Wild Grass and Flying Dragon

"You might not even be as tall as my thigh."

Inside the mist-shrouded cavern of the hot spring, the dark gray-skinned female elf would occasionally toss out a remark that wounded a dog kobold's pride.

But fortunately, she had put on clothes—a loose robe that did nothing to reveal her figure.

"If you're not a genius, then you're an utter fool."

That was the female elf's final verdict on him.

I still prefer how cool you looked when we first met, he thought.

Watching her retreating back, he secretly let out a long breath. This girl was finally leaving. Though he had kept himself calm all along, the gap in their strength still made his heart pound. After all, he knew exactly what he was made of: merely a level-one apprentice who had mastered only a handful of spells, and a self-taught one at that. His knowledge of basic spellcraft was practically blank, and most importantly, he was not a modifier.

She did not seem especially angry. She had chased after him mainly out of curiosity about a dog kobold wizard.

She walked farther and farther away, yet her voice still carried over.

"Once you fall into a body with such a lowly bloodline, it won't be easy to climb back out. In my view, dragonblood kobolds aren't a good choice either, and pure-blooded dragons are even more boring. Be careful not to turn yourself into an aberrant dragon in the end. The old-fashioned Aberrant Dragon Management Association will come knocking to register... and supervise you..."

At last, the female elf vanished completely at the far end of the passage.

Listening to her final words, Ruger merely raised a claw and scratched his head.

She spoke as though he were guaranteed to succeed in becoming a dragonblood kobold, as though he even had a choice.

He suddenly turned back toward the cavern. Had she come here only to bathe? Could there be some treasure beneath the water? And why would a noble elven wizard appear in this godforsaken place? Wizards never did anything without value—that was a line from Ka Liu's diary.

Besides, people like him who learned by themselves were called wild wizards in Ka Liu's diary. It sounded extremely eco-friendly, full of the sense of flourishing growth—like weeds destined never to become towering trees, yet impossible to eradicate.

He walked on, thinking as he went.

He thought of what Half-Man and the elf had said; of the spell knowledge behind Frost Ray; and of this small kobold settlement. Kobolds seemed to be gradually losing their role as hunters in this region. He suddenly understood a little why kobolds always liked finding themselves a master to support and serve with the strength of their entire tribe.

"Brother Ruger."

Aisijin immediately came up to meet him.

Ruger spotted Old Gold Tooth dozing in the distance. The bean-sprout-like strands of light on the old kobold's body seemed to have grown another finger-width, and that was without him continuing to eat glowing objects.

"These are for you. I'm very strong now, so don't worry." He cast Strength of the Savage Bull, then patted the kobold girl on the shoulder. Though the difference in their height made the gesture look somewhat comical, he continued, "In a while, I'll be going somewhere far away. I'll bring back some underground beasts for you and Old Gold Tooth to eat while I'm at it."

Aisijin happily accepted the cooked meatworms, turned to put them away, then took a huge bite herself.

"Brother Ruger, did you find the fruit?" Aisijin asked happily.

"No, but it's even better than Big Silly Hum's fruit. Stronger, too. Sadly, you can't eat it," he said.

"I don't want it. I wanted to find it for you, but Big Hum Hum is too stupid. He said his nose can't remember that smell anymore. I went out with him several times to look, but we still couldn't find it..." Aisijin said indignantly. "But we won't need it soon. There was an injured, huge strange kobold who said he was an envoy from the Red Horn Tribe. He ate so many of the tribe's meatworms, but he still died. He said the great Red Horn Tribe is expanding and is willing to shelter all kobold tribes in the nearby region. They even have mines to dig."

"Hmph! They're catching miners, those cunning dragonblood kobolds! They must have lots of these bugs over there too, so much food they can't finish it all, and now they want to expand their territory. They're even going to war with those elves. There's no mistaking it—I, Old Gold Tooth, have seen through everything..."

Old Gold Tooth had woken up at some point and was shouting furiously.

Small tribes like theirs were all sides that had lost fights over mine caves, then been exploited—made to dig ore, hand over food, and so on. But kobolds bred far too well. When an expanded territory could no longer hold kobolds who did not belong to the tribe itself, the side that had been exploited until it had lost everything would be driven out completely.

And now, they could not even wait for their own tribe to build up enough strength. There was clearly something they urgently needed to do. If so, then what Old Gold Tooth said was very likely true.

Would the Red Horn Tribe have a dragon? A pure-blooded dragon? Would one dragon enslave several large tribes to gather treasure for it?

"I must warn you, young man: even if you travel far from here and find the strongest tribe around, there will be no true dragon there. The presence of dragonblood kobolds does not mean a tribe has a genuinely noble dragon clan member."

Old Gold Tooth seemed afraid that this young kobold, whose head was full of ideas, would do something foolish. He repeatedly warned him that the success rate for such tribes to transform kobolds into dragonblood kobolds was very low. Rushing off to risk his life on impulse would only waste an opportunity.

In truth, Old Gold Tooth and Big Silly Hum had not entirely missed their chance. As long as they could bathe in true dragon blood, there was a high chance their wishes would be fulfilled.

Unfortunately, kobolds were insignificant beings whose very purpose was to rely on and serve dragons. Bathing in dragon blood was almost contrary to the value of their very existence.

Ruger told Aisijin where his new home was and agreed on a secret signal with her. If she came looking while he was away, she could leave a mark on the wall.

"I never expected you to be this invested..."

Ruger had barely sat down in his new home, open on three sides, when he heard this startling voice.

The female elf slowly emerged from the shadows.

"You may really be a genius, trying a road no one has ever walked before. Is that ugly but clever little kobold your friend within the tribe? And that old kobold who is about to die from turning into light—you actually made friends with kobolds in this tiny tribe!"

Excitement made an enchanting gleam flicker over her dark gray face, smooth and lustrous like silk.

The beautiful female elf leaned in close to study Ruger, her eyes glowing with excitement. Seeing that he remained silent for a moment, she continued.

"I read about it in a book—a method the ancient bloodline wizards used to resist bloodline rejection, a theory! Like a thief! Gain the recognition of the bloodline's source. In the later version of the theory, the aim was not merely to reduce the agitation within the bloodline, but even to steal its inheritance, rather than passively inheriting it through bloodline purification. Like prying open a treasure chest, opening a vault. Everything in that book was theoretical, but you're putting it into action. And I'd wager you've never read that book, because it was a lone surviving copy..."

The more the female elf spoke, the more excited she became.

At first, Ruger had been shocked by her sudden appearance. Then he had been left speechless. Now, he did not dare say a word.

"Of course, this theory can only be applied to targets with bloodline inheritance. Otherwise, there would be no way to gain the source's recognition. Fortunately, creatures with bloodline inheritance are all powerful beings—demons, for instance, or dragons. They are born with unique true names, as though they have gained the world's recognition. Upon reaching a certain rank, they obtain strange talents and all kinds of spell-like abilities from that intangible river. It is said that every wizard's arcane mark is merely a peripheral byproduct produced when great wizards studied demons' true names."

The female elf sat beside him and watched.

"And you—if not for that, then what exactly are you doing? I saw bewilderment in your eyes."