Zhuogeng wasn't convinced by the theory that Cersei had poisoned Tywin.
Tywin was the pillar of House Lannister—a brilliant commander and an unmatched statesman. As long as he was alive, Cersei benefited from his protection. Why would she commit patricide? Even if she hated Tyrion, it made no sense to murder her own father just to frame him.
After thinking it over for a long time without reaching any conclusion, Zhuogeng gave up trying to identify the real killer. It was too mentally exhausting. He could always ask Varys for the answer later.
Besides the news of the two deaths, Varys also reported several other developments.
Balon Greyjoy, ruler of the Iron Islands, had fallen from a bridge and died. His brother Euron, captain of the Silence, had returned from his voyages abroad and taken control of the Iron Islands. Oberyn Martell had returned to Dorne. Stannis Baratheon had left Dragonstone for parts unknown. Zhuogeng guessed he had followed Melisandre's advice and gone to the Wall.
There was also news from the North.
After withdrawing from Winterfell, Ramsay Snow launched a surprise counterattack against the newly stationed Northern army.
Using weaknesses in the walls that had been left behind, he broke into Winterfell and nearly annihilated the Northern forces. Many Northern lords were captured, allowing Ramsay to seize complete control of the North.
Afterward, Ramsay sent a letter pledging loyalty to Queen Regent Cersei, requesting to inherit his father Roose Bolton's title and be named Warden of the North.
Upon learning that Ramsay had nearly wiped out the Northern army that had returned with House Karstark, Cersei was delighted and granted all of his requests.
The situation at Winterfell was almost exactly as Zhuogeng had expected.
He couldn't help admiring Ramsay.
The man was a complete psychopath, but he was ruthless, cunning, and undeniably capable—a true warlord in the making.
In the original story Ramsay had personally murdered Roose Bolton.
This time, however, the Blackfish had unknowingly done the job for him.
With the Northern army destroyed and Robb trapped by House Frey and Stannis, Ramsay's grip on Winterfell was now secure.
The only question remaining was whether he would eventually cross paths with Stannis again—and who would emerge stronger when they did.
After reading the report, Zhuogeng instructed Varys to relay all the information to Daenerys in Slaver's Bay through his network of little birds.
Now that Varys served as King's Landing's master of whisperers, there was no reason for Meereen to remain isolated from current events.
Returning from King's Landing to the Great Pyramid of Meereen, Zhuogeng didn't see Daenerys.
Only then did he remember that today marked the official opening ceremony of the new academy.
They were probably all gathered at the smaller pyramid to the east.
As he approached, he saw the words "Academy" written prominently in High Valyrian across the upper levels of the pyramid.
Colorful banners fluttered from the walls.
Rows of lanterns decorated the entrance.
The square outside was already crowded with Meereenese citizens, foreign merchants, and nobles, while security had been strengthened several times over.
As soon as Zhuogeng flew inside, Shireen, who was busy carrying books, spotted him.
"Zhuogeng! Where have you been? The opening ceremony is about to begin!"
She happily reached out her hands toward him.
Nearby, Daenerys was wearing luxurious Meereenese ceremonial robes while Missandei adjusted her clothing.
Hearing Shireen's voice, she turned around.
"Ah! Zhuogeng, you're hurt!"
After stroking the scales on his back, Shireen froze.
A chunk of flesh was missing from his right leg.
Blood still stained his lower leg and claws.
"Zhuogeng, you're injured?"
Daenerys' face immediately turned pale.
She hurried over.
"Your Majesty, look here."
Shireen pointed at the wound, her voice full of concern.
Seeing the deep gouge in Zhuogeng's leg, Daenerys gasped.
The wound had clearly been carved out by a sharp weapon.
Even several nearby scales had been torn away.
Some had only partially detached, showing just how sharp the weapon had been.
"Missandei! Quickly, fetch a physician!"
Then she turned anxiously toward Zhuogeng.
"Where did you go?
How were you hurt?"
Tyrion and the others, who had been preparing the ceremony, immediately abandoned their work and hurried over.
It's just a scratch...
Zhuogeng thought helplessly as more than ten people surrounded him.
But his thoughts did nothing to ease Daenerys' fears.
She had personally witnessed him charging through hundreds of enemies beneath the Great Pyramid.
Countless blades had struck him without even breaking many of his scales.
His defense was terrifying.
Yet now an entire piece of flesh had been gouged from his leg.
Judging by the wound, whatever had struck him had only grazed his leg—and still carved away that much flesh.
If it had landed squarely...
With Zhuogeng's current size...
It might have pierced him completely.
The thought nearly brought Daenerys to tears.
She had been busy dressing for the ceremony, completely unaware that she might never have seen him again.
"What hurt you?"
"Was it a Valyrian steel weapon?"
"Or a scorpion bolt?"
She couldn't imagine anything else capable of inflicting such a wound.
Tyrion and Shireen shared the same concern.
Having seen Zhuogeng survive attacks from hundreds of soldiers, they couldn't believe any ordinary weapon could injure him like this.
To them, only Valyrian steel—or some similarly extraordinary weapon—made sense.
Seeing Daenerys staring at him with tears welling in her eyes, Zhuogeng felt genuinely touched.
He rubbed his little head against her hand.
If I hadn't let my guard down...
He never would have hurt me.
"He..."
Daenerys almost repeated his thoughts aloud before realizing everyone else was listening.
She quickly bit her tongue.
At that moment, a physician in his forties came running in.
Everyone stepped aside.
The doctor knelt to examine the wound and reached for a basin of water.
Before he could begin, Daenerys stopped him.
Taking a clean handkerchief, she dipped it in water and carefully cleaned the wound herself.
She was afraid the physician might be too rough and hurt Zhuogeng.
As she gently wiped away the blood, she constantly watched his reactions, worried she might cause him pain.
Touching the scales on his leg reminded her of the day he had hatched.
Back then he had been roughly the same size.
But he hadn't had scales yet.
He had looked like a featherless little pigeon.
Now, although still the size of a hatchling, he was a perfect miniature version of an adult dragon.
Every feature was exquisitely formed.
She noticed that the spines along his neck had become much denser and sharper.
Even the bones of his wings had begun growing vicious spikes in addition to the wing hooks.
His tail also showed the beginnings of long bony protrusions.
The little dragon no longer looked merely cute.
He possessed a savage, deadly beauty that made him both elegant and terrifying.