Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

Chapter 590 Reunion

On the teleportation platform of the observatory, ripples began to spread across the space.

Pale golden light burst forth from the sky, like the first rays of dawn tearing through the night.

Ron stood quietly in the reception area.

Lilia and Eve stood on either side.

The former was so nervous that her fingers were trembling slightly, while the latter maintained the elegance befitting a clan princess, though her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

As the light faded, a familiar figure appeared in the center of the platform.

Mrs. Allen was still wearing that simple gray robe, with a leather pouch full of herbs tied around her waist.

Time has left deeper marks on her face, and her silver hair is thinner than I remember.

Her gaze immediately locked onto Ron, who was standing at the very front.

Time seemed to freeze at this moment.

Mrs. Allen looked at the young man in front of her.

His magical aura is as deep and restrained as an abyss. The recent announcement of the Potions Professor's academic status has earned him a high reputation throughout the entire School Alliance, not to mention his academic achievements that have already spread throughout the Central Lands.

The somewhat green apprentice she once taught has now grown into someone she looks up to.

"Mrs. Allen."

Ron spoke first, performing a standard apprentice's salute.

It's not a wizard's ceremony, it's an apprentice's ceremony.

This detail caused Mrs. Allen to shudder slightly.

"Ron..."

Her voice was a little hoarse. She paused for a moment before continuing, "You... have changed a lot."

That was a rather clumsy way of saying it.

Mrs. Allen really didn't know what to say.

She originally thought that after the incident with "The Star Eater's Ramblings," the master-disciple relationship between the two had been overshadowed by an indelible shadow.

She thought that even if Ron still respected her on the surface, he would still harbor resentment in his heart.

But now... the apprenticeship ceremony.

This action speaks volumes more than any words.

"I……"

Mrs. Allen opened her mouth again, only to find that all the words she wanted to say were stuck in her throat.

Ron straightened up:
"Many of the formulas I've improved over the years are extensions of what you taught me back then."

"Every time I encounter a bottleneck, I recall what you said to me in the Black Mist Jungle:"

Each material has its own specific "rhythm".

A true potions master must not only understand the properties of the ingredients, but also master the resonance between them.

This was the instruction Mrs. Allen gave Ron when she first started working at the herbal medicine shop.

Hearing Ron repeat it again, Mrs. Allen's eyes welled up with tears.

But she restrained herself.

Wizards have always been restrained in expressing their emotions.

Ron shook his head and continued:

“I admit that I did have some doubts when I first learned the origin of ‘The Star Eater’s Ramblings’.”

“I have questioned your motives and doubted the authenticity of this teacher-student relationship.”

"But in recent years, whenever I've hit a bottleneck in potion-making, whenever I've fallen into a predicament..."

His voice softened:

"What always comes to mind is the scene of you teaching me how to process herbs in the herbal medicine shop."

"What you taught me was not just skills, but also the attitude towards scholarship—rigor, humility, and always maintaining awe for knowledge."

"These are the things that have truly influenced my life."

The young man frowned and continued:
"As for 'The Star Eater's Ramblings'... there is indeed some calculation involved."

"Even so, you still gave me the most valuable enlightenment when I needed it most."

"Even if this enlightenment carries the burden of your debt to the tower master..."

His eyes hardened: "It still changed my destiny and allowed me to get to where I am today."

"so……"

Ron bowed deeply again: "Your disciple Ron Ralph thanks Ms. Ellen Meredith for her guidance."

"This kindness will never change, no matter what has happened in the past or what the future holds."

Finally, Mrs. Allen stretched out her withered hand and covered her face.

Over the years, she has lived with self-blame:

He blamed himself for being influenced by Cassandra's words;

She blamed herself for not telling Ron the truth sooner;

I feel guilty for letting too many self-interests interfere with the master-disciple relationship.

But now, Ron is telling her in the most straightforward way:

Those schemes, those shadows, those indelible stains...

Their existence is not enough to negate the value of this teacher-student relationship itself.

"yes……"

Mrs. Allen wiped away her tears and stepped forward:

“You’ve grown up, grown up enough to accept your teacher’s imperfections.”

“Ms. Meredith,” Eve suddenly said, “Actually, I’ve always wanted to ask you a question.”

"what is the problem?"

Do you regret it?

Eve said earnestly, "I regret failing to break through to the Dark Sun class back then."

This question caused a brief silence in the room.

Lilia looked at Mrs. Allen with some nervousness.

Ron watched quietly without intervening.

"regret……"

Mrs. Allen repeated the word, her gaze becoming somewhat distant.

"It would be a lie to say that I have absolutely no regrets."

"After all, that was the most important attempt of my life."

"Failure means losing the possibility of promotion forever."

She lowered her eyelids: "But if you ask me whether I regret choosing the path of a wizard..."

"Then I can say with certainty—I have no regrets."

"because……"

She looked at Ron and Lilia: "I have taught some very good students."

"This sense of accomplishment is no less than that of being promoted to the Dark Sun level."

These words were spoken very calmly.

There is no sentimentality, no sadness, just a simple statement.

But it was precisely this calmness that made everyone present feel the heavy weight of the situation.

The group walked toward the aircraft landing pad outside the transmission base station.

Lilia held tightly to Mrs. Allen's arm as she recounted her experiences over the past year.

Eve occasionally chimed in, creating a harmonious and warm atmosphere.

Ron walked at the back, looking at the slightly hunched figure ahead.

A jumble of conflicting emotions welled up inside me.

The bond between master and disciple is ultimately a matter of fate.

Even if the beginning of this relationship was mixed with too much calculation and shadows.

But when it actually blossoms and bears fruit, those shadows become part of its nutrients.

………………

In the laboratory, Ron showed Mrs. Allen the core framework of "Narrative Potions".

The old woman carefully examined each document.

Time passes minute by minute.

Ron didn't urge him, but just stood quietly to the side.

Just like back in the days at the herbal medicine shop, when I was an apprentice waiting for the other party to review my potion.

a long time.

Mrs. Allen put down the last document and rubbed her temples.

“Ron, now I finally understand why the School Alliance bestowed upon you the title of ‘Potion Professor’.”

"This theoretical system..."

She seemed to be organizing her thoughts: "Its scale and innovation have exceeded my expectations."

“You’re not just ‘improving’ potions, you’re trying to ‘reconstruct’ it.”

"Starting from the most basic philosophical concepts, to specific operational methods, and then to cross-disciplinary applications..."

Mrs. Allen looked at Ron: "What you have constructed is a complete worldview."

"But precisely because of this..."

Her tone turned serious: "I must remind you, Ron."

"No matter how grand the idea, it needs to be rooted in the basics."

"What you're doing now is like building a towering tower that reaches into the clouds."

"The spire has reached the sky, but the base..."

She pointed to a set of data on the table: "It's not stable enough yet."

Ron listened attentively without arguing.

"Look here."

Mrs. Allen opened an experimental record:
“You used the concept of ‘bridging narrative’ when dealing with the resonance between ‘Star Grass’ and ‘Moonlight Vine’.”

"There are no problems in theory, and the experimental results are also very successful."

"But have you ever thought about..."

She looked up: "If there's a slight deviation in the 'story frequency' of the material, will this 'bridge' break down?"

"Your theoretical assumptions are based on the premise that 'the material story is stable'."

"But in reality, the 'story' of materials can change with the environment, time, and even the emotions of the refiner."

"Although this change is small, it could cause the entire formula to fail at a critical moment."

Mrs. Allen tapped her finger lightly on the data: "So, you need to add a 'fault tolerance mechanism' to this theory."

"It needs to be able to adapt to the fluctuations in the material story, and it needs to remain stable when faced with unexpected situations."

"This requires a lot of basic experiments, the collection of enough 'outlier cases,' and so on..."

She looked at Ron: "It will take time."

"It requires the accumulation of knowledge from one student after another, generation after generation."

What you're doing now is just the beginning.

"It may take decades, or even centuries, for this theory to truly mature."

These words are extremely apt.

Ron was silent for a moment, then nodded solemnly:
"Madam is right."

"I was indeed too hasty."

He smiled bitterly:
"I always think about finishing everything at once, but I forget that academic research is a long process."

"It's good that you realize that."

Mrs. Allen's tone softened:
"Your talent and achievements have far exceeded my expectations back then."

"But that's precisely why I hope you'll remember this..."

She stood up, walked over to Ron, and just like years ago, gently patted his shoulder:
Even the greatest theories need to be built brick by brick.

"Even the grandest ideals need to be realized step by step."

"Don't be anxious, take your time."

"You're still young, you have plenty of time."

Outside the door, Lilia and Eve peeked out and then smiled at each other.

"It seems they really have made up." Lilia breathed a sigh of relief.

“Of course,” Eve smiled. “How could a true master-disciple bond be broken by some external shadows?”

"not to mention……"

She looked at the two figures in the laboratory: "They were originally the same kind of people."

"A love of knowledge far surpasses an attachment to everything else."

"People like this will eventually be able to understand each other."

The two looked at each other and smiled, then quietly left.

Left behind in the laboratory, the two figures were still engaged in a heated discussion.

At this moment, time seemed to reconnect the past with a brand new future.

………………

The next morning.

The “ecological simulation room” has been properly set up.

This is a special space that can simulate various extreme environments.

The walls are made of transparent magic crystals, and the internal parameters such as temperature, pressure, and magic concentration can be adjusted at will.

Lilia's test is to make an extremely delicate "Moonflower" seed germinate under simulated special "high pressure" conditions.

Moonflower is a rare plant that blooms only on the night of a full moon near a pure water source.

Its environmental requirements are almost demanding.

It cannot be too hot, it cannot be too cold, it cannot have any impurities, and it cannot withstand any form of "pressure".

The cruelty of the ascension ceremony chosen by Clillia lies in:

It requires you to make it grow even in an environment that completely goes against the nature of the material.

This test goes far beyond the skill itself.

It tests your understanding of the essence of life, your control over the flow of magic, and...

Self-awareness.

Outside the simulation room, Ron and Mrs. Allen stood side by side.

Both mentors' gazes fell on the slightly thin figure in the room.

Lilia wore a simple alchemist's robe, her silver hair floating slightly in the high-magic environment.

Her face was pale, and fine beads of sweat had formed on her forehead.

Maintaining her own protective spells had already consumed a significant amount of her magic power.

“She’s very nervous,” Mrs. Allen said softly.

“Yeah.” Ron nodded. “I was too nervous.”

"The flow of magic has begun to become disordered."

He could clearly sense that the magic within Lilia's body was fluctuating in an unstable way.

It's not that her skills are lacking.

In fact, after several years of study, Lilia's foundation is already quite solid.

The real problem lies in her mindset.

Mrs. Allen was silent for a moment, then said softly:
"This child is pushing himself too hard."

"Yes."

Ron's tone was tinged with helplessness:

“I taught her a lot of skills, gave her a lot of resources, and even helped her plan the most suitable growth path for her.”

"But there is one thing I cannot teach her."

"That is……"

He looked at Mrs. Allen: "How to accept one's own 'ordinariness'."

"I go."

Mrs. Allen suddenly spoke up.

Ron looked at her: "Madam?"

"You can't untangle this child's knot in his heart."

The old woman gave him a disapproving look: "Because you're too outstanding."

“Every word you say sounds to her like ‘a person standing on a cloud looking down on mortals.’”

"What she needs is not technical guidance."

"What she needs is for someone to tell her..."

Mrs. Allen took a deep breath: "Accepting ordinariness is also a remarkable choice."

After saying that, she walked towards the entrance of the simulation room.

Ron tried to stop him, but in the end he just nodded.

He knew that Mrs. Allen was right.

Some words only carry weight when spoken by someone who has experienced the same pain.

Simulated indoor environment.

Lilia has already begun the ceremony.

She carefully placed the seeds of the "Moonlight Flower" in a specially made petri dish.

Then, he began to slowly infuse his own magic power.

An attempt to create a "sanctuary" for the seeds in this oppressive and eroding environment.

But the harder she tried, the less the magic obeyed her.

Her hands were trembling, and beads of sweat dripped from her forehead onto the edge of the petri dish, making a soft hissing sound.

at this time.

A warm hand gently rested on her shoulder.

Lilia turned around abruptly and saw that Mrs. Allen had been standing behind her at some point.

The old woman had a gentle smile on her face.

"lady……"

"Don't speak, child."

Mrs. Allen said softly, "First, stabilize the magic power and don't let the seed wither completely."

"But I..."

"listen to me."

Mrs. Allen's voice carried an indescribable power: "Do you still remember 'Rock Rose'?"

"Rock rose?"

Lilia paused for a moment, then nodded:
"I remember... it was a plant that only grew in barren rock crevices..."

"Correct."

Mrs. Allen continued, "It never grows in fertile soil."

"Because it knows that it cannot compete with those tall trees for sunlight, nor with those delicate flowers for nutrients."

"So it chose the most barren environment and the most difficult way of survival."

"But precisely because of this..."

A glint flashed in her eyes: "It became the most resilient thing in the cracks of the rock."

"Its root system can penetrate hard rocks."

"Its flowers can still bloom in strong winds."

"It doesn't need fertile soil, it doesn't need plenty of water, and it doesn't need anyone's care..."

"It only needs to be itself."

These words caused Lilia's body to tremble slightly.

"Lilia, why are you forcing yourself to become the storm?"

Why can't I accept the fact that I am just a stream?

"Ron is a genius; he is destined to leave a significant mark on history."

"But you..."

Mrs. Allen's voice softened: "You have your own value too."

"You are meticulous, you are patient, and you can notice those easily overlooked details."

"You don't need to conquer anything, you don't need to prove anything."

"You just need to..."

She pointed to the dying seed: "Find your own rhythm."

"It's not Ron's rhythm, it's not Eve's rhythm, and it's definitely not my rhythm."

"It's your own unique rhythm."

Lilia stared blankly at Mrs. Ellen.

"But...but I..."

"Close your eyes."

Mrs. Allen said softly, "Don't think about anyone, don't think about any standards."

"Just... feel it quietly."

"Feel the life force of this seed, feel its yearning, feel its desire to bloom."

"Then……"

"Help it in your own way."

Lilia slowly closed her eyes.

Her breathing began to become steady.

My heartbeat started to become regular.

Those chaotic thoughts, the pressure of comparison, those voices of self-doubt...

At this moment, they all gradually faded away.

She felt it.

I could sense that the seed, under immense pressure and high magic, was desperately trying to survive.

It did not complain about the harsh environment, nor did it give up hope of survival.

It is simply... trying to find a possibility that allows it to continue.

"I understand……"

Lilia opened her eyes, the confusion gone, replaced by an unprecedented clarity.

"It doesn't require me to 'conquer' the environment, or to 'fight' pressure."

"All it needs is..."

Her palm gently covered the petri dish: "A space where it can grow safely."

Magic began to flow in a completely new way.

It's no longer the kind of impatient, forceful indoctrination that tries to achieve goals all at once.

It transformed into a gentle, slow, nourishing process, like a trickle of water.

She no longer tries to forcibly construct a "shelter" in a high-pressure environment.

Doing that will only put more pressure on the seeds.

Because it must rely on this shelter that could collapse at any moment.

She chose another way.

With her own magic, she slowly and deliberately penetrated into the inside of the seed.

Time passes minute by minute.

Outside, Ron stared intently at Lilia's retreating figure.

He could sense that her magical flow was undergoing a qualitative change.

at this time.

In the petri dish, the seed that was already on its last legs suddenly trembled.

A faint, pale blue light seeped from the surface of the seed.

That's the color of moonlight.

In high-pressure, high-magnitude environments, completely unsuitable for its growth.
It sprouted.

Tender green shoots slowly peek out from the seeds.

So delicate, so fragile, as if it would break at the slightest touch.

But it continues to grow.

One millimeter, two millimeters, three millimeters
The bud tip gradually stretches out, and the first leaf slowly unfolds.

"Success..."

Lilia looked at the seedling.

"I am not a mentor, and I can't become that kind of genius."

“I am not Eve either. I don’t have that kind of bloodline or background.”

"I am just Lilia."

"An ordinary, unremarkable person who may never leave their mark on history."

Her smile, however, was incredibly radiant: "Potion Master."

"But so what?"

"Streams can also nourish all things."

"Fireflies can also illuminate the darkness."

"I, too, have my own value."

The day after the promotion ceremony.

Inside the reception room, there were exquisite tea snacks and fresh fruit.

This was a celebration banquet that Ron had specially prepared for several students—it was simple, but full of warmth.

Eve and Lilia sat on either side, both wearing dark robes symbolizing "formal wizards".

“Congratulations.” Ron raised his teacup. “From today onwards, you are true wizards.”

"I am proud of you for getting this far."

"Thank you, instructor!"

The two girls spoke in unison, their faces beaming with barely suppressed joy.

Becoming a full-fledged wizard is a significant turning point in anyone's life.

This means they have the qualifications to independently explore, research, and even impart knowledge.

"Tell me your plans."

Mrs. Allen sat to the side, looking at the two students with a kind expression: "What are your plans after the promotion?"

Eve spoke first:
"I will be handling some family matters."

Her tone became serious: "After my mother went missing, there are many things within the clan that I need to coordinate."

"Although I am still young, as the only direct heir..."

"There are some responsibilities I must bear."

She then looked at Ron: "However, after I've dealt with these matters, I will still return to the Emerald House."

"I would like to delve deeper into the research directions that my supervisor mentioned before."

"Especially the combination of 'narrative potionology' and bloodline harmony."

"I think this might become my main focus in the future."

Ron nodded. "Very good."

"Bloodline harmony is indeed a field worthy of in-depth study, especially when combined with the concept of 'narrative'."

"There are many new possibilities to explore."

He looked at Eve: "Don't put too much pressure on yourself."

"Your most important task right now is to solidify your realm and become familiar with the power of a formal wizard."

"Research can be done slowly, there's no need to rush."

“I understand, mentor.” Eve nodded obediently.

Ron turned to Lilia: "And you?"

"I"

Lilia hesitated for a moment, then looked at Mrs. Allen: "Teacher, I want to go back to the Emerald Forest."

This statement stunned everyone.

"Back to the Emerald Forest?"

Mrs. Allen was somewhat surprised: "Child, are you sure?"

"The Central Region has better resources, more advanced research facilities, and more outstanding peers to exchange ideas with."

"I know."

Lilia's tone was calm yet firm: "But teacher, I'm worried about you being alone in the Emerald Forest."

"Your body."

She bit her lip: "I know you've been hiding it, but I can sense it."

"Your magic flow has begun to show signs of instability."

Mrs. Allen remained silent.

She was indeed hiding something.

After failing to reach the Dark Sun level, the hidden injuries she sustained during her early explorations in the Abyss, though not completely destroyed, left behind "cracks" that were difficult to repair.

Over the years, she has been using various magical potions to suppress her urges and barely maintain a normal life.

However, as one gets older, the effect of suppression becomes weaker and weaker.

Even with Ron's constant blessings, such support became increasingly scarce after the teaching ended...

"so."

Lilia looked at Mrs. Allen, her eyes slightly red: "I want to go back and be with you."

"While you can still see, I want you to know that you have taught a reasonably competent student."

Mrs. Allen reached out and gently stroked Lilia's hair:
"You should be focusing on your studies now, not wasting your time taking care of an old woman."

"But."

“Lilia,” Ron suddenly spoke, interrupting her, “I support your choice.”

These words stunned Mrs. Allen and Lilia.

"tutor?"

“I said, I support your choice.”

Ron's tone was calm:
"Although the potion resources in the Emerald Forest are not as abundant as those in the Central Lands, they are actually more pristine for researchers who focus on 'natural' potions."

"and"

He looked at Mrs. Allen: "Mrs. does need someone to take care of her."

"Her internal body is damaged and she needs regular magical intervention and medication."

"These things require someone who understands potions and is also very meticulous."

"Lilia, you are the most suitable candidate."

Mrs. Allen opened her mouth, as if to refute.

Seeing the determination in Ron's eyes, she could only sigh in the end:
"You children."

"Each one is more stubborn than the last."

"but."

She looked at Lilia: "If you really decide to come back, your teacher will be very happy."

"only."

"Won't you regret it?"

"will not."

Lilia shook her head, smiling brightly: "I've thought it through, teacher."

“I’m not the kind of person who can stand out in a highly competitive environment.”

"Instead of forcing myself in the Central Lands, I'd rather return to the Emerald Forest and do what I'm truly good at."

"Cultivate herbs, improve formulas, and research natural-type magic potions."

A light flashed in her eyes: "These are what I truly love."

………………

After seeing the others off, Ron returned to his laboratory.

The laboratory, occupied by only one person, felt somewhat empty.

"It's time to prepare for my own things."

Ron looked at the document on the table—it was the final notification for the Golden Ring assessment.

Ten applicants have been selected, and the assessment will officially begin in a month.

"Time is running out."

Ron silently recited it in his mind.

The Divine Judgment Trial of the Stoves Star, the Life-or-Death Test of the Golden Ring Examination
He needs to give his all to handle every single matter.

………………

The Central Land, the headquarters of the School Alliance.

The Library of Advanced Knowledge is located in the heart of the Alliance complex.

This is a magnificent building constructed of pure white marble and crystal, with thirteen floors, each floor storing precious knowledge from different fields and eras.

From ancient manuscripts of the First Age to the latest research findings of the Fourth Age;
From basic apprenticeship materials to forbidden Dark Sun-level secret techniques.
The wisdom accumulated by countless wizarding civilizations is carefully preserved in this temple of knowledge.

Today, the library welcomed a new librarian.

"Excuse me, who are you?"

The staff member in charge of reception was a woman who looked to be around thirty years old, wearing a badge that read "Assistant Curator" on her chest.

"My last name is Davenport."

The visitor smiled and said in a gentle and polite voice, "Northendavenport."

"I'm here to apply for the position of librarian."

"Davenport?"

The assistant curator paused for a moment: "You mean that 'Crown of Knowledge,' Norman Davenport?"

"Yes."

Norsen nodded, a bitter smile on his face: "I am his great-grandson."

"Based on blood relations, I should be considered a seventh-generation direct descendant."

He sighed, "What a misfortune for our family, that kind of thing happened."

"I have been wandering outside the region for years, and I dare not return to the central land."

"It wasn't until recently that I heard the league had begun to re-examine some historical cases."

So, I think...

His eyes were sincere: "It may no longer be realistic to vindicate our ancestors."

"But at least I can prove that there are still people in the Davenport family who remember the value of knowledge."

These words were spoken with sincerity and sorrow.

The assistant curator's expression immediately turned sympathetic.

"Mr. Norson, please wait a moment."

She began to look through the files:
"Your qualifications have been verified. Three hundred years of experience exploring overseas markets, specializing in knowledge management."

"There is no problem with my qualifications."

She looked up: "However, according to the rules, I need to ask you a few questions."

"please say."

"What are your thoughts on the matter of your ancestor, Norman Davenport?"

This question carries a clear element of probing.

"I understand the league's decision back then."

Norsen said calmly, "Our ancestors did come into contact with things they shouldn't have during their research."

"His mental pollution is an objective fact."

"The league sent him to 'Paradise' for treatment out of protective considerations."

"I have no objection to this."

These words were said without a single flaw.

It acknowledged the "correctness" of the alliance while also expressing "understanding" of the ancestors.

The assistant curator nodded in satisfaction: "Very good."

"So, one last question."

"If you come into contact with some sensitive historical materials at work."

How would you handle this?

"Strictly abide by the regulations."

Norsen's answer was unwavering: "Any material involving sensitive content must be submitted to the Court of Truth for review."

"This is a basic responsibility of a librarian."

"I will not, and I dare not, disobey."

"after all."

He shook his head and sighed, "I don't want to repeat the mistakes of my ancestors."

These words completely dispelled the assistant curator's doubts.

“Very good, Mr. Northon.”

She stood up: "Welcome to the Library of Higher Knowledge."

"Starting tomorrow, you will be responsible for the daily management of the sixth and seventh floors."

"Thank you."

Norsen nodded politely.

As the assistant curator turned to prepare the onboarding documents.

He pushed up his round-framed glasses, a cold, rational glint flashing in his eyes.

"The mistakes of our ancestors"

He repeated the word softly in his mind.

"Of course I won't repeat the same mistake."

"because."

He looked up at the top floor of the library, where countless forbidden "knowledge" were hidden.

“This time, I will do it more ‘reasonably’ and more ‘compliantly’.”

"I will use the most correct method and the most legitimate reason."

"Let everyone see the buried truth."

His smile was as gentle as a friendly uncle's, but the obsession in his eyes had burned for eight hundred years.

And now, there is finally an opportunity to turn this obsession into reality.

Meanwhile, in a dimension that is difficult to locate.

The figure of Hector, the king of absurdity, appeared like a ghost.

His bells rang softly, and his gaze pierced through countless layers of reality, locking onto the library of advanced knowledge.

Norman Davenport

Hector's voice carried a hint of helplessness:
"You stubborn fellow, you really did choose the most dangerous place."

He can see.

Within Norman, the "cognitive confusion" curse that had been forcibly implanted was being overcome little by little.

Eight hundred years of imprisonment did not break his will; instead, it helped him find a way to fight the curse.

"If he really regains consciousness, if he really opens the restricted area."

Hector thought to himself, "I must intervene before he causes great chaos."

"The methods that can be intervened must be 'absurd' enough and 'ingenious' enough."

"I can't let him realize that I'm the one stopping him."

Otherwise, it will only provoke stronger resistance from him.

His bells echoed in the conceptual realm.

Every sound is a meticulous preparation for the "performance" to come.

On the other side, Salcardo, the King of Records, is also closely watching a certain being.

The quasi-Witch King, known as the "Nameless One," embarked on a strange journey after being released.

He didn't go to the library, the core floating city, or the headquarters of any school of thought.

He was just walking.

Starting from the east of Dawn Harbor, we proceed along a seemingly random route in an unknown direction.

Sometimes we walk along the main roads of the city, and sometimes we traverse desolate wilderness.

Sometimes we pause briefly in bustling markets, and sometimes we stay overnight in remote villages.

He didn't speak, didn't communicate with anyone, he just walked.

It was as if they were measuring this land, as if they were searching for something, or perhaps...
They are not looking for anything.

"What is he doing?"

Salcardo's consciousness was firmly locked onto this most dangerous being.

No matter how He deduced or recorded, He could not understand the other party's true purpose.

"It doesn't seem like they're looking for something specific."

"It doesn't seem like some kind of ritual."

"It doesn't seem like they're waiting for an opportunity."

Salcardo frantically flipped through his silver book, trying to find similar cases in history.

Ultimately, He could only conclude one thing: "Incomprehensible."

This made Him even more panicked.

Because "incomprehensible" often means "beyond expectations".

The existence of "exceeding expectations" is the most dangerous.

Hector.

Salcardo's consciousness extended in another direction on the conceptual level: "What do you think?"

"Didn't we already agree on this? I'll handle things with Norman and Elena."

Hector's voice came: "But 'Nameless One,' you must keep a close watch on him."

"He is more dangerous and more unpredictable than Norman."

"I know."

Salcardo's tone was grave: "I will use all my authority to record his every move."

"But what if he really intends to do something?"

"Can we stop it?"

This question caused both witch kings to fall silent.

The strength of the "Nameless One" is already extremely close to that of the Witch King.

If he is truly determined to do something, even if the two of them join forces, they may not be able to completely stop him.

not to mention.
He was imprisoned for an entire era.

Hector's voice deepened: "An era is enough time for anyone's character to become distorted."

"We don't know what he has become now."

"I don't know what he's planning."

"The only thing that can be confirmed is..."

His bells rang out shrilly: "He will not let this go."

In the lower part of the central area, in a dark and narrow alley.

A figure staggered out of the faint light left by the teleportation array.

Elena Moonlight.

Once a legendary great wizard, the pioneer of emotional alchemy, but now...
Her body was trembling violently, and the light in her eyes flickered chaotically like stars in a storm.

As an undead being, her memories are the most chaotic.

After being forcibly summoned back by "the end of death", her soul has been in a state of disarray ever since.

"who I am?"

Elena clutched her head, crouching on the ground in anguish: "Where am I?"

What do I need to do?

Countless voices echoed in her mind:
"Extract the emotion! Purify the pain!"

"Heal everyone! Make the world a better place!"

"Mission accomplished! We can't stop!"

"Keep working! Keep working!"

These voices are all "programs" that "Paradise" has forcibly instilled in her over seven thousand years.

They have been deeply ingrained in her soul, becoming part of her instincts.

But at the same time, other voices were also faintly heard:
"I'm tired."

I want to rest.

"I want to stop!"

Two voices were clashing, plunging her consciousness into extreme confusion.

"No, we can't stop."

Elena struggled to her feet and staggered forward.
"There is still so much pain that needs to be healed."

"There are still so many people who need me."

Her palm unconsciously reached out into the air.

That was the gesture of "emotion extraction"—a gesture she had repeated countless times over seven thousand years.

But at that moment, it was as if she had stepped on an invisible "banana peel".

Suddenly, he stumbled, lost his balance, and fell forward.

"what!"

A gasp came from ahead, and the witch who was passing by instinctively reached out to support her.

That's Lilia.

Before returning to the Emerald Forest, she needs to complete some qualification procedures and intensive training at the Potions Masters Guild in the Central Lands.

Therefore, we will have to stay here for several more months.

"Are you okay?"

Lilia steadied the other person and asked with concern.

But when she saw Elena's face clearly, she was stunned.

That was a face that defies description.

Beautiful, yet empty.

Young, yet lifeless.

The light spots in my eyes were flashing wildly, yet it was as if I couldn't see anything at all.

"This lady?"

Lilia asked tentatively, "Are you feeling unwell?"

"I"

Elena looked at Lilia blankly.

Then, her palm unconsciously touched Lilia's arm.

The ability to "extract emotions" is instinctively activated.

But just as it was about to take effect... she stopped.

Because she "felt" it.

I could feel the pure, warm, and vibrant emotions emanating from Lilia.

That was care.

Care for strangers, compassion for the vulnerable, and respect for life.

It was pure goodwill, without any ulterior motives or hidden agendas.

"This feeling."

Elena stared blankly at Lilia: "It's been so long...so long since I've felt this way."

"what?"

Lilia didn't hear clearly.

"nothing."

Elena forced a smile: "Thank you, little girl."

"I'm just a little tired."

Do you need help?

Lilia looked at her, her eyes filled with worry: "You don't look well."

"How about I take you to a nearby clinic?"

"Need not."

Elena wanted to refuse.

But as soon as she took a step, her body began to sway again.

Seven thousand years of imprisonment, seven thousand years of immortality, seven thousand years of forced labor.

When she finally left "Paradise," and the forces that kept her running began to weaken, her body began to break down.

"You really can't do it this way!"

Lilia immediately stepped forward to support her: "Don't push yourself, come over here, I have some healing potions in my room."

No, not needed.

"There's nothing that's not needed!"

Lilia's tone hardened: "I can't leave you alone in your condition!"

As she spoke, she half-supported and half-carried Elena, leading her to her hostel.

Elena tried to struggle, but she found that she had no strength left.

For the first time in seven thousand years, she felt truly "exhausted".

It's not physical exhaustion, but spiritual exhaustion.

"Maybe."

She said softly to herself, "It's not bad to let someone take care of me this once."

that's it.

A top-tier wizard, an ancient alchemist, a once-glorious being
He was taken back to the inn by a newly promoted official wizard, who treated him like an ordinary patient.

This absurd scene naturally contains the subtle influence of the king of absurdity.

Because He understood that what truly rendered Elena powerless was never absolute strength.

Only that long-lost warmth of being cared for could finally make her soul, which had been stiff for seven thousand years, finally relax.

(End of this chapter)