Douglas looked away from the Hungarian Horntail, which was as docile as an oversized cat, and turned his gaze to Charlie's smoke-blackened face.
He asked, somewhat puzzled:
"Charlie, didn't your dragon reserve in Romania have a more docile liondragon?"
"Why did you bring that hothead, Old Black?"
Liondragon was another name for the Chinese Fireball.
When Douglas first saw the scarlet dragon with a ring of golden, tassel-like spikes around its nose, he felt that calling it a Chinese dragon lacked flair, so he had always called it a dragonlion.
Compared with other dragons, dragonlions had much gentler temperaments and could even tolerate others of their kind in their territory.
By rights, it should have been the safer, more suitable choice for a tournament task.
At the word "liondragon," the corner of Charlie's eye twitched uncontrollably.
He rolled his eyes dramatically, his tone full of helpless reproach for a troublesome friend.
"You've got some nerve bringing it up!"
"Ever since you beat it up a few years ago, drained half a barrel of its blood, then fed it all those bizarre delicacies until it was utterly besotted, the poor thing's been depressed since you left!"
The more Charlie spoke, the angrier he became, his voice rising.
"It started getting picky! It only eats the dried meat you left behind and won't touch anything else! As a result, it hasn't laid a single new egg to this day!"
"The Dragon Reserve's suffered enormous losses, you know!"
Douglas rubbed his nose, without a trace of shame on his face.
"So we had no choice but to bring Old Black."
Charlie spread his hands, a gleeful smile appearing on his face.
"Now we'll just have to see which unlucky Champion draws her."
The moment the words left his mouth, Charlie realized he had