Chapter 4: Have You Felt Your Heart Stir?

Watching Lynd’s retreating figure, Victoria let her head droop to the ground, her entire dragon body sprawled forward in a posture that could only be described as utterly defeated. It resembled a person face-planting onto a bed, surrendering to exhaustion.

Young humans—could they be any weaker?

She remembered that when she was very little, around three years old, she too wasn’t strong. But according to the World Chronicle left by Grandfather Oltataslav, humans in their childhood should possess the strength to defeat second-tier dragons, even those from the most formidable lineage of golden dragons.

Yet, no matter how she looked at Lynd, she sensed nothing extraordinary from him.

Grandfather Time Dragon’s book could never be wrong. So perhaps the young human before her simply had a weaker constitution; as long as he ate well, like a dragon, he should grow stronger.

Hmm...

She decided to name this plan “The Human Youngling Cultivation Project.”

With this thought, Victoria’s mood brightened considerably. She shook off her earlier gloom and excitedly moved closer to Lynd, nudging his arm with her head.

“Human, are you hungry? Would you like something more to eat?”

“Sorry, I just threw up. I don’t really have an appetite,” Lynd declined her offer politely.

“Are you thirsty, then? I can go nearby and see if there are any other fruits for you.”

“Uh, no need,” Lynd shook his head.

The taste of the bitter dragon fruit was still fresh in his memory.

But what puzzled him was Victoria’s sudden, excessive enthusiasm.

As the saying goes, unsolicited kindness is either flattery or mischief.

It couldn’t possibly be that she was feeling guilty and wanted to make amends.

If she truly felt that way, she should have flown steadily in the sky earlier, instead of showing off her skills.

“I’m not hungry or thirsty now. If you have something to say, just say it. Didn’t we just become friends? The most important thing between friends is sincerity.”

“Well, then, can I ask you a question?” Victoria fidgeted, her gaze darting around, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Lynd.

“Did your heart flutter just now?”

“Huh?” Lynd frowned, letting out a baffled exclamation.

---

“My mom says that to win a male’s body, you must first win his heart. That’s how my dad willingly stays by my mom’s side.”

“I won’t comment on that. But I can answer your question. My heart fluttered—so much so, it felt like it might stop beating altogether.”

Victoria failed to catch the sarcasm in Lynd’s reply, taking it at face value.

Good, it seems her idea was working.

Soon, she’d have this human youngling firmly attached to her side.

She made a mental note to recap the plan and write it in the World Chronicle later.

Shaking her head cheerily, she began humming a childhood song she remembered.

“&*#￥%!”

Listening to the lively foreign tune, Lynd guessed she was singing.

Since he didn’t understand dragon tongue, the specifics eluded him.

He watched Victoria settle under the shade of a tree, scratching and scribbling something in her green-covered book, silently hoping she wasn’t writing anything bad about him.

Taking advantage of this moment, he decided to chop down a tree for some wood.

After wandering around, Lynd selected a brown oak in the forest, not too thick, not too thin—just right.

He had his target. But what about tools?

Would he really have to use his hands?

It seemed possible.

After all, in My World, you start with nothing but your own fingers; everything else depends on digging.

With that in mind, he tentatively placed his hand on the tree bark.

A rhythmic, brittle cracking sound echoed.

His fingertips tingled with a strange sensation—like being nibbled by countless ants, a mix of numbness and mild pain.

This moderate pain actually brought a pleasant stimulation to his nerves, making it slightly addictive.

But as time passed, the pain intensified; the ants’ nibbles became like sandpaper grinding, and with every second, it felt as if another layer of flesh was scraped off.

The deepening pain forced Lynd to pause his handiwork.

Apparently, there was a limit to using fingers; after a certain amount of time, the pain accumulated too much.

It made sense.

Otherwise, if someone could dig up diamond ore with just their fingers after three days and nights, those fingers would surely be classified as restricted weapons.

Looking at the not-so-obvious crack on the bark, Lynd guessed that if he kept stubbornly hacking away, night would fall before the tree came down.

Perhaps he should follow the example of a certain animal from nature.

The natural lumberjack—the otter.

---

He decided to dig around the edge first, rest a bit when needed, and once a noticeable gap formed around the roots, he’d finish it off with one final push.

This method should be less exhausting than foolishly hacking away at a single spot.

With a plan in mind, Lynd acted immediately, unwilling to waste a single moment. Whenever the pain in his fingers subsided, he resumed his task.

Gathering initial resources was always troublesome.

But once he felled the tree and obtained a good supply of wood blocks, everything afterward would be much easier.

The hardest part was the beginning.

After wiping the sweat from his forehead for the last time, Lynd’s project neared completion.

He looked at the jagged cross-section he’d created, resembling something gnawed by a dog, and scratched his cheek with a touch of embarrassment, thinking it was anything but aesthetically pleasing.

It would do for now; next, all he needed was to topple the unstable tree.

After all, he wasn’t a professional lumberjack—efficiency and elegance could be considered in the future.

Lynd spat into his palms, rubbing them together as if this would somehow grant him extra strength.

It was mostly psychological, but it worked.

He felt power coursing through him!

“He—ha!”

Pressing both hands against the trunk, arms and legs straining with all his might, Lynd used even the strength he’d reserve for a last meal, but the tree didn’t budge—it remained rock-solid, seemingly needing a bit more force.

His face flushed with exertion, he abandoned any concern for technique and backed up a dozen meters. After a short run-up, he launched a flying kick at the trunk.

This time, the previously immovable tree shuddered, then settled back into place.

That’s promising, Lynd thought, feeling a surge of hope.

After a series of flying kicks, the trunk began to wobble, teetering precariously, as though it might collapse at any moment.

At this stage, any external force would bring it down.

Lynd recalled how Victoria had smashed the fruit earlier with her head and decided to imitate her.

The way to win a child’s favor is to copy their behavior, to see the world from their perspective.

Young dragons shouldn’t be any different.

If she’s used to smashing things with her head, and he does the same, she’d surely feel a sense of kinship.

Once they saw themselves as the same kind, affection would naturally soar.

It was a little foolish, but after all, the one he wanted to get along with was a silly dragon.