The Mountain of Ice and Fire

At the mountain peak, a dark red shadow appeared, gliding down, instantly growing larger. Soon, the hideous face of Sheepstealer was revealed. In what felt like a heartbeat, Sheepstealer soared over the peak of the mountain, creating the illusion of blotting out the sky. He folded his wings and landed at the cave entrance.

The strong wind whipped at the hem of the Mountain's clothes, ruffling the crimson mane of the Red Smoke beast beneath him.

The Mountain rode the flame-like unicorn, Red Smoke. Although Red Smoke had been living peacefully alongside Sheepstealer for several days, he still showed signs of unease. His ruby-red eyes glowed with a dazzling light, and a low, threatening growl rumbled in his throat, aimed at Sheepstealer at a sharp angle. This wasn't actually a prelude to battle, but rather an attempt to bolster his courage, much like someone passing through a dark graveyard at night, humming to keep their spirits up.

Sheepstealer merely glanced at Red Smoke, his arrogance evident as he completely disregarded the beast's reaction. This was his first day out stretching his limbs, and he felt wonderfully rejuvenated. His nearly depleted life force had been replenished by the Mountain's meticulous care, and everything about him felt new, like a dried-up river being fed by a fresh, inexhaustible spring.

Throughout history, lions have never considered the feelings of lambs, nor have elephants concerned themselves with the stature of ants. Sheepstealer was a true two-hundred-and-fifty-year-old dragon in his prime, and he never paid attention to the Red Smoke unicorn's timid reaction.

The red beast was incredibly fast on land, able to keep pace with Sheepstealer's flight near the Mountain's cabin. However, Sheepstealer knew that a single swipe of his claw could send the red beast flying, and another could slice through its body like a sword.

But Sheepstealer was well aware that the red beast was the Mountain's mount. Although he couldn't speak the common tongue of Westeros, he knew that the red beast, like the soldiers and commoners in the fields, was not his enemy. These people and the red beast were allied with the Mountain.

Red Smoke, usually pampered by his master, raised his head and let out a triumphant whinny. The Mountain patted his neck to quiet him. Red Smoke snorted, flicked his tail, and ceased his 'provocation' of Sheepstealer, lowering his head to sniff at the ground.

As a magical creature and the king of land runners, Red Smoke was inherently fearful of dragons. Despite this, relying on the presence of his master, he didn't weaken, fall, or run away upon entering Sheepstealer's territory. He even dared to call out and feign a battle stance, which proved the unicorn's extraordinary nature.

To judge the courage and bravery of a person or animal, one must first consider who they are facing.

The Mountain dismounted Red Smoke and waved him away. Red Smoke seemed relieved, his ruby-like eyes nearly overflowing with blood. Every time his master rode him into Sheepstealer's black domain, he felt uneasy and insecure, his eyes constantly darting around, fearing a sudden ambush. Each time his master ordered him back first, he would start with a composed, prancing gait, head held high, seemingly invulnerable, but as soon as he reached the edge of the black area, he would bolt like an arrow, wishing he could run faster.

Once he managed to hold on until he reached the safe zone, Red Smoke could no longer hide his fear, only feeling secure the further away he was.

Unicorns, like dragons, are magical creatures with intelligence and spirituality.

"Quiet," the Mountain said in the dragon tongue, walking up to Sheepstealer and slowly placing his hand on the scales on his head. The feel of the dragon scales was wonderful, giving the Mountain a strange sense of comfort and an uncontrollable feeling of awesomeness every time.

"Brother, I don't want you to bow down. Ordering you to bow down is the privilege of the Nettle dragon rider, but it will be difficult for me to talk to you once you fly off," the Mountain said, gesturing as he spoke. He felt that Sheepstealer's comprehension of his words and gestures was astonishing. The Mountain instinctively believed this was related to Sheepstealer's master, the Nettle dragon rider.

The Nettle dragon rider and Sheepstealer had lived a 'reclusive' life together for a long time.

Sheepstealer responded to the Mountain with a burst of hot breath. The Mountain no longer flinched; the dragon's breath enveloped him like the hottest midday heatwave. He no longer felt discomfort; his heat resistance had significantly improved and was continuing to improve.

"Brother," the Mountain gently patted the huge dragon head, "you can remain loyal to Nettle, and only bow down to her, but I hope to see the sky with you." The Mountain pointed to the sky, then to himself. "If there are enemies…" The Mountain took out a banner with a white walker on it, something he had prepared long ago, "We need to fight together."

Through the Mountain's targeted training, Sheepstealer had already killed thousands of white walker dummies. He recognized the banner and knew it represented a common enemy. The Mountain had issued the order to attack this enemy hundreds of times, and Sheepstealer had killed thousands of banner enemies in various ways under the Mountain's dragon-riding instructions.

Even ordinary cats and dogs can understand human intentions through scientific training, let alone intelligent and spiritual dragons. The Mountain was stubbornly persistent.

"I want to fly with you," the Mountain mimed flying. He pointed to Sheepstealer's back, then to himself, "I will give you the most delicious roasted sheep. Fly, fly, fly, eat, eat, eat." The Mountain spoke the dragon words for 'fly' and 'eat'.

He had become accustomed to using both the common tongue and the dragon tongue together. He noticed that Sheepstealer showed no resistance to this way of speaking.

The Mountain displayed remarkable patience and 'chatter'. He noticed that Sheepstealer's dragon eyes were becoming hazy, a sign that Sheepstealer was feeling somewhat confused.

He pointed to himself and spoke the dragon word for 'fly.' He patted Sheepstealer and spoke the dragon word for 'eat.' His hand, gently patting Sheepstealer's scales, casually climbed upward, inadvertently grabbing Sheepstealer's horn. He glanced at Sheepstealer's eyes for a reaction; Sheepstealer showed no signs of displeasure.

So the Mountain took advantage of the situation. He slowly increased the pressure on his hand, and Sheepstealer revealed an even more confused expression. The Mountain believed that Sheepstealer would eventually understand his meaning, and he was confident in his judgment. He tried to continue applying pressure, his toes slowly rising, first one foot off the ground, then both feet off the ground.

Finally, amidst Sheepstealer's bewildered confusion, the Mountain's arms latched onto the dragon's horns, and his body hung suspended in the air, his feet off the ground.

Sheepstealer's head swayed slightly. His head was as large as a wild elephant, and his body was as majestic as a mountain. The Mountain's weight of several hundred pounds hanging on the dragon's horns looked like a tiny doll from a distance.

The Mountain strained his waist, contracting his body upward, bending one leg and stretching it as high as possible, his toes lightly hooking onto the edge of the dragon's back. A streak of golden-red light flashed in Sheepstealer's eyes, like an extremely subtle spark of electricity. His head swung, and an irresistible force sent the Mountain flying, tumbling several times in the air, before crashing onto a black, shiny rock with a loud thud.

The Mountain was in excruciating pain, almost to the point of fainting!

Red Smoke and Melisandre, on the grass near the Mountain's cabin, witnessed this scene. Red Smoke instinctively ran towards his master to protect him, while Melisandre's face changed color, two sparks of fire flickering in her red pupils. She was clearly nervous.

She saw what the Mountain had been trying to do. He hadn't wanted Sheepstealer to bow down; he had actually tried to climb up by grabbing onto the dragon's horns, testing Sheepstealer's limits, fantasizing about riding on the dragon's back.

But Sheepstealer had cleanly and efficiently thrown him off at the last moment.

The Mountain lay on the black, liquid-like rock, in terrible pain, but with no broken bones. He sensed that Sheepstealer had restrained his strength. How credible was this feeling? The Mountain considered himself very sure. He now had a strong feeling that Sheepstealer seemed more dependent on him.

Perhaps it was the unparalleled deliciousness of the roasted whole sheep, skinned by specialists and seasoned with the most expensive spices and exquisite snow salt, that had completely won Sheepstealer's heart. When offering Sheepstealer the delicious food, he sometimes had the illusion that Sheepstealer, tearing apart the roasted sheep and 'chewing slowly,' wasn't a dragon, but a person. Just a person with a mutated physique, a huge body and a long tail, a terrifying long neck and sharp claws, who just couldn't speak the common tongue.

The Mountain's Red Smoke ran like a red cloud to the edge of the black area but stopped. He neighed at the Mountain lying on the rock, his voice directed at the Mountain, but his eyes were on Sheepstealer. Without the protection of his master, he finally revealed his fear of Sheepstealer, and he didn't dare to enter without his master. Spiritual animals all have a sense of territory; Red Smoke had been the same on Claw Isle. Red Smoke had his own judgment.

Sheepstealer didn't pay attention to the little red beast's reaction; he was looking at the Mountain, tilting his head, as if curious about why the Mountain was lying on the ground. He tilted his head to the left, looking at the Mountain, paused, then tilted his head to the right, looking at the Mountain, his dragon eyes dazzling. He might have been wondering why the Mountain was lying on the ground.

The sacrificial offering hadn't died or been injured and was not bleeding. Sheepstealer clearly heard the Mountain's even breathing. Dragons have extremely sensitive hearing, smell, and senses. Their talents in these areas far exceed those of humans. It's just that humans can pretend, deceive, and be cunning; they still can't compare in that regard.

But Sheepstealer didn't intend to admire the Mountain's performance; he turned to go into the cave. The Mountain flipped over and stood up: "Quiet, brother," he said, "Eat, come eat with me." He pointed towards the pasture.

It wasn't mealtime yet; Sheepstealer had an even better sense of time than humans. He didn't have an hourglass but had a natural and precise sense of time. He couldn't resist the Mountain's temptation of food and immediately turned back, emitting a soft dragon's roar, melodious and lilting, like the gentle striking of gold and jade.

The Mountain beckoned, and Red Smoke glanced at Sheepstealer before daring to enter the black area. He came to his master, and the Mountain flipped onto his back, pointed towards the pasture, and said to Sheepstealer: "Speed, eat."

A gust of wind suddenly rose from the ground. Sheepstealer's wings slightly unfurled, soaring into the air, sending sand and leaves flying, creating a vortex of wind. The wind didn't stop, and the dragon had already gone far away. A huge shadow was cast on the ground on the hillside.

Under the dragon's moving shadow, a red shadow shot out like an arrow. The Mountain rode Red Smoke in sync with Sheepstealer, one in the sky and one on the ground. It seemed like the dragon was moving slowly, but that was only because of his enormous size. By the time Sheepstealer landed, the Mountain and Red Smoke had just arrived.

"Take out the marinated sheep and put it on the fire to roast," the Mountain ordered. More than twenty tribesmen immediately began to work. Some of them first took out three sheep that were already half-cooked, and the charcoal fire for roasting the sheep had never been extinguished since it was lit. To serve Sheepstealer, the ingredients, spices, snow salt, and charcoal fire for roasting the whole sheep had all been prepared long ago—dragonflame roasted sheep was fast, only taking a heartbeat, but the taste of roasted whole sheep couldn't compare to the Mountain's roasted whole sheep.

Melisandre also came to help. She was someone with fire magic abilities, her red robes like a walking flame, her body, like the dragon's, radiating heat.

Sheepstealer liked to stare at Melisandre; he could sense her uniqueness. Melisandre took out some powder and sprinkled it into the charcoal fire. With a whoosh, the flames shot up, engulfing the entire goat.

A rich aroma filled the air, and Sheepstealer squinted his eyes slightly, enjoying it.

Suddenly, a metallic clang rang out, causing everyone who was focused on roasting the whole sheep to look up at the Mountain and the dragon. The Mountain was holding the heirloom axe of the Burning Hand clan in his hand, and the back of the axe was knocking on Sheepstealer's scales.

Sheepstealer's dragon eyes blinked, and golden-red light flashed.

"Eat, fly," the Mountain said to Sheepstealer, pointing to himself, "I want to fly."

Clang!

The heirloom axe knocked on Sheepstealer's head again, emitting a sound of gold and jade colliding, as crisp as musical notes: "I want to fly, and kill enemies with you." The Mountain combined gestures with the dragon language, "Just fly around the pasture once."

Melisandre said: "Lord Mountain, be careful not to anger him."

"He won't be angered by me. Sheepstealer is mature and rational, not a child of a few years old," the Mountain said confidently. His body was still aching, but this ache gave him confidence. Sheepstealer would throw him off, breathe fire to warn him, but it was almost impossible for him to go so far as to kill him.

"Oh?" Melisandre looked at the Mountain with her beautiful eyes.

"Sheepstealer tripped me up just now, but he had no intention of killing me, he wasn't even angry. Dragons are particularly proud magical creatures, and my actions don't damage his pride. Since Sheepstealer won't kill me, I can wear him down."

A standard rogue tactic.

"Lord Mountain, don't do that, if you exceed the dragon's rules…"

The Mountain interrupted Melisandre: "Dragons have no rules; their rules come from the dragon riders, and from the dragon language created by those high-level mages in the distant past. Whether it's the dragon riders' rules or the dragon language rules, they were all created by humans."

Clang!

The Mountain's little axe knocked on the dragon's horn again, his strength just right, just enough to make the sound crisp and melodious, but not enough for Sheepstealer to feel the intrusion of force.

The intrusion of force would make Sheepstealer feel uncomfortable.

Sheepstealer tilted his head, looking at the heirloom axe. The Mountain was deliberately showing it to him, and the sound of the knocking could effectively remind Sheepstealer that he represented Nettle in taking care of him, and was a continuation of Lady Nettle's life. The Mountain's only regret was that he couldn't wear Nettle's exquisite silk robes.

"I want to fly with you." The Magic Mountain gestured wildly, holding the axe passed down from Ricca in front of the sheep stealer's eyes.

The sheep stealer's eyes were fixed on the axe, its head tilted and unmoving, unwavering.

The Magic Mountain stopped moving, and everyone held their breath. Melisandre felt her heart race, sensing that something was about to happen... She was suddenly excited... Was the sheep stealer going to be moved by the Magic Mountain's axe?

"Go, Melisandre, bring the fire wizard's robe," the Magic Mountain said in a low voice.

Melisandre understood and silently ran into the Magic Mountain's hut, bringing the fire wizard's robe passed down from Ricca. It was the finest silk dragon knight robe that the royal family had carefully sewn for Lady Ricca, but after Ricca and the Queen became enemies, this dragon knight robe became Lady Ricca's fire wizard's robe.

The Magic Mountain held the fire wizard's robe in front of the sheep stealer: "I want to fly. I am the inheritance of Ricca the Dragon Knight. Fly quietly, fly together." The axe in his hand struck the sheep stealer's scales again, making a 'clang' sound.

This time, the Magic Mountain used a little more force. The 'ding' sound turned into a 'clang'.

The struck dragon scales trembled, and the light on the scales shimmered like ripples of water.

"Quiet, eat, fly, attack," the Magic Mountain said in a deep voice to the sheep stealer, raising the axe and the dragon knight robe high. The hand holding the dragon knight robe grabbed the dragon horn, his arm bent and forceful, his feet pushed off the ground, throwing himself up as if swinging on a swing. He flipped onto the dragon's back, his long legs extended, as if he had practiced the leap for a long time. To everyone's astonishment, the Magic Mountain rode on the dragon's back, his movements as fast as the wind.

Ding ding ding ding ding ding!

The Magic Mountain's inherited axe quickly but lightly tapped the sheep stealer's head, on the pieces of scale armor like plate armor: "Sheep stealer brother, fly."

Several piles of charcoal fire for roasting whole sheep suddenly swirled backward, and the charcoal flew up. That was caused by the vortex of wind created by the sheep stealer taking off. People screamed and dodged the oncoming charcoal fire.

Every time the sheep stealer took off rapidly, it would create a vortex of wind.

Melisandre's beautiful eyes widened, letting the charcoal fire fall on her body. She couldn't believe it. The Magic Mountain was riding on the sheep stealer's back. He didn't use the 'bow down' dragon word. He relied on his arm strength to leap onto the dragon's back. He relied on the inherited axe and the inherited dragon knight robe to control the sheep stealer with the 'fly' dragon word.

But how could this possibly succeed?

Melisandre, who was older than the Targaryen three-hundred-year dynasty, knew that any dragon knight throughout history only needed to issue one dragon word command to ride a dragon, and that was 'bow down'.

But the Magic Mountain is an exception!

He created a miracle!

"Tim Redhand, Captain Joyce, on the grass, arrange the banners of the Others and wights into a square formation," the Magic Mountain shouted down, riding on the dragon's back as the sheep stealer circled low over the grass.

On the grass, his two hundred-man teams all looked up, each like a wooden sculpture...

Strictly speaking, however, he was not the sheep stealer's true dragon knight. He only managed to get on the sheep stealer's back with the help of Ricca the Dragon Knight's inherited axe and dragon knight robe.

The sheep stealer also did not spread its wings and fly high, but hovered low over the grass, but this was a remarkable beginning.

A miracle has been created, and conquest is being realized!

*

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