Luge knew it was time to make a choice. After all, he was not like that tenacious little root, enduring hardships and braving mountains and waters all the way here just for a mouthful of dragon urine. Furthermore, judging by the effects of the black fruit, the efficacy of this pool of dragon urine was bound to be quite limited. On the flip side, this also indicated that whatever was afflicting this massive creature—likely a true dragon—the symptom of bloody urine was not yet overly severe.
He suddenly looked down at the nurturing bag at his waist.
The bag was vibrating, growing increasingly frantic, as though it wanted to leap off his hip.
"Don't tell me... you want to drink that dragon urine?" He glanced around and ventured a question.
The nurturing bag paused for a breath, then gave two more tremors in reply.
He did not act rashly. Instead, he stood in place, pondering for a moment, before circling on tiptoe to observe the massive fellow in the cave. The colossal creature's head faced inward, sprawled on the ground at a slight angle. Being toweringly huge, very little of it was visible from any single vantage point.
Not daring to draw too close, he took a wide loop before finally reaching a spot where he could see the creature's back.
Frowning slightly, he walked a bit farther to confirm from another angle.
This big guy... why did it seem to have no dragon wings? He felt a prickle of surprise.
Whether in the tales Old Gold Tooth had told or the passing mentions in Kaliu's diary, true dragons always possessed wings. Their appearances might vary slightly, their temperaments could be bizarre and eccentric, and their sizes might differ vastly, but as long as they were pureblood dragons—true dragons—they were bound to have wings.
Could it just be a subterranean beast with dragon blood? Something like the former Holy Lord of the Red Horn Tribe—a pseudo-dragon, a subdragon beast?
On second thought, there was another possibility.
Since it had been beaten to the point of pissing blood, it might have lost its wings to an injury.
He noticed the colossus took a breath only after long intervals. He had not dared approach its mouth, but the sound of its exhales rolled past like a gust of surging wind.
Perhaps owing to the kobold's naturally feeble aura, or perhaps because he had been careful enough since entering, the giant creature showed no sign of waking.
He circled around once more, thoroughly exploring the massive cave.
It was certain that aside from the hole he had entered through, there was no second entrance or exit. Considering the valley outside, the surrounding environment, the various traces and trees within the valley, and the look of the soil strata, he could basically conclude that this titan had truly been sleeping here for a very long time—long enough to span several kobold lifetimes combined.
The disparities between species were truly fascinating.
Stroking the few remaining hairs on his chin, Luge had an audacious idea.
Would a mighty being of colossal proportions, deep in the sweetest slumber, sleeping on for decades without waking, not even waking while pissing blood, care about the bite of a tiny mosquito? What if that mosquito was exceptionally polite? What if that little mosquito was remarkably considerate, treading lightly without making a single buzz?
The more Luge thought about it, the more he admired his own brilliance, to the point where he felt the initial weakness in his knees had been a mere illusion.
Even if this giant was not a true dragon, it was an immensely formidable dragon beast. As long as there was enough to go around, even a doddering old kobold whose teeth had fallen out—yet sprouted anew—could find a second spring in life. In other words, Old Gold Tooth could be saved. His own path as a wizard was saved as well; at the very least, he could advance at a more composed pace. Of course, he would not rush to ingest dragon blood; what mattered more was having an extra option.
He still remembered that Half-Man had promised to help resolve his short-lived species issue, but there had been no news. With this new alternative, he could face Half-Man and his own wizardly path with greater ease in the future.
Boiling Spirit seemed to have reached its peak efficacy alongside his soaring mood, making him feel as though he had boundless energy, almost tempting him to sing out loud.
He thought it over, then retreated toward the cave entrance.
Even if he were to act as a mosquito, it would not be now; he needed to make preparations first.
Besides, Aisjin was still waiting outside. If this behemoth were startled awake, she would certainly not be spared.
As he prepared to leave, he glanced at the pool of liquid and ultimately left it untouched. It was not out of disgust, but rather something to address next time; for now, it was best not to disturb anything.
He scrambled quietly out of the opening.
Making his way upward, he dumped some earth back out to seal the hole.
Aisjin was already waiting anxiously outside.
"Let's head back first. Old Gold Tooth might be able to live much longer," he said.
He wanted to put Aisjin's mind at ease. If his plan failed when the time came, he could try stealing a whole pool of urine and soaking Old Gold Tooth in it; having an entire pool to himself would surely yield some effect.
The two began their trek back.
Between groping along and digging out soil, they had been busy all day.
"Oh, right," he recalled the treasure in his storage pouch and quickly rummaged through it. "I have a gift for you!"
He produced the roasted beast leg he had long kept tucked away—personally prepared with a secret recipe by a fifth-rank limit apprentice.
Catching the aroma, he felt relieved that the flavor was still preserved.
Both were famished, so they found a spot along the way to rest and began sharing it. Nervous tension consumed a great deal of energy; Luge had spent the day climbing up and down in a whirlwind of delight and dread, while Aisjin had been caught in constant worry and anxiety. Consequently, the beast leg—which had originally been intended to include a share for Big Dumb Hum—was quickly devoured clean by just the two of them.
As for Aisjin's reaction to the roasted leg, Luge had expected delight to outweigh astonishment, but the reality was the opposite: the shock it brought Aisjin far exceeded any outward show of joy.
Back at the kobold settlement, he instructed the young female kobold not to tell Old Gold Tooth the news just yet.
Everything would have to wait until he had worked things out.
He composed himself. Though the day had yielded gains, it had also stalled his meditation progress.
He relaxed and lay down in his familiar spot, in a familiar posture, staring up at the cave ceiling and blinking occasionally. His mind drifted back to the behemoth's towering physique. Compared to it, the Gray Longneck Holy Lord was like an earthworm. That overpowering aura assaulting the senses, that visual and psychic shock—those were precisely what had caused his knees to buckle for that brief instant.
And such an absurdly colossal creature might not even be a true dragon. Just how mighty would a true dragon be, then? And the wizards who stood above dragons—how terrifying would they be? They surely had already transcended the concept of humans. Even if their frames remained as compact as ordinary people, he believed their mere presence would be enough to make a massive dragon tremble, just as he had experienced today with that momentary, uncontrollable weakness deep in his soul.
He recalled the words from Kaliu's diary:
*Explore the mysteries of life, unveil the river of time, possess formidable power and an immortal soul, perceive all within the world through an enduring lifespan, and fathom the secrets of all things with supreme wisdom.*
Of course, this was merely what Kaliu had envisioned wizards to be when he was still an apprentice, his understanding of wizards back then.
Luge thought of this because he had realized the diary was likely just the beginning; there were probably many volumes after it, so he had no way of knowing how far this Kaliu had ultimately gone.
Naturally, all of this assumed that Half-Man had simply scavenged the diary and that Kaliu was not yet dead.
Peering into Kaliu's life through the diary, he had unwittingly developed a sensation akin to knowing an old friend, despite having never met the apprentice wizard.
Of course, that applied only to the young Kaliu; some wizards' personalities became warped in old age, turning them into completely different people.
Taking a deep breath, he rolled over and sat up.
No matter how distant the goal, one had to walk toward it step by step, starting with daily meditation. As long as he pressed forward step by step without halting, even if his strides were small, even if the path twisted now and then, that dragon would eventually seem minuscule—hardly even a milestone along the path of a wizard.
Chapter 44