Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

The air froze as Ron stepped into the conference hall.

The Moon-level wizards, who had been chatting casually, all stopped moving in unison.

As if drawn by an invisible force, all eyes turned to the black-robed figure at the door.

His steps were neither hurried nor slow, each step carrying a certain rhythm, as if striking an invisible drumbeat.

The gold ring badge on his chest refracted a sharp light under the crystal chandelier.

That's not just a medal; it's a ticket to a higher level, a qualification earned through a life-or-death struggle.

Nitil sat in the main seat, her fiery eyes lingering on Ron for a moment.

She could sense that the young man's aura had undergone a qualitative transformation compared to a month ago.

The fluctuations of mental energy became more restrained, and the flow of magic became more fluid.

He was like a sharp sword drawn from its sheath and then sheathed again—still sharp, but with a touch more composure.

"Associate Professor Ron."

Nitil broke the silence first, her voice full of approval:
"Congratulations on passing the Golden Ring assessment and receiving an 'Excellent' rating."

This is an honor for our observatory, and the best proof of your personal abilities.

She rose slightly and made a welcoming gesture:
"Please sit down, we have many things to discuss."

Ron nodded in acknowledgment and took a seat on one side of the long table.

He could clearly sense that the gazes of Nitil's confidants in the meeting hall had shifted from hostility to caution when they looked at him.

The pass rate for the Golden Ring assessment speaks for itself:
With a 30% mortality rate and a 50% failure rate, only 20% of people manage to survive.

Of these 20%, only a very small percentage can achieve an "excellent" rating.

"The acting station manager is too kind."

Ron's tone was calm, neither arrogant nor overly humble.
"The Golden Ring assessment has indeed benefited me greatly."

My experience on the seventh level of the abyss gave me a clearer understanding of my own abilities.

"That's good."

Nitil sat down again, her fingers, formed of solidified flames, tapping lightly on the table:
“However, Associate Professor Ron, we’ve convened this meeting today not just to celebrate your return.”

Her tone began to become formal:
"As a forward base for deep-sea exploration, the stable operation of every core facility at the observation station is related to the life and safety of hundreds of explorers."

"As our most important strategic asset, the question of who controls the 'submersible device' must be clearly resolved."

The atmosphere in the conference room tensed up again after those words were spoken.

The neutral wizards began exchanging glances, while Nytil's confidants wore expressions of schadenfreude.

They all knew that the real game was just beginning.

"as far as I know."

Nitil continued, her voice beginning to carry the oppressive magic of a great wizard:
"Professor Utel did grant you some operational authority over the submersible when he was alive."

We all acknowledge and respect this point.

"However."

She changed the subject:
Professor Utter has passed away.

As the acting station chief of the observation station, I have a responsibility to ensure that all strategic assets are under reasonable, transparent, and controllable management.

"Although you have mastered the operation technology of the diving device, you have applied for a long-term seclusion."

An unattended core facility is itself a huge security risk.

Her fiery eyes were fixed on Ron:
"Therefore, I hope you can transfer full control of the submersible to the Base Station Committee for unified management."

Of course, you can still retain your role as a technical advisor and provide assistance when needed.

"This arrangement ensures the normal operation of the facilities while also protecting your rights. What do you think?"

These words sound grand and logically sound.

But everyone present could tell that what Nydia really wanted was not "unified management" at all, but rather to completely strip Ron of his control over the submersible.

Once Ron agrees, the observatory's most crucial strategic asset will fall entirely into Nitil's hands.

At that time, she will be able to truly control the lifeline of the entire observatory.

A brief silence fell over the meeting room as everyone awaited Ron's response.

However, Ron simply smiled faintly:
"Acting station manager, I think you've misunderstood a crucial fact."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly throughout the entire hall:
"The 'diving device' has never been the 'public property' of the observation station."

It is Professor Utter's personal belongings, representing his individual research findings.

"And as his sole designated heir, I have full ownership of this device."

These words exploded like a bomb in the conference hall.

Nitil's expression darkened:
"Associate Professor Ron, what do you mean by that?"

"literal meaning."

Ron placed his hand on his chin:
"When Professor Yutel was constructing the submersible, the core material he used was fragments of his own remains."

The device's energy circuits, spatial anchors, and dimensional coordinate system—all of these are deeply bound to his mental frequency.

"Before he passed away, he had completely transferred control of the system to me and officially registered it with the base station consciousness."

He squinted at Nydiel:
"In other words, this device now belongs to 'Ralph' and is my private property."

"If the acting site administrator wants to take over, then please ask..."

Ron's voice became extremely aggressive:
"What grounds do you intend to use to forcibly seize a private estate?"

These words hit the nail on the head.

Nitil's face turned extremely ugly.

She has absolutely no legal basis to forcibly seize the other party's private property.

If she actually does that, it would be tantamount to openly violating the fundamental rules of the academic alliance.

"But."

Nitil gritted her teeth and said:
"If you remain in seclusion for an extended period and the equipment is left unattended, how can the entire observatory's exploration work proceed?"

“I was prepared for this.”

Ron took out an exquisite metal sphere from his storage bag, which automatically transformed into an alchemical puppet after leaving his palm.

That was the Explorer 1, which had undergone multiple optimizations and upgrades by Nari.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to introduce myself."

He stood up:
"This is Explorer One, an alchemical golem with complete self-awareness."

"It possesses all my knowledge of operating the submersible equipment, yet it has no personal feelings or political ambitions."

"From today onwards, it will remain in the control room 24 hours a day, perfectly executing all the 'reasonable' exploration tasks of the observatory."

He looked at Nydiel:
"This way, the normal operation of the equipment is guaranteed, and no one's rights are infringed. Acting station manager, what do you think of this plan?"

Nitil's fiery eyes were fixed on the metal humanoid figure.

She could sense that the golem's mental fluctuations were indeed highly similar to Ron's, yet it maintained a certain mechanical, pure rationality.

What made her even more wary was that she could vaguely sense a subtle connection between this golem and the consciousness of the observatory's main body, the "King of Geometry."

"Secondary binding."

Nitil's voice was very low:
"You've secondary-bound it to the base station's consciousness?"

"Yes."

Ron made no attempt to hide it:
"This is to ensure the safety of the device."

If someone attempts to forcibly damage or seize control, the base station will treat it as a direct attack on core facilities, thus triggering its defense mechanisms.

The subtext of this sentence is all too obvious:
Nitil, no matter how strong your flames are, you can't take it by force.

Otherwise, you're declaring war on the entire base station.

In the conference room, Nitil's fiery eyes scanned back and forth between Ron and Explorer One.

There was a full minute of silence, and then she suddenly laughed.

The raging flames in those burning eyes gradually subsided.

"Associate Professor Ron."

Nitil's voice regained its composure:
“You are the most ‘shrewd’ young man I have ever met. I take back my previous suggestion.”

"You're right. What the observatory needs is 'efficiency,' and the stable operation of its core facilities. As for who has control, that's another matter."

She spread her hands:
"As long as the goal can be achieved, the form is not important."

This turn of events happened so quickly that many people present were stunned.

But Ron knew perfectly well:
"These are the 'smart people' who are able to hold high positions."

He thought to himself:
“When she realizes the cost of suppressing me—offending Vinard, Salamanda, and the Base Station consciousness, without gaining any real benefits, and that the disadvantages far outweigh the benefits of winning me over, her ‘goodwill’ will flow out continuously.”

Sure enough, Nitil immediately announced:
“Now that Associate Professor Ron has provided a complete solution, I, on behalf of the observatory management, formally approve the entry of Explorer One into the control room.”

"and."

Her voice became more solemn:
“I will personally sign the protection order.”

During Associate Professor Ron's seclusion, no one may disturb his family at the observatory.

"Ms. Ailan and Miss Dale will enjoy security treatment at the 'acting station chief level'."

"In addition, the observatory will give priority to supplying Associate Professor Ron with all the cultivation resources he needs."

This series of promises came like sugar-coated bullets.

In the conference hall, those who had originally wanted to watch the spectacle now wore extremely interesting expressions.

What is Nitil doing? Is she trying to make amends?

"Thank you for your generosity, acting station manager."

Ron bowed slightly, his tone neither humble nor arrogant:
"I will remember this kindness."

Nitil nodded, then waved:
"The meeting is now adjourned. Gentlemen, meeting adjourned."

Everyone got up and left.

But everyone knew in their hearts that today's meeting was actually a power struggle without bloodshed.

The final result is:
Ron retained control of the submersible, while Nydia gained access to it.

Both parties get what they need and everyone is happy.

At least, that's how it appears on the surface.

When Ron was the only one left in the conference room, he slowly exhaled.

The game just now may have seemed easy, but it was, after all, a direct confrontation with a hostile great wizard.

"but."

Ron looked at the Explorer One in his hand:
"The real contest has only just begun."

He could sense that Nitil's apparent "goodwill" concealed a deeper scheming.

This newly promoted Grand Wizard is no benevolent person.

Her concession today is probably just a strategic detour.

"But that's okay."

Ron muttered to himself, "I'm also waiting for my chance."

"When I have truly established myself, when I have enough strength..."

"The answer to who should lead this observatory will naturally come."

He turned and left the meeting room, his black robe fluttering silently behind him.

In the shadows deep within the hall, Explorer One hovered, its mechanical eyes gleaming with a ghostly blue light.

It waits, waiting for the moment it will be sent to the control room.

Waiting to begin its true mission:
Not only did they operate the diving equipment, but they also became Ron's "eyes" and "ears" at the observation station.

Monitor everything, record everything, and take control of everything at crucial moments.

………………

After leaving the meeting room, Ron returned to his private residence at the observatory.

He sat at his desk, unfolded a parchment, and began to outline his future cultivation plan.

The next stage goal for magic compression is five times, eight times, and even more than ten times;
The direction for expanding and constructing spell circuits;
Advanced paths for radiation fields;
There are also breakthroughs that require special conditions within the Nari Palace to achieve.
Each of these tasks requires a massive investment of time.

Ron held a quill pen in his hand and wrote a number on the paper: eighteen years.

This is the minimum time cost required to reach the Dark Sun level, which he derived after meticulous calculations.

"Eighteen years"

His pen stopped on the paper.

For a Moon-level wizard, this time span is indeed not too long.

It's common for cultivators of the same level to go into seclusion for decades in order to break through a minor realm.

But the moment he wrote down that number, a picture suddenly flashed into Ron's mind.

That was the night his brother Edmund handed him a cup of sweet floral tea from the watchtower of Ralph Castle.

The moonlight was like water, the Milky Way was dazzling, and the two brothers stood side by side:

"When we were little, we often lay here counting stars and making all sorts of wishes..."

When we parted that night, there was an undisguised sense of melancholy in my brother's eyes.

It was as if they had already foreseen that after this parting, the next meeting would be a long time away.

Ron's hands trembled slightly as he recalled Andrei's words in the palace:
"If one day I turn into a handful of dust, I hope you will have time to visit my grave..."

At that time, Andrei's blond hair shone like the sun, and his eyes burned with the ambition to build a great career.

But he also understood that there was a chasm called "time" between mortals and wizards.

"Eighteen years"

Ron put down his pen and closed his eyes.

For him, this was just an ordinary milestone on his path of spiritual cultivation.

But what about his father, his brother, and Andrei?

Eighteen years is enough for a person in their prime to enter old age, for a middle-aged person to become an old person, and for an old person to leave forever.

He opened his eyes and his gaze fell on the exquisite storage box on the bookshelf—it contained portraits of his family and strands of hair, souvenirs that Edmund had given him years ago.

"I can't just disappear like this."

Ron slowly stood up:
"At least I can't let them think I've forgotten my hometown without giving them any explanation."

He walked to a corner of the laboratory, where a basic long-distance projector was placed.

This instrument can transmit images in real time across several continents.

However, it consumes a lot of energy and is usually only used for emergency military communications.

As for long-distance communication across star systems or even star regions, that involves the power of a Grand Wizard and some more advanced technologies that he has not yet learned about.

He began to debug the device, the first thing he needed to do was determine the coordinates.

Shortly after Andrei ascended the throne, he sent the king a matching "small receiving beacon".

It was a silver badge inlaid with star patterns.

Normally worn on the chest as a symbol of royal power, it can be activated at crucial moments to receive remote communications from Ron.

The two agreed that the beacon would only be used in the most urgent situations.

Because the magic required to activate it is enough to bankrupt a high-ranking apprentice.

"I hope that badge is still around."

Ron channeled his mental energy into the projector and began searching for that unique frequency.

The magical energy rippled outwards, crossing the barrier.

Finally, at some distant coordinate, a faint resonance was captured.

Found it! It's in the royal palace of the Kingdom of Farouk.

Ron took a deep breath and began to pour a large amount of magic into that coordinate.

The projector emitted a buzzing sound, and the runes on its surface lit up one after another, causing the entire device to begin to vibrate violently.

The laboratory's energy indicator was beating wildly:
The amount of magic consumed every minute is enough to make a Morning Star wizard feel the pinch for half a day.

Ron remained unfazed and continued to output damage steadily.

Radiance began to gather before him.

Initially, it was just a blurry point of light, which gradually expanded and became clearer, eventually forming a three-dimensional projection window the size of a person.

On the other side of the window was the secret meeting room of Farouk Palace.

The familiar room was still arranged just as I remembered:
A heavy oak table, a map of the kingdom hanging on the wall, and a warm fire burning in the fireplace.

In the center of the room, a figure stood with his back to the projection window, gazing at the scenery outside.

That was Andrei. He was taller than I remembered, with broader shoulders, and his back exuded an air of authority that had been built up over the years.

Her long, golden hair was still as dazzling as the sunlight, but it was now tied into a more dignified bun at the back of her head.

"Andre."

Ron spoke softly.

The figure suddenly turned around.

When Andrei saw the figure in the projection clearly, he was completely stunned.

He had a short beard, and fine lines had appeared at the corners of his eyes.

The naivety of youth has completely faded, leaving only the maturity and composure of a monarch.

But at this moment, the king's expression was as if he had seen a ghost.

"Scared me!"

His voice trembled a little:

"Ron, is it really you?"

"it's me."

Ron smiled and nodded:

"Sorry for the long delay in contacting you."

Andrei strode to the projection window and carefully examined the other person.

Then he suddenly laughed.

That smile held relief, emotion, and nostalgia:
"You...you really haven't changed at all. You're still the same as when you left back then."

"but me"

He stroked his beard and laughed heartily:
"You've probably changed so much that you almost wouldn't recognize you, have you?"

“How could that be?” Ron shook his head.
“You now look like a true monarch. The Kingdom of Farouk will surely prosper under your rule.”

"Okay."

Andrei walked to the table and poured himself a glass of wine:

"Although we encountered many difficulties, we managed to get through them all."

The things you gave me back then were a huge help.

He shook his head and laughed:
"Of course, there's also your reason. The name 'Ron Ralph' and the meaning it represents as a formal wizard are themselves the strongest deterrent."

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Andrei's expression turned serious:

"You contacted me this time not just to catch up, right?"

“Indeed.” Ron nodded.
"I need to see my father and brother. Could you please invite them here?"

Andrei was silent for a moment, then finally nodded:
“Alright, they should be at Ralph Manor now. I’ll send someone to fetch them immediately.”

"but."

He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something but then stopped himself.

"Ron, you need to be prepared."

These words made Ron's heart tighten.

Andrei said nothing more, then turned and ordered his servants to summon Archduke Ralph and Edmund.

The waiting time was extremely long.

Ron stood on this side of the projection window, where he could clearly see every detail in the private meeting room across the way.

Several new portraits have been hung on the wall, all depicting important moments since Andrei's ascension to the throne.

The coronation ceremony, the grand wedding celebration, and another image shows him standing on the newly built city wall, gazing at the future of the kingdom.

“You’ve grown a lot,” he said softly.

“I have to grow up.” Andrei sighed, his signature sour face returning as it had years ago.
"Sitting in this position, everything will force you to mature quickly."

"Over the years, I have executed three rebellious nobles, quelled two border wars, and narrowly escaped assassination."

His tone was calm, as if he were telling someone else's story:

“Every day when I wake up, I think about whether the kingdom will fall into chaos if something unexpected happens today.”

“But every time I encounter a crisis, I remember what you said: ‘I promise you, no matter how long it takes, I will come back to see your kingdom.’”

Andrei turned to look at Ron in the projection:
"That sentence has sustained me until now."

At this moment, there were rapid footsteps outside the door.

The servant's voice rang out:
"Your Majesty, Grand Duke Ralph and Earl Edmund have arrived."

"Invite them in."

The heavy oak door was pushed open, and two figures hurriedly entered the private meeting room.

Ron's gaze fell on the two figures, and he froze.

Walking in front was his brother Edmund.

The once spirited and vigorous family heir has now entered middle and old age.

His temples were streaked with frost, and the contours of his face became more defined, etched with the marks of years of hard work.

The crow's feet at the corners of her eyes are deep, and the wrinkles on her forehead are clearly visible.

But what truly shook Ron to his core was the figure walking behind him.

His father in this life was the former Earl Ralph.

The tall, imposing knight on the battlefield in my memory has now become old and frail.

His hair was gray, his body was slightly hunched, and his face was covered with age spots.

He needs a cane to support him when walking, and each step seems a bit strenuous.

But when he saw the familiar figure in the projection, his cloudy eyes immediately lit up.

"It's Ron."

The old man's lips trembled incessantly:

"My child, is it really you?"

He was so excited that he trembled all over, and his cane almost slipped from his hand, but fortunately Edmund caught him in time.

Father."

Ron's voice was also somewhat hoarse:

"It's me. I've come to see you all."

The two ends of the projection window form a stark and brutal contrast.

Ron still looks like the young man he was when he became a full-fledged wizard.

He has a handsome face, clear eyes, and a vitality that remains as strong as ever.

His father and brother, however, grew old irrevocably in the torrent of time that mortals experience.

This is the cruelest paradox between wizards and mortals.

When one person's life is extended indefinitely, the other can only hastily approach the end within a limited number of years.

"You...you really haven't changed at all."

The old man, tears streaming down his face, tried to touch the projection with trembling hands, but could only pass through the illusory light and shadow:
"My child, if your mother were still alive, she would be so happy to see you like this."

His voice grew increasingly choked with emotion, and in the end he could only repeat:
"You're so lucky to be so young. You look so good, it really makes me..."

Edmund helped his father to a chair, and then sat down at the table himself.

His eyes were also red, but as the current pillar of the family, he had to remain calm.

"Ron."

The elder brother took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice steady:

"Did you encounter some trouble when you contacted us this time? What kind of assistance do you need from your family?"

These words warmed Ron's heart.

Even after so many years, even knowing that an insurmountable chasm has formed between me and my brother.

The older brother's first reaction was still, "Do you need help?"

"No, I'm fine."

He shook his head, then looked intently at his father and elder brother:
“I know you have always treasured the beacon that Andrei gave you.”

"I have a question: aside from regular letters home, why have you never contacted me proactively all these years? Not even once?"

This question brought a brief silence to the private meeting room.

Edmund and the eldest duke exchanged a glance, and finally the elder brother spoke:

"Ron, of course we miss you very much."

His voice was soft, yet incredibly sincere:

“Every day, your father would sit in your room for a while.”

We haven't touched any of the things you left behind before you left.

“I also often go to the watchtower, which reminds me of the days when we counted stars together when we were kids.”

"But."

Edmund shook his head with a wry smile:

“After His Majesty Andre ascended the throne, we asked the court’s senior apprentices to assess how much it would cost to activate that ‘beacon’.”

"He told us that activating a remote projection requires magic equivalent to the value of ten complete magic stones."

"Maintaining a stable call consumes the equivalent of one magic stone every ten minutes."

Edmund looked at Ron:

"How can we waste such a huge amount of your resources because of our own personal feelings?"

“You must have something more important to do in that world.”

“We are just your family, but you are… in the words of that court apprentice, ‘a genius who could change the course of civilization.’”

The eldest duke added in a trembling voice:
“Child, we really don’t want to be a burden to you.”

“We know that the path you have taken is beyond the comprehension of us mere mortals.”

"The only thing we can do is live well here, manage the family well, and not cause you any trouble."

"As long as we know you are alive and still pursuing your dreams, we are content."

These words struck Ron's heart like a heavy hammer.

His throat tightened, and he couldn't speak for a moment.

It turns out, it wasn't that they didn't care about him.

They are simply protecting this family bond in their own way.

They would rather endure the torment of longing than "disrupt" his future.

“Father, brother,” Ron’s voice was a little hoarse:

“You have never been a burden, and never will be.”

Edmund smiled with satisfaction:

"We know, so you don't need to worry about us."

"We've had a great year, really."

He began to recount the changes that had occurred over the years:
"Your name as a 'genius wizard' is the kingdom's strongest deterrent."

“Those neighboring countries that were once eyeing us covetously are now all treating Farouk with utmost respect.”

"His Majesty Andrei fulfilled the alliance immediately two years after his ascension to the throne."

Edmund's face was full of pride:

"Your nephew is now the prince consort of the princess of the Kingdom of Farouk."

The marriage alliance between the Ralph family and the royal family has made our position as solid as a rock.

"The family is now the largest noble family in the kingdom, its territory has tripled, and its knightly order is ten times larger than it was back then."

The eldest son also added:
"The things you regularly ship back through the Chamber of Commerce—potions, enchanted weapons, and alchemical creations that we can't understand—are all properly stored by us."

"A portion of it was used for family development, which has multiplied our wealth and power many times over."

"Another portion is reserved as a strategic reserve to deter those with ill intentions."

Edmund looked intently at Ron:

"We lack nothing, we are safe and sound."

"So Ron, you don't need to worry about us."

“You are doing more important things. All we can do is not become a ‘burden’ to you and protect your hometown.”

These words moved Ron and made him feel both touched and heartbroken.

His family members are silently supporting this kinship that transcends a long distance in ways they can understand.

That's precisely why it's even harder to say what follows.

Ron was silent for a moment, then finally said:
“Father, brother, Andrei, I am about to undergo a very important deep meditation.”

"Maybe."

"At least eighteen years."

The moment the words "eighteen years" were uttered, the faces of the three people opposite the projection turned deathly pale.

The eldest son's hands trembled violently, and he almost dropped the cup.

Edmund jumped to his feet, staring at Ron in disbelief:

"Eighteen years? You mean you're going to cut off all communication for eighteen years?"

"sorry."

Ron nodded, his eyes full of apology:
"This is the only way for me to break through to the next level."

Andrei forced himself to calm down; as king, he had to consider more practical matters:

“Ron, you and I both know that mortals have a limited lifespan.”

“Eighteen years from now, I will still be in my prime and can continue to wield royal power.”

"but."

He looked at the First Duke and Edmund: "Where are they?"

This cruel question plunged the private meeting room into a deathly silence.

The eldest son is over seventy years old this year.

Even if he is still in relatively good health, it is uncertain whether he will still be alive eighteen years later.

Edmund has also entered middle age and old age, and in eighteen years he will be in his twilight years.

"and"

Andrei continued, his tone becoming more somber:
“The support we have now is based on the belief that ‘Ron is alive and active.’”

"Those enemies who are intimidated by your fame—the kings of neighboring countries, ambitious nobles, and even the undercurrents of the church—are all patient and waiting."

"What if you 'disappeared' for eighteen years?"

He didn't finish his sentence, but everyone understood what it meant.

Those suppressed ambitions will erupt like a flood breaking through a dam.

They will probe, they will attack, they will use various methods to test.

Does that "wizard master" still care about this land?

And once they confirm that Ron has "ignored" them, the consequences will be unimaginable.

"I know."

"Therefore, I decided to leave behind a 'one-and-done' solution before going into seclusion."

Ron looked at Andrei:
"Andrei, could you arrange for someone to set up a small receiving array in the secret chamber of the royal palace and underground at Ralph Castle?"

"I will provide detailed design drawings and a list of required materials."

"The magic circle is not large in scale, but it must be extremely precise. It will become the 'anchor' connecting me to this land."

Andrei nodded immediately:
"No problem, how long will it take?"

"At your efficiency, it will take about a month."

Ron replied:
"During this period, I will prepare the core materials."

The eldest son asked tremblingly:
"Child, what can this 'anchor point' do?"

A cold glint flashed in Ron's eyes:
"It ensures that even if I disappear for eighteen years or more, my protection will still exist."

"And the stronger I become, the stronger this protection will be." (End of Chapter)