Chapter 2: The Eyes That See Beauty

Hil was only half the size of Garon.

Unlike him, with his robust and muscular build, her body displayed a graceful, streamlined shape. Her scales seemed softer and whiter, and her dragon tail was round and elongated, with proportions that neared perfection from base to tip.

She was a very beautiful young female dragon. According to the dragon legacy, dragons do not face reproductive isolation with other species or even among themselves, and there is no taboo against mating with close kin.

The moment this thought crossed Garon's mind, his heart tightened, startling him.

Because he had accepted the dragon legacy, his aesthetic sense now blended human preferences with a unique dragon perspective on beauty across all living species.

Regarding dragon aesthetics, Garon's opinion was that they possessed a pair of eyes that could find beauty in anything—even a slime.

This powerfully effective trait meant they could see beauty in any species, any life form. Consequently, the world was full of beings with dragon blood, a testament to dragons' unique aesthetic sense and their formidable reproductive capabilities, which had greatly contributed to the diversity of species.

In the eyes of dragon aesthetics, Hil was indeed a beautiful, poised young female dragon that drew attention.

At this point, Garon wasn't sure whether it was Yang Jian, the human, who had obtained a dragon's body, or Garon, the white dragon, who had accidentally swallowed a human soul.

Regardless, Garon, ever adaptable, quickly accepted his identity as a dragon. Due to the overwhelming flood of knowledge from the dragon legacy spanning thousands of years, his former human identity was gradually fading.

After declaring her true dragon name, Hil glanced at her dragon brother, who had been staring at her.

Seconds later, she flicked her long, delicate tail, withdrew her gaze, turned away from Garon, and began nibbling on her eggshell with a focused intensity.

"I wonder what her egg tastes like. Is it the same as mine?"

Seeing Hil engrossed in eating, Garon quietly approached, kept his eyes straight, then swept up a few scattered eggshell pieces with his tail and stuffed them into his mouth.

Crunch, crunch—there was a creamy taste, moist and sweet like ice cream, and a similar flavor emanated from Hil as well.

"Really good, really good."

As Garon pondered whether to steal some more, he suddenly heard heavy breathing. Turning his head, he faced the fierce-looking giant dragon head of their mother.

Clearly, although Hil hadn't noticed, Garon's actions had been spotted by the white dragon mother.

However, she merely gave Garon a silent look, showing no intention of stopping him. Instead, she watched him with an indescribable gaze, observing his next move.

Among all dragon species, white dragons might be the least attentive to their young.

Even other cruel, cunning, and selfish dragon species, though indifferent in familial relationships, at least paid some attention to their young, providing food and protection to prevent them from dying too easily.

Because caring for the young is also inscribed in the dragon legacy, a duty imposed by Tiamat, the dragon goddess, on her chromatic dragons.

A species constantly coveted for their body parts would not last long if they completely neglected their offspring, no matter how powerful.

As one of the most supreme beings across multiple planes, dragons naturally wouldn't have such a counterproductive flaw.

But white dragons are different.

Often, white dragons reproduce not out of a sense of duty but for pleasure, seeking the instinctive thrill of propagation, incidentally resulting in the birth of dragonlings.

In particular, Garon's mother, a white dragon still in her juvenile nineties, had some time before reaching full maturity.

She was not prepared to care for offspring, and this breeding was her first time as a dragon mother.

On one side, a first-time dragonling, and on the other, a first-time dragon mother—neither could strictly demand much from the other.

From Garon's dragon aesthetics, his own mother was exceedingly young too, her scales slightly rough but mostly smooth and reflective.

White dragonlings are born with completely reflective, mirror-like white scales that grow rougher and thicker with age.

However, unable to decipher his mother's thoughts and under her deep gaze, Garon could only offer a sheepish smile and removed the last piece of eggshell from his mouth.

He nudged the oblivious Hil and, with a pained expression, returned the piece of eggshell to her.

Hil thought it was a piece of Garon's own eggshell, looked disdainfully at her brother, and swallowed it without thanks, then turned back to continue eating her own eggshell.

Given the generally selfish nature of white dragons, Hil probably regarded Garon's gift of eggshell as foolish, even though he was nearly twice her size, and this did not stop her disdain.

Meanwhile, Garon still felt hungry.

Dragon growth is exceedingly rapid; upon birth, a dragon

's body enters a state of craving all nutrients, capable of consuming food several times their own size.

Normally, upon birth, a dragon mother prepares some prey for the dragonlings to eat.

Clearly, their mother did not qualify as a diligent dragon mother, having prepared nothing for her young.

And the substances contained in the eggshells were insufficient to sate a hungry dragonling, especially one as large as Garon.

He was very hungry, even considering eating dirt—a constant, gnawing hunger.

Dragons have a very broad diet, their stomachs akin to a melting pot of all things.

Meat, plants, metals, minerals, magical items—dragons can consume almost any material, their digestive systems incredibly powerful, though many substances are not particularly tasty to them.

Dirt is also on the dragon menu, providing inorganic substances that can speed up the growth of scales and bones, and many hungry dragonlings eat dirt when needed.

However, dragons typically avoid eating dirt out of pride, preferring to go hungry.

Proud dragons never bow to mere hunger.

Crack!

Driven by hunger, Garon took action—he lowered his head and bit into the smooth ground.

With one bite, he felt only a sour sensation in his teeth, leaving only a shallow white mark on the cave floor.

"Can't bite through, alas, such are the hardships of dragon life."

Unlike the soft soil of forests or wetlands, Garon's birthplace was a vast expanse of ice.

His den was a winding serpent-like structure, its walls and ceiling made of mirror-like ice crystals, unlikely to have formed naturally and probably crafted by the white dragon mother using frost. Many white dragons preferred such dens.

Even the floor of the den was coated in ice crystals.

White dragons love building their nests from ice crystals, and their claws are specially structured to prevent slipping.

Because of the perennial sub-zero temperatures of the ice plains and the cold emanating from their mother's body, these ice crystals were extremely hard, almost like steel in hardness and even better in toughness.

Garon would definitely be able to bite through them once he grew larger, but not now.

The poor dragonling couldn't even satisfy his hunger with ice, and even chipped a tooth.

Life is hard, and Garon sighed. He grimaced from the pain in his teeth, then pitifully looked up at his mother.

Opening his mouth and stretching out a claw, he pointed into his empty maw.

"Please give me something to eat, my generous white dragon mother."

Garon thought this way.

The vocal cords of newly born dragonlings are fragile, not strong enough for Garon to speak dragon language or the common tongue of the continent clearly; even speaking his long true name had strained his throat.

It would take two to three weeks before a dragonling could speak clearly and normally.

At the same time, Garon's indicative actions were futile.

He saw no response, his mother looking at him as if he were a fool.