Chapter 126: Practicing Dragon Tongue

"Indeed, the candidates have been confirmed."

Kuku was never good at hiding, especially when facing "himself."

This time, Li En actually hoped to know the answer ahead of time, even though he knew there were only a few days left.

"In my view, none of these guys are qualified."

Li En sighed slightly—not because he was dissatisfied with the young candidates themselves.

It was just that, compared to Kuku, these young people were truly unworthy.

This unworthiness wasn't about ability, but about mindset, even personality.

"They seem a bit mediocre, which isn't inherently a problem—they're still young. But as heroes' candidates, inheriting a hero's honor, they simply aren't up to it."

Dimon might be weak, might come from humble origins, but Li En always felt that decades from now, Dimon wouldn't tarnish Sul's reputation.

In fact, Dimon's future achievements might even cause the ancient name "Sul" to be remembered again by the world.

It was more of a feeling, but Li En judged that if Dimon didn't perish or corrupt midway, the likelihood was very high.

"But these candidates? None of them seem capable. Even if they grow successfully, their limits are already set." Li En vaguely sensed that this batch of candidates showed no extraordinary talent, nor overwhelming will or personality.

He also knew this wasn't the young people's fault—Kuku himself had been a waste at the same age; his ability, mindset, and personality were all forged by time.

How can someone who's never been rained on think of holding an umbrella for others?

How can someone who's never been crushed to the point of suffocation think of holding up the sky for others?

But that kind of imitation-based kindness, this goodwill born of being protected, always fell short. And if Li En hadn't misjudged, these candidates were at best neutral—kindness was probably absent, and responsibility nearly zero.

Raw ore that's never been hammered can never reveal its true quality. Is it too hasty to pass on this legacy so urgently?

Perhaps they'll manage someday, but right now, Li En truly didn't think they were up to it.

"Forget it. Trust Kuku." It seemed there was nothing else to do but take it one step at a time.

Now, the hero spirit's deadline was only four days away; according to Li En's estimate, Kuku wouldn't drag it to the final day—he'd likely decide in two or three days.

Considering Kuku's initiative, he might even decide tonight—there was no need to rush the answer.

But Li En secretly resolved: no matter who the final candidate was, if they truly proved unworthy—or worse, disgraced it—

"Then I'll reclaim this legacy."

Could a legacy be reclaimed? Li En wasn't sure, but his life should be recoverable.

As the one entrusted with the right—under normal circumstances (excluding Kuku)—to choose the hero spirit's heir, Li En felt obligated to ensure the bearer of this legacy didn't shame the hero spirit!

Just as Dimon himself knew—and swore—that if he ever corrupted, Li En would surely come to take his life.

The hero spirit's legacy was never merely wealth—it was a heavy inheritance.

At this moment, Li En understood why he felt so displeased with this second batch of heirs: some of them were genuinely seeking this legacy with the mindset of "unexpected fortune."

"Magic Missile! Any other questions?!"

Early that morning, Kuku came over to give Li En a lesson.

Last night, he'd planned to use a clone to teach, but something unexpected happened.

"Shaliman taught me. Well, let me ask again."

Li En repeated his questions, and Kuku's responses were on an entirely different level from Shaliman's.

It wasn't that Shaliman was wrong—she simply gave the "standard answers."

Kuku, with his rich teaching experience, didn't fixate on these facts; instead, he guided Li En to understand the underlying principles of the spell, and shared "anecdotes" and "possibilities" about it.

Some things weren't just unknown—they were profoundly missed. Having enjoyed Kuku's top-tier tutoring, Li En now realized how exceptional his private instructor was.

Perhaps Kuku's learning pace was slower, but the spell principles and magical methodology he taught formed the foundation for higher-level study.

Kuku also knew that Li En, lacking formal magical education, was most lacking in basic theory and an overview of the mage's knowledge system.

Put plainly, Kuku was teaching Li En to "think like a mage."

From another angle, Shaliman's teaching wasn't wrong—teaching should adapt to the student, and standard mage textbooks were indeed designed for geniuses.

But Kuku's current approach allowed Li En to easily understand, even deliberately filling in gaps in his foundational knowledge and magical reasoning.

"Interesting."

Li En was startled to discover that the classic Magic Missile spell actually involved a mage's classic problem.

"Ballistic calculation—or rather, the trajectory of the spell model after release."

By now, Li En had long lost that strange confidence that "my spell will always hit."

In reality, spellcasting was just like sword combat: only hits dealt damage, and only strikes to vital points were easily lethal.

Once a spell model was released, it typically operated autonomously along its pre-designed trajectory and structure: most direct forms included "spherical," "conical," "wall-shaped (rectangular)," "triangular pyramid (often for jets)," "arrow-shaped (optimized for penetration and speed)," and "ring-shaped (often for self-defense)."

You had to first shape the corresponding spell model, maintain its stability, then release it to operate autonomously—requiring not only skill and stability in shaping, but also prediction and calculation of its trajectory and deformation trends.

Thus, incantations often included "planning" for this—for example, Ice Cone explicitly described a "conical" form, while Magic Missile's description of its "ultra-small missile (spherical) form" was as simple and clear as possible.

Magic Missile was the simplest, purest field magic—that is, pure magical force damage, excluding elemental harm. Its inherent difficulty was low, but "ballistic trajectory" and "model stability (resistance to deformation)" were highly demanding (for Li En).

As he learned through this, Li En realized that each first-ring spell was packed with specialized theory and training, each requiring unique, non-overlapping branches of knowledge.

Compared to combat effectiveness, these low-ring spells seemed more like foundational subjects for high-level spells.

"Hmm, I'm starting to understand."

What triggered Li En wasn't Magic Missile itself, but these foundational theories and mana-shaping lessons—causing his bloodline power to pulse.

"SKERVA (sword)." Li En didn't speak the word, but the Dragon Tongue seemed already on his tongue.

It was a pure shaping description—or "sword-form spell model"—yet listed separately as a Dragon Tongue.

In Kuku's words, Dragon Tongue magic was one of the origins of modern magic; this entire theory and technique might have derived from it.

"Right now, I can't use two Dragon Tongue words together, can I?"

"Absolutely not. But if it's a 'shaping word,' once you're stronger, you could try."

Such shaping words, designed to modify or adjust a specific Dragon Tongue—like Li En's current consideration, "Flame Sword (ELDERSKERVA!)"—had a minimum cost lower than two normal elemental words.

Roughly, if a standard two-word Dragon Tongue was 2nd-rank, this could be considered a 1. -rank Dragon Flame spell.

Of course, that was merely the lower limit. The greatest advantage of Dragon Tongue magic was always its growth potential—the spell's strength depended entirely on the user.

At this moment, Li En felt a stronger desire for "Sword (SKERVA)," but to complete it, he'd likely need to return and train his swordsmanship, raising his Paladin rank first.

"SKERVA (Tearing Sword)—hmm, doesn't seem easy to master."

The same "meaning" in Dragon Tongue, like Li En's and Dainya's "fire," were actually entirely different elemental concepts.

Li En's "sword" carried the implication of "shredding everything," "unstoppable sharpness"—its origin needed no explanation.

In a sense, Li En truly owed thanks to Brother Sul—not only for granting him the Paladin class and sword arts, but also for attaching two seemingly powerful Dragon Tongues.

But now, though he'd gained some cross-applicable insight, Li En estimated he still needed considerable time to fully master them.

"By the way, I'm an idiot—aren't I right here with a Dragon Tongue expert?"

With only a few days left, not rushing to learn Dragon Tongue—wasn't that just plain foolish?

But ordinary magic could be taught; Kuku truly couldn't teach this.

"No! Every dragon's Dragon Tongue is different!"

Every high-ranking dragon had its own Dragon Tongue system—upon close examination, it truly couldn't be taught.

"But I can tell you! My past usage experience!"

That was quite interesting—learning a high-level Dragon Tongue user's combat and learning mindset in advance would greatly help Li En.

Kuku's explanations remained detailed and thorough; combining his past combat experience and development insights, Li En quickly absorbed many practical tips he might never use.

Compared to modern magic, Dragon Tongue magic was clearly a privilege of the gifted.

It outperformed in casting speed, flexibility, power, and mana cost—especially its advantage of one caster, one spell system, which dominated in spell-vs-spell combat.

If there was a real weakness—it was the high minimum cost and power, making it an unfriendly double-edged sword for "weak dragons."

And Kuku gave him another big surprise.

"There's one Dragon Tongue—you might actually learn it early! It's strongly tied to my soul ability! You'll awaken it later—no, you'll definitely awaken it." Kuku then proceeded to explain how to develop and use it, assuming Li En would awaken it.

(End of Chapter)