Hunger!
This was Chen Yu's first sensation upon waking—he was so hungry his stomach was sticking to his back, as if he could swallow a whole cow!
Opening his eyes, he saw a row of thin bars in front of him. He was a bit dazed; where was he?
He turned his head and looked up, and to his shock, Chen Yu discovered he was actually locked in a cage.
Moreover, this cage was a bit too small. He raised his hand; a pair of small, translucent crimson wings were spread over black wing bones, with a black hook at the tip of the wings. Looking at his feet, he saw a pair of black claws. This was definitely not a place for humans.
He clearly remembered that a moment Ago, he was playing honor of kings, transformed into a dragon and slaughtering everyone. Just as he was getting into it, the computer screen suddenly went black, and he blacked out along with it. When he opened his eyes again, he had actually become a little dragon. Was the transformation skill really this treacherous?
As he was silently protesting, a sudden wave of dizziness hit his head, and a few memory fragments flooded in.
He had transmigrated, and into the body of a dragon.
Peering through the cage into the distance, all he could see was reddish-brown wasteland and dry grass, with sparse, withered trees scattered about. Heat waves shimmered over the red earth.
In the sky, a comet with a fiery red tail like a blazing flame flew silently. Beneath the comet, a group of fewer than a hundred people was slowly advancing.
Most in the group were the elderly, women, and children, dressed in rags. Many could only walk if they were supported, and some warriors were even bare-chested.
The cage Chen Yu was in was tied to a horse near the front of the line. Not far from him, a young girl happened to turn her head. She had silver hair and purple eyes; though her expression was haggard and her lips were chapped, they could not hide her exquisite features.
On the girl's bronze-colored shoulder stood a listless, gold-and-yellow-patterned little dragon.
She was currently feeding a thumb-sized piece of meat to the little dragon, but it only sniffed it, puffed a faint wisp of smoke from its nose, and let its little head droop.
Seeing that the little dragon still wouldn't eat, the exhaustion on the girl's face deepened with frustration.
It really was the Dragon Mother, Daenerys Targaryen!
Seeing the girl's appearance and combining it with the fragments of memory in his head, Chen Yu was almost one hundred percent certain he had transmigrated into the world of game of thrones, and specifically into a dragon named Drogon.
Having recognized the reality, despite being extremely uncomfortable with his dragon body, he could only force himself to accept it.
He had been all alone on Earth, a weary corporate slave. Changing to a dragon's life might not be so bad. From now on, he was Drogon.
In his past life, he was a fan of game of thrones and had watched the uncensored version. Even after two years, some of the steamy scenes were still fresh in his memory. Although the plot was a bit fuzzy, he could infer the general situation from the current scene.
The Dragon Mother had just lost Khal Drogo and her son, and the three little dragons were newly hatched.
Lord Eddard Stark had been humiliatingly beheaded despite acknowledging Joffrey as the legitimate heir. His eldest daughter Sansa was trapped in King's Landing, and his younger daughter Arya had escaped.
The bastard Jon was serving as his Nights Watch, the son Robb was in a standoff with House Lannister, King Robert's two brothers had each declared themselves king, and other Great Houses were busy seeking allies. The War of the Five Kings was about to break out.
After watching game of thrones, besides having many regrets, there was one sentiment that could be summarized by the words of the Faceless Men—"Valar Morghulis!"
Those who deserved to die and those who didn't, those he wanted to die and those he didn't, all received their "lunch boxes" one by one. Even the Dragon Mother hadn't escaped this fate.
Her plight was all the more pitiable. She had been on the run since she was in the womb, never knowing a day of peace. She finally got three dragons, fought hard, and was about to rule the world, only to be betrayed by her lover and die, her efforts ultimately serving as a "wedding dress" for House Stark.
Drogon was precisely one of Daenerys's three little dragons.
At the thought of himself, a strong sense of hunger struck again. Drogon opened his mouth to call for the Dragon Mother, but his tiny, dry throat could only produce a faint hiss. He used the little strength he had left to shake the wooden cage with his wings.
His efforts were not in vain. After just two shakes, he caught the attention of the maid following behind him.
"Drogon, what's wrong?" Jeyne, a round-faced maid with black hair and tan skin, wearing a sexy leather top that revealed a section of her waist, said as she opened the cage.
Drogon realized he could actually understand the maid's words. As soon as the cage opened, he crawled out, fluttering his wings in Jeyne's hands and making a move to fly toward the wooden basket of meat on the horse's back.
Jeyne hadn't expected Drogon to want meat; he hadn't eaten when she fed him earlier.
"Neigh!"
Just as she took a piece of meat from the basket, she heard a weak horse's neigh. In the distance, a white horse collapsed onto the brown earth, unable to get up again.
Daenerys, who was at the front of the group with the little golden dragon on her shoulder, heard the neigh and quickly put the little dragon into a wooden cage and ran over.
Seeing the white horse close its eyes and lie motionless, Daenerys was heartbroken. This was the first gift Khal Drogo had given her. When she was heartlessly given to Drogo by her brother Viserion, riding this little mare across the grasslands had been her only joy. Now, she couldn't even protect it.
"Does the waste have an end? Why haven't we made it out yet?"
Stroking the white horse, Daenerys looked up and asked the tall, middle-aged man squatting beside her.
The man had thinning hair, was about forty years old, and wore a yellowed linen shirt.
"Of course there is an end. Although I haven't been this far, I know there are several great cities in the East," the man replied.
"Ser Jorah, when will we find them?" Daenerys looked at the middle-aged man with expectant eyes, hoping to gain courage from him.
"The dryness of the Red Waste is beyond imagination, but we can only move forward, can't we, Khal Drogo?" Jorah licked his parched lips, his answer leaving Daenerys as helpless as ever.
"To the east are the Khalasars of the Lamb Men; they would surely be happy to kill our weakened group and take your dragons. The Khals on the northern grasslands would certainly not be merciful either; they would kill us and then seize the dragons."
"No one will take my dragons!"
Daenerys's tone was firm. If she lost her dragons, she would truly have nothing.
"blood of my blood!" She turned to look at several Dothraki warriors to her right.
Hearing Daenerys's call, the three Bloodriders came over.
"Rakharo, you go northeast. Kovarro, southeast. Ago, head due east. Look for an exit from the Red Waste or a city."
The three left to carry out their orders. Daenerys went to Rakharo, who was packing food and water, and said, "blood of my blood, I hope you can bring us good news."
"blood of my blood, I will not fail your expectations."
[This Rakharo is about to have his head cut off.]
Hearing what Daenerys said to Rakharo, Drogon thought to himself.
The scene of the Dragon Mother instructing Rakharo felt familiar. Back then, hearing her say that, he also thought Rakharo would find a way out of the waste, but he hadn't expected the old horse to bring back a dripping human head. At the time, he had lamented the Dragon Mother's poor luck.
Daenerys, who was talking to Rakharo, suddenly turned her head to look at the maid, Jeyne, beside her.
Seeing Daenerys suddenly look at her, Jeyne was a bit confused.
It wasn't Jeyne. That voice just now was youthful; it definitely wasn't her. Daenerys looked around again. In the distance, two women were supporting a little girl who looked like she was about to collapse, and they were peering in this direction.
Could it be that little girl? But the voice didn't sound like it. And why would she say such a thing?
"blood of my blood, I am going now."
Seeing that Daenerys had stopped speaking, Rakharo pulled on the reins and said.
"Wait a moment."
Rakharo was the Bloodrider Daenerys valued most; she would never allow him to die. The voice she had just heard made her very uncomfortable. She couldn't let Rakharo take the risk until she figured out where the voice came from.
"What is it, Khal Drogo?"
Seeing Daenerys's strange behavior, Ser Jorah also walked over and asked.