Evolving by devouring from a young dragon

He sat down on the soft couch and reached out to touch the crystal panel by the window. The panel lit up with a line of tiny runes, displaying the stops along the way and the estimated arrival time.

The journey takes three stops and is expected to take two and a half days to reach Kingsburg.

It was shorter than the three days the shopkeeper had mentioned, which suggests that the special train didn't stop for too long, only making brief resupply stops.

Watching the scenery rushing past the window, Grimm relaxed and fell into a deep sleep.

Grimm lay on the couch for several hours, the air cooler running diligently, the runes on the surface of the spherical device glowing with pale blue light, continuously sending coolness to every corner of the room.

The platform outside the window is long gone, replaced by a vast expanse of barren wasteland, bleached white by the midsummer afternoon sun.

While he was still half asleep, he suddenly heard a slight scraping sound.

At first, he thought it was the sound of the car rubbing against the track, so he didn't pay attention.

But as the sound grew louder, he finally got up and looked towards the door. He could hear clearly that something was scraping against the door.

Grimm opened his eyes, frowned, and got up with his cane.

Then, he reached out and pressed his hand on the sensor area by the door. A circle of green light appeared around the rune, and the door silently slid open a crack.

A grayish-red shadow squeezed in through the gap.

It flapped its wings, drawing an arc in the low air, its wingtips almost brushing against the magic crystal lamp on the ceiling, before landing steadily on the linen mat of the soft couch. Its claws stomped on the mat a few times, leaving several shallow scratch marks.

Fire Spirit.

Its feathers were shinier than the last time I saw it.

A layer of dark red patterns floats on the gray background, radiating from the feather root to the tip, like lava slowly flowing in a rock fissure.

Those amber eyes darted around, and she tilted her head to look at Grimm, letting out a short chirp.

Grimm instinctively straightened up a bit.

He wasn't quite sure how the Fire Spirit found him, nor did he understand the pattern of its appearance and disappearance.

It comes and goes as it pleases, without ever explaining itself.

But he knew one thing: the fire spirit was no ordinary thing.

It always followed the great dragon, carrying the aura of that great being.

Every time the Fire Spirit appeared, Grimm always felt the air become slightly heavier, not in a sense of oppression, but in a feeling of being watched.

He didn't know that Alduin could see everything through the fire spirits, but he instinctively felt that there was some kind of connection between the bird and the dragon that he couldn't understand.

Therefore, he always held the Fire Spirit in high esteem, just as he would a great dragon.

"You've arrived." Grimm nodded slightly, his tone a few decibels slower than usual.

Fire Spirit didn't answer, but just tilted her head and glanced at him, seemingly puzzled.

Then it shook its wings, scattering the fine dust it had picked up along the way onto the mat, then nestled down and buried its head under its wings.

Grimm smiled as he looked at the little guy who had taken his seat, but he had already rested enough, so he walked over to a chair and sat down.

Tap, tap, tap.

There was another knock on the door of the private room.

Grimm and Fire Spirit both looked toward the doorway.

The Fire Spirit pulled its head out from under its wings, and its amber eyes slowly turned into a deeper gold, its pupils slightly contracting.

Grimm sighed, but still got up with his cane and slid the door open a crack.

Three goblins were standing outside the door.

The leader was an old goblin wearing a dark gray short robe.

The robe was made of excellent material, a non-reflective, subtly patterned fabric that shimmered with a faint silver sheen under the warm yellow lights of the corridor.

A silver badge shaped like an anvil, polished to a gleaming shine, was pinned to his collar.

His hair was gray, but his back was very straight.

Behind him were two young goblins who looked like attendants, one carrying a stack of parchment and the other carrying a small box covered with silk.

The old goblin smiled slightly, placed his right hand on his left chest, and bowed slightly:

"Excuse me for disturbing you, but I am Greendor, the Anvil Department's assessor stationed at Eberlon. These two are my assistants."

His goblin Mandarin was spoken clearly and distinctly, with a slight upward inflection at the end, carrying the unique accent of the capital.

"When I first entered the city, I happened to catch a glimpse of this bird on your shoulder. I couldn't contain my curiosity and came here to ask you about it."

Grimm did not move aside, his gaze sweeping over the three faces.

He had heard of the Anvil Department; it was one of the top three ore appraisal firms in the empire, and it wielded considerable influence.

"What do you want to ask?" Grimm asked, his tone indifferent.

He remembered the great dragon's instructions to him: this time, he should not get involved in any disputes, but simply focus on doing business.

Grindor's gaze passed over Grimm's shoulder and landed on the fire spirit on the soft couch.

Huo Ling tilted his head, scrutinizing the newcomer. His golden eyes shone brightly in the dim light of the private room, like two glittering gems.

"May I ask, sir," Grindor lowered his voice and leaned forward slightly, "that this fire spirit comes from the Emberfang Orc tribe?"

Grimm's heart skipped a beat.

The Emberfang Tribe—that was the name the dragon had told him, but he was not prepared to answer the question.

He remembered the dragon's instructions.

If you encounter something you don't understand, don't ask or explain. The less you say, the less likely you are to make mistakes.

So he tilted his head slightly, making a "go on" expression, neither affirming nor denying.

When Greendor saw that he did not deny it, a knowing glint flashed in his eyes.

Just as he was about to speak again, footsteps suddenly came from the other end of the corridor.

Two goblins walked over, one after the other.

The person in front wore a dark green robe with gold trim, made of light summer silk, the hem of which fluttered as she walked.

She wore three rings on her fingers: one pigeon blood red, one cornflower blue, and one emerald. The rings clinked together as she walked, making a soft tinkling sound.

The man behind him was wearing a dark brown short shirt with a string of copper rulers and a magnifying glass hanging from his waist. His cuffs were worn white, and he looked like someone who had been doing appraisals for many years.

"Hey, Greendor, you're quick on your feet."

The goblin in the green robe chuckled and said in a smooth voice, "I just heard from the waiter in the rest area that there was a passenger with a fire spirit on this train. When I came over, I found that you had arrived first."

He turned to Grimm, his right hand pressed against his chest, and bowed slightly. The three rings flashed simultaneously under the light: "Goldfinger Family, Eberron Branch, Chief Appraiser, Durrom, it's a pleasure to meet you."

The goblin in the brown shirt behind him also cupped his hands in greeting: "Deeppulse Merchant Guild, Mineral Appraiser, Habut. Excuse me."

Grimm paused for two seconds, then opened the door a little, stepping aside to make way for half of the passage: "Come in and talk."

The three people entered the private room one by one.

Grindelwald's two assistants remained outside the door, while Durlom was the last to enter, closing the door behind him.

The private room wasn't very big to begin with, and the sudden influx of three adult goblins made it feel cramped.

Grimm leaned against the window with his cane. Fire Spirit jumped up from the couch, fluttered onto his shoulder, and clawed at the fabric of his clothes, tilting its head to examine the strangers.