1: Chapter 1 I Became Zhuogeng

Pain.

It wasn't the kind of pain from being punched. It was every bone in his body screaming, like someone was using a file to grind down his bone marrow bit by bit.

Drogon wanted to curse. He couldn't open his mouth. He wanted to move, but he couldn't. Everything before his eyes was black, and thick, sticky liquid filled his nasal cavity—it felt like being stuffed into a plastic bag filled with paste, and then tied into a dead knot for good measure.

Damn.

The last image he remembered: a rental apartment. A moldy ceiling. The humming of an air conditioner's outdoor unit.

And then, nothing.

Wait.

He hadn't been drinking. He had no roommates. He hadn't offended anyone either.

So how did he end up here?

"Ding—"

An electronic sound exploded directly in his brain. It wasn't heard with his ears; it was the kind that pierced straight into his consciousness.

A translucent blue panel lit up.

"Infinite stat-allocation system binding..."

"Host vital signs abnormal. Determination: soul transmigration, body restructuring in progress."

"Current vessel: dragon egg (Drogon). Status: near death (high temperature warning)."

Drogon was stunned.

Drogon. That black dragon from "Game of Thrones" that torched the iron throne with one breath?

He had become a dragon?

And an egg at that?

The four characters "High Temperature Warning" flashed on the panel like a police light.

There was only one possibility for a dragon egg to be near death—someone was boiling him.

The answer came faster than the question.

Outside the eggshell, the temperature spiked abruptly. The liquid surrounding him began to bubble and boil, scalding him so badly he wanted to scream—but he couldn't make a sound.

The excruciating pain tore through all the chaos in his consciousness. Drogon frantically hammered at the attribute panel with his mind.

"External environment detected: dragon fire. Meets the activation conditions for the 'Nirvana Evolution' starter pack."

"Distributing: +500 attribute points. Talent 'Immortal in Fire'. Passive 'Flame Absorption'."

"Newbie quest: Survive, break out of the shell. Reward: Random dragon talent."

Survive.

Break the shell.

Drogon gritted his teeth—though he didn't know where an egg's teeth would be—and roared with his mind.

"Put it all into Constitution! Max it out for me!"

He slammed 300 attribute points into Constitution, and his body exploded.

Not literally. It was his bones, flesh, and meridians being dismantled and reassembled. Crushed inch by inch, reshaped inch by inch. The pain made him want to die, but he couldn't.

"Constitution +100... Constitution +100... Constitution +100..."

"Ding! Constitution exceeded 100! Body restructuring initiated!"

"Ding! Constitution exceeded 200! Obtained passive 'Basic Dragon Scales'!"

"Ding! Constitution exceeded 300! Obtained passive 'Draconic Pain Reduction'!"

Outside the eggshell, the flames were still burning.

It was different now.

Before, the fire had been knives, slicing his flesh one cut at a time.

Now, it was water. It flowed in gently, seeping into the gaps between his scales, tickling him.

The pain turned into itching. The itching turned into pleasure.

Drogon closed his eyes, wanting to hum in comfort.

Damn. This was what it meant to be alive.

The fire died down. The world quieted.

Drogon felt a vibration. It wasn't the fire. It was a heartbeat. Very light, very fast, transmitting through the eggshell.

Then, a voice. Very soft, as if through a layer of water.

"Please... come out..."

The voice was trembling.

Drogon paused for a second.

Then he moved. He aimed his sharp claws at the thinnest part of the eggshell and slashed hard.

Crack.

Light. Blinding light. And wind.

The smell of the grassy field mixed with the smoke of burnt wood rushed into his nasal cavity.

Drogon poked his head out from the eggshell fragments; the first thing he saw was a face.

A dirty face. Silver hair matted into strands by ash. Eyes red and swollen. Lips chapped. Tear tracks on her cheeks.

Daenerys. Daenerys Targaryen.

Drogon stared at her.

She stared at Drogon.

A large crowd of people knelt on the grass, a sea of black, none daring to look up. The smell of horse manure mixed with the smell of burnt wood, making Drogon sneeze.

A small puff of flame shot out from his nostrils.

Daenerys Targaryen's eyes lit up.

Drogon opened his mouth. He had originally wanted to say "Hello."

His stomach gave an uncooperative growl.

Hungry. Very hungry. Hungry enough to eat a whole cow.

So he changed what he was going to say. He didn't speak Chinese, and he didn't speak English.

It was the dothraki language.

"Mother, I am hungry."

The whole scene fell into dead silence.