiful, and possessed healing magic capable of reviving withered trees and alleviating pain. However, they rarely left their hidden sanctuaries, which were notoriously difficult to locate.

In this chaotic world, humans were the weakest race. Their survival space was constantly being encroached upon by other races, leaving them with nothing but their intelligence to rely on.

Even so, humans were divided into countless factions and kingdoms, constantly engaged in infighting. Among them were magicians who practiced magic and dark sorcerers who were ostracized by society.

Over 500 years ago, a renowned prophet foretold that humanity would one day be destroyed by a dragon with blood-red scales. Some believed the prophecy, while others dismissed it. Over time, many forgot it altogether.

However, as fate would have it, over 500 years later, a red dragon was indeed sighted in Red Cliff Valley, near the human borders.

The news spread like wildfire, throwing everyone into panic.

In the script Zhao’er had seen, he was destined to be that red dragon. But for now, this had little to do with him.

Because at this moment, Zhao’er was just a weak, helpless hatchling.

The system told him that once the “bugs” were fixed, he could transform into a full-fledged dragon. If he wanted to speed up the process, he should focus on building a good relationship with the protagonist.

Simply staying close to the protagonist would help him absorb energy, which would allow him to regain his adult form faster.

Zhao’er pondered this for no more than two seconds.

“Got it. You want me to steal energy from him!”

He accepted the idea rather quickly. After all, in this dense forest, he couldn’t even find his way without Morrison. Of course, he had to stick to the protagonist! As for future missions… well, he’d figure those out when the time came.

Zhao’er, having figured out the key point, nestled into a comfortable spot on Morrison’s shoulder and pressed tightly against him. He didn’t have much warmth in his body yet, so he enjoyed staying close to Morrison for his body heat.

Instinctively, Zhao’er nuzzled against him, causing Morrison to pause mid-step.

The neck was one of the most vulnerable parts of the human body, housing the carotid artery. With Morrison’s usual vigilance, he shouldn’t have allowed the young dragon to rest against such a fragile area. But…

—Well, Zhao’er is still just a baby after all.

---

On the way back, Zhao’er fell asleep.

This was perfectly normal. Young dragons were meant to spend long periods in slumber after hatching. Even so, Zhao’er was quite unusual—despite dozing off, he clung tightly to Morrison, as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

Morrison had never been this closely attached to anyone before, and he found that… he rather liked it.

The corners of his lips lifted slightly, and even his steps became lighter.

Once they returned to Morrison’s wooden cabin, he deftly lit a campfire and began skillfully removing the hide and fur from the game.

Meanwhile, Zhao’er was carefully and gently placed into the little nest Morrison had woven for him. Unlike before, Morrison had added several soft, velvety layers to the nest, making it even cozier.

The man and the dragon stayed there quietly.

The scene felt similar to before, except back then, Zhao’er had been a round little egg. Now, he was a small, soft, pink bundle of scales.

Morrison glanced over to check on him. Zhao’er was curled up, sleeping within his line of sight. If Morrison lifted his head, he could see the tiny dragon wrapping himself into a ball, still habitually holding onto his bandaged tail.

In that moment, Morrison savored the peace, a rare sense of tranquility settling within him.

But tranquility is always fleeting…

Earlier, Morrison had been at the creek, handling the inedible parts of the game. While he worked, he thought about cutting the meat into smaller portions to make it easier for Zhao’er to eat.

Then he heard a soft rustling noise.

“No! Zhao’er! You’re too small—stop!”

The little dragon was clutching a piece of raw meat larger than himself. He didn’t seem fully awake, his eyes still closed, as he instinctively used his tiny pink claws to guard his “prey.”

It seemed like he was dreaming about the days when he’d gone hungry. Too famished, he bit down on the massive hunk of meat, refusing to let go.

Sensing someone trying to take it from him, the pink dragon let out a series of indignant cries:

—It’s mine! Mine!

The man, nearly thirty years old, helplessly repeated:

“I’m not going to fight you for it, it’s all yours… I haven’t finished preparing it yet, it needs to be cooked first.”

The little dragon didn’t open his eyes, but a low growl, almost like a threat, came from his throat.

Morrison patiently repeated:

“Zhao’er, be good, listen.”

Not to mention whether Zhao’er could even digest such a large piece of raw meat—he could, but the meat from the Lili beast was delicious, but only if prepared properly; if not, it was toxic.

Perhaps because Zhao’er often whined and acted cute in front of him, Morrison often saw him as a defenseless little cub, not the apex predator of land, sea, and air.

Soon, Zhao’er, still clutching the food and refusing to let go, woke up from his sleep. His eyes, which had been tightly closed, opened to reveal his watery, pink crystal-like eyes, and he stopped guarding the food.

He gently tugged at the corner of Morrison’s cloak, pushing the food, along with a large leaf, towards him, and softly spoke:

—Sorry, I shouldn’t have fought you for it… It was yours from the start… I’ll give it back to you…

As he pushed the food towards Morrison, he occasionally glanced at it, clearly reluctant to let it go. Of course, Morrison had no interest in fighting the little dragon for food.

“It’s okay, I’m not fighting you for it. But Zhao’er needs to be patient, just like when we were hunting earlier. You’re too impatient… This won’t work.”

The little pink dragon tilted his head, seeming to try to understand what Morrison meant. After a few seconds of thought, he softly whined—”Okay, fine.”

Such a good boy!

Morrison instinctively reached over and patted Zhao’er’s little head, where a small bump was just beginning to form. At first, Zhao’er didn’t like this and would seriously insist he wasn’t that small anymore.

A tiny pink dragon, just a few days out of its shell, seriously saying this.

Morrison, the former knight, responded by patting Zhao’er’s head more.

After several times, Zhao’er seemed to have adapted, and now didn’t resist as much. His food guarding had been a rare occurrence.

It was probably because of the hunger he felt when he dreamt of being starved that made him tightly hold onto his food in his sleep.

The time for roasting the meat wasn’t long, but with a little pink dragon eagerly watching, every minute and second felt painfully slow. Zhao’er didn’t hurry, just stared, which was more effective than any urging.

“Zhao’er, don’t rush, don’t rush.”

Morrison used a bit of magic from his friend Ulysses, and the blood-streaked meat quickly sizzled and oozed oil. After sprinkling some seasoning he had brought along, a simple roast was done.

That was Morrison’s first time interacting with such a small dragon.

Of course, it was also the first time he had seen such a tiny dragon. Dragons from the Abyss wouldn’t allow their young to wander into human territory.

Morrison had thought of many possible origins for Zhao’er…

—You eat too.

---

Morrison once again marveled: Zhao’er was getting closer to him.

Morrison, who had always considered himself hard-hearted, was starting to waver. He was beginning to think that life in Red Cliff Valley wasn’t so bad. Although it was on the outer edge, it was peaceful and secluded because of it.

Zhao’er really enjoyed listening to his stories. Morrison had once been a wandering traveler, so he had been to many places. Zhao’er especially liked hearing stories of other continents, of when Morrison had stepped into the territory of the Elves…

——So amazing!

If there was one flaw to mention, it would be that Zhao’er was a bit too active, too affectionate—was this how all the dragons of the Abyss were, or was it just Zhao’er?

Morrison clearly remembered that the first three months after a dragon hatches should be the most vulnerable period. Legend has it that they sleep for a long time during that stage.

But Zhao’er seemed… to have boundless energy.

He was practicing something every day, persistently.

Dragons aren’t born knowing how to breathe fire; it requires some guidance. Morrison wanted to help, but as a human, he could only watch the little dragon try again and again by himself. Zhao’er quickly mastered this talent.

The first tiny flame was almost negligible, but when Morrison praised him, Zhao’er’s tail wagged faster in excitement.

“I’m really amazing! Do I even need you to say it?!”

However, Morrison heard this boast as:

—Thank you, thank you, I’m so happy!

It was just a few compliments, why was he so happy?

Morrison gently patted the little dragon’s head.

---

Zhao’er was very sensitive to the cold. When Morrison wasn’t around, at night, he would curl up into a ball to sleep. The temperature difference between day and night in Red Cliff Valley was extreme, and since Zhao’er didn’t have any body heat, he would wake up frozen every time.

After Morrison returned, Zhao’er naturally found his body warmer. Plus, the system had mentioned that staying close to him would allow Zhao’er to absorb some energy.

Since getting closer to Morrison, Zhao’er, who had never been able to breathe fire, suddenly began to do so. Although the flame was very small, like a tiny lighter, it was still a good start. Zhao’er already imagined himself as a powerful dragon, and he wasn’t planning to stay in Red Cliff Valley forever—he wanted to venture out.

He was very eager to see the beautiful sights Morrison had mentioned. Zhao’er was a true optimist; even though he had endured hardships when he first arrived, it didn’t dampen his enthusiasm.

Because of his little secret, Zhao’er felt too shy to tell Morrison, so every night, he would act aloof, curling up in his little nest to sleep. After Morrison fell asleep, he would sneak over and snuggle up to him.

By the time morning came, he would quietly return to his nest.

Zhao’er thought he was being sneaky, but Morrison was fully aware of his every move. He always woke up earlier than Zhao’er and would wait until he saw Zhao’er return to his nest before opening his eyes.

Last night was like this, and tonight was no different.

Morrison half-closed his eyes, watching the little pink dragon cautiously poke his little paws at his hand, probably trying to check if he was awake, making soft whimpering sounds.

—It’s so cold, can you cuddle me…?

Morrison didn’t say anything but silently answered in his mind.

—Of course.

What a clingy little dragon!!

He even wanted to sleep close to him!

Morrison reprimanded himself lightly inside, his fingers curling instinctively. He wanted to pat him again—this was bad. It had only been a short while, and he already had such a habit.

The man lowered his gaze. If it was just because Zhao’er was cold, surely the warmer fireplace nearby would be enough, right? Why did he have to cling to him?

At first, Zhao’er just leaning against his arm wasn’t enough. He probably thought Morrison was asleep, so he cautiously crawled onto his chest.

But Morrison wasn’t sleeping; he was pretending to rest, lost in thought. After noticing the movement, he didn’t open his eyes but simply watched Zhao’er.

Zhao’er climbed onto him, looking over at him from time to time to check if he was awake.

Morrison almost couldn’t hold back a laugh but managed to stop himself.

He quietly watched as Zhao’er carefully crawled onto his chest, curled up with his tail, and fell asleep in the shape of a little pink ball.

If he told someone about this scene, no one would believe it.

Morrison silently whispered in his heart:

Goodnight, Zhao’er.

Apart from absorbing energy, Zhao’er liked to sleep on Morrison’s chest for other reasons. The rhythmic beating of his heart was incredibly soothing, and combined with his higher body temperature, it gave Zhao’er an inexplicable sense of security.

In his dreams, Zhao’er once again revisited Morrison’s past.

In the early years, Morrison was a drunkard who spent his days in a tavern, feeling hopeless and unfulfilled. But being the protagonist, of course, he possessed extraordinary skills, something out of the ordinary. The reason for his downfall was that his early life had been filled with hardship and setbacks.

Morrison once had a gentle mother and a father who, while strict, loved him dearly. His father was the head knight of the knightly order and the strongest knight in their kingdom.

In a world filled with chaos, where humans, elves, magical beasts, and dragons coexisted, Morrison’s father’s name was even more renowned than the king’s. The people’s respect for him surpassed their trust in the king. It was said that he alone could take on the entire knightly order.

Back then, Morrison’s father was his pride and joy, and he secretly vowed that one day, he would become a knight just like his father. Everything changed when Morrison turned fifteen.

As usual, he was holding the sword his father had forged for him.

Before that, Morrison had always used a wooden sword, as his father had promised to give him the real one only after he turned fifteen. He had been waiting eagerly for that day for a long, long time.

On the eve of his fifteenth birthday, he barely slept. During the day, he worked at the sword academy, distracted and preoccupied with the thought of returning home.

The sky that day was filled with red, fiery clouds…

When Morrison finally returned home, holding his sword, his house had already been reduced to rubble. They said his father had been a traitor, a vampire, and they were about to hang him.

They tried to determine whether he was a vampire by burning him.

—If he didn’t die from the fire, then he was a vampire. If he burned to death, it would prove that he was human.

By the time Morrison arrived, all that was left were the blackened ruins.

At fifteen, Morrison worked hard to practice according to his father’s teachings, quickly revealing his natural talent.

Even though he was ostracized at the academy, even though they called him the son of a traitor, at that time Morrison couldn’t care less. He was focused solely on joining the knightly order.

He believed that if he could become the chief knight, he would meet the king, and then he would restore his father’s honor. He naively thought that the king must have been deceived…

At eighteen, Morrison defeated the other knights in the order.

His talent surpassed even his father’s, and he became the youngest chief knight in history. On the eve of receiving his badge, however, he was betrayed by his childhood friend, falsely accused of a crime.

Afterward, Morrison encountered many people and situations. He left his kingdom and began his own journey, visiting many places. The more he saw, the more he despised the human heart, and the more he grew tired of humanity.

He began to self-destruct, living a life of drunkenness, and he had no intention of accepting this mission. He had simply gotten drunk and lost a bet. They had said what the former chief knight of the Goya Kingdom would be like…

And so, the dragon-slaying knight, Morrison, found a dragon egg…

In the days that followed, Zhao’er continued to live with Morrison. He was truly a humorous and charming person. With him around, Zhao’er was never hungry or cold again.

Morrison used his skillful hands to make many small toys for Zhao’er, even crafting a delicate little pillow with tassels on the edges, and it was all in soft pink…

“I hate pink…!” Zhao’er actually said, and this was what Morrison heard.

—Thank you, I really like it…

Zhao’er thought the protagonist was strange. He had clearly told him that he hated pink, but Morrison still prepared everything for him in pink. He even sewed a mismatched little pink pocket inside his cloak.

It was specially made to carry Zhao’er.

Though Zhao’er didn’t like the color, the inside was soft and plush, and he still preferred staying inside. His actions confirmed Morrison’s suspicions.

—Zhao’er really likes pink after all…

Zhao’er didn’t know what Morrison was thinking. He had always been focused on sticking close to the protagonist to steal some energy, hoping to unlock his unique abilities sooner.

Actually, the system hadn’t called it “unique abilities,” but rather another more complicated term, which Zhao’er found hard to remember. So he simply made up his own term, which he thought meant the same thing.

The system had said that every dragon in the Abyss has the basic ability to breathe fire, also known as Dragon Fire. In addition to Dragon Fire, they would also awaken a unique ability.

Zhao’er nodded in his mind. Yes, Dragon Fire was the basic skill. And that unique ability? That’s his “talent”! He quickly understood by applying the knowledge from the game.

The system had said that other dragons in the Abyss either controlled lightning, had corrosive fluids, or were capable of freezing things.

So Zhao’er was really looking forward to what ability he would awaken. To unlock it sooner, he practically spent every moment finding opportunities to climb onto Morrison, no matter what he was doing, Zhao’er made sure to stay close.

Watching the progress bar grow slowly made him happy.

The results of this were obvious. Zhao’er’s growth rate was much faster than that of other normal dragon cubs. In just three weeks, he had grown from a tiny creature of about ten centimeters to almost thirty centimeters.

Not only was his body growing quickly, but his appetite also increased every day. Zhao’er was a strict carnivore, only eating meat.

Back in his own world, he never liked eating vegetables. His mom had beaten him with a clothes hanger countless times to make him eat more, but he just couldn’t stand it. Eating a bite felt like swallowing poison.

Before, he could only eat grass out of necessity. Even after being coaxed, he wouldn’t touch a single stalk. And of course, Morrison noticed that Zhao’er preferred meat.

Aside from the meat of the Lili Beast, Zhao’er liked other kinds of meat too…

At first, he could only manage to eat a small piece of a grown Lili Beast’s thigh. After that, he couldn’t eat anymore. His little belly would be so full that he could barely move, needing a long time to digest.

Whenever this happened, Morrison would gently rub his belly until Zhao’er could move again, bouncing around with energy. The little house was rarely a place he hadn’t explored.

Including the cellar, Zhao’er insisted on going inside to look at the preserved animal limbs and other specimens. He wasn’t scared at all. In fact, he was very excited.

Zhao’er was a lively little dragon. When he saw Morrison setting traps, he would imitate him with great precision. He had an excellent ability to mimic, and later, he could even tell which wild animals were afraid of fire.

For those animals that feared fire, he would breathe fire and chase them away. For those that didn’t fear fire, if he couldn’t handle them, he would quickly call for Morrison to help.

After Morrison used the hunting tools to deal with them, Zhao’er would proudly spin around their corpses, acting like an extremely expressive child.

As time went on, Zhao’er’s appetite grew, and he could eat nearly half of a beast in one day…

His growth rate was faster than that of the other dragons in the Abyss, and unfortunately, Morrison had never dealt with dragon cubs before. He even thought such a rapid growth rate was normal.

As for Zhao’er… he wasn’t sure whether to be happy or not.

Zhao’er was both happy and unhappy. He was happy because he was slowly growing bigger. However, he was unhappy because it seemed like there was no sign of his scales turning red or changing color. Day by day, he watched, but there was no change at all.

Could he end up being a pink giant dragon in the future???

Just thinking about it made him frown…

Morrison was also both happy and unhappy.

He was happy about Zhao’er’s rapid growth. He was pleased that Zhao’er was growing quickly, and he felt relaxed knowing that Zhao’er was always so close to him and relied on him. It was an experience Morrison had never had before. He had always needed alcohol to numb himself, but since being with Zhao’er, he hadn’t thought about the horrible people and things from his past.

But with that happiness came worry. He worried about Zhao’er, about how innocent and trusting he was. What would happen in the future? Humans were too cunning, too good at playing both sides. Zhao’er’s trust in them wasn’t a good thing.

If Zhao’er never interacted with humans, that would be fine, but that was clearly impossible. Zhao’er was very adventurous. At first, he was scared by the carnivorous plants with sharp claws, but he quickly started attacking them.

Zhao’er was really brave, bold, and reckless, the type that moved forward without hesitation. He was full of energy and vitality, just like Morrison used to be, but had long since lost.

Zhao’er wasn’t the type of dragon to stay quietly in Red Cliff Valley. He longed for the outside world, and Zhao’er belonged to a sky that was much bigger than this.

The little pouch that once fit Zhao’er comfortably was now a bit cramped. He used to be able to sleep on Morrison’s shoulder, but now even that wasn’t possible.

Though Zhao’er was still a small creature at forty centimeters, Morrison, who was nearly two meters tall, still thought of him as a little one. This little guy was constantly shouting that he wanted to go out.

Morrison guessed that if Zhao’er weren’t so unfamiliar with the paths, he would have already ventured out. Morrison couldn’t quite put his feelings into words. In the past, he could go anywhere without a care, but now he was very worried about Zhao’er. He was still so small. What if he got bullied?

Zhao’er was so trusting. What if someone tricked him with sweet words? It was important to note that any part of Zhao’er’s body, whether it was his dragon blood, bones, or scales, could fetch an extremely high price on the black market.

So Morrison decided to have a serious talk with Zhao’er.

After spending over a month together, Morrison could tell that Zhao’er was quite intelligent. Even though Zhao’er had only just hatched, he could understand Morrison’s words and respond accordingly.

In fact, even before Zhao’er had fully hatched, he had reacted to sounds from the outside world. This was far more intelligent than other dragons.

“Zhao’er… I need to talk to you about something…”

Zhao’er, who had been fiddling with Morrison’s collection, saw the protagonist’s serious expression and felt a bit nervous.

—[Oh no, has he found out that I’ve been stealing his energy…?]