Under the night sky, the courtyard was far quieter than the brilliantly lit banquet hall.
Moonlight poured down like liquid mercury, splashing over droplets from the fountain and reflecting tiny glints of cold light.
Carrying three petrified dragon eggs of different colors, Ying Mo walked at an unhurried pace.
He was in no rush to leave, seeming to wait for something.
Sure enough— “Halt!
You thief!” A sharp, furious roar came from behind him.
Viserys Targaryen stumbled out from the loggia, clutching an ornate but impractical sword.
His face was flushed red with anger and wine, his iconic silver-gold hair disheveled, and a mad fire burned in his eyes.
“Give me back those dragon eggs!
They’re mine!
The property of House Targaryen!” He pointed the tip of his sword at Ying Mo from a distance, snarling loudly.
Ying Mo turned around slowly, his face devoid of emotion.
He did not even glance at the trembling sword, merely looking calmly at Viserys as if observing an unruly child throwing a tantrum.
“Prince Viserys,” Ying Mo’s voice rang out with extraordinary clarity in the quiet courtyard, “we just concluded a fair trade.
Magister Illyrio exchanged these three stones for my ingot of Valyrian steel.
They belong to me now.” “No!
They are mine!” Viserys’s sanity had clearly been consumed by jealousy and humiliation.
“That fat fool Illyrio was swindled by you!
You gutter-dwelling fraud!
I will take back everything that is mine!” His roaring drew the surrounding guards.
Even a few grooms resting on the edge of the courtyard, watching the horses, cast curious glances over.
However, everyone’s attention was soon drawn to someone else.
Daenerys came running out after him, her small face filled with panic and helplessness.
She wanted to stop her brother, but years of accumulated fear kept her silent.
She could only watch the standoff helplessly with her violet eyes.
Ying Mo’s gaze met Daenerys’s for a brief instant in the air.
He saw the fear in her eyes—and beneath that fear, a tiny spark of thought that he had personally ignited.
*Enough.* *It is time to let her see reality clearly.* The corner of Ying Mo’s mouth curved into a barely perceptible arc.
Ignoring the sword point directed at his throat, he raised his head to glance at the bright moon.
Then, he blew a clear, sharp whistle.
*Wheeew—!* The whistle pierced the night sky, sharp and unmistakable.
In the next second, a sudden turn of events occurred!
A crimson flash of lightning tore through the night sky, plummeting straight down from the high roof of the Magister’s manse in a manner that defied all common physics!
The red rainbow arrived with a sharp whistle of displaced air, as if tearing the atmosphere apart.
A gust of gale-force wind swept through the courtyard, rustling the leaves and causing Viserys to nearly lose his footing!
*Thump—!* A heavy, dull thud reverberated, as if the ground itself shook.
The crimson lightning slammed down heavily beside Ying Mo, kicking up a ring of dust and flapping his robes.
When everyone clearly saw its appearance, sharp gasps echoed one after another.
It was a dragon unlike any they had ever seen.
It was clad in silver scales, its wings looking as though they were ablaze with fire.
Its form was sleek, elegant, and packed with immense power.
Two huge dragon eyes emitting an ominous red glare swept coldly across their surroundings.
On its back, two massive wings, shaped like thick lances, flexed slightly open and closed.
The Valstrax—Comet!
“Gods…
above!…” A Pentoshi guard collapsed directly onto the ground in terror.
The surrounding guards and servants were all frozen in place, terrified by this ferocious beast that had suddenly intruded.
Comet paid no heed to anyone else.
It simply lowered its massive head, nuzzling affectionately against Ying Mo’s shoulder, while its cold eyes locked onto every potential threat that could pose a danger to its master.
“My dragon is a bit hungry,” Ying Mo said softly, gently stroking Comet’s cold scales.
“A dragon…?” Terrified by the sudden turn of events, Viserys stumbled back two paces.
But when he took in the form of this dragon, his fleeting fear instantly turned into humiliated fury.
“What kind of dragon is this?!” Viserys shrieked, trying to mask his shock and envy with venomous words.
“It’s a hideous monster!
Alchemical trash!
Why does a lowborn trash like him get to have a dragon?!
I am the true dragon!
I am the last blood of the dragonlords!” As if trying to prove something, he rallied his courage once more, gripping his sword with both hands and pointing it straight at Comet’s massive head.
“I’ll slay you, you monster!” Hysterically screaming, he actually swung his sword and charged at Comet.
Daenerys let out a short gasp, instinctively covering her mouth.
Yet Ying Mo didn’t even budge.
He didn’t even turn his head.
He merely issued a cold command in his mind.
*Comet, teach him a lesson.
Don’t kill him.* The moment the command was given— *Roar—!* A deep, metallic roar that sounded as though it came from the depths of hell burst from Comet’s jaws!
That roar, far removed from anything of mortal flesh, sent ears ringing with a violent buzz!
Immediately after, Comet moved.
Its speed could no longer be described as merely fast.
To the onlookers, the massive silver tail merely flickered, leaving a faint afterimage in its wake.
The naked eye could not track its trajectory at all!
Before Viserys even realized what was happening, he felt an irresistible force—like a collapsing mountain or a roaring tsunami—slam violently into his chest.
*Bang!* A sickening thud echoed through the air.
The sword in Viserys’s hand flew from his grip into the air, while his body was sent airborne like a tattered doll kicked by a giant, hurtling back more than a dozen meters.
*Pfft—!* A spray of blood arced tragically through the night air.
He slammed heavily onto the ground, rolling several times before coming to a complete stop on the cold marble tiles like a dead dog.
His right leg bent at an unnatural angle, and only the weak rise and fall of his chest proved he was still alive.
The entire courtyard fell dead silent.
Whether Pentoshi guards or wild, untamed Dothraki, everyone present was utterly awestruck by this display of raw, absolute violence.
A single blow.
Just one strike.
The scion of House Targaryen, who styled himself a true dragon, had been crushed beyond doubt by this terrifying beast from the sky.
Comet slowly shook its head, its dragon eyes sweeping over the crowd.
Anyone met by its gaze felt as though a cold blade had been laid against their throat, and they involuntarily lowered their heads, not daring to meet its eyes.
Taking heavy strides, it returned behind Ying Mo, turning once more into a silent, majestic silver statue.
Ying Mo held the dragon eggs, looking as if nothing had happened.
Step by step, he strode over Viserys, who lay moaning on the ground, without giving him so much as a glance.
Ying Mo had instructed Comet to hold back; otherwise, what lay on the ground now would have been a corpse.
He walked up to the silver-haired girl, who was frozen in place with shock.
Daenerys was trembling all over, her face pale as parchment.
She looked at her dying brother on the ground, then at the eerily calm man before her and the lethal, terrifying dragon exuding the aura of death behind him.
Her violet eyes overflowed with confusion and dread.
Ying Mo stopped in front of her.
The courtyard torches and moonlight outlined his tall, straight silhouette, and his deep eyes reflected her shaken face.
Slowly, he extended a hand toward her.
“Your Highness.” He spoke softly, though his tone held a faint trace of mockery.
“Marrying a barbarian in exchange for an illusory army that will never cross the Narrow Sea for you is not the future of House Targaryen.” His words were like a sharp key, fitting perfectly into the most fragile lock in Daenerys’s heart.
“Come with me.” Ying Mo’s hand remained steadily outstretched before her, like an unshakeable promise.
“I will help you reclaim everything that belongs to you.” He stared into her eyes, his voice filled with irresistible allure.
“And perhaps…
even more.” Daenerys’s breathing nearly stopped at that moment.
She stared at the hand in front of her.
It was nothing like her brother Viserys’s hands, which only grabbed her roughly, pinched her, and brought her pain and fear.
This hand was clean, slender, and full of strength.
It represented a brand-new, unknown future—one brimming with possibilities.
She glanced once more at her brother lying in the distance.
The man who had ruled over her destiny since childhood, the “true dragon” she once believed to be her sole reliance in this world, was now so pathetic, so weak, so…
pitiful.
Yet the man before her—this mysterious guest accompanied by a strange, magnificent dragon—had shown her what true power really was.
Courage, like a seed buried deep beneath the earth, finally burst through the hard soil of fear at this moment.
Trembling, Daenerys slowly raised her hand.
Amid the dead silence of the entire courtyard, for the first time, she defied her brother’s will.
For the first time, she made a choice for her own destiny.
She gently placed her soft, delicate hand into Ying Mo’s warm, strong palm.
“Magister, our trade continues,” Ying Mo said to Magister Illyrio, who had stepped out.
“I only want the dragon eggs.
As for this ingot, consider it my initial investment in my new queen.
I need your assistance to prepare sufficient food, water, and an ocean-going ship for us.” Looking at the Valyrian steel ingot, then at Daenerys—who seemed transformed—and the two terrifying monsters beside her, Magister Illyrio immediately made the judgment that best served a merchant’s self-interest.
“Of course, my Queen…
and, esteemed Lord Regent,” he replied, bowing deeply with a brand-new, impeccably respectful form of address.
Yet the instant he lowered his head, a greedy glint flickered across his eyes.
Three days later.
In the harbor of Pentos, a merchant ship bearing blank sails quietly set sail.
Onboard, there was no grand wedding, nor the clamor of Dothraki.
There was only a silver-haired, violet-eyed girl whose eyes burned with renewed fire; a taciturn, bewildered exiled prince; a destitute knight picked up at the docks, Ser Jorah Mormont; and a mysterious guest from the East alongside his equally mysterious silver dragon.
“Where are we going?” Daenerys asked softly, standing at the bow and gazing out at the endless sea.
Standing beside her, Ying Mo looked toward the distant East, toward that forbidden land known as the Red Waste.
“To a place where you can be truly crowned.” His voice resonated with unquestionable confidence.
“There, with fire and blood, we shall awaken the true dragons.” “But…
how do we awaken them?” Daenerys wondered, recalling her family’s dragon legends.
Ying Mo offered only a mysterious smile in response.