The Queen of Scrolls never admits defeat

Hearing the elves address her as "Chieftain" in unison, Moran suddenly realized that the elderly elf holding her, with his profound aura, was named Mathil, the chieftain of the Emerald Green tribe.

Mathilde looked down lovingly at the unusually quiet little creature in her arms, then slowly raised her head and gazed at the Tree of Life.

A peaceful yet vast energy emanated from her, gently touching and intertwining with the Tree of Life.

Moran immediately recognized it as the magical wood language of the nature spirits.

Moreover, it's an eighth-level wood-based language technique.

In the world of Thran, spellcasters are divided into different professions based on their magical inclinations, such as mages, druids, and priests.

The spellcaster class in the world is divided into twenty levels, with level zero being the lowest. Starting from level one, each two levels are roughly equivalent to a major rank in Valen.

Thran's first and second grades are roughly equivalent to Varen's first order, his third and fourth grades are roughly equivalent to Varen's second order, and so on.

Magic levels also range from zero to ten, with tenth-level magic being equivalent to Valen's tenth-tier magic.

In the world of Thran, spellcasters of level 19 and above are usually revered as "demigods".

Spellcasters of level 20 or above are gods.

Level 8 Wood Spell is a spell that can only be cast by a level 15 Druid, equivalent to Valen's level 8 spell.

Chief Matilda is at least a level 15 druid... equivalent to an eighth-tier spellcaster in Valen.

Moran instantly gained a clear understanding of the power of the Seran world.

For a tribal chief to possess such power, it truly lives up to its reputation as a level 15 high-magic world.

Moran had also learned wood speech from the magic book of the Valen nature elves, but his level was not high enough that he could not hear what Chief Matilda and the Tree of Life were saying without using witch magic.

Fortunately, their conversation did not last long.

As if knowing Moran would understand, Matilda lowered her head and whispered to her, "The Tree Spirit asked me to take care of you."

Moran knew that "Lord Tree Spirit" was a respectful title used by nature spirits to address the Tree of Life.

The Tree of Life is conscious, and through the accumulation of time, its wisdom is no less than that of an elven scholar.

“You’ll be living with me for now,” Matilda continued. “When you’re a little older, the Tree Spirit will personally teach you.”

Moran gently moved her little hand, which was wrapped in the green blanket, in response.

Chief Matilda's wrinkles smoothed out, revealing a warm smile. She carefully adjusted her embrace, then looked up at the elves still gathered around her and said:
"Alright, everyone go home. This child needs to rest."

Upon hearing this, the elves dispersed in twos and threes, chatting quietly. Their words were filled with envy for being personally taught by the Tree Spirit and their beautiful vision that the tribe might prosper even more because of this child.

After the tribespeople dispersed, the surrounding area returned to the tranquility unique to the forest, with only the rustling of leaves in the wind and the faint chirping of birds in the distance.

Chief Matilda then lowered her head and spoke softly in a loving voice that only Moran could hear:
"Let's go home."

She held Moran in her arms, turned around, and walked steadily toward the Tree of Life.

Amidst the massive, gnarled roots, a treehouse is ingeniously constructed, appearing perfectly natural.

It is not constructed, but rather resembles a warm nest naturally woven and enclosed by the tree of life's branches and aerial roots as it grows.

The walls are made of living wood that radiates natural light, and the roof is covered with thick, soft, glowing moss.

This is the closest place to the Tree Spirit, and the sacred place where the chieftain of the Emerald Nature Elf tribe has lived for generations.

Chief Matilda, carrying Moran, gracefully ascended the steps naturally formed by tree roots and entered the treehouse, a place brimming with life. The interior was simply yet warmly furnished, filled with the sweet fragrance of grass and trees.

Sunlight streamed through cleverly placed window frames, casting dappled shadows on the ground covered with soft animal hides and hay.

Mathilde gently placed Moran in a cradle-like recess made of tree roots, covered with a thick blanket of grass.

He crouched down, looking her straight in the eye: "Rest assured, under the protection of the tree spirit, you will grow up quickly."

Moran lay in the soft "cradle," feeling the steady and vibrant energy pulse emanating from the roots of the Tree of Life beneath her. Looking at the powerful yet kind clan chief grandmother before her, she obediently nodded.

She wasn't tired, but her body needed some time to regain its strength.

Other little elves will quickly overcome the weakness of their newborn period under the nourishment of their parents' energy.

Moran is a child of the Tree of Life, and she needs the Tree of Life's help in this step.

She closed her eyes and began to focus on feeling and absorbing the rich natural energy that the Tree of Life was passing on to her.

Mathilde's eyes flashed with a hint of relief as she watched Moran obediently begin absorbing energy.

She didn't disturb them, but simply sat quietly to the side and began to meditate. She picked up a supple vine and started weaving something, her gaze occasionally falling gently on Moran.

Time slips by quietly in the flow of life energy.

Moran could clearly feel that with each breath, a pure and powerful force of nature seeped into her limbs and bones, nourishing every inch of her skin and every vein.

Her body was changing at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The once soft skin became smooth and elastic, and the slender limbs gradually gained strength.
She could even try to raise her little hand and grasp the tiny, glowing aerial roots that dangled from the side of the "cradle".

In less than a day, Moran found that he was able to control the newborn body relatively steadily.

She supported herself with her arms, swaying slightly, as she tried to sit up.

Chief Matilda, who had been watching her closely, immediately put down the small vine skirt that was already taking shape in her hands, quickly stepped forward, and gently supported her.

"Slow down, child."

Mathilde was very surprised.

It takes ordinary little elves at least a week or even longer to get through the initial period of weakness and develop strength in their limbs.

Even the children of the Mother Tree of Life generally experience a period of weakness lasting about three days.

But how long has it been, and the child is already able to stand up?

With the help of Mathilde's arm, Moran successfully sat up straight.

Curious, she looked down at her tiny hands, which had shrunk several times their original size, then looked up at Chief Matilda, opened her mouth as if to say something.

However, all that came out of his throat was a series of clear but meaningless gurgling sounds.

"..." Why can't I still speak?
Mathilde was amused, and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes smoothed out:

"Don't rush, little one. Your voice will need some time to become more flexible, but communication on a deeper level can perhaps begin sooner."

As she spoke, she extended her index finger, a soft, almost imperceptible green halo swirling around its tip, and gently touched Moran's brow. (End of Chapter)