Chapter 932 – Grow Up Quickly

From the inheritance alone, Mo Lan had already mastered seven languages related to linguistic knowledge: Elvish, Draconic, Gnoll, Gnomish, Goblin, Beastman language, and Woodfolk.

The breadth of coverage was enough to allow her basic communication across most regions of the Seran Mainland.

Only the core knowledge pertaining to extraordinary professions and specific magical knowledge remained firmly locked away.

Each time she tried to probe into those sections with her psychic power, attempting to force her way through, the inherited memories would gently but immovably “push” her back out, leaving her itching with curiosity yet utterly helpless.

Matil heard the questions in her heart and saw the undisguised thirst for knowledge in the little one’s eyes. She smiled warmly and patiently explained:

“Don’t be anxious, child. The acquisition of knowledge must follow natural rhythms.” She gently stroked Mo Lan’s soft curls. “Once your body grows a bit stronger—when you can run and jump normally like the other young Elves, and speak fluently, and chant poetry with clarity—the inherited memories should unlock some of the most basic professional enlightenment and introductory magical knowledge for you.

“When that time comes, the Tree Spirit will personally guide you through your first nature perception and meditation.

“I believe… that day is not far off.”

Mo Lan understood. The key to unlocking lay in physical growth and the refinement of her language abilities.

This left her somewhat frustrated. Her Mana was immensely powerful, her psychic power vast as an ocean, yet this Elf body was still that of a genuine infant. Physical development required time and could not be rushed.

Thinking this, she gave Matil an obedient nod, then voluntarily lay back down in the cradle. “I need to absorb more of Tree Spirit Mother’s energy so I can grow up faster and learn Magic!”

Matil stood beside the cradle and gently tucked in the blanket woven from Tree of Life leaves.

Over the next few days, Mo Lan spent most of her time with eyes closed, seemingly asleep, but in reality she was repeatedly reviewing and organizing the vast trove of already-unlocked knowledge within the inherited memories, engraving that information ever deeper into her understanding.

Occasionally, she would try moving her hands and feet inside the cradle, her lips opening and closing soundlessly, improving her control over this body.

The continuous, pure nourishment from the Tree of Life produced astonishing results. Mo Lan’s body was undergoing visible, steady growth virtually every moment.

In just two days, her bodily coordination had reached an entirely new stage. She could now easily climb in and out of the cradle and walk slowly around the room. Though her steps were still a bit clumsy, she would not easily fall.

Her language abilities had also made a breakthrough. While she still could not manage coherent long sentences, she could already clearly articulate a few short words to express her basic intentions.

Mo Lan sat on the soft edge of the cradle, her small back resting against the sturdy roots of the Tree of Life, her two little legs swinging contentedly in the air. Her emerald-green eyes watched attentively as Grandmother Matil washed berries with spring water on the other side of the tree house.

When Matil mashed the fruit into a glistening green pulp that gave off a sweet fragrance, poured it into a small wooden bowl, and carried it over, instinctively moving to feed her as she had the past two days, Mo Lan instead reached out her small hand, lightly patted her own thigh, tilted her little face upward, and spoke in a voice still young but with clear pronunciation, enunciating each word deliberately:

“Clan Leader… Grandma, put… here.”

She pointed at her legs, then at the wooden bowl, her gaze resolute. “I… can… do it… myself!”

Matil’s outstretched hand froze in midair. Her heart was instantly filled with an overwhelming wave of gratification and emotion.

This child’s wisdom far surpassed Elves her age, and her temperament was equally extraordinary! From the moment of birth, she yearned to take control of her own body and actions rather than passively accept care.

“Alright!” Matil gently and steadily placed the small wooden bowl on Mo Lan’s pressed-together little legs, and softly reminded her, “Be careful, don’t rush.”

Mo Lan lowered her head, her small hand gripping the spoon steadily. One tiny spoonful at a time, she scooped up the sweet fruit pulp and brought it to her mouth. Her movements were slow, but not a single drop was spilled.

Matil stood to the side, watching her with a smile full of warmth.

Only after Mo Lan had finished did Matil step forward and gently wipe the corners of her mouth with a soft leaf.

“Our little Moira is so impressive.” Matil did not stint with her praise. Then she turned and brought over a set of little clothes—a small top and trousers—that she had spent the past few days specially weaving from the softest, most supple fine vines and dried, tender moss fibers from the forest.

The garments were exquisitely crafted, with simple leaf-vein patterns embroidered in finer colored vine threads, full of the distinctive character of nature Elves.

“Come, put these on.” Matil helped her change into the well-fitting new clothes while speaking to her. “The weather is lovely today. The young Elves are all on the grass beneath the Tree of Life, practicing writing with the elders. Shall I take you to have a look?”

Mo Lan’s heart stirred. She had already gone through the viewable content in the inherited memories over and over again—she was truly bored.

It so happened that her “writing” ability also needed practice. Although the inherited memories contained standard script, the actual feel of writing still needed to be experienced firsthand.

A spark of interest lit up in her emerald-green eyes, but remembering that her breath was still too short to manage more than one or two characters at a time, she hesitantly glanced back at the Tree of Life roots behind her. She was eager to absorb energy and grow, to unlock the inherited memories related to extraordinary professions and Magic.

Matil smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry! Your limbs are already quite strong. From now on, the Tree Spirit’s nourishment will gradually decrease. Today your body has already received sufficient nourishment—you don’t need to stay in the cradle anymore.”

Hearing this, Mo Lan quickly changed into the cute vine-woven outfit and refused Matil’s embrace. “I… want… to walk… myself!”

“Alright!” Matil slowed her pace and led Mo Lan out of the tree house, watching as she climbed backward down the spiraling wooden staircase, then walked toward the nearby meadow sheltered beneath the canopy of the Tree of Life.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps between the leaves, casting dappled spots of light across the grass.

Eight or nine young Elves of various ages sat cross-legged on thick moss cushions, each with a smooth piece of bark and a “pen” made from a special grass stalk in front of them.

A kindly-faced Elf elder strolled slowly among them, pausing from time to time to gently correct a student’s grip on their pen, or to adjust the curved arc of the vine script they were writing.

Matil brought Mo Lan to a cushion set slightly apart from the others and sat her down, then leaned down and asked softly, “Well? Would you like to try?”