**Chapter 7
Dragon-Riding Duel**
The dawn mist still clung to the Azure Mist Sect's training grounds when Alex Reed was summoned to the courtyard, bleary-eyed and nursing yesterday's shin bruise. Two massive, scaled dragons—one ivory-white, the other deep cerulean—stood tethered before a crowd of excited disciples. Above them fluttered banners announcing the Dragon-Riding Duel: a friendly match between rival sects to test both rider and beast.
"Alex Reed," the instructor called, "you're paired with Vermilion Flame Pavilion's champion."
Alex's stomach churned. "Champion?" he echoed.
Beside him, Ling Xiao'er smirked. "That's Ling Feng, prodigy rider. Think toddler prodigy meets draconic speed." She patted the ivory dragon at her side. "This is Mistwing. She's gentle… usually."
Alex eyed the cerulean dragon, scales glinting like sapphires. Its rider—tall, stoic, red-robed—adjusted his crimson goggles. "That's Flameheart," Ling Xiao'er whispered. "He breathes fire, so don't get too close."
A gong rang. Both riders vaulted onto their dragons' backs. Alex hesitated—his usual invisibility useless on a 30-foot lizard. He scrambled up, nearly slipping off before finding a secure grip on the saddle's emerald-studded straps.
"Ready…" the instructor shouted.
Alex inhaled. Beneath him, Mistwing snorted a plume of lavender mist.
"…Go!"
The dragons leapt forward in unison. Alex clung tightly as Mistwing surged ahead, wings beating a thunderous rhythm. Flameheart roared, flame dancing at the edges of his dragon's maw.
Alex shakily stood, using his core-herb-forged balance techniques. The ground blurred beneath them as they dove through rings of floating training hoops. Mistwing cleared the first two easily; Flameheart unleashed a gout of flame that warped the third ring moments before they passed.
Alex's heart raced—he'd never moved this fast on Earth (not even on roller coasters). He spotted a narrow canyon ahead that marked the midway checkpoint. Leaning into Mistwing's scales, he whispered the incantation he'd barely mastered. A pale barrier flared around the dragon, deflecting a sudden rain of ember-bolts from Flameheart.
Mistwing responded with a joyful roar, banking sharply to fly through the canyon's twist. Alex gripped tighter as wind tore at his robes. Emerging on the other side, he saw the final hoop: suspended over the training lake.
Summoning every ounce of focus, he guided Mistwing upward. The dragon arched its back, and Alex vaulted off, touching the center of the hoop midair. He landed in Mistwing's saddle just in time as Flameheart skimmed the hoop's edge, showering the water below in sparks.
Cheers erupted across both sects. Alex panted, adrenaline still coursing through him. Ling Xiao'er landed beside him, beaming.
"See? Visible victory!" she teased.
Alex laughed, bracing himself as Mistwing settled. "Next time," he gasped, "let's race on foot."
But as he glanced at the cheering novices, he realized: in this world, some adventures were worth getting scorched—visible or not.