I Married A Disabled Tyrant After Transmigrating

Forty-one Dragons (2)

This time, little Mister Long did not go to the territory of the difficult white dragon, nor did he provoke the stupid black dragon youth. Instead, he just dodged everyone along the way and went to a place that was very far away.

Although he did not have shoes, his speed was not slow. The soles of his feet were covered with a layer of scales. He usually kept moving around in remote areas, and occasionally scaled roofs and walls.

Mu Wanwan had been following him around the past few days and was used to how he moved. She took the “shortcut” of going through walls the entire journey, following behind him. Fortunately, the weather has been better recently; while it was still cloudy, at least it wasn’t raining anymore. Most places were no longer particularly slippery, and the dragon claws could still get a good grip.

“Mister Long, where are you going?” They have been on the go for a long time, and Mu Wanwan was a little tired. She watched the little dragon cub jump here and there energetically and was almost out of energy to chase after him.

The scenery around them changed gradually. Mu Wanwan guessed that they had already left the Dark Alley Sector No. 7 and were somewhere else.

The number of buildings and people became fewer, and there were also very few orphans of the dragon race and the other races. Conversely, there were more and more plants.

They ran for a while longer before Mister Long finally stopped. They had arrived at their destination—

A large, somewhat desolate garbage dump.

Unlike the mostly domestic garbage of the seven districts of the Dark Alley, the garbage here was mostly bulky refuse, such as broken tables, chairs, benches, rags, and broken pieces of wood.

Mu Wanwan had an inkling of what he was after. In the past few days, whenever little Mister Long was looking for food, he would also pay attention to see if there were any scraps of wood, but he never found anything suitable. He was probably a little anxious and wanted to take advantage of today’s good weather to come out and find some wood to make a bed for Little Treasure.

Mu Wanwan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but her body was still very honest and thus she started to assist little Mister Long in looking for wood scraps, despite not being able to be of any real help.

Because there was very little food here, orphans did not come here often. Mister Long’s search was relatively easy. He took a fancy to the board of a broken bed, but there were already a few young beastmen around it.

Mu Wanwan saw Mister Long’s expression become fierce almost instantly; faint scales appeared on his cheeks, and his palms turned into sharp claws. With a shadowy movement and a sudden burst of power from his feet, he was next to the unsuspecting beastmen cubs in a flash and ruthlessly pressed the head of the young leader onto the ground.

His claws rested on his neck as he let out a low growl, with a pair of phoenix eyes flashing with golden light and two sharp fangs by his lips, “Bed, mine.”

Mu Wanwan was familiar with his fierce expressions when he fought, but the little beastman who was down by his claws was shivering with fear; even the beast patterns on his face had appeared. “I-it’s yours.”

Little Mister Long did not hurt him, but only slowly withdrew his claws, “Scram.”

The little beastman scrambled up from the ground, and the other cubs also started screaming as if they had just woken up from a dream—

“It’s the Jinx, run!”

“He touched Duogu! Duogu is going to be cursed!”

“Boohoo, the mixed-blood dragon, boohoo…”

Mu Wanwan heard the group of cubs scold Mister Long as they ran away and was about to die of anger. She really wanted to beat up all these little brats. What right did they have to call him a jinx and a mixed-blood dragon?

What did they mean by whoever he touched would be cursed? She had been taking care of Mister Long for so long, so why was she not cursed?

But such words might not be unfamiliar to Mister Long anymore. She had heard them many times in the past few days, and every time, Mister Long would just calmly let them say what they wanted, with coldness in his eyes.

She thought he was not upset, until one night, she saw him cry.

That day, he had been called a mixed-blood dragon who had no father.

Mister Dragon had let them talk during the day and just snatched away the food they were fighting over.

At night, when he got back ‘home’, he was very quiet, and in a rare occurrence, put up with his dirty self and hugged his pillow. His two ears drooped down, arched horribly low, and teardrops hung from his eyelashes. He didn’t sob, but just curled up silently into a ball.

This time, he was the same, listening calmly as they scolded him, then removed the good wooden boards from that bed.

He didn’t waste anything and took down all the parts that could be used.

Probably because he got the materials he needed, despite the gradually darkening sky, little Mister Long’s mood seemed to become a little better, and he started to rush back.

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