As Draven examined the white otter in his hand, its crying face suddenly twisted into a strange grin. In the next second, like a puff of white air, its body morphed into the shape of a one-meter-tall white dragon with two bat-like wings and a long tail that resembled that of a crocodile. The scales on its body glowed with a multicolored light, something not usually found in white tyrant dragons.
"All of you are bad... I will... I will kill all of you, with my invincible dragon form," the white dragon said fiercely as it looked at Draven grudgingly.
"Sir, be careful. In this form, his strength is enough to rival even cultivators at the Ascendant Realm," the shopkeeper warned when he saw this.
Draven waved his hand with a frown. "Something is not right with this whole situation. Why can a dragon youngling, born just six months ago, talk so fluently? Mutation alone can't explain this level of proficiency with human language."
