Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

Chapter 579 List of Temple Blessings
Salamanda remembered the vow she had made in the family cemetery.

At that moment, he knelt before his wife's grave, his hands pressed against the cold marble surface, letting tears stream down his face.
"I promise you, this power... will only be used to protect, never to plunder."

That was a promise he made to all his deceased relatives in front of the family cemetery when he broke through to the Moon Rank.

Later, when he became a Dark Sun-level being, with enough power to turn the world upside down, he returned there once again.

The number of tombstones has increased, with sons, daughters, grandchildren... neatly arranged one after another.

He repeated the vow at each grave with the utmost reverence, as if performing a ritual.

Professor Utter also stood behind him, quietly watching all of this.

The old professor didn't say anything, but patted him on the shoulder as he left.

That palm strike was very light, yet it felt as heavy as if it were carrying some invisible weight.

Now, Salamanda truly understands the meaning of that weight.

Now, more than half a year has passed since the old professor disappeared in that grand "last lecture".

But Salamanda never forgot his instructions, not even for a moment.

For the past few months, he has been keeping track of Ron's movements through various channels.

"Ron, you little rascal..."

Salamanda's gaze returned to the title of the academic paper.

The sharp edge revealed between the lines made him feel both gratified and vaguely worried.

The reason for my relief is that this child has inherited the professor's wisdom of "overcoming strength with gentleness" and knows how to use the rules themselves as a weapon.

The worry is that Nytil is no good woman.

Her ability to seize the opportunity of the Graceful Period after stagnating at the Dark Sun level for twenty years and break through in one fell swoop proves her ruthlessness and decisiveness.

Such a person, once in power, will ruthlessly eliminate all potential threats.

Ron and Eve are the most conspicuous nail.

Thinking of this, he stood up, and his magical power began to naturally emanate from his body.

The entire core tower of the Sand Sea School felt this fluctuation.

A colossal phantom, thousands of meters tall, appeared and disappeared between heaven and earth.

The yellow sand outside the tower was summoned, forming a huge tornado that surrounded the academy complex, blotting out the sky.

The members of the school stopped what they were doing and looked at the source of the oppressive force with surprise and uncertainty.

"It's Dean Salamander..."

"The power of the great wizard is truly terrifying..."

"What happened?"

Whispers spread through the school, tinged with awe and curiosity.

But Salamanda ignored all the comments.

The flames want to erode it?

Let's ask Liu Sha if he agrees first.

He knew he couldn't intervene directly at this moment.

Doing so would only give Nydia an excuse to accuse him of "factional interference," which would only cause Ron more trouble.

True protection often involves not rushing to the front to wield a sword, but rather quietly reinforcing the city walls from behind.

He had to respond to this turbulent undercurrent using the methods of a wizard and the language of "academics".

So he poured his will into the sand and submitted his "project application" to the "Truth Court Preprint Repository".

When the last rune settled.

A new title appeared in the view of all authorized users:
Application for Project Approval:
Feasibility Report on Introducing "Ancient Quicksand Rune Arrays" to Externally Reinforce "Historical Heritage" in Response to Potential Threats from High-Risk Energy Sources (e.g., Runaway Flames)

This title is both a response and a warning.

It is both an academic discussion and an invisible wall that an old stonemason builds for the younger generation in his own way.

After doing all this, Salamander sat down again.

The oppressive aura surrounding him gradually subsided, the phantom of the fire giant dissipated, and the tornado gradually calmed down.

The yellow sand outside the tower returned to silence, as if the strange phenomenon had never occurred.

However, in the data stream of the "Truth Court Preprint Repository", the titles of the two papers are already hanging there silently like two crossed swords.

Everyone who has been following this controversy has understood this silent statement.

A newly appointed archmage stood behind Ron in the most compliant manner.

This is not just a show of force, but it is more powerful than any direct show of force.

If Nydia wants to take action against Ron, she must first refute these two papers on an academic level.

Otherwise, any "cleaning" action she takes will be in vain.

These actions would all be interpreted as "guilty conscience," "authoritarianism," and "trampling on academic freedom."

Such a stigma is something even a great wizard cannot bear.

..............................

In the central area, at the top floor of a tall tower, in a secret chamber.

Neytyl Brown, this crimson flame, is churning violently.

She certainly saw those two papers.

She initially thought Ron's piece was just a young man's arrogant provocation.

But when Salamander responded, she immediately realized that the nature of the matter had completely changed.

"Damn..."

A sound of gnashing teeth came from within the flames:

"A mere kid who just broke through to the Moon Rank actually managed to get 'Fire Calamity' Salamander, a top-tier young wizard, to endorse him?"

Nitil ran around frantically in the secret room, leaving burn marks with every movement.

The runes on the floor kept lighting up and going out, trying to repair the parts damaged by the high temperature.

"No, no..."

Nitil forced herself to calm down:
"Their methods were too ingenious."

"It was a completely compliant academic practice; I couldn't find any fault with it."

“If I were to target Ron now, it would only confirm the implication in his paper that I do indeed want to erode those ‘historical legacies’.”

She stopped, and the flames gradually stabilized into a human-shaped outline.

"Clever...so clever..."

Nitil's voice held a chilling appreciation:
"It seems that old fellow Yutel left behind quite a few good pieces before he died."

She felt she had underestimated the deceased professor's "network of connections."

At least on the surface, I had to appear decent and magnanimous, as if I didn't care about the two papers at all.

However, at the meeting...

A soft laugh came from within the flames:
“Since we can’t do anything to you openly, we’ll deal with you along with those three captains later, Ron Ralph.”

..............................

Meanwhile, in Ron's study at the manor.

He had just received a notification about Salamander's paper.

When Ron saw the headline, he was stunned for a full ten seconds.

Then, I was overwhelmed with mixed feelings.

Warmth, gratitude, and a touch of bittersweetness.

“Dean Salamander…”

He murmured the name softly.

Although I haven't met Salamander many times, and our communication isn't particularly frequent.

But at this crucial moment, the other party stepped forward without hesitation.

As a high-ranking wizard, he stated his position in the most formal and public manner.

This affection, this protection, weighs more heavily than a thousand pounds.

Ron stood up, faced the direction of the shifting sands, and solemnly performed a standard wizard's salute.

Only after he had done all this did he sit down again.

He knew that although his "senior brother's" support was valuable, it could only buy him temporary breathing room.

The real storm is yet to come.

Nitil is not going to give up so easily; she will only resort to a more covert and deadly method.

"I need more security..."

Ron pondered for a moment and then took out another communication badge.

That was the wrench emblem given to him by Vinard.

This time, he also does not intend to ask the other party for support.

Doing that would be too direct and would put Vinard in a difficult position.

The truly smart approach is to make the other party realize that protecting yourself is actually in their core interests as well.

He picked up his pen again and began writing a completely new technical report:
Preliminary Report on the Possibility of Resonance Between the Unreal Remnants and the Starforged Titan's Energy Circuit

This report has only one core argument:
Professor Yutel's ethereal remains (soon to be inherited by Eve, with Ron as its guardian) are inherently associated with "stability" and "records".

If it is deeply integrated with the energy system of Starforged Titan.

In theory, this could significantly improve Titan's energy efficiency and reduce operational volatility risks.

Since this involves sharing research findings, it also implies a subtle "bond of interests."

Make Vinard understand:

Preserving Ron and this legacy is equally crucial for the improvement and upgrade of his Starforged Titans.

If this illusory remains fall into the hands of uncontrollable individuals or are destroyed, Vinard's greatest source of force will be severely affected.

Ron's pen scratched across the parchment.

Every rune and every derivation has been meticulously designed.

We need to demonstrate sufficient technical value to gain Vinard's attention.

However, they cannot expose too many core secrets, leaving themselves a way out.

Once the last rune was written, he placed the report in a specially made sealed envelope and sent it out through the encrypted channel provided by Vinard.

After doing all this, Ron leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.

"The meeting in three days..."

He gazed out the window at the gradually setting sun:

"At least now, I'm not fighting alone."

His senior's protection, his mentor's backup plan, and Vinard's ties of interest.

Three invisible lines of defense have been quietly established.

Although it is still fraught with danger, at least he is no longer a helpless and vulnerable target.

………………

The candlelight flickered, casting fragmented shadows on the wall like a curtain torn by the wind.

Ron sat quietly in the center of the magic circle, his hands resting on his knees.

His breathing became extremely slow and even, almost like that of a dead person.

Consciousness is extending along that bloodline thread that spans the star field towards the distant Stoker Star.

In this state, he is both here and there.

He is both an observer and a commander.

However, he was by no means the direct controller of that body.

"Ink" is the real actor; Ron is just the director.

Through an invisible thread, the plot is gently swayed behind the scenes.

He can "see" everything on the Stoker Star:
The air, distorted and deformed by the scorching sun;

The Walker family members, lying prostrate on the scorching metal floor, nearly exhausted.

"Seven days..."

Ron silently recited it in his mind.

For the two great families on the planet Si Fu, these seven days of waiting felt like seven centuries.

But for him, a cross-stellar operator, time passes in a completely different way.

He needed to deal with the crisis in the main world—Netil's conference;
It is also necessary to ensure that the game on the stoker's side proceeds according to the predetermined path;
We must also remain vigilant against any unknown entities that might be spying on us.

This multi-threaded, schizophrenic state made his consciousness like a stretched rubber band, ready to snap at any moment.

However, at this moment, all fatigue must be suppressed.

For a divine oracle is about to be delivered.

"Boom...boom...boom..."

Heavy footsteps, like the heartbeat of a giant beast, echoed from the deep shadows of the temple.

Each sound caused the metal floor to vibrate slightly.
Every step was like branding the hearts of all those who lay prone.

The "ink" controlled "Karen's" body, causing his muscles to tense.

That was the instinctive physiological reaction of an ordinary person when faced with divine authority.

His forehead was pressed against the scorching ground, sweat mixed with dust, leaving dirty marks on his skin.

My fingertips turned white from excessive force, and my knees ached from kneeling for so long.

Every detail was rendered flawlessly by the "ink".

Ron's consciousness, on the other hand, was like that of an audience member sitting in a theater box, observing every character on stage through a one-way mirror.

The trembling shoulders of Patriarch Walker, the furtive glances from the direct descendants towards "Karen," the embarrassing moment when the Luger family envoy lost control of his bladder out of fear...

All of these became the raw data for his assessment of the situation.

"coming."

Ron whispered to himself.

This time, those who emerged from the dark entrance of the temple far exceeded the scope of ordinary "Iron Slaves".

Two towering five-meter-tall "Iron Slaves of Law Enforcement," like mobile steel fortresses, slowly stepped into the square, one on the left and one on the right.

Ron's heart skipped a beat. The aura fluctuations of these two so-called "Iron Slaves of Law Enforcement" were already very close to the Moon-level.

What's even more terrifying is the "will" they exude.

Although ordinary iron slaves were cruel, they were ultimately just tools, an extension of the suffering of the enslaved.

Yet these two iron slaves, through the fusion of metal and flesh, gave birth to a twisted kind of "loyalty".

They no longer struggled or howled; instead, they carried out their master's every command with a morbid devotion.

This is the real terror:
When pain reaches its extreme, the soul will actively embrace enslavement in order to escape it.

Guarded by two iron slaves, a more suffocating creation slowly approached – the "Decree-Granting Priest".

It is also in the form of an Iron Slave, yet it displays a unique status in every detail.

The jet-black metal shell is inlaid with twelve dark red gems the size of pigeon eggs.

They are arranged along the spine, like a flowing river of blood.

Through his perception of "ink," Ron captured a startling detail:

The flesh and blood inside this "declaration priest" is no longer human.

It was some kind of alien life form that had been completely "gold-burned".

The muscle fibers have been transformed into flexible metal wires, and high-purity liquid alloys flow in the blood vessels.
Even the bones were replaced with some kind of self-repairing active crystal.

"This is not punishment..."

Ron was amazed inwardly:
"This is a kind of 'sublimation'."

A distorted, morbid, yet undeniably transcendent form of 'evolution'.

"No wonder the priestly class has been able to rule the world for thousands of years."

Besides violence and fear, what they held in their hands was a distorted temptation of 'immortality.'

In the square, all those who were lying prone held their breath.

Even the wind seemed to dare not blow at this moment.

The priest who delivered the decree walked to the center of the square.

It stopped in the original position of the presentation box that the Walker family had presented seven days ago.

It didn't look at anyone.

Or rather, it doesn't have an organ called "eyes" at all.

There were only three vertical grooves on that smooth metal skull.

A pale blue light seeped out from the cracks, like fissures in an abyss.

The priest slowly raised his hands and lifted the scroll.

"oracle……"

A voice emanated from the chest resonator of the messenger priest.

The voice was neither male nor female, neither old nor young.

It sounded like the superimposed sounds of thousands of metal scraping together, or like countless people whispering at the same moment. At the other end of the square, the envoys of the Luger family trembled violently with fear.

The middle-aged nobleman at the head of the group was as pale as a sheet.

Cold sweat poured from his forehead like a burst dam, pooling into a small puddle on the ground.

His lips moved silently, as if in prayer, or perhaps in curse.

Meanwhile, the patriarch of the Walker family was so tense that he could barely think straight.

His heart felt as if it were being struck by a heavy hammer, each beat causing his eardrums to ache.

Only one thought kept looping in my mind:

"What will the oracle decide? Will we...will we survive?"

The priest who delivered the decree unfurled the scroll.

A grand, layered voice began to read aloud:
"The Luger clan privately studied forbidden arts and arbitrarily altered divine gifts..."

The first part of this sentence sent the Ruger family's envoys plummeting into an icy abyss.

Some people had already begun to cry silently, their tears mingling with the dust, leaving streaks of dirt on their faces.

"...His crime deserves to be punished by death."

Upon hearing these three words, the middle-aged nobles, led by the Luger family, froze abruptly.

Then, as if all her strength had been drained, she collapsed limply to the ground.

His eyes had completely lost focus, leaving only a lifeless emptiness.

however……

"However...although his actions were foolish, his results were quite innovative."

This sudden turn of events left everyone stunned.

"Original idea"?
The oracle actually used the word "novelty"?

The Luger family's envoys grasped at a straw like drowning people.

They all suddenly raised their heads, their eyes rekindling with hope.

Chief Walker's heart tightened.

He keenly realized that things were heading in an unpredictable direction.

Ron's consciousness became highly focused at this moment.

“'Original idea'…”

He kept chewing on the word.

"What exactly does the High Priest appreciate?"
Is it technological innovation? Is it a breakthrough in the rules? Or perhaps...?

"Some deeper reflection on 'control' and 'transformation'?"

The priest's voice continued to ring out:
"God appreciates innovation and detests foolishness."

Therefore, the "divine trial" was sent down to test the truth.

The words "Trial of Divine Judgment" exploded in the minds of everyone in the two families like a thunderclap.

This is an extremely rare form of oracle in the history of the planet Steril.

This means that the high priest did not issue a direct judgment.

Instead, the power of adjudication was handed over to an open and brutal competition.

The victor will receive God's approval;
The loser will bear the wrath of God.

There is no gray area in between.

"Karren, son of Walker. Byrne, son of Luger."

The priest's voice, delivering the decree, mentioned a specific name for the first time.

The "ink" controlled "Karen's" body, causing his shoulders to tremble slightly.

That was a boy's instinctive physiological reaction when he heard his own name.

There was both the excitement of being honored and the fear of facing a life-or-death test.

"Within a month, you must devote all your blood and wisdom to forging a masterpiece that best embodies the essence of the 'Gold Burning Technique' and present it before the gods."

"One month..."

Chief Walker's Adam's apple bobbed violently as he swallowed hard.

This timeframe is neither too short nor particularly generous.

For a true master of alchemy, a masterpiece, into which one pours their heart and soul, often requires years or even decades of refinement.

But the oracle only gave them one month.

This means that the competition has transcended the level of skill proficiency.

What is tested even more is the depth of understanding of the "essence of the gold-burning technique" and the burst of creativity under extreme pressure.

"The work that best embodies the essence of 'gold burning technique'..."

Ron's consciousness, like a high-speed gear, rapidly dissected every word of that sentence.

"It is not the most powerful weapon, not the most beautiful work of art, and certainly not the most sophisticated mechanical structure."

“‘Essence’—that’s the key word.”

He recalled his findings while observing "resentful gold".

The essence of that technology lies precisely in transforming the most negative emotion, "pain," into "memory" and "power" within the metal.

This is completely different from the traditional gold-burning techniques that pursue "purity," "perfection," and "extreme strength."

"What the high priest wants to see is not a simple contest of skills."

Ron confirmed in his mind:
"What he wants to see is a breakthrough in the 'possibility of gold burning'."

"It's the kind of 'heretical work' that can make him see the light and even make him willing to overturn his old understanding."

This judgment made the framework of his plan clearer.

He can't win in a way that's too "orthodox".

The fact that a useless member of a collateral branch of the family can suddenly forge a perfect work that meets all traditional standards will only arouse suspicion.

However, what if he forged something that "no one has ever seen before," something "unconventional," something "controversial" yet "undeniably excellent"...

That would fit the expected growth trajectory of the character "Karen":

A once marginalized genius awakens in dire straits and proves his worth in a completely new way.

At that moment, the furnace in the priest's chest cavity suddenly burst forth with a dazzling, eerie blue light.

"The victor will be blessed with divine grace, and his clan will be promoted to the 'Golden Nobility'."

"He himself will be 'favored by the gods' and can choose one of the rewards from the list of divine gifts!"

These words struck everyone's hearts like a heavy hammer.

"Golden Aristocracy"!
That was a huge leap, two levels higher than the current status of the Walker family, allowing the patriarch to enter the Noble Council of the Upper City!
Chief Walker's eyes were practically spitting fire.

His lips trembled, and his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

He was in a state of near-manic excitement.

This is not over yet.

The priest then began to project a screen of light.

The list above includes more than a dozen rewards, each shining like a star:
[Divine Grace: Can designate anyone to receive the rank of 'Steelheart Marquis,' the second-highest rank below a prince]

[A Blessed Land: 'Golden Lily Manor', located in the Upper City adjacent to the temple]

[Divine Gift Technique: A Temple Treasure Trove, a Rubbing of the Lost Ancient Gold-Making Technique "True Gold Technique"]

[Divine Blessed Marriage: A temple maiden of collateral lineage of the High Priest (with whom one can have offspring, whose offspring may be admitted into the priesthood)]

[Divine Blessing: Choose any 'God-made' level sacred relic from the temple's treasury]

[Divinely Granted Authority: Commander of the Inner City Guard, leading three thousand elite "Single Gold Warriors"]

……

[Divine Appointment: Governor of the Western City Mines, in charge of all production and "coal smoke workers" within the mining area]

This list is like a gambling table full of temptation, yet also fraught with danger.

Each reward was enough to drive any noble family mad.

In the square, everyone's breathing became heavy.

Chief Walker's eyes were fixed on the first item—"Marquis of Steelheart".

The burning flames of greed in those eyes almost completely consumed reason.

"The Marquis... the Marquis..."

He screamed wildly in his heart:
"That's an honor that our family could never even dream of!"

"With this, our Walker family can rise to the top in one fell swoop and firmly squeeze into the core of power in the Upper City!"

Other family members were similarly blinded by this temptation.

The way they looked at "Karen" had changed from jealousy to a morbid, fanatical worship.

If this young man can win the trial, the fate of his entire family will be completely rewritten.

Ron's consciousness, however, was like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing these greedy fantasies.

In a very short time, his mind completed an in-depth analysis of each reward:

"'The Marquis of Steel Heart'—seemingly glorious, but in reality an exquisite cage."

"Becoming a high-ranking noble under the high priest's nose means that every move you make will be watched by countless eyes."

“My every move will be interpreted; my every breath will be analyzed.”

"This is not a reward, this is house arrest."

veto.

"'Golden Lily Manor' - a magnificent prison with no strategic value."

"No matter how beautiful a cage is, it is still a cage."

veto.

"Lost secret techniques? Temple saintess? They are all just shackles used to deeply bind me to the divine authority system."

“Once I accept it, I will become an ‘accomplice’ to theocracy and lose all independence.”

veto.

"A divinely created relic? The deputy commander of the guard? -- Same logic."

“Any reward that puts me in the heart of power is essentially a reduction of my freedom.”

veto.

Ron's gaze finally settled at the very end of the list.

The option that everyone subconsciously ignored, even with a hint of contempt: [Governor of the West City Mines]

To the other nobles, this was simply a joke.

Mining area, what kind of place is that?
Away from the dirty corners of the bustling upper city.

The area was shrouded in coal smoke and dust all day long, and the air was filled with the mixed smell of sweat and blood.

The "rulers" there faced thousands upon thousands of ragged workers and slaves who toiled like animals every day.

What needs to be dealt with are tedious production reports, mineral vein allocation, and the occasional "small-scale" riots.

Most of the profits generated had to be handed over to the temple, with the remainder only enough to maintain basic operations.

They have little to no profit and no dignity whatsoever.

This is a typical "promotion in name only, demotion in reality" position.

It was a consolation prize given by the high priest to appease those collateral relatives who were "meritorious but of humble origin and unworthy of entering the core of power".

However, on Ron's strategic map, this option was like a lighthouse suddenly appearing in the darkness!
"that's it."

His choice became unwavering at that moment.

Through their bloodline connection, Ron conveyed a clear instruction to the "ink":

"Remember this option."

After the trial ends, no matter how others try to persuade you, you must insist on choosing the 'Governor of the Western City Mines'.

At a subconscious level, the "ink" reflects back a vague, questioning emotional fluctuation.

It doesn't understand why it should give up those more tempting options.

Ron then explained to it through a deeper level of conscious resonance:
“Listen, this is not a compromise, this is a strategic plan.”

His thinking, like placing pieces on a chessboard, unfolds the entire spectrum of possibilities for the future:
"First, the mining area is far from the center of power and has a mixed population, making it the best place to hide oneself."

"The priests and nobles always kept their eyes on the magnificent Upper City."

“They’ll keep an eye on those ‘Steelheart Marquises,’ they’ll monitor those ‘Guard Commanders,’ but who really cares about the governor of a mining district?”

"It's too dirty, too noisy, and too 'lowly' there."

As a result, no truly powerful or influential person was willing to waste their precious attention on that smoke-filled corner.

"This is the 'blind spot' I need."

"Secondly, the position of 'Governor' means that I have absolute military and administrative jurisdiction over the mining area."

"Allocating resources, reforming production processes, recruiting new workers, and even 'dealing with' those disobedient troublemakers..."

All of this is within my control.

"No one would question any 'technological innovation' made by a mining district governor in order to increase production."

“I can openly promote ‘gold mining technology’ and disguise it as a ‘high-risk, high-yield mining technique’.”

“It could even establish secret training camps to gradually integrate and arm those ‘smoke workers’ who were instigated by Vinard.”

"Everything seemed reasonable and in line with the legitimate reason of 'improving the efficiency of the mining area'."

"Third, and most importantly..."

“I can use this position to legitimately reach out to those underprivileged, oppressed groups who are resentful of the existing order.”

"They are the true sparks of future turmoil."

"Nobles are difficult to approach and difficult to unite, and the temple even hides a 'high priest' of the level of a great wizard."

But these people at the bottom of society are easily ignited, and once they are, it will be a raging fire that no force can extinguish.

"And I will be the one who ignites the fire."

"No, to be more precise..."

“I will be the mentor who teaches them ‘how to ignite themselves’.”

This analysis, like a sharp blade, precisely dissects the true strategic value behind that seemingly tempting gambling table.

The initial doubts about "ink" gradually transformed into a vague sense of acceptance.

Although it cannot perform such deep deductions as Ron, it can still sense that clear and firm will.

Ron's thoughts continued:

"The choice given by the High Priest is itself a trap, and at the same time a test."

“Choosing the title of ‘Marquis’ signifies my desire to integrate into his power structure and become a maintainer of order.”

“Choosing the ‘Holy Maiden of the Temple’ signifies my desire to curry favor with the core of divine power through marriage.”

“Choosing the ‘divine artifact’ signifies my pursuit of personal power enhancement; I am a pure warrior.”

“These choices are all too ‘normal’.”

"So normal that anyone can see through the ambition behind it at a glance."

"You can choose 'Governor of the Mines'..."

A cold smile curled at the corners of Ron's lips:

"This represents a completely different kind of ambition."

"A more pragmatic, long-term ambition that builds its power from the ground up."

"And precisely because of this, such ambition is all the more dangerous."

"Because it means that I am not satisfied with taking a share of the pie in the existing system."

"What I want to build is an independent base of my own."

"At the same time, this choice also demonstrates a kind of 'pragmatism' and 'self-awareness'."

"A good-for-nothing from a collateral branch suddenly gained a talent, yet he still clearly knew his own limitations."

"Not daring to covet core power, they chose to quietly cultivate their skills in an inconspicuous field."

"This actually fits Karen's character even better."

"With the wisdom of the high priest..."

Ron's thought process underwent its final deduction here:

There is a very high probability that he will choose to 'acquiesce'.

“He will treat ‘Karen’ and that mining area as a secret ‘laboratory’.”

"Without affecting the core rule, observe how far this 'heresy' can develop."

"After all, for an ancient being that has ruled for thousands of years, the most terrifying thing has always been 'stagnation'."

“And ‘novelty,’ even dangerous novelty, is much better than stagnant water.”

"As long as the high priest gives his tacit approval, I will have a 'get out of jail free' card."

"They can openly and brazenly 'do whatever they want' in their own mining areas."

"Secretly promoting 'resentment money technology' to build an armed force loyal to themselves, sowing the most solid seeds for future turmoil..."

　The next chapter contains a key plot point and a minor climax, so please try not to skip ahead.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)