Chapter 551: The Golden Dragon Weeping Blood

The scarlet Dragonfire fell like a waterfall, splashing down on them. Sheepstealer's pupils constricted, sensing the imminent threat. Instinctively, without needing Aemond's command, it reacted.

Pop!

The withered dragon's head smashed into the Dragonfire, and its scrawny body shot straight up into the air. "Quickly, get out of the way, Sheepstealer!" Aemond's command came too late. They were already hit by the Dragonfire.

"Roar!"

Sheepstealer quickly ascended, its large brown wings flapping furiously to disperse the searing heat. "You fool! What are you doing?" Aemond shouted in frustration, his face covered in dust. Targaryens were more resistant to heat than the average person, but they were usually not immune to Dragonfire.

Sheepstealer turned and roared, signaling its rider to shut up and keep a wary eye on the Blood Wyrm. Caraxes's pupils narrowed as it circled above the city, wings spread wide.

"Go after it, Caraxes!" Daemon commanded, a bloody smile on his face as he stared at his one-eyed nephew. The feud between uncle and nephew was far from over.

"Roar…"

Caraxes whinnied in excitement, eager to engage. To it, Sheepstealer was just a worthless mud dragon, gnawing on its patience.

Roar!

Sheepstealer, horrified, swiped its rough tail and plunged headlong into the clouds. Below, in Meereen, the Unsullied guarded the city walls while the Dothraki cavalry charged recklessly. All eyes turned upward, watching the two dragons chase each other with different expressions.

"By the horse gods!" Rao Khal's face was blank, and his white stallion trembled slightly beneath him.

"Roar…"

The scarlet dragon wound its way upward, Dragonfire painting the sky. From below, the Blood Wyrm looked as big as a mountain, a cruel, bloodthirsty creature. The ugly mud dragon, even larger with pitted and pockmarked scales, fled like a coward.

"Roar!" Sheepstealer turned its head and spat out a dense cloud of mud-like Dragonfire. Aemond, swaying back and forth in the saddle, forced himself to calm down. "Listen to my command, Sheepstealer," he said sternly.

It didn't matter that they had wandered into the city. Daemon's daring to act on his own was the real issue. Aemond leaned down to look below and said coldly, "In that case, let's see who will win." Sheepstealer surged upward with all its might, suppressing its wild instincts to treat the Blood Wyrm as a rival.

"Turn your head, Sheepstealer," Aemond commanded coldly, unsheathing the buckle at his waist and fastening it.

"Roar…"

Suddenly, the clouds churned and a burst of scarlet Dragonfire erupted. Caraxes, with a gust of wind, bathed in flames, lunged at Sheepstealer.

"Dracarys, Sheepstealer!" At the last moment, Aemond smiled and gave the order.

Boom!

Sheepstealer turned around, unleashing a torrent of brownish-red Dragonfire, transforming it into a fiery rain. "Roar…" Caraxes, with nowhere to hide, endured the onslaught, its scales resisting the white smoke.

...

The Great Pyramid

Rhaegar rested his chin in his hand, speaking lightly, "If I can't see the Bastard Dragonlord, Meereen will never have a day of peace." It was an insult to intelligence to produce a Valyrian imposter. After he finished, silence filled the room.

The Great Masters exchanged glances, guilt evident in their eyes.

Crack...

The old Great Master clapped his hands, signaling a servant to bring a tray, making a clear decision. "Your Grace, this matter is open to discussion." A jug of summer red wine and two amber goblets were presented. Rhaegar frowned slightly as the old man poured the wine himself, savoring the scent.

What is this?

The old Great Master took two goblets and walked up the steps, smiling kindly. "Your Grace, I would like to toast you and thank you for not burning Meereen with your dragons."

"I want that fake dragonlord," Rhaegar responded coldly.

The old Great Master bent down and whispered, "If you accept my respect, you will get what you want."

"Is that a threat?" Rhaegar asked, unimpressed, eyeing the wine with interest.

Poison? It's so obvious!

The other Great Masters watched, their bodies shaking like leaves. The old Great Master took a deep breath and said firmly, "The people of Meereen never refuse a good drink."

Rhaegar sat up straight and smiled. "You drink first."

"No problem." The old Great Master agreed, picking up a goblet and downing it in one gulp. He wiped his mustache, urging, "This is a 30-year-old Summer Red, a rare and excellent wine."

Rhaegar's eyes darkened, impressed by the old man's courage to drink poisoned wine. A hint of sadness flashed in the old Great Master's eyes as he handed the second goblet to Rhaegar. "Your Grace, the fake dragonlord is in the Great Pyramid."

"I hope so," Rhaegar said, showing no emotion as he took the goblet. He called up the system panel.

Rhaegar Targaryen

Talent: Dreamer (Gold)

Bloodline: Dragonborn (59%)

Runes: Bronze (Green), Serpent (Blue)

Blood Sorcery: Binding Spell (Blue), Reflections of the Moon...

Relics: Blood and Fire, Dreamscape, Pure Water...

Comment: "Ancient lineage, great or crazy?"

Rhaegar chuckled slightly, glancing at the "Pure Water" relic, which blocked toxins and purified impurities. Since obtaining its blessing, poisons and diseases were no longer weaknesses. If there were a god in the world, he was the only true god.

"You're very brave, old man," Rhaegar rarely praised his opponents, raising the goblet to his lips.

The old Great Master ignored the murmurs, staring straight ahead.

"Your Grace, don't drink!"

"Rhaegar, you can't drink!" Sea Snake and Aegon shouted, thinking Rhaegar had been bewitched.

"Gulp~"

The wine went down his throat, leaving his lips red.

Clang!

Rhaegar casually dropped the wine cup and said sternly, "Tell me, where is the fake dragonlord?"

"You, you..." The old Great Master's face flushed with excitement, no longer hiding his anger. "Daven Aethyrys is in the attic. If you're still alive, go find him."

"Hmph, poof!" As soon as the words left his mouth, the blood vessels in his neck and face turned black, and a mouthful of blood spurted out. The poison was fast-acting.

Rhaegar smiled, stood up, patted the man on the shoulder, and said calmly, "I am a true dragon, with blood and fire flowing through my veins."

"Ho~..." The old Great Master didn't understand, staring at him intently, expecting to see the horrible effects of the poison. Unfortunately for him, his life, like the poisoned wine, ended in tragedy.

Rhaegar's face remained calm, his purple eyes glowing with starlight. The blood in his body flowed faster, as if an ugly dragon was moving within, suppressed by the drumming of his heart. One second, two seconds... Gradually, the foreign matter in his blood was purified, turning into a nutrient that strengthened his body.

Plop!

The old Great Master could no longer hold on. Before he could witness the heroic Dragonlord dragged to his death, he fell backward in disbelief. Two streams of blood and tears rolled down the steps, his eyes wide open.

"Do it!"

The muffled sound of the corpse falling was like a signal. Suddenly, there was a low growl in the hall. A young Great Master with rough skin changed his expression instantly. He pounced on the nearest Aegon, pulling out a dagger from his bosom. Aegon, still shocked by Rhaegar's act of drinking the poisoned wine, was unaware of the danger.

"Long live the Harpy!" The young Great Master shouted, grabbing Aegon by the neck and stabbing him in the stomach with the dagger.

"You bastard!" The Sea Snake roared in fury. Another Great Master pounced on him, knocking him down with a powerful swing of his arm.

Clang!

Outside the hall, the Sons of the Harpy, wearing golden masks, swarmed in. They emerged from behind tapestries, curtains, and screens, springing out in an instant.

"Unsullied, charge!" Grey Worm roared, raising his spear and thrusting forward. A hundred Unsullied split into two groups, taking control of both the interior and exterior of the hall. Outside, there was no movement, indicating the enemies had already been eliminated.

"Aegon!?" Rhaegar exclaimed.

"Atone to the Harpy!" Several Sons of the Harpy pounced on him, their voices hoarse with accusation.

Swish! Swish!

In Rhaegar's eyes, they moved like snails. He swiftly decapitated them one by one with Truefyre. Without stopping, he broke through the siege to find Aegon.

The Unsullied formed a protective circle around both the Sea Snake and Aegon. Aegon, in a daze, slumped in Sea Snake's arms, touching his belly wound. Only when he put his bloody hand to his nose and sniffed did he realize he had been stabbed.

"Don't worry, the wound is not fatal," Rhaegar said hurriedly, using the Serpent rune to burrow into the flesh of Aegon's abdomen, not yet covered in blood.

"Am I going to die?" Aegon's eyes were vacant as he lamented his fate. "I haven't ridden Sunfyre enough. I haven't even married or had a child to carry on Sunfyre's legacy."

But no one paid attention to his lament. The Sea Snake, looking grave, said urgently, "This is the slave owner's territory. We have to retreat quickly."

"I will heal Aegon. You go first," Rhaegar commanded, remaining calm. He reached into Aegon's belly to repair the torn intestines.

"Ahhh~..." Aegon moaned involuntarily, his face twitching slightly.

"Take him with you and go!" Rhaegar ordered. After repairing the internal damage, he helped carry Aegon onto the back of the Sea Snake. Gripping Truefyre, he broke out of the protective circle.

The Sons of the Harpy were few in number but fanatical and unafraid of death. The Unsullied formed a defensive line, fighting back methodically while slowly retreating.

Sizzling!

With a single stroke, Rhaegar decapitated an obstruction, tore open a tapestry, and rushed into the hallway. The bastard Dragonlord must die, no matter what. He thought, Besides, I don't believe Daemon and the others can't handle the situation.

...

Meereen, the fighting pits.

Syrax slowly crawled, its tail tip breaking through the iron fence gate.

"Come on, good girl," Rhaenyra called, quickly climbing onto the dragon's back under the protection of the Unsullied.

"Sunfyre is out of control!" Daeron shouted as he ran up, sweat dripping down his face, smoke billowing behind him.

"I know, get on your dragon!" Rhaenyra urged, fastening the saddle and taking flight.

Above the city, Sunfyre spewed fire like a mad beast. In the distance, two dragons clashed, their Dragonfire painting the sky red.

"It's a mess, a complete mess!" Daeron muttered, dazed, as he backed away, searching for Tessarion.

...

Ten thousand feet in the air.

"Angōs (Attack), Caraxes!" Daemon's eyes gleamed, fixed on the movements of his one-eyed nephew.

"Roar..." Caraxes, fearless and bold, flapped its wide wings and swooped down on the ugly mud dragon.

"Dracarys!" A cold light shone in Aemond's single eye.

"Roar!" Sheepstealer spat out a burst of Dragonfire and turned to flee. The dried-up dragon's head glanced back, seeing the Blood Wyrm's wide, open jaws and the foul, slimy slobber dripping from its teeth. Faced with an opponent unafraid of death, a direct clash would be foolish. As a wild dragon tempered by hardship, cunning was instinctual.

"Stupid, show some backbone!" Aemond was eager to fight, but Sheepstealer's evasive maneuvers nearly broke his back.

"Roar!" Sheepstealer retaliated with another burst of Dragonfire before leisurely swooping down.

At that moment, Sunfyre trampled a house, spewing Dragonfire in agitation.

Pop! A ball of brownish-red Dragonfire fell on its head, blackening a patch of its golden scales.

"Roar!" Sunfyre roared in fury, its agitation turning into mania as it flapped its pale pink wings and rushed skyward. The sky and earth were divided by a layer of white clouds. Sheepstealer dodged the Blood Wyrm's pursuit, diving into the clouds and swooping down toward the ground.

"Roar!" A golden dragon suddenly burst out, its blood-red mouth biting into one of Sheepstealer's wings.

Crack! The dragon's teeth bit down hard, cracking the scales.

"Roar!" Sheepstealer, frightened, bit the attacker's neck and tore off a piece of flesh.

"Damn it, what is that thing!" Aemond's body shook violently as he suddenly recognized the golden dragon. "Sunfyre?" He was momentarily stunned, then said anxiously, "That stupid Aegon! He couldn't even keep an eye on a dragon."

"Roar!" Sunfyre screamed in pain, which only stimulated its bloodlust. It bit harder and flapped its wings more wildly, looking as if it wanted to tear Sheepstealer apart.

"Get out, golden worm!" Aemond shouted, shocked and angry. "Attack it, Sheepstealer!"

Roar! Without waiting for the rider's command, Sheepstealer retaliated fiercely. The Targaryen dragons were ranked, except for a few like Vhagar and the Cannibal. Sheepstealer, a wild dragon, was second only to Silverwing in size, reaching an astonishing 70 to 80 meters. It was definitely one of the top dragons in its prime.

In contrast, Sunfyre was only a young adult, barely over thirty meters in length. But despite the size difference, Sunfyre never lacked the courage to fight across generations.

"Roar!" Sunfyre clamped down on Sheepstealer's wing, determined to teach the mud dragon a lesson.

Boom! Sheepstealer unleashed a torrent of Dragonfire onto Sunfyre's brilliant pink wing membrane. In a swift move, its dry, sharp claws pierced Sunfyre's golden scales, leaving a bloody gash on its chest.

"Roar!" Sunfyre let out a piercing roar and instinctively released Sheepstealer.

Pop! Sensing an opportunity, Sheepstealer lunged and bit down on Sunfyre's neck.

"One-eyed, uncle is coming!" Daemon's playful shout echoed through the air as Caraxes plunged down from the clouds.

Aemond's expression tightened. "Let it go, Sheepstealer!" he commanded. Dragons were precious and should not be killed lightly, especially in a fight where their strengths were matched.

"Roar~" Sheepstealer, sensing the urgency, released Sunfyre's neck, turned, spat out a mouthful of Dragonfire, and retreated. It understood that a prolonged battle would exhaust its opponent more than itself.

"Roar!" Sunfyre, narrowly escaping, showed no fear and attempted to pursue.

"Dracarys, Caraxes!" Daemon ordered coldly, unwilling to show mercy.

Boom! Caraxes swooped down, unleashing a scarlet Dragonfire at the wounded Sunfyre.

"Roar..." Sunfyre, unable to dodge in time, was engulfed in flames and fell backward in panic. Caraxes, relentless, continued the chase, his tail swaying with lethal intent.

Boom! The sky dragons clashed, while chaos reigned on the ground. The Dothraki cavalry charged into the city, causing buildings to explode one after another. Pungent green flames rose, spreading with unstoppable momentum.

"Wildfire! Retreat!" someone shouted, recognizing the wildfire. But before they could retreat, enemies rushed out from corners, cutting them down.

The Sons of the Harpy, wearing golden masks, continued their attack on the outsiders within the city, adding to the carnage.

...

"No! Daemon, Aemond..." Rhaenyra rode Syrax, watching the battle between the two dragons in disbelief. Caraxes was ferocious, and it pounced on the fleeing Sheepstealer, locking the two in a brutal struggle.

"Roar..." Sunfyre let out a piercing scream, plummeting to the ground in a charred mess and collapsing a large building. Instantly, a mushroom cloud of smoke rose.

"Rhaenyra, Aegon is hurt!" The cobalt-blue Tessarion hurriedly flew over, with Daeron on the saddle calling anxiously.

"Where is Rhaegar?" Rhaenyra managed to remain calm, asking urgently. The slave owners' counterattack had already thrown the city into chaos. Only Rhaegar could stop the fighting inside.

Daeron shook his head, distressed. "My brother didn't come out!"

"What a bad timing!" Rhaenyra sighed softly, then patted the dragon's back. "It's time for you to do your part, good girl."

"Roar~" Syrax whinnied, sharing its intent, and flew into the sky. The slave owners were a lesser concern; the real test was the strength of the two full-grown dragons.

...

Outside Meereen, a black dragon lay by the river, breathing slowly like a coal mountain.

"Sniff, sniff," Its nostrils twitched, sensing something unusual.

Swish! The pupils suddenly opened wide, a faint green light flashing, full of cunning and cruelty.

(Word count: 2,626)