Among dragons, there was no such identity as “teacher.” They were their own teachers.
No one knew exactly how this tradition began—it dated back too far. But from tens of thousands of years ago, dragons had been born with innate knowledge.
Within their minds was imprinted the accumulated wisdom of countless generations of elder dragons.
This knowledge generally included languages, Draconic magic, combat techniques, and nearly a millennium of history—as if etched directly into the mind of every dragon at birth.
There might have been other knowledge passed down as well, but what dragon would care? With just their magic and powerful bodies, dragons stood proudly at the pinnacle of the world.
Ever since Lu Qiuchen realized that this world was indeed real, she had abandoned her old procrastinating ways and thrown herself into growing stronger.
She still remembered how, upon entering the game, the background introduction mentioned that this world had ultimately been destroyed by constant warfare among the races—former allies turning their blades on one another in the name of survival.
That gave her a strong sense of crisis. This world was far from simple. So Lu Qiuchen held deep respect for Impart, the one instructing her.
Impart, in turn, understood that her calling him “teacher” was her way of showing respect, and accepted the odd-sounding title. He also understood that she retained certain habits from her time as a half-dragon.
“Judging by your flight speed just now,” he said, “you’re already approaching the level of the slower adult dragons. For now, slow down on speed training.”
“Today, I will teach you spatial magic.”
Spatial magic! Lu Qiuchen’s heart leapt with excitement.
In dragonkind’s inherited knowledge, magical affinities differed among the subraces.
For instance:
- Silver dragons inherited ice and water magic.
- Blue dragons had water and lightning.
- Red dragons inherited lightning and fire.
- Green dragons used wood and water.
- Black dragons were unique—they had only fire magic, perhaps because their bodies were naturally stronger than other dragons, leaving fewer points to allocate to magic.
Spatial magic, however, was not part of dragon inheritance—it was created by the elves.
It was a form of magic exclusive to the elven race, once called Spirit Magic. Only elvish script could trigger its effects.
Other races could learn elven magic, but only if they mastered the elven language. That’s why, among spellcasters worldwide, Elvish was such an important subject.
Dragons did possess certain spatial abilities, but those were innate talents, not skills that could be enhanced through training.
One such talent was the personal storage space of dragons. While not very large—just a bit smaller than a dragon’s physical body—it would gradually expand as the dragon aged.
This ability was often used by dragons to store clothes, food, gold, gems, and other personal treasures.
It was especially important for dragons—and even more so for Lu Qiuchen.
Most dragons preferred to remain in their dragon forms, as humanoid forms felt restrictive to them. But change was sometimes necessary.
Without this personal storage space, their clothes would be torn apart with every transformation.
And without clothes, they’d have no choice but to run around naked—something that would earn the contempt of those humanoid races.
And how could proud dragons ever tolerate such humiliation?
“Spatial magic is a high-tier form of magic, primarily focused on altering positions. It’s generally divided into two branches: support and combat.”
“The foundational spell of the combat branch is Spatial Slash. Though it’s just a basic spell, its power is formidable—it can even pose a threat to young dragons. In terms of destructive force, it’s roughly equivalent to a Tier 4 basic spell.”
“The foundational spell of the support branch is Teleportation. The size of the object and the distance you can teleport are directly tied to your total magical power. At your current level, your limit would be teleporting yourself across about half of Dragon Island.”
“However, be aware—some areas prohibit teleportation. Human territories, in particular, have very strict restrictions. If you’re in human lands, use this spell with extreme caution.”
Half of Dragon Island! Lu Qiuchen mentally calculated—Dragon Island was roughly 1,300 kilometers from north to south, and 1,400 kilometers from east to west.
Even if she could only teleport 500 kilometers, that was still ridiculously powerful!
“Above that, you’ll learn Mass Teleportation, Spatial Annihilation, and Spatial Collapse.
Mass Teleportation can affect an entire area at once, and is more stable than single-point teleportation. Magic arrays are based on this spell.”
“Spatial Annihilation is good for attacking small objects; Spatial Collapse is the opposite. These spells are extremely dangerous to young dragons—except black dragons—but pose little threat to an adult dragon’s scales.”
“Now, I’ll begin teaching you teleportation magic. Remember: do not test it on yourself until you’re proficient. If you end up teleporting into deep underground, even I wouldn’t come out unscathed.”
“Also, when teleporting living creatures, there’s a powerful dizziness upon arrival. This disorientation only weakens after extensive training, so always make sure your teleportation destination is absolutely safe.”
Upon hearing this, Lu Qiuchen finally understood why Zhang Cheng said he was captured the moment he landed.
The system’s 90% debuff protection must have made the soldiers there assume he was a highly trained enemy infiltrator.
Thinking back on the past, Lu Qiuchen sighed softly. To distract herself, she quickly threw herself into studying spatial magic.
Time passed quickly—another month flew by, and she had finally reached a basic level of proficiency in teleportation.
Trying to learn structured, high-level magic after relying entirely on instinct… it reminded her of the terror of being overwhelmed by endless practice questions in her senior year of high school.
The fact that she had to learn magic from scratch surprised Impart. Even if half-dragons weren’t known for magical talent, they shouldn’t have known nothing at all.
Fortunately, Impart was strict but very patient.
For the first half of the month, he taught her from the ground up—starting with the casting of simple spells—making her realize just how important technique was in spellcasting.
Before this, she had been relying solely on her inherited instincts to cast spells… which, as Impart put it, was basically wasting the natural magical gifts of the dragon race.
After mastering the basics of magic, learning spatial magic became much easier—understanding one concept helped her grasp the rest, which greatly sped up her progress with teleportation.
In just half a month, Lu Qiuchen was already capable of teleporting herself 10 kilometers in one go.
But reaching the level of teleporting across a thousand kilometers in one jump?
That was still a long way off.
During this month, Andona and Andola had already departed for the Kingdom of Tara.
Although Andola put on a show of reluctance when she left, Lu Qiuchen had long seen through her act—the girl was practically celebrating inside.
Before passing their coming-of-age trial, young dragons are forbidden to leave Dragon Island.
Sure, the island was large enough to let them roam free, but every young dragon yearned for the broader world outside.
Andola had already come of age a few years ago, but because of her reckless and impulsive nature, the Dragon Elders had forbidden her from leaving on her own, using the unrest on the northern and southern continents as an excuse.
What’s more, Andola originally wasn’t even on the list of candidates sent to Tara. She got the spot only because she was said to have “cared for her dragon egg”…
That phrasing was weird. What really happened was that she got punished for slacking off while watching over Lu Qiuchen’s egg before her hatching.
Lu Qiuchen raised an eyebrow. Slacking off?
She didn’t believe for a second that this girl—who walked like she was kicking up wind—could have honestly stayed asleep for ten whole months.
She suspected the whole thing was a setup—a little drama Andola had staged just to get permission to go stretch her wings outside.
Once she arrived in the human world, there’d be no stopping her. Sweet, soft-spoken Andona wouldn’t be able to control her at all.
On another note, Lu Qiuchen had kept up regular contact with the blue dragon, Fiya.
Sure enough, the very day after they parted, Fiya was waiting for her on the grassy coast.
Lu Qiuchen asked her questions about things she didn’t understand, and Fiya answered all of them seriously.
Fiya, in turn, was curious why Lu Qiuchen was training so hard.
Naturally, Lu Qiuchen didn’t tell her it was because of the danger she sensed—and her desperate desire to return home. Instead, she brushed it off with something vague like:
“Well, since I’m the ‘Chosen Dragon’ of our race, of course I have to work harder than everyone else to protect dragonkind.”
The two dragons quickly grew close. A few days ago, Fiya had said she had some questions she wanted to ask her. Though Lu Qiuchen was a bit puzzled, she still agreed.
Now that today’s training was done, her introductory lessons in spatial magic had come to an end—
After all, combat-oriented spatial spells weren’t particularly suited to dragons. It would be much better to hone her draconic magic instead.
The dragon nest atop Longmai Peak was too cold, and blue dragons didn’t like freezing environments.
So the two of them agreed to meet at Fiya’s home.
The blue dragons’ territory lay in the southeastern region of Dragon Island’s central zone. This area was filled with lakes and marshes, making it the perfect habitat for blue dragons.
Blue dragons liked staying in deserts and swamps, and since Dragon Island didn’t have any deserts, this sprawling wetland became their natural stronghold.
Unlike the rare and sparsely populated silver dragons, the blue dragons—while ranked only one spot higher than them in the dragon hierarchy—had a far greater population:
Their eleven adult dragons outnumbered the entire silver dragon clan.
Fiya led her through several blue dragon nests.
The adult dragons who weren’t resting greeted them warmly as they passed.
Eventually, Fiya brought her deep into the marsh, arriving at a shared nest inhabited by three young dragons—a setup that had to do with the customs of pureblood dragonkind.
When a new couple was formed, the first two dragon eggs would be handed over to the Elders’ Council, where they would be incubated and hatched under supervision.
Once they hatched, the young dragons would be placed into their respective race’s extended family system, raised collectively by the adult dragons.
This system was necessary to maintain the already dwindling dragon population.
Young adult dragons often didn’t yet understand how to cherish life, and over the years, there had been many tragic cases of eggs lost for various reasons.
As for why Lu Qiuchen had her own private nest, it was because, though technically still a hatchling, her overall development already rivaled that of adult dragons.
She had been transformed into a pureblood dragon through the Bloodline Ritual, and the original dragon she was derived from was already an adult.
With just a bit more time and growth, she’d reach full adulthood herself.
Even the eggs were different.
A regular dragon egg stood barely over one meter tall, but Lu Qiuchen’s egg had been three meters high.
Aside from black dragons (who were even larger) and red dragons (who were slightly smaller), the other three dragon races—even including their tails—barely reached fifteen meters in length as adults.
An egg that massive… would literally kill even the largest dragons trying to lay it.
Lu Qiuchen began examining the nest.
It had been carved out of the marsh using magic, forming a large rectangular chamber, spacious enough that even three adult dragons wouldn’t feel cramped.
When she looked up, she could see the muddy water they’d passed through earlier, flowing slowly above her. The ground was soft and spongy beneath her feet. There were no shiny treasures anywhere.
That was completely normal. Even if some young dragons managed to find treasure from outside, they would usually store it in their personal space rather than leave it out.
Unlike the silver dragons who loved cold, underground dens, the blue dragons preferred warm and humid nests.
The two young dragons who shared the nest with Fiya weren’t back yet, so only the two of them were here.
Just as Lu Qiuchen was curiously taking in her surroundings…
She suddenly felt something cool and slick brush against her tail from behind. Her whole body jolted in shock.
Fiya chirped cheerfully:
“I’ve been dying to touch your beautiful tail! The fact that I held out until today? Even I’m impressed with myself! Today, I’m going to touch it all I want!”
“Why are you touching mine? Don’t you have your own? A-Ahh… stop… don’t touch it anymore…”
Only now did Lu Qiuchen realize that her tail was just as sensitive a weakness as her horns.
Her entire body went limp, her strength leaving her.
The hand behind her kept stroking her tail rhythmically, and a strange, unfamiliar pleasure started to rise within her.
This was not good at all.
Without caring whether her sudden transformation might knock Fiya over, she quickly summoned her strength and shifted back into dragon form, escaping Fiya’s mischievous clutches.
She was still shaken from the strange sensations just now, crouched warily in the corner, watching Fiya’s every move.
Why didn’t I feel anything when I touched my own tail?
So it turns out… I’m not supposed to let anyone else touch it?!
“You silver dragons have the most beautiful tails! I just really wanted to touch yours!” Fiya said, clearly upset that she had gotten away.
“Come on, just let me touch it a little bit longer,” Fiya said, faking a wounded expression, trying to lure her in.
“No way! I don’t care what you say, I’m not letting you touch it again! There are plenty of other silver dragons—you go touch their tails!”
“…I can’t beat them.”
“Why would there be a fight?”
“…Because after I touched their tails once, they were like you and wouldn’t let me again.”
“That just proves I’m right to not let you touch mine! And what about those two little silver dragon kids? Why not go play with their tails?”
“They’re not of age yet… it doesn’t feel right doing something like that…”
“Oh, so you do know it’s inappropriate! I’M underage too!”
“You’re different! Your body’s the same size as mine, and I know your mind is already mature!”
I can’t believe you’re actually a tail-fetish perv! You’ve lived over 300 years! I’m barely twenty!
This has such “You’re so mature for your age.” vibes written all over it.