The Red Dragon Just Wants To Do As It Pleases
Chapter 54 - 53: Clarity

Chapter 54: Chapter 53: Clarity

"No."

To everyone’s surprise, the first thing David did upon returning to the Dragon Nest and settling the newly acquired red dragon and brass dragon with the Drow was to announce, "The plan is postponed until we find a more effective method of luring stray hatchlings."

The efficiency is simply too low, and the dragon-hunting equipment is seriously insufficient, David thought with dissatisfaction.

This decision was like a bucket of cold water dumped on all the Elves who were secretly celebrating their great success on their first hunt.

But among those present, aside from Tania, who was the Red Dragon’s younger sister, no one was qualified or dared to question the decision of the Dragon Nest’s master.

"But David, brother... hasn’t it only been a little over a month, and we’ve already brought back two True Dragons?"

"I heard from Hiatt and the others that their group of Drow on the Old Continent spent several years just to steal around forty dragon eggs. Even then, aside from you, who had hatched early, there was no guarantee that even a substantial investment in enlightenment rituals would yield many True Dragons."

Tania’s words were like ripping away the Drow’s fig leaf, but shame had always been a foreign concept to their kind. Seeing Tania, David’s sister, open the subject, Hiatt, feigning great embarrassment, quickly chimed in, "Yes, Master, under your leadership, we brought back two starving hatchlings who were wandering outside with no guarantee of their next meal, all in just one month.

"Such an incredible record would probably cause a sensation if news of it spread to the New Continent.

"Moreover... it has been proven that the Dragon Bait you crafted can indeed mimic the strong luring effect of the Snowfield Worms’ secretions.

"Thus, the biggest flaw in the current plan is probably that the traps of the Dragon Cages are still too obvious.

"If we can just find a solution to this problem..."

The Drow, speaking at a rapid pace, was still interrupted by David. He looked at the Drow indifferently. "Then have you thought of a solution?"

"...No."

Even with the audacity to be a serial dragon egg thief, the Drow dared not guarantee he could find a viable solution.

It couldn’t be helped; a hatchling was still a dragon. Aside from the intellectually challenged White Hatchling Dragons, who were comparable to beasts, the other Chromatic Dragons generally possessed intelligence comparable to that of an adult human upon hatching.

No, it should be said that the intelligence of Black Hatchling Dragons was roughly equivalent to that of adult humans.

The intelligence of red, blue, and green hatchlings was already comparable to that of some clever individuals eligible to approach the threshold of becoming a Mage Lord.

If there were a scale, assuming the average intelligence of an adult human was 10, then the intelligence of red, blue, and green hatchlings would be at least 14 or higher.

As for White Hatchling Dragons, well, their intelligence was probably around 5.

So, even an idiot like Mofei, who could speak upon hatching, was likely considered a genius among White Dragons, akin to an atavistic throwback.

But sometimes, being articulate didn’t necessarily mean one was smart. At best, it indicated a measure of cunning.

In this regard, Tania, the representative of the Silver Dragons—who could always discern draconic hearts, empathize with her brother’s feelings, and had shown her aptitude for magic at the age of five—could easily pin that fool to the ground and utterly demolish him.

And it was precisely for this reason that finding an efficient way to capture these cunning little rascals was indeed not something that could be accomplished in a short period.

Facts also proved that Chromatic Dragons being able to survive and persist in such a dire growth environment with high attrition rates, maintain an even balance with Metal Dragons on a larger scale, and even achieve supremacy in individual combat strength (except against Gold Dragons) couldn’t be simply attributed to luck.

With the current conditions, aside from Lizrite, the red hatchling dragon who was starving and prone to relying on brute force, they could probably only catch White Dragons.

The key was having a ’genius’ like Mofei constantly parading around before him; David truly looked down on these fools from the bottom of his heart.

Stupid, lazy, weak, and damn, can they eat.

Thinking of this, David felt an inexplicable surge of anger, and Wrath stirred within him. "So what’s the point of what you’re saying? At this rate, it’s purely a case of a blind cat stumbling upon a dead mouse—sheer luck! We probably won’t catch many dragons before those long-eared folk on the New Continent decide to launch an all-out war one of these days."

"...Master, your reprimand is justified! It was my shortsightedness," the Drow admitted with some embarrassment.

However, he also acknowledged this as a flaw of their race. Whether Drow or High Elves, despite being a Long-lived Race, their vision and breadth of mind were not particularly expansive. Otherwise, they wouldn’t keep repeating the tragedies of history after enduring countless lessons.

The reality, far bleaker than he had imagined, made David inexplicably irritable. Flicking his tongue and spitting sparks, he asked, "Damn it, is there anything that can cool me down a bit? My throat’s a little dry."

David had long realized this would be a persistent headache for him in the future. As a Red Dragon, his endocrine system kept him perpetually caught in a state fluctuating between irritability and Wrath. This might not be an issue ordinarily and could even enhance his combat strength, but it was a fatal flaw for a leader during critical decisions and evenly matched wars. The various thoughts constantly churning in his brain could easily make him miss crucial, realistic information and considerations, leading to grave mistakes.

"Yes, Master!"

The Drow seemed to have an idea and immediately looked at the High Elf, Yevgeny.

Yevgeny, drool trickling from the corner of her mouth, snapped out of her dazed state. She was just about to wail and beg for death as she had in the past.

SNAP!

With a snap of the Drow’s fingers, the High Elf’s eyes became vacant again. She stepped forward and, much like a Drow might, took a striking blue potion bottle from her magnificent bosom, offering it to David.

"It’s called the Sobering Potion by the High Elves. It’s effective for meditation, partially restoring Magic Power, and even counteracting the side effects of potions that induce rage. Unlike the hallucinogenic and highly addictive potions developed by us Drow, its quality is widely recognized by the various races on the New Continent. Its main ingredient is typically extracted from..."

The Drow hadn’t finished speaking when David snatched the bottle, shook it in his claw, and then tossed it, bottle and all, into his mouth. He crunched it down as if it were a liquid-filled candy and swallowed, flicking his tongue immediately afterward.

"Ssss, cool. Like mint oil."

His eyes widened. "Hey, it seems somewhat effective, but not very. Got any more? Give me a whole box to start. Also, what did you say this stuff is made from? Can we produce it ourselves?"

"...extracted from the excrement of a White Dragon or Silver Dragon..." Once again, the Drow’s words were cut short.

"...PFFT!"

The Sobering Potion David had just swallowed was instantly regurgitated, spraying out with his saliva all over a few Elves. He roared in utter Wrath, like a contestant on a nightmare cooking show forced to eat his own disastrous creation, "SAY THAT AGAIN, DAMN YOU!"

Sensing his life would be in danger if he hesitated even a second longer, the Drow hurriedly sped up his reply, "I mean, it’s typically extracted from the excrement of White Dragons or Silver Dragons, but higher-quality versions are often derived from their blood or glandular secretions. The one I just gave you was the latter.

"As for production, from what I know, it’s considered a low-grade potion. As long as we have ample raw materials and can obtain the formula, the production threshold shouldn’t be too high."

I must always start with the important points when speaking to Master, the Drow silently admonished himself, and continue to practice my already lightning-fast speech. Maybe I should even learn some spells from a Mage to communicate directly with Master’s mind. Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll die one day from speaking too slowly...

Hearing this, David leaned back. He took the three bottles of Sobering Potion from the High Elf’s grasp and swallowed them all. After a moment, his head, which had felt like it was about to explode with anger, cooled slightly. He took a deep, satisfied breath. "Alright, this stuff... I mean, the kind extracted from dragon dung, how well does it sell?"

"It’s all the rage on the Continent," the Drow affirmed without hesitation.

BANG!

David smashed his couch with a swipe of his claw. "Then what are we waiting for? Let’s start with this stuff!"

As long as I can get money – plenty of it – to persuade other dragons to serve me, what does it matter if others have to swallow dung? Besides, it was those Elves who came up with this stuff. It’s basically like a fast-acting tranquilizer, so I have no hesitation in replicating it. And the Old Continent has no shortage of damn dragon dung!