Nightfall.
Thunder Prison Hall.
The red dragon Dimayaro lounged back in his chair and yawned. With nothing better to do, he took a sip of the fruit juice in his hand, only to find it more and more bland and tasteless. He tossed away the half-full bottle, landing it with perfect accuracy in a wastebasket twenty meters away in the corner of the hall. This was one of the few amusements available to the highest warden of Thunder Prison.
Thunder Prison was no ordinary jail. It was a place of confinement specially established for Saint-level powerhouses, located in the southwest corner of the inner city. Not only was it guarded by large numbers of elite legions, but experts from the Dragon Rider Legion were stationed here as well. Combined with layer upon layer of magic arrays, it was as impregnable as a fortress of gold.
Though most of those imprisoned here possessed Saint-level strength, the near-absolute security actually made this an easy assignment for the guards. But for a Dragon Race member with a long life who loved freedom and idleness, it was undoubtedly a miserable posting.
He could not spend his days and nights drinking his beloved dragonfruit wine, could not soak in piles of crystal coins for his favorite money bath, could not sneak peeks at beautiful women changing clothes, and could not even return to his dragon form, spread his wings, and comfortably soar through the sky... There were simply far, far too many things he could not do!
Compared with this current life where every day felt like a year, his carefree days in Dragon Valley had been enjoyment fit for the Dragon God himself. What depressed him even more was that there were still three months until the next Dragon Race member arrived to relieve