Chapter 11: The Little Croc Spirit

**Dragon Tamer**

“Let’s make a bet,” Zhu Minglang said, stepping forward with a smirk toward the peach vendor. “I’ll walk right in—no one at that copperwood gate will stop me. If I get through, you hand over this whole basket of peaches.”

The vendor laughed—a warm, sun-kissed chuckle. Her dark wheat-colored skin contrasted sharply with her bright, sparkling eyes. “Fine. But what if *I* win?”

Zhu Minglang waved a hand dismissively. “Then I buy every single peach you’ve got.”

“You don’t look like someone who’s got that kind of coin,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Just shut up and let me do it.”

Most students arriving at the academy would at least try to look presentable—dressed with dignity, even if not dazzling. But Zhu Minglang? He’d spent the journey guarding flowers all the way from ancestral Long Dragon City, then trudged here on foot, never once getting a chance to wash. His rough-spun tunic hung off him like a sack of old rags, making him look more like a beggar than a scholar.

He didn’t *want* to look this way. Once, poverty was just poverty—his appearance had always been respectable. Being mistaken for a beggar? That was only because he’d run into bandits and gotten caught in a scrape…

As he stepped onto the White Rock Bridge, the street vendors thinned out. Closer to the copperwood gate, the air grew still, hushed—like the place breathed elegance.

“I’m here to enroll,” Zhu Minglang said, handing over his acceptance letter with practiced politeness.

“What happened to your clothes?” the gatekeeper asked, squinting.

“Long journey,” Zhu shrugged. “Encountered bandits. Fought hard to keep this letter safe.”

“Hmm.” The man nodded. “Go ahead and pick up your student badge at the front. Wait there until called.”

With that, he gestured to someone behind him to escort Zhu inside.

Zhu tucked the letter away, then turned back—just for a second—to glance at the peach girl at the bridge’s edge. He wanted to flash her a toothy, wolfish grin.

But she was too busy arguing with a plump woman over prices, gesticulating wildly, arms flailing like windmills.

She’d completely forgotten their bet.

Cold lake winds swept across the water, casting a lonely shadow over one lone figure standing by the shore.

Zhu sighed. There was nothing left to do but step forward.

Damn it. Losing hurt worse than losing *and* being humiliated.

Beyond the gate, the bridge vanished. It wasn’t a real bridge—it was just a broken span, ending in a crescent-shaped platform that curved gently down into the crystal-clear lake.

And waiting at the edge of the platform, submerged just beneath the surface, was a long-necked dragon. It was as big as a single-room house, its neck stretching from underwater all the way up to the archway above. Its hide was smooth and tight, massive yet somehow gentle—calm, serene. You could stand beside it without feeling threatened, unlike Luo Xiao’s golden fire dragon, which radiated danger like a furnace. This creature felt… different. Like another species entirely.

“Ten of you ready?” the gatekeeper called out. “We’re full now.”

Five people already stood atop the dragon’s broad back. With Zhu and the four newcomers, that made ten.

Ten souls. One dragon. A ride across the lake.

“Li Shaoying!” boomed a middle-aged man from the shore. “You’re our village’s last hope! No matter what, become a Dragon Tamer!”

Li Shaoying grimaced. Around him, classmates were already laughing.

“If you fail,” the man continued, voice booming, “come back early. Someone’s gotta tend the cattle and sheep. They won’t fatten up if they’re hungry. No fat means no milk. And no milk? Those little lambs and calves won’t survive winter.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd—especially among the female students boarding the dragon, who clutched their mouths to stifle giggles.

Li Shaoying wanted nothing more than to dive headfirst into the lake.

“Okay, okay, Uncle Hua,” he snapped, waving the man off. “I know. Just go home already.”

“Don’t forget to share that smoked venison with your classmates,” the man called after him. “New town, new people—make friends. That way, you won’t get picked on.”

“Please, just go!” Li Shaoying begged.

“Oh! I forgot the medicinal wine!” the man cried, suddenly pulling out a small bottle. “If anyone hits you, rub this on the wound—heals fast!”

Finally, the well-meaning, overbearing shepherd was coaxed away.

If he hadn’t left soon, Li Shaoying might have actually jumped into the lake.

“Three of you are late,” the gatekeeper said, eyeing Li Shaoying, Zhu Minglang, and the aloof nobleman. “By the time you reach the Dragon Vault, you’ll only be able to pick from leftovers. Even if the journey’s long, you should’ve started earlier.”

“You’re just starting too?” Li Shaoying asked, surprised. He studied Zhu and the silent aristocrat.

The nobleman didn’t respond. Clearly, he had no interest in chatting with some country bumpkin fresh from a remote mountain village.

Li tried to start a conversation. No reply. Awkward silence.

Then his gaze landed on Zhu.

His face went pale.

Li Shaoying was poor enough—raised on a farm, barely scraping by. His pride had taken a beating already from the laughter around him. And now? Here was someone who looked *worse* than him. And yet… also a student?

The gatekeeper hadn’t said anything. Li thought Zhu might be a kitchen servant or janitor.

“You’re really a student?” Li asked, stunned.

“Zhu Minglang,” Zhu replied with a polite bow—friendly, respectful, unassuming.

“Oh,” Li mumbled, barely returning the gesture.

Of course, when they learned Zhu was also a new recruit, the laughter returned—louder this time.

But Zhu didn’t react like Li had. He stayed calm. Unbothered.

In the world, thick skin was a skill worth mastering.

The breeze off the lake was crisp and clean. The long-necked dragon moved slowly, steadily, carrying the ten students across the water—toward the dreamland everyone whispered about: the Dragon Academy.

…

At the bridge’s edge, the peach girl finally paused after selling several pounds of ripe fruit. Then, suddenly, she remembered something.

She turned toward the towering, closed copperwood gate.

Her expression froze.

“Did he… fall in?”

“Poor guy,” she murmured to herself.

…

**Dragon Vault**

Every new student, whether they already had a young spirit or not, received one chance to choose their first dragon.

Though people revered the art of dragon discernment, picking a true dragon from thousands of ordinary hatchlings was like fishing in a stormy sea—hopeless, mostly blind luck. More often than not, it was just a gamble.

Zhu Minglang, Li Shaoying, and the cold-eyed nobleman were led into the Dragon Vault.

Inside, hatchlings and eggs lined the halls like river stones—endless, overwhelming. So many types: bird spirits, river spirits, beast spirits, ancient spirits, poison demons, stone fiends… and countless half-breeds—sub-dragons, false dragons, mixed-bloods—all showing signs of dragon blood before they’d even fully transformed. Some were already large, powerful, displaying traits so unmistakably draconic, it gave you chills.

“Pick one,” the gatekeeper said. “Once chosen, go register with the old master inside. Mark it, and it’s yours.”

He stayed until the instructions were clear—then left.

Li Shaoying was excited. He hurried to the nest area, staring intently at a group of newborn blue bird spirits, trying to identify their breed.

Zhu walked slowly along the path, observing.

So many kinds. So many possibilities.

Birds, rivers, beasts, ancient ones, poisons, stone monsters—plus dozens of creatures with dragon blood in them. All young, all potential.

“Huh,” said the nobleman, voice flat. “You’re taking this seriously? Didn’t you know *nothing* about the academy before coming? Out of thousands of hatchlings, maybe one is a real dragon. You’re here not to find greatness—but to hold onto a *hope*.”

Zhu and Li both turned to him.

So he *could* talk.

Zhu nodded silently. “We really don’t know much. Tell us.”

“Just grab any random one,” the nobleman said. “Stop wasting time. Spend less time choosing trash, more time training whatever you end up with.”

Li chuckled nervously.

True. The free hatchlings weren’t exactly top-tier. If they were, everyone would be a dragon tamer by now. Instead, most people still lingered outside the gates, dreaming.

Li eventually picked the fiercest-looking bird spirit from the bunch, lifting it casually—more out of habit than care.

Zhu scratched his head.

His situation was… awkward.

Anyone who made it into the academy usually already had a promising young spirit—some were just one step from transformation. Li clearly had one. The nobleman acted like he already had a full-grown dragon.

White Qi was still frozen in his ice cocoon. Zhu had nothing. Technically, he was just a favor kid—thrown in by connections.

So yeah. His first dragon would probably come from the academy’s charity pile.

Still, this was his beginning.

He ignored the nobleman’s condescension and kept searching—carefully, sincerely.

Choosing a dragon was like judging treasure.

It took sharp eyes. A bit of luck.

Unfortunately, Zhu had neither.

Blind. And cursed.

But rituals mattered. Attitude had to be proper.

“Can we hurry up?” the nobleman snapped.

Zhu pretended not to hear.

He studied each tiny creature—the ones still in shells, the ones just hatching, others already sprouting feathers and teeth, tearing apart their handmade nests with surprising strength.