Chapter 15: Mind Games and Bravery

……
Dawn was just breaking.
A thin layer of frost dusted the otherwise dull courtyard, and a teenage boy—face twisted in irritation—swung a broom across the common area. The ground was littered with big, flaky dragon scales, scattered shards of armor-like plates, thick clumps of beastly phlegm, and the most abundant debris: broken wooden dummies, cheap and battered, like discarded toys from a failed war game.

“Figured once I got here, I’d be done with this grunt work,” Li Shaoying muttered, sweeping with more force than necessary. “Big Horn, you really let me down. Why couldn’t you just knock that big wolf spirit off its feet? Then we wouldn’t have to clean up this mess.”

He paused, his mind drifting back to yesterday’s dragon duel.

The opponent had been a young wolf spirit—normally no match for his own horned oxling. But in battle, his oxling had been clumsy, slow, completely outmaneuvered, like a bull trying to dance.

“We’ll train harder,” he said aloud, as if the universe might hear. “Next time, we’ll reclaim our honor.”

*Crack.*

The courtyard gate groaned open, heavy and loud. Li Shaoying blinked, startled.

Who the hell gets up this early?

Someone actually finished morning training before sunrise? That’s… impressive.

Then he saw him—Zhu Minglang, trudging back through the gate, shoulders slumped, eyes hollow with exhaustion. His steps were slow, weighed down by something deeper than fatigue. Confusion flickered across his face, like he’d just woken from a dream he didn’t want to remember.

……

Inside the hut, Zhu Minglang dropped his large bamboo basket with a thud.

He walked to the back, where Xiao E, his little crocodileling, lay sprawled on the sand, gnawing at fish that smelled faintly rotten—stale grouper, probably scavenged from the riverbank. The way it ate—quick, desperate, almost gagging—told him everything: these weren’t good meals. But it swallowed them anyway.

Zhu Minglang sighed.

Poor kid. Knew they were poor. Still ate it all.

“Black Tooth,” he said softly, setting the basket down in front of the creature. “Look what I brought.”

The basket tipped over. One by one, plump, greasy meatworms tumbled out—fat, wriggling, glistening under the dim light.

Xiao E’s round eyes lit up like twin lanterns.

It shot forward, gulping down the first few worms whole. Then, head-first into the basket, it became a ravenous pig—snorting, squirming, tail wagging wildly as it devoured every last morsel.

By the time it was done, not a single worm remained. The basket was empty. Xiao E crawled over, tongue lolling, and smeared its massive, wet face across Zhu Minglang’s cheek in a clumsy show of affection.

“No, no, no—gross! I stink, I need a bath!” Zhu Minglang pushed it away, laughing despite himself.

But Xiao E wasn’t deterred. It kept coming, until drool had soaked through his shirt. Only then did it finally retreat, belly full, back to its muddy pool.

Zhu Minglang stood, ready to toss out the rotting fish. But Xiao E hesitated, watching him.

Smart little thing.

It understood—this wasn’t just food. This was effort. Hard work. All night long, Zhu Minglang had scrounged, traded, hustled just to bring home this basket. And now, instead of tossing the fish, Xiao E looked at him like it wanted to save them. For later. When hunger returned.

“It’s okay,” Zhu Minglang said gently. “Next meal’s guaranteed. You’ll see a bigger basket tomorrow morning—bigger than today. These fish? They’re gone.”

Xiao E perked up instantly. It leaned forward, offering its goofy, oversized head like a gift.

“Go back to sleep,” Zhu Minglang said, scratching behind its ear. “When you wake, training starts. And listen—no mercy. I’m not your friend during drills. I’m a monster.”

“Woo-oooh!” Xiao E barked, tail thumping. It *wanted* to get stronger. Badly.

After a quick shower, Zhu Minglang collapsed onto his cot. Exhaustion pulled at him like gravity. But sleep wouldn’t come.

Cleaning the Dragon Vault all night for just one basket of meatworms? That was barely enough to feed Xiao E for two days. If he went again tonight, tomorrow’s meals would be covered. But this wasn’t sustainable.

And then there was Bai Xiaoqi.

She could wake up any day now. And when she did—her value would skyrocket. Pure nectar, worth far more than meatworms. But how do you trade sweat and scraps for magic honey?

Right now, feeding Xiao E took nearly every waking hour.

And the little croc was still growing. By the time it reached two or three meters long, its appetite would multiply tenfold. Zhu Minglang would be working nonstop just to keep it fed—how would he ever find time to train?

“Back at the Dragon Vault, the Academy Assignment Board had a decent job posted,” he murmured. “Just need a nap. Try it before noon.”

The Academy offered various tasks—some for students, some for dragon handlers. Raising dragons was expensive. Without family backing, most kids either worked odd jobs or took on official assignments to survive.

There were high-paying ones—dragon hunts.
And others—backbreaking labor: babysitting hatchlings, cleaning nests, scrubbing floors.

Zhu Minglang had already spoken with the old caretaker at the Dragon Vault. He could work nights, watching over the young spirits. New slaves handled the cleaning—but they didn’t understand dragon behavior. He, as a proper dragon trainer, was qualified.

One full night’s shift earned him two baskets of meatworms.

The old man needed him tonight. So another night watch meant food secured for the next two days.

But he needed more. A better job. Higher pay. Enough to start saving for the nectar.

“Man… haven’t had a real plan in forever,” Zhu Minglang sighed.

Even if things got harder, at least now there was hope. Something to aim for.

……

He didn’t sleep long. Time was too tight. Less rest, more action.

He had to prepare for Xiao E’s next meal—and Bai Xiaoqi’s future.

At the mess hall, he shoved down a few scraps, then bolted toward the Assignment Board.

“Huh,” he muttered, scanning the list. “Wait—*fighting in battles, attacking cities*? That’s a dragon handler’s job. Academy’s getting bold.”

The reward? A quarter of the city’s tax revenue.

If Bai Xiaoqi hadn’t lost her power, Zhu Minglang might’ve considered it.

Imagine controlling a city’s income—enough to buy mountains of meatworms.

Wait—why was he measuring everything in meatworms? That was pathetic.

He turned his attention to another posting:

> *Fish demons in Lichuan Lake are multiplying. Nocturnal mating calls drive neighbors mad. Eggs harden like stone, ruining the shoreline. Worse—some bold fish spirits have attacked fishermen in nearby villages. Unacceptable.*

**Clear the Blue-Spotted Fish Demons!**

An awkward assignment.

True dragon riders wouldn’t touch this. Small spirits knew how to flee, how to hide. Sending a full-grown dragon on such a task? Wasted time. Low pay.

For younglings? Most couldn’t swim well. Few had the reflexes to hunt in packs. Some would get trapped, drowned, eaten.

But Xiao E?

Perfect fit.

Every afternoon was training time—dodging waterfalls, building strength, hunting those same stone-hard fish.

Now it was both training *and* dinner.

“Two weeks,” Zhu Minglang smiled. “That gives Black Tooth a clear goal. Finish strong? One grain of golden sand.”

Golden sand—worth more than a week’s worth of meatworms.

Training. Money. Both in one.

This job? Absolutely taken.