Chapter 87: Tranquil Grass

"Free the kobolds from dragon control? How is that possible?"

When this topic was raised, the responses it received were, without question, a string of denials and bewilderment.

Not only was the topic too unbelievable, the difficulty too high, but moreover

". Does this project have any meaning?"

On this matter, Kuku had not only no allies, but not even a single understanding soul to talk to,

The long years had still gained him some friends, many of whom bluntly urged him to give up.

"This folly is as stupid as telling birds not to fly, telling fish not to swim." In the eyes of the world, kobold enslavement by dragons was their nature.

"Since kobolds came into being, through countless ages they have been this way. You may be a special case, an oddity among them, but to try to overturn the habits of an entire race by the strength of one person—is that not a touch too arrogant?" The words were harsh, but Kuku knew they were true; he was indeed exceedingly arrogant.

Those who could directly say it was impossible, meaningless, were still relatively friendly.

More spellcasters simply ignored him outright, even treating it as a joke; that "foolish kobold" gradually became Kuku's nickname in the high-level mage circles.

"It can be done. How could there be absolutely no chance? Kobolds are not born slaves!"

"I want to try, even if doomed to fail."

"It's fine even if we fail. Leave behind some results, that's enough, hand them to those who come after."

"We've already succeeded in going against the current; there will always be a next contrarian."

"Right, even if it's just to offer some help to the next contrarian, we ought to try."

But when all outsiders denied it, the Kukus gave affirmation.

He was not alone; he had never been alone.

Facing a project that too many high-level spellcasters had sentenced to death, the Kukus were instead itching to act.

One could call it the kobolds' recurring bout of baseless confidence, or the folly of transmigrators, but since Kuku himself wanted to do it, then do it.

"Failed. Divination abilities were of no help at all; not a single whisper of guidance from fate."

"Curse-removal spells were also completely useless. From the feedback, kobolds are perfectly normal."

"What about introducing other factors." The many Kukus, however, only delivered one failed beginning after another.

At his peak, a single Kuku was a mage tower unto himself, an expert panel equivalent to dozens of grand mages from every field.

Within his mage tower were dozens of frantically busy "Kukus." Using puppet avatars, their split selves studied and conducted all manner of related experiments. Kusla's puppetry techniques had long been mature in that era; they were merely being put to use again.

The Kuku team worked overtime every day, and not a single researcher among them could be called top-tier.

But compared to other research groups, the heartfelt mutual trust and cooperation, the direct mind-link knowledge exchange and coordination, were their greatest advantage.

Kuku had never been able to reach the pinnacle of any single field; in any one discipline he might be third-rate or even unranked, but when it came to joint research and tackling difficulties, he was a nearly invincible presence.

And much research did not require great talent; it required sufficient accumulators of knowledge, and countless trials and errors, eliminations.

Soon, amid constant trial and error, he found the key point.

"The focus must return to the dragon domain. We need dragon scholars, more and more formidable dragon scholars."

To solve this problem, one had to return to the kobolds' source, those ancient great beasts, the dragons.

And to obtain the relevant abilities, several more dragon-specialist Kukus were added. Even within dragon studies, there were in fact many, many sub-branches. To build up the knowledge reserves in this area, Kuku spent another dozen-plus years.

But the Kukus still remained unable to achieve any substantive progress.

Finally, one day, they perceived the crux of the problem.

"The power of bloodline cannot be grasped through observation alone."

"We have to get in, we have to get in."

"The best experimental subject is still oneself."

At this point, Kuku—even as a dragon-blooded kobold—had already entered old age, which was also the stage when bloodline power was at its strongest.

There were rumors that a dragon-blood sorcerer who pushed his bloodline to its limit could transform into a true dragon. This was no rumor; it was just that not many sorcerers had truly taken that step.

In a sense, that also utterly marked the end of a mortal life. Temporarily activating the bloodline to become a dragon for battle was relatively easy, but permanent dragon transformation had an extremely low success rate—it was equivalent to the evolution of an entire species.

But Kuku had no choice left. He needed a longer lifespan, needed a dragon's perspective, needed to fulfill his lifelong wish.

"Big bad dragon! Big bad dragon! Big fire dragon! Boohoo." But this one was a true century-old dragon-blood, with an extremely abundant reserve of draconic knowledge.

One day, kobold Kuku vanished, and the multi-headed red dragon Kudraken appeared in the world.

But this dragon was exceedingly bizarre; not only did it constantly talk to itself, it also frequently and inexplicably curse itself.

Most outrageously, it also liked to mingle with weak creatures like kobolds!

Under normal circumstances, kobolds longed to become dragons' vassals, but to dragons, kobolds were nothing.

Their greatest value was serving as underground tunnel-digging miners and cleaners. And most dragons' territories didn't necessarily have ore; even if they did, they were often too lazy to mine it themselves.

Much simpler to just snatch the finished product—who needs to dig out raw ore and process it?

A large red dragon that actively recruited kobolds? In an instant, its lair was bursting with a flood of kobold tribes.

"How ironic, I've actually become the very existence I despise the most." Kuku could only sigh and continue his experiment.

And now, the kobolds who had once refused him in a thousand ways were utterly cooperative.

He had become the enslaver of his own kind. Vast numbers of kobolds mutated under his control; sorcerers and warriors alike were "forced" through grueling training. It was said that the kobold tribe powerful enough to hunt wyverns originated during his period of control.

Finally, one day, he found the answer.

"Factors, elemental factors, dragon factors. Dragons are not flesh-and-blood creatures; they are factors, the fundamental building blocks of the world."

"Because they are factors, they can fuse with most life. The so-called dragonborn, wyverns, are ordinary lives that have undergone mutation after acquiring dragon factors."

"Because they are factors, they can be divided infinitely. If divided finely enough, wouldn't that be the weakest, smallest dragon?"

His conjecture was not wrong; the answer lay, in fact, on the dragon itself.

"Kobolds really are dragons! Dragons! But only a single drop of dragon! A dragon of a single drop of dragon blood!"

Finally, through the analysis of countless genetic samples from true dragons, wyverns, dragonborn, and mutant kobolds, Kuku found the answer.

Kobolds were indeed true dragonborn, sharing far too many similarities with true dragons.

"The gap is one of quantity and quality."

The Kukus had already confirmed that the rumors about the origin of the kobolds were mostly true—they were the product of "dragon blood."

And if a true dragon was a colossal beast, then a kobold could only count as a single drop of blood, or a single cell.

So isn't it only natural that cells and blood would seek their whole, longing to become complete?

The more he researched, the closer Kuku drew to the essence of dragons.

"They, the great evil dragons, are not simply colossal beasts in the material sense—they are magical beasts, aggregations of the elements." Every drop of a dragon's blood contained the essence of the elements.

They are the particles that compose the world, the source that drives the tides of the elements.

In a certain sense, the relationship between dragons and kobolds is that of an "Elemental Lord" to an "ordinary elemental being."

It is like the ocean to a droplet of water—it is born with the privilege of command.

Or, put another way, a beast and the beasts that have received its blood.

These conjectures were finally verified—undeniable, ironclad proof.

He used his own blood to create a batch of kobolds. Watching those lively little creatures serve him reverently, Kuku felt nothing but nausea.

His own race was nothing but a creation of magic, a doll casually pinched into shape by someone else.

"What should I do?" Keep going? Can I even keep going?

Can a child defy its father? Can a cell rebel against the whole? The possibility of something man-made doing so is not zero, but it is infinitely close to zero.

"I must restrain my nature! Restrain my nature!"

Thus, his research entered an even more frenzied domain—he tried to help his race break free of its own nature and bloodline.

In the end, he both succeeded and failed.

He added stronger, special dragon factors and created a strange kobold branch called the "Dragon-Winged Long-Tails," who would not answer the call in their blood. If these large sub-humans, who now live in Gaoshan and the Inferno and start at two meters tall, can still be called kobolds.

In a certain sense, he could be called the man who single-handedly created an entire race.

Incidentally, the legendary Infernal Kobolds are also said to have some connection to him.

"There are two ways to break free of nature: one is to lower the concentration of bloodline and suppress the dragon-nature; the other is to add another attribute and cause mutation."

The former is very, very difficult—just as you cannot turn sugar water back into plain water. But if you add coffee powder to the sugar water and turn it into sweet coffee, the difficulty drops considerably. Hence the Dragon-Winged Long-Tail race.

But he still failed.

"Why refuse? You might become a little strange, but you will be more perfect, wiser, stronger."

His efforts were rejected outright; the successfully transformed Dragon-Winged Long-Tails even attacked him directly.

"Dark art! What have you done?!" He, who had once been a kobold, could not accept his face, which now looked too much like an ugly elf.

"I can't feel the dragon anymore! I can't feel the dragon anymore!" Severed from his bloodline, she drew her sword and chose to take her own life.

"Aaah, I'm not a dragon anymore, I'm just a monster!" More "kobolds" roared at their benefactor.

Before those enraged new lives, before the kobold tribes they led, the many-headed dragon who could have easily destroyed them fled.

Fled like a stray cur.

It flew and wept sorrowfully as it went.

"They don't need it, they don't need it."

At that moment, Kuku felt his whole life was a joke. If they were born wanting to be enslaved, why should he try to liberate them?

He recalled how, at the very beginning, others had given him the assessment of "arrogance."

"Was I too arrogant? Did I have no right to make decisions for them?"

If they loathed the so-called freedom, why should he bestow it?

He was despondent for a long, long time—so long that he fell into a slumber lasting at least several decades.

"Perhaps what needs saving is not the body, but the mind." Suddenly, a thought during his sleep flashed through his mind, and he was startled awake.

Is there truly any life that should be enslaved from birth? Might it be that, because of the inheritance in their blood, because their elders all taught them so, they willingly become dragons' slaves?

Many young people go astray in their youth, but don't they find their way back afterward?

Perhaps, even if they have already been fully brainwashed, as long as they are exposed to enough ideas and knowledge, they too will change.

Thus, the many-headed dragon vanished once more, and a "kobold" traveled across the entire world.

It was first called "Kudraken the Busybody."

He still made his way to the tribes of "evil creatures" in one wild frontier after another, but this time it was not to learn magic, but to spread magic and knowledge.

Most living things craved power, and he could give it.

The wise among a tribe often craved knowledge and wisdom, and he could give that too.

Even "common sense" like fixing up a house or gathering a little more fruit, he would teach and bestow.

But this time, he set no preconceptions; he only watched what they would do after receiving these things.

He taught the race the world saw as bandits farming and handicrafts, taught centaur raiders animal husbandry and weather adjustment, taught ogre tribes other recipes, taught kobolds the knowledge of dragon-taming—too many to list.

Some succeeded; most failed.

Some tribes became villages, some towns became fortresses, some ideas sprouted, some mutated instead.

This time, he merely witnessed it and recorded it.

At some point, he seemed to have let go, and had long since stopped caring only about kobold tribes.

Perhaps in his eyes now, kobolds were just some old kindred.

So long as someone was willing to seek instruction, he was willing to give it.

He did not know how far he had walked, how many disciples he had taught, how much knowledge and magic he had spread. When he was inexplicably called the Kobold Sage, he only gave a sheepish grin.

Had anything changed?

"No, the world is too vast." He drew a deep breath and set out on the road once more.

He had actually already known: kobolds cannot be saved—when they do not feel themselves suffering, when they flock to a life of enslavement, then naturally they cannot be saved.

"Sentient beings have the possibility of choosing their future; only by saving themselves can they be saved. I will save them only when someone asks for my help." He kept moving forward, perhaps simply unwilling to see another race that regarded enslavement as glory.

And not long after, the turning point of the era arrived; someone truly did ask him for help.

"My lord Sage, can you help cure Blood Frenzy?" This time, many people were asking for help.

Blood Frenzy is a common disease among beastkin, often appearing in carnivorous races such as wolves, tigers, and leopards.

Those who fall ill turn into man-eating beasts; the first victims are often their partners, and once it appears, it is very difficult to turn back.

In the end, it is because the "beast" bloodline exists within their flesh and, if not careful, gets activated.

"This is not a disease; this is atavism," Kukku realized; this was actually the product of the "beast nature" within them being activated.

Suddenly, he became interested.

These beastkin driven by instinct before him were no different from kobolds! But they were trying to change; they were rejecting their own nature!

It was mentioned earlier: is "weakening bloodline/instinct" also a way to break free from nature? Perhaps this time it could be tried as well.

But this was still too difficult.

It was not completely impossible; he, who specialized in alchemy, could brew potions to suppress beast nature.

"But the cost..." He had actually achieved similar results while researching kobolds; now he was just bringing them out.

Long-term consumption of this potion would bankrupt even the wealthiest archmages, and such a potion to suppress beast nature naturally required long-term control.

Thus, he tried to reduce the cost. He vaguely sensed that if beast nature could be suppressed long-term and stably inherited, the beast nature and Blood Frenzy rates in future generations would naturally decrease.

Perhaps, one day, it would disappear completely.

This was similar to the transition from wolf to dog, yet also like curing a genetic disease; all that was needed was time and effort, and Kukku happened to have plenty of both.

"The potion has been improved to the point where it cannot be improved further; three of the main ingredients are still too expensive."

"If there are no materials, then create them! Use the methods of alchemists, herbalists, and druids to cultivate these medicinal herbs from scratch, increase their reproductive ability, and lower their cost."

Kukku understood; this might be a task taking at least a century to start, and perhaps only he could complete it.

His Kukku army now included druids, healers, and gardeners. This archmage, who did not participate in the Heaven-Hell Blood War, devoted all his time to dealing with grasslands and fields.

"The cost is only one-tenth now..." The potion had been modified to the point where it could not be modified further.

Yet this was still not enough.

To truly eradicate a disease that could exist in every member of this race, the cost of this potion needed to be as cheap as weeds.

"... Then, let us truly cultivate it into a weed," Kukku said.

"Hmm, let us do it together, no matter how long..." And this time, the response to him came not only from the Kukkus.

Unknowingly, too many researchers and followers had appeared behind him.

Healers, druids, life mages, archmages of various schools, and others, under the call of the Sage "Kudraken," had too many people already dedicating half their lives to this project.

The project's product, the existence known as the "Blood Frenzy Cure Potion," had long since had a target that was not merely beastkin suffering from Blood Frenzy.

It could help northern barbarians break free from rage and frenzy, help dragonborn break free from bloodthirsty dragon madness, help ogres break free from the habit of cannibalism, help dwarves... too many people unwilling to submit to their own nature and instincts craved this redemption.

"We must complete it," the Grand Sage Kudraken said.

"To lower its cost, it is best to concentrate its effects into a single simple herb; it is best if that herb can reproduce casually like a weed and be cheap."

Others thought this was a pipe dream, but Kukku thought it was possible.

It was nothing more than near-infinite cycles of breeding, hybridization, and selection; he, who had unknowingly become a Grand Druid, could do it himself.

He had time; at least, he felt he did.

In the end, did he succeed?

He did not know; he died on the journey, dying in the planar war brought by the surge of the Demon Tide.

"Don't kill me; I was almost finished, almost there." It was said that these were the Sage's final words.

Butchers mocked his weakness, mocked that a top-tier archmage died so easily, mocked that a dragon's claw was so dull; they proudly donned his dragon skin. In the end, these people did not meet a good fate.

Kukku died.

But his "Tranquil Grass" project seemed not to have stopped.

After the war, someone should have inherited his research.

"Go! Ask for me! Is there a 'Blood Frenzy Cure Potion'?" The revived Kukku was very anxious.

"No, what is that? I've never even heard of it." That shopkeeper delivered the heaviest blow to him.

It was hard to evaluate what mood Kukku was in when, upon awakening again, he heard that the potion he had devoted his life to was gone.

"Ask him, do you have Tranquil Grass?"

Under what despair and final hope did he ask this question?

"Tranquil Grass? It's worthless; the ground outside the city is full of it. If you want it, go grab a handful yourself."

At that moment, he was ecstatic from the bottom of his heart, even directly increasing Li En's satisfaction by a large amount.

"I succeeded; my life has finally succeeded once."

"Enough, it is enough."

For the first time, a life of "the most humble greatness" felt satisfied.

When the numb Li En awoke from the dream, he hesitated a bit.

In the end, he still spoke up and asked.

"The medicine you invented is gone, your name seems to have left no trace, and even that Tranquil Grass is worthless... Is it really okay? How about I help you spread the word?"

But Kukku was completely indifferent.

"No. Foolish. For a healer and a researcher, the moment you discover the medicine you invented has disappeared is the happiest moment... This means I cured it! Forever! The medicine is no longer needed!"

Suddenly, Kukku changed the subject; what he longed for was always ahead.

"Moreover, it has not disappeared. Now, its partially revised formulas are the 'Ice Tranquil Potion' that cures the Feral Offspring Syndrome, the 'Sleep Potion' that treats manic insomnia, and the 'Tranquil Potion' that tames wild beasts."

"Ha, my success has already merged into history and civilization; what could be more satisfying than this?"

"By the way, new research, new research, I don't have much time left. You must get this done for me, get it done!"

(End of this chapter)