Chapter 978

Dorothy carefully recalled the traits of the White Night Dragon and realized it truly suited her well.

Although the White Night Dragon wasn’t strictly speaking a powerful dragon breed—almost bordering on a decorative legend—it had one standout feature: beauty.

Hmm, the Most Beautiful Dragon—yes, that title was truly deserved.

Its magnificent white feathers, perfect dragon form, and the innate radiant glow of its White Night trait made it a dragonic succubus, an absolute goddess who could win the hearts of countless dragons with just a single appearance, regardless of gender.

But beyond its looks, the White Night Dragon had no other notable traits—it couldn’t control chromatic forces like the Rainbow Dragon, nor manipulate time like the Time Dragon, nor command kinetic energy like the Power Dragon.

If anything, its physical constitution met the standard expected of a legendary breed, but only just average—far inferior to close-combat specialized breeds like the Destruction Dragon or the Radiant Wrath Cleaver, whose bodies were famed for their raw strength.

In short, a witch purely seeking power would likely dismiss the White Night Dragon template entirely.

But the Home Witch was never someone obsessed with raw power; in fact, she cared more about looks than strength—after all, being strong might last only one or two patches, but being beautiful? That lasts a lifetime.

Moreover, after several transformations, Dorothy had deliberately studied the White Night Dragon’s traits, since this transformation spell had been created personally by the Dragon King.

Nidhogg’s work? It had to be top-tier.

The Home Witch simply couldn’t believe the mighty Dragon King would create a mere decorative spell—she was certain the White Night Dragon concealed hidden traits, and that she simply hadn’t studied the spell deeply enough.

Hmm, when she first chose this transformation, the description mentioned fate power—perhaps her fate-immune constitution absorbed the White Night Dragon’s fate-related properties.

That’s how she comforted herself.

But after careful study, she actually discovered a hidden trait of the White Night Dragon: this transformation spell possessed immense potential for evolution.

Low emotional intelligence: a decorative dragon breed, useless except for appearance and durability.

High emotional intelligence: a blank slate with a solid foundation and boundless potential for growth—its future is limitless.

This wasn’t Dorothy’s fantasy—it was simply true.

She discovered the White Night Dragon resembled the most standard dragon template: versatile and adaptable, capable of absorbing any other dragon’s traits without any resistance or conflict.

In short, you could use the White Night Dragon as a base and freely graft any dragon trait you desired, crafting a unique template perfectly suited to yourself.

Such extreme freedom was an extraordinary trait.

Although witches who grow powerful enough no longer rigidly follow templates—they begin transcending frameworks, evolving according to their own needs to forge a singular, perfect form—

Like the Yemengjia hanging around Dorothy’s neck.

That ancestor-sister’s dragon-serpent form had no prototype; no pure-blooded dragon in the dragon realm bore such a shape. Yemengjia’s current body was her own custom creation, tailored precisely to her needs.

This form was called by witches the “Divine Body.”

It was simple to understand: literally, the body of a god.

Witches walking the Path of Omniscience, like Dorothy, might not care much about specialization—but for witches like Alice, who aim for the Path of Omnipotence, choosing the right specialization is crucial.

For instance, if you need a fire ability, a Home Witch might just learn a fireball spell and be done with it—but for Alice, learning such a spell would feel like torture; instead, the little witch might evolve a specialization granting her the ability to breathe fire.

This is the core difference between the Path of Omniscience and the Path of Omnipotence.

Omniscience focuses on mastering as many spells as possible; Omnipotence focuses on innate specializations.

Generally, Omniscience witches have more techniques; Omnipotence witches possess greater power—those innate specializations grant strength far exceeding mere spellcasting. Your fireball might not match the raw force of her fire breath.

The concept of the “Divine Body” was proposed by Omnipotence witches: in their vision, if they reached the end of evolution and transformed their bodies into omnipotent beings, they could achieve godhood through flesh alone.

But ideals are plump, reality is skeletal.

The actual path of evolution is not easy—it’s not as simple as evolving however you wish. You must consider compatibility between specializations; many are mutually contradictory, and forcing incompatible ones together could kill you.

For example, a mermaid template trying to evolve a Flame Body specialization? Pure suicide.

Therefore, before your strength reaches the level needed to forcibly fuse opposing elements like water and fire, better to restrain yourself—abandon reckless dreams of free evolution and stick to a fixed racial template, evolving step by step.

As for constructing a unique “Divine Body,” wait until you’ve at least reached a peak level before even considering it.

Of course, this applies only to common witches; those from ancient witch lineages have more options, since their ancestors have already paved the way.

A witch’s lifetime energy is limited—she can’t afford many failed attempts. A wrong evolution might cost her years to correct.

But such failures aren’t without value: predecessors’ mistakes prevent successors from repeating them, and generation after generation of accumulated experience eventually uncovers the path to the “Divine Body.”

This is what is called inheritance.

Although the final “Divine Body” is always unique, and ancestors’ experience cannot be copied directly, many similar lessons along the evolutionary path can still be learned.

For instance, how to balance opposing elemental specializations like water and fire—previous generations might have spent lifetimes solving this, but successors need only study their findings to bypass the obstacle easily.

But clearly, these evolutionary insights are core family secrets, never leaked—even if regulations require them to be backed up in the Witch Network Library, they will never be made public.

Thus, common-born witches pursuing the Path of Omnipotence must grope blindly in the dark—bold ones risk reckless evolution; some strike lucky and rise to become founders of new witch families, others crash and burn, living meaningless lives.

The cautious stick to generic templates until the end—safe and stable, but grossly inefficient, wasting vast amounts of magic evolving specializations they’ll never use.

Worse still, if you merely waste magic, it’s bearable—but what if, when you finally gain the strength to attempt constructing a “Divine Body,” you discover your needed specialization contradicts an earlier useless one?

Now that’s amusing: either you use extraordinary talent to reconcile the opposing traits—like harmonizing water and fire—and forge a new path, or you must find a way to discard the useless specialization.

In short, you’ve walked so many wrong paths you’re exhausted.

Hence, few common-born witches now pursue the Path of Omnipotence—while you’re stumbling down detours, aristocratic witches are already constructing their “Divine Bodies.” The result? You and your rival have equal talent, yet you’re perpetually behind—and that sense of defeat is unbearable for most.

And forget the gap in resources between common witches and aristocratic heirs.

The Path of Omnipotence is extremely expensive—though specialization evolution can be forced by burning magic, even the Three Kings’ talent doesn’t have enough magic to waste like that. Normal specialization evolution requires collecting evolution materials to brew specific magical potions, which drastically reduce magic consumption during evolution.

Some master-crafted potions reportedly save witches 70–80% of their magic cost—but while magic is saved, your wallet screams.

Of course, for Dorothy now, money isn’t a major issue—and she already understands potions well enough to brew them herself, saving a fortune.

Moreover, Long Ma has given her the Yemengjia family’s “Divine Body Secret Transmission”—a notebook recording generations of Yemengjia ancestors’ explorations along the “Divine Body” path, which will help her avoid countless detours.

But now, doesn’t the White Night Dragon’s perfect blank-slate quality shine through?

Viewed as a mere transformation spell, it’s a decorative dragon—but viewed as an evolution template, it’s the foundation of infinite change.

A template that, once its base is built, allows free evolution without fear of conflicting specializations, automatically harmonizing opposites, guaranteeing no wrong turns—this is the perfect “Divine Body” embryo.

If Dorothy wished, she could wield chromatic power in one hand, kinetic force in the other, and breathe time itself from her mouth—just imagining it was thrilling.

“Hmm, I knew Nidhogg’s work was top-tier—I just used it wrong all along, treating a perfect evolution template as a mere transformation spell.”

Realizing this, Dorothy silently repented to the great Dragon King.

Though she didn’t realize she’d overthought it—Nidhogg never intended anything so complex; the White Night Dragon was simply her own aesthetic creation, a bridal skin modeled after her own form.

As for why the White Night Dragon held the foundation of infinite change? Simply because the Dragon King was the witch closest to omnipotence—her dragon body was already nearly the true Divine Body. When she used herself as a template but omitted the intricate details of the Divine Body, leaving only an unshakable foundation to mold the White Night Dragon, how could the template not be stable?

This was a foundation capable of bearing the Dragon King’s body—what specialization conflict could it not withstand?

So this wasn’t a blank legendary dragon at all—it was a blank Dragon King’s body, or rather, a Dragon King’s juvenile form.

Hmm, the true Divine Body should be unique, but Nidhogg, driven by personal preference, deliberately cloned her own Divine Body.

Of course, under normal circumstances, even if this template existed, no one could evolve it—after all, even the juvenile form was the Dragon King’s body; the evolution difficulty was unimaginable, far beyond the reach of ordinary witches, and those powerful enough to meet the threshold already had their own Divine Bodies.

But the Home Witch was clearly no ordinary witch.

“I choose you, White Night Dragon. Let me see your evolution requirements.”

Dorothy re-examined the “White Night Dragon Transformation Spell.”

【Learning Requirement: Only those blessed with beauty equal to mine.】

Hmm, this was the learning requirement noted when she first chose the spell—she’d previously treated it as a casting condition, but now she realized it might be an evolution condition.

The “I” here clearly referred to Nidhogg herself.

Thus, the threshold was terrifyingly high: beauty equal to the Dragon King’s, and fate-blessed like her.

“Hmm, no problem—quite an easy requirement.”

Dorothy nodded casually after reading it.

Though the Dragon King was indeed beautiful, her divine visage still fell slightly short of Dorothy’s own. As for fate? She didn’t possess the Dragon King’s fate as the Witch-King, but she was a born Sage.

To be honest, she surpassed the standard by far—it almost felt like she was wasting such a template. But what could she do? She was just too excellent—so she’d make do.

“Alright, next up: the evolution formula.”

Dorothy adjusted her perspective, viewing the spell once again—not as a forbidden transformation, but as an evolution template.

With this new angle, she immediately noticed many details she’d overlooked when studying it as a spell.

“Sufficient beauty and the ability to freely command it; the divine authority of a solar or lunar deity; a legendary dragon’s physique and sufficient draconic bestiality; an unyielding heart.”

Wait, are you seriously listing requirements—or just copying my ID card?

Dorothy scratched her head.