hotmtlnovel Chapter 491 Cannibal: Do You Know the Value of a Wild Dragon?
Chapter 491 Cannibal: Do You Know the Value of a Wild Dragon?
Chapter 491 Cannibal: Do You Know the Value of a Wild Dragon?
"Vermithor, do you want to fight me?"
His voice was calm, his expression arrogant. Rhaegar sat on the back of the black dragon, as if he were a dragon himself.
"Roar!"
Vermithor's pupils turned red with rage. The dragon's head shook violently, pushing outward.
Rhaegar's lips curled up. “Then let's try it.”
"Roar..."
The dragon was awakened from its slumber, and Cannibal walked in into the nest. Vermithor was almost out of his mind, his huge body slamming into the cave, emitting rising heat.
Cannibal raised its head high, its green pupils betraying human-like contempt, waiting quietly for its defeated opponent to break through the terrain restrictions.
The cave where it was located was connected to Vermithor's sleeping cave by a tunnel. It was built for humans, not for a dragon of such enormous size. Cannibal was able to get here because it had previously explored every corner of Dragonmont in order to steal dragon eggs.
"Roar!"
Vermithor roared mightily, soon pushing its neck out of the tunnel, but its broad shoulders and wings remained stuck at the entrance. The entire cave shook violently, as if celebrating the angry dragon's escape. Cannibal let out a hot breath, its green eyes flashing with cunning satisfaction.
"Roar!"
The black dragon's shadow shot out, scratching the ground with its wings, and opened its mouth wide to bite.
Snap!
Scales cracked, flesh and blood flew. Vermithor let out a scream as its thick neck was bitten, shaking back and forth in shock and anger. How dare it attack me!
"Roar!"
Cannibal cried out in excitement, pressing one of its hind legs firmly down on Vermithor's dragon head, relishing the hard-won delicacy. At this moment, its mind was filled with thoughts of tyranny, pride, and arrogance.
Confident in its dominance, the Cannibal enjoyed the struggle of Vermithor. The neck that protruded from the tunnel was a lesson in the art of deception. It was a wild dragon! As we all know, wild dragons will do anything to survive.
"Roar..."
Vermithor was instantly subdued, with a piece of flesh missing from its neck. It spat out a mouthful of searing Dragonfire.
Zila—
Cannibal did not dodge or avoid the Dragonfire, allowing it to burn its hind legs. The pain only stimulated its desire to hunt. Anger rose within the Cannibal. It pressed its entire body against the outer wall of the tunnel, digging its sharp claws into the rock with one hind leg, while its wings spread out above and below, forming a difficult position for climbing upside down.
With one hind leg and both wings supporting it, Cannibal raised its head, swallowed the torn flesh, and stomped hard with its burnt hind leg.
Bang!
Vermithor's black claws slammed down on the dragon's head after a burst of Dragonfire, causing a momentary forced stun. Cannibal, now more rampant than ever, fully embraced its identity as a great evil dragon, lifting and dropping its hind legs with increasing force.
...
Driftmark
High Tide, Hall of Nine
Rhaenys stood calmly, her arms resting on a wine cabinet as she stared across the lobby.
"That's the situation," she said.
"Is that true?" Daemon asked, frowning as he sat down in a chair, leaning over to talk to one of the scouts.
The scout, his face as stiff as a board, whispered his report, "Explorers from Volantis have seen dragons in the Smoking Sea."
"Okay, I know," Daemon said distractedly, pulling a bag of gold dragons from his sleeve and handing it over. The scout took the money and left the lobby.
"Another wild dragon has appeared?" Rhaenys asked, her eyebrows raising imperceptibly.
Daemon nodded slightly, his expression grim. "A wild blue baby dragon. I don't know where it hatched."
Rhaenys thought to herself, "The matter of the young dragon could be important. It's best to report it to the royal family immediately." She wanted to report it to Rhaegar, but for fear of offending her narrow-minded cousin, she changed it to the royal family.
Daemon raised his eyebrows, a hint of dissatisfaction in his eyes. The royal family is full of problems. His brother was bedridden and Rhaenyra was only a woman. In the end, it would fall to his good nephew to take care of it.
During their conversation, a third voice interjected. "Prince Rhaegar is on Dragonstone right now. He should be handling this."
Daemon looked away toward the Driftwood Throne inside the Hall of Nine. The Sea Snake sat upright, his face solemn. "The last time a wild dragon from the Smoking Sea appeared, it triggered a war between the Kingdom and the Triarchy. This time, the wild dragon cannot fall into the hands of others and stir up the royal family's sensitive nerves."
Deep down, he already hated war. He didn't want to pay any more.
Rhaenys glanced at her husband and explained to Daemon, "house Velaryon has sacrificed too much and needs to recuperate."
His words are always so complicated. Why can't he just say what he means?
Daemon chuckled. "I'll report it. Rhaegar must know about this." He had sent out a myriad of spies to find a cure for his brother's damaged soul. Through the map of the Targaryen ancestral estate shared by his good nephew, more than a dozen exploration teams entered the Smoking Sea. Not only did they find traces of what they were looking for, but also news of a young dragon.
Daemon's thoughts drifted away to a courtyard in Tyrosh, where he seemed to see his paramour, Mysaria. That woman was born a dancer, lowly and dirty. But beneath that beautiful face was a heart of gold.
After Mysaria had an abortion, the two had a long period of estrangement. The reason was that Mysaria did not feel safe and abandoned Daemon, the Rogue Prince. To put it bluntly, a whore dumped him.
Mysaria lived in a brothel in Flea Bottom and made a living by selling information. She was once very close to Otto Hightower. When Daemon conquered Tyrosh, he needed someone like a Master of Whisperers and sent someone to find Mysaria. As expected, the old lovers who had not forgotten each other got back together.
Daemon thought of many things in an instant: his brother waiting for his son, his nephew about to ascend the throne, and Laena, who had nearly died in childbirth. Finally, the picture stopped on the pale skin of Mysaria. Sixteen years ago, on a certain night, that woman had accused him of being a coward, afraid of his brother sitting on the Iron Throne, which had caused the miscarriage of their son.
Daemon recalled the past, covering his mouth with his hand to hide a sigh. "I need a son. Sorry," he muttered to himself. "Rhaenyra has retrieved all the dragon eggs, so I will capture a baby dragon." A dark and uncertain light flashed in Daemon's eyes, as if he were complaining about the unfair treatment he had received.
The dragon eggs and the young dragons were all under the control of the royal family. The dragon eggs his two daughters received, were under the control of their foster mother, and the gift was only dependent on Rhaenyra's charity.
He was determined to have a son. He didn't need a gift from the royal family; he would have already saved a dragon for his son.
" I will go to Dragonstone later," Daemon thought clearly. His nephew's movements were unclear, and his behavior on Dragonstone was very strange. There must be a secret. Fortunately, he also had a secret.