After seeing off Naferutali, the forr matriarch who seed to have sealed away the entire Drow community, and the Rosinde couple, who were sowhat bewildered by the sudden addition of over a hundred clan mbers, David finally had the opportunity to inspect his newly claid territory on the New Continent of Granyel, accompanied by Nifadora herself.
A dragon soared in the sky—and not just any dragon, but a colossal Red Dragon with a wingspan exceeding 25 ters.
Ordinary humans might not grasp the sheer scale of 25 ters, but to put it in perspective, using the neighboring Blue Star as an example, the roadbed of a four-lane municipal highway (two lanes in each direction) is rely 24.5 ters wide.
The sense of oppression was overwhelming, especially when two such creatures flew low over the streets.
In the past, their appearance within the watchtower’s field of vision would likely have triggered the municipal alarm instantly. The populace would have been sent into a frenzy, crying and fleeing as if an apocalyptic disaster had struck.
It was a known fact that the human brain could gradually beco desensitized through prolonged exposure and familiarity.
Perhaps it was because over a hundred dragons constantly soared overhead these days, or maybe it was the occasional surprise of colossal dragon droppings plumting from the sky. Whatever the reason, over the past week, the people of Port of Wallens had transitioned from initial panic to a state of numb habituation, rapidly adapting to the current state of affairs:
"Mom, there are two dragons!" David heard a girl nearby, who had just recovered from the Dragon Might’s ’oppression,’ point towards them and exclaim.
"Yeah, don’t point rudely, or you’ll wet the bed dreaming of a Red Dragon tonight."
"..." Hearing this, David was genuinely curious how such superstitious beliefs—similar to the "play with fire, wet the bed" sayings from his howorld, Blue Star—had originated here.
"Oh, but why haven’t they pooped yet?" the girl asked expectantly, holding a dung fork.
"The big dragons haven’t eaten their fill yet. They will once they’re full," her mother answered calmly, a faint hint of anticipation in her own voice.
"...What’s going on?" David, who always believed that good fortune shouldn’t flow to outsiders, flicked his tail and asked.
A smile played at the corners of Nifadora’s lips. "Isn’t it all because you and Uncle Attilicia used to mass-produce and smuggle Anger Potion? The profits were exorbitant, and you monopolized the material supply from Skanis. This made many powers green with envy, especially the Drow. Consequently, they began to expand their purchasing channels, forcing other factions to follow suit. As a result, the basic formula for Anger Potion beca common knowledge.
"Even humans in Central Earth now know that dragon dung is a pri alchemical material. So vendors even go door-to-door, offering ’generous’ prices for it. There was even a ti when the High Elves and Drow Elves waged the infamous Dragon Dung War over it in the Arctic Ocean. So, now that these humans feel relatively safe—even sowhat protected by our military might—they naturally spend their days eyeing our rear ends.
"It’s all money, after all." As she said this, looking at David’s increasingly bemused and vexed expression, Nifadora was already shaking with laughter.
"Absolutely not! We’ll build public restrooms for these dragons, one color for each type. Violators will get a ticket stuck right on their backsides for public display!" David declared decisively.
David wasn’t primarily concerned about the trivial loss from material recycling. His main worry was that, strictly speaking, dragon dung was a high-risk pollutant, especially from Black Dragons and Green Dragons. The forr’s droppings were extrely corrosive. The latter’s were even worse—their defecation was essentially a form of direct poisoning. Mishandling such substances could easily be fatal.
Red Dragon droppings didn’t have these particular problems, but the issue was their extre temperature upon expulsion. Akin to volcanic ash, they could reach five hundred or even a thousand degrees. If it landed on soone, it would burn persistently, like a white phosphorus bomb.
The citizens of Port of Wallens, driven by profit, had all beco veritable dragon dung hunters. They would venture out with their heads perpetually craned upwards, watching the colossal dragons’ posteriors to avoid accidental injury. However, this behavior still carried the risk of inadvertently starting a troubleso fire.
"Yes... my lord," Nifadora laughed even harder.
This was a policy destined to be privately ridiculed by the dragons as ’tyranny,’ much like the saying, "The magistrates are free to burn down houses, while the common people are forbidden to light lamps."
It couldn’t be helped. Dragons, like birds or human females (who lack a prostate), used a cloaca to relieve themselves, making it inherently difficult to "hold it in."
Among dragons, such a decree from David would undoubtedly be considered a great offense, utterly lacking in virtue.
If word of this reached the tal Dragons, David might even be labeled "chaotic and malevolent, like a demon."
But David didn’t care one whit. Once they’re in my territory, I’m the boss! I’ll regulate their damn shitting and farting as I see fit. If anyone has a problem with that, they can co and try !
Arrogance
No sooner had David drafted this ’tyrannical’ order—one destined for the annals of the human Dragon Research Log—than he went to find his Silver Dragon younger sister.
When he saw Tania, usually so flighty, now adopting the solemn deanor of a ’Joan of Arc,’ he almost burst out laughing. She was inspecting the comncent ceremony for the municipal underground sewer project—personally designed and overseen by the Dwarf Rune Lord Bergin—acting for all the world like a genuine Port Governor. This comical sight had drawn a crowd of thousands.
What made it particularly amusing was her choice of attire: she was dressed like a noblewoman. Her silver hair was elegantly coiled at the nape of her neck, and only her eyes, gleaming like red gemstones, revealed her mixed Red-Silver Dragon heritage. She wore a long, white court gown with a sweeping train and carried a two-handed greatsword studded with various magic gemstones. Every gesture exuded an indescribable elegance and nobility.
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