Chapter 173: Woo Woo Woo Little Elf

The thornworm in its fat larval stage was already three times the size of other fairy worms. Its originally glossy skin had gradually dulled, as if it had aged.

Indeed, the fat larval stage signified both evolution and death.

Within a month or two, if it could not break free from its own constraints and evolve into a fairy, it would exhaust its remaining vitality and turn to ash.

"It has sensed the pheromones of the new variety of thorn!"

Liszt lifted the jade box containing the thornworm, his mind connected with it, deeply feeling the worm's current emotions.

It was a complex mix of excitement, nervousness, fear, and courage—emotions that ordinary fairy worms would never experience. Only during evolution could they grow.

The new variety of thorn was merely a branch with a color mutation, not much different from an ordinary thorn.

Regardless,

when the thornworm landed on the thorn's branch, its previously sluggish movements suddenly quickened, rapidly crawling along the thorn's trunk.

It had no legs, only tiny flesh-like protrusions, but it could crawl on tree trunks without falling off.

This miraculous creature could defy physical laws, crawling through the air. Especially when it wanted to move from one thorn to another, it could simply wriggle through the air, easily crossing the gap between the two thorns to collect the pheromones of the next thorn.

Having arranged for the attendant knights to stand guard and patrol, Marcus had hurried over.

Looking at the thornworm, he felt equally nervous: "Sir, can the thornworm... succeed?"

"Of course it can!"

A beautiful curve appeared at the corner of Liszt's mouth, his smile as bright as the sun in March: "Don't worry, Master Marcus. The thornworm has already succeeded... I feel the agitation within it, a new power is being born; it is evolving!"

In fact, this was undetectable.

His certainty stemmed from the smoke task that was currently appearing before him.

"Complete the task, reward: one thorn fairy."

Due to Marcus's interruption, the smoke script quickly dissipated, as if nothing had ever appeared.

Sometimes Liszt wondered if there was no smoke at all, and others couldn't see it because it was just a projection of "destiny" in his mind—otherwise, how could the smoke dragon have used tasks to present itself, with content familiar to Liszt's style?

Just like the invisible dragon, which cannot be seen by anyone except those who are "honest and brave."

The smoke form of the smoke dragon is likely similar to the invisible dragon, existing as a special entity beyond magic. Other fairy dragons, emerald dragons, and twilight dragons probably exist in some unique form as well.

This explains why holy dragons are mere legends—people cannot see their true forms.

Even ordinary three-elemental dragons and fairies themselves are special entities.

At this moment, the thornworm's skin was visibly turning gray, losing all its luster. Its once taut skin was now covered in wrinkles, as if it had reached the end of its life.

Yet its emotions were intensely exhilarated, filled with indescribable joy and happiness.

Using the Magic Eye, Liszt could see the chaotic magic within it generating bubbles like boiling water. As the bubbles burst, some unseen changes occurred. It seemed as if the bubbling magic was causing the thornworm to grow larger.

The more its body grew, the more decayed and aged its exterior became.

The more intense its exhilaration grew.

This excitement stirred Liszt as well, making him want to sing aloud.

Beside him, Marcus couldn't feel this excitement, but seeing the thornworm balloon in size, his eyes gleamed, his fists clenched, and he held his breath for the thornworm's evolution.

Time seemed long,

but the wind only blew Liszt's light golden, slightly curly hair a few times before the thornworm had swollen to the size of a calf, a large gray worm.

The sunset painted the sky red with fiery clouds.

In the distance came Hiddleston's barking, followed by the Tupo's response from the dog prison.

The castle bathed in the sunset's glow, as if coated in a layer of golden light, making it hard to distinguish windows from rock walls, leaving only the silhouette of a spire.

The tranquility of dusk was particularly clear at this moment.

Liszt kept the Magic Eye focused on the thornworm, having witnessed the birth of fairies in Tulip Castle. But that memory was distant, and besides, he was young then, so it wasn't profound. Now, the clear process of a fairy worm evolving into a fairy was unfolding before his eyes.

Suddenly, a sense of understanding dawned, and Liszt softly uttered two words: "Here it comes."

At that moment,

a sound like tearing paper—rip.

The thornworm's gray outer skin split open, and a tender white hand emerged from beneath its skin. Then, a palm-sized white fairy burst out, breaking through the thornworm's skin and leaping into the air. In an instant, the white fairy spread its translucent wings and flew into the sky.

"Woo-ah!"

"Woo-ah!"

The clear cries, like those of a three-year-old child, echoed in the air, circling around Liszt. Though its flight was not fast, its movements were graceful and agile, flipping countless somersaults.

"Woo-ah!"

"Woo-ah!"

The joyous emotion was palpable even without telepathy; one could feel it just from hearing its cries.

Liszt's gaze remained fixed on the thorn fairy, a warm smile spreading across his lips. He finally had a fairy, bonded with him, sharing blood and mind—a fairy that was truly his.

They did not disturb the thorn sprite’s outpouring of emotion.

He felt the little creature's joy after successfully evolving.

Moving his gaze to the ground, he saw the discarded exoskeleton of the thorn worm. He squatted down and gently touched it; the exoskeleton quickly turned to dust and dissipated with the breeze, leaving no trace behind.

He did not see clearly how the sprite worm evolved into a little sprite under that skin. It was just a boiling of magic, followed by a transformation into a little sprite—brutally simple and utterly unreasonable.

When he came back to his senses,

the thorn sprite had finished venting its emotions and landed on his shoulder, holding onto his hair to steady itself. Its large eyes, filled with curiosity about the world, met those of Liszt, who had turned his head. Its eyes were very large, different from human eyes, black and bright, as if wearing colored contacts.

"Woah."

"Come here."

Liszt extended his hand, and the thorn sprite immediately climbed onto it, clutching one of his fingers.

Upon closer inspection, one could see a tiny thorn growing on top of its round head—a common thorn, signifying that it was a sprite born from ordinary thorns.

Its little hands and feet were chubby.

Very delicate.

As if water could be squeezed from them.

It had no gender, its lower area smooth and bare.

"Teacher Marcus, what do you think of my thorn sprite?" Liszt said with a proud smile.

Marcus sincerely praised, "Beautiful!"

—

Group 7618688, friends who enjoy chatting can come in and chat.