Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

Research is never a straight line, a fact Ron understood during his apprenticeship.

Especially the anxiety when progress stalls.

It's not as sharp as pain; it's more like a persistent low-grade fever, keeping the mind in a state of both excitement and exhaustion.

As a result, one cannot fully concentrate during the day and cannot fully relax at night.

Cedric calls this state "the researcher's fate".

He is the one who has the right to say this, after all, he was once driven by this state to enter a very dangerous place.

Now, he stands beneath the Dawn Tower, carrying this experience with him, facing countless failed examples.

Cedric reached out, crumpled the draft paper into a ball, and accurately tossed it into the wastebasket in the corner.

“Alright,” he said to Silas, “let’s start over.”

Silas outlined the new direction without saying anything more.

The real challenge lies not in the materials, but in the calibration.

Cedric lingered on this conclusion for a long time before finally confirming it.

The approach of using modified mineral salt as a carrier has shown exciting potential in the initial experiments.

This confirmed Ron's judgment, finally putting an end to the unresolved issue of the research direction.

However, “carrying” and “calibrating” are two completely different things.

The former tests the material properties, while the latter tests the practitioner's precision in perceiving frequency—and this precision requirement is so high that it is almost suffocating.

Because the individual differences in the frequency of mania are far more subtle than Cedric initially anticipated.

A slight difference can lead to complete failure.

Most of the initial dozens of samples failed because of this minute difference.

As usual, Nigel updated the list of losses in the corner, his pen moving very steadily across the paper, after all, this matter had nothing to do with him personally.

In fact, since the project began, a considerable number of accident records have been accumulated in the observation logs.

He recorded each incident in the same format: time, type of accident, direct cause, items lost, and personnel status.

Cedric's talent in sensory cognition played an irreplaceable role at this stage.

He devised a process for extracting emotions, the so ingenuity of which prompted Ron to write in a side note:

"What a pity about this person."

A researcher with such talent should have accomplished much more under better conditions, instead of wasting twenty years in the cracks.

Of the 217 samples, 32 passed the basic testing.

Using trace amounts of blood collected from the remains of three great dukes, as well as live samples from volunteers from various clans in the Chaotic Blood World, the stability of the hedging effect was tested in an in vitro environment.

This round of testing is even more brutal.

Of the thirty-two samples, only seven ultimately demonstrated a truly stable hedging effect. The will was there, but the strength was an order of magnitude lacking.

But seven bottles are already proof that the name "Red String" has become a reality instead of just a piece of paper.

Cedric lined up the seven vials of medicine and stood on the lab table for a long time.

We know we're heading in the right direction, but the road ahead is still long.

Silas stood beside him: "Although the yield is extremely low, it at least proves one thing."

"The effect of the red hook can be promoted and improved. This information alone is enough to change the entire chaotic world order."

Cedric gently touched the sample bottle with his fingertips.

"The overall situation is something for Lord Ralph to consider."

"That's all I want to know right now." He withdrew his hand.
"How to improve the effect on marquises from 'barely effective' to 'stable'."

This is his consistent style.

Before you get the result, the next step is always more important than the current step.

………………

After that great battle, the remains of the three grand dukes remained in the deepest part of the earth for a considerable period of time.

Each time Cedric came, he would stand for a moment in front of each of the three tanks, holding a detector in his hand, and making some routine activity data records.

Finally, one day, he finished his patrol of the corridor and stopped on the stairs.

He glanced back at the door leading to the skeletal remains storage room and said:

"Draven, I have a proposal I'd like you to review."

"Is it about these three bodies?"

"Ah."

The proposal was a nearly thirty-page document, with charts and graphs making up about half of it.

Cedric's technical documents have always been like this—numerous charts, precise data, and extremely concise text.

Each sentence is a conclusion or a derivation step, without any background information or redundant explanations.

This style disregards the reader's comprehension, but for Ron, it's precisely the format he prefers.

He is capable of filling in the background himself; he doesn't need someone else to chew it up and feed it to him.

So he read the entire proposal from beginning to end, and then went back to review the charts and graphs.

Each of the three sets of remains is incomplete when viewed individually, yet they complement each other.

The general plan is to use the strongest Grand Duke Fess of the Wings as the main character, and the other two slightly weaker Grand Dukes as auxiliary materials.

What Cassano lost was precisely what Fes had preserved relatively well;

Ingrid's neural network can compensate for Firth's fine control interface.

The puzzle logic is sound, but to put them together, the problem of the three pieces conflicting with each other must first be solved.

Ron wrote in his reply:

The approach is feasible, but three issues need to be addressed.

First, how should we handle tissue rejection reactions in three different individuals?

Second, what control scheme should be used for the fusion body?
We can't use the Shadow Binding Insect anymore; its upper limit is only Marquis level, and it can't control a Grand Duke level body.

Third, even if it is successfully created, what level of actual combat power can this fusion achieve?
A composite of three incomplete remains is not necessarily stronger than a complete marquis's body.

Of these three questions, the first and third are technical issues, and you will gradually find the answers through experiments.

The second one involves the control core, which I will handle.

When Cedric read the last line, he mentally categorized the reply as "a better-than-expected situation."

He had made two preparations:
One option is that the other party approves, but requires him to solve all the problems himself;
Secondly, his proposal was directly rejected, and he was asked to re-demonstrate its feasibility.

The response, "I will handle it," was unexpected and made him realize that such a good leader was unheard of.

As for Ron, while monitoring the public server, he began trying to solve the second problem.

The Shadowbinding Bug scheme worked quite stably on Alex.

That marquis-level body has become one of the most important strategic weapons of Twilight City.

The originally agreed-upon usage period has been indefinitely extended thanks to Alcadi's deepened cooperation with the Heart Clan.

Whether Alex himself was heartbroken or not, no one has ever asked.

However, the design premise of the Shadow-Binding Insect is that it attaches to the "shadow" and learns and simulates the movement patterns of the body through perception at the shadow level.

This design has an upper limit, which is the magic density of the attached object.

The magic density of the Marquis level is already close to the limit of the Shadowbinding Insect's perception and processing.

The situation is even worse for Grand Dukes: even if the three remains are imperfect products after being pieced together and fused, the residual magic density inside them is still above that of Marquises.

Placing a single Shadow Binding Insect will at best significantly reduce control, and at worst render it completely ineffective.

When this problem was laid out on the table, Ron thought of a word: collaboration.

Shadowbinders are not unusable, but a single one is not enough.

If one can't do it, what about multiple units working together?
This reminded him of a boss in a manga from his previous life, a guy named Goto who was composed of six parasitic beasts, each controlling one of his limbs and core area.

This principle can also be applied to the Shadow Binding Insect.

The three work together, each responsible for different limb areas and functional systems.

When the load on each device is reduced, the processing accuracy will increase; this is the foundational layer.

In addition to this, there is his own spiritual connection, which is used for direct intervention at critical moments.

When needed, he can directly "occupy" the fused entity.

By driving that body with his own will and controlling this powerful weapon with his own hands, he can further enhance its combat power.

With Ron having resolved the core issue, Cedric naturally completed the integration of the three as well.

In the cultivation tank, there appeared a monster that was indeed hard to describe as good-looking.

The posture was somewhat unusual because the degree of bone growth on one shoulder was asymmetrical compared to the other.

The remaining wings of the fins regrowed wing membranes during the fusion process, while the other pair of wings retained only two thick bony spikes.

The scales on the body surface are distributed irregularly, with smooth and rough areas interspersed.

Silas looked up at the fused form: "It's truly ugly."

"As long as he can fight, that's fine." Cedric stood beside him, arms crossed.

"The combat strength of a middle-ranking Grand Duke is already the upper limit that three incomplete remains can provide."

At crucial moments, it can be enough to change the course of the battle.

"It's not perfect, but it's good enough."

………………

The ancestral home of the Heart Clan, the council hall.

Twelve high-backed chairs were arranged in a semicircle, and most of the elders sitting in them were elderly.

By vampire standards, he is at least a thousand years old.

Only the chair in the main seat was empty.

The fact that Alcadi hasn't arrived yet is itself a signal.

In the tradition of the Heart Clan, the Grand Duke's lateness signifies that "I have not yet made a decision on today's matter."

This gave some people an opportunity.

"Gentlemen."

The first to speak was the old marquis, who was sitting in the third chair on the left.

He was among the top three oldest in the council chamber, but unlike the thin and emaciated physique common among vampires of his age, he was as robust as a wall.

"The Red Hook has been borrowed for so long, but the city of Twilight has shown no intention of returning it."

He glanced around, his crimson eyes filled with undisguised anxiety:

Don't you all think this matter has dragged on for far too long?

As soon as he finished speaking, a murmur of agreement rippled through the hall.

A marquis sitting on the right sighed softly:
"Without Hong Gou, I always feel uneasy... like I've handed over my house key to the neighbor next door."

Although the neighbors seem reliable enough, they are still someone else's family.

This analogy was very apt, drawing even more nods of agreement.

Seeing this, the old marquis raised his voice even higher:

"To put it bluntly..."

He stood up, his voice hoarse: "The Grand Duke lent our lifeblood to outsiders, and what did we get in return?"

"Some medicines? A few trade preferences? A so-called 'cooperation agreement'?"

He walked to the clan emblem in the center of the hall and placed his hand on the very center of the emblem.

There was a fist-sized groove there, its shape perfectly matching the red hook.

The groove was empty.

“Look here. Every Heart Clan member who enters this hall will see this void first.”

Do you know what they're thinking?

He turned around, his gaze sweeping over each elder:
"They're thinking about our sacred artifacts; they're gone."

“Our foundation has been borrowed.”

“Our Grand Duke has handed over the most important thing to outsiders.”

"This feeling... is more demoralizing than losing ten cities."

The hall fell silent again, as if something invisible was condensing and falling in the air.

Just then, the door at the end of the hall finally opened.

Arkadi took his seat at the head of the table, unhurried and composed, as always.

"Your speech was excellent; I heard it from the hallway."

The old marquis did not back down: "Your Excellency, this is not a speech, this is a petition."

"I know."

Alcadi nodded, his tone revealing neither joy nor anger:
“I listened to every word you said.”

"That……"

"But you've finished speaking, now it's my turn to speak."

Arkadi raised his hand, stopping the old marquis from speaking.

The air in the hall seemed to freeze at that moment.

The elders present all involuntarily straightened their backs.

So many years of obedience are ingrained in my bones; they cannot be covered up by a few eloquent words.

“I know more about Red Hook than any of you.”

“I handed it over myself, and I know whether it's in this groove or not every day.” “But have you ever considered this question…”

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlaced above his knees.
"How many years have we kept the red hook in our hands?"

No one answered.

"Eight thousand years."

Alcadi asks and answers himself:

"For eight thousand years, the red hook has been lying peacefully in that groove."

"But over the years, has the problem of mania been solved?"

silence.

"Are our people still going mad, falling into depravity, and dying one after another?"

silence.

"There is no doubt that the red hook can suppress various adverse symptoms."

Alcadi's tone suddenly turned cold:
"But it was never the cure."

"It's a crutch that allows you to stand, but you'll never learn to walk."

"For eight thousand years, we have been using this cane, from our youth to our old age."

"If you keep using this support, how long will it last?"

The old marquis's lips moved, but no sound came out.

"You're saying I lent my manhood to an outsider."

Alkadi looked at him, his voice tinged with weariness:
"But have you ever considered that perhaps it's precisely because we treat it so much like our lifeblood..."

"Cai has always refused to face the fact that we cannot survive on red hooks alone."

He stood up and walked to the clan emblem.

I pressed my palm against the empty groove, feeling the faint warmth that remained.

"Nigel."

He didn't turn around, but simply called out a name.

A figure strode out from the side door of the hall.

Nigel Claude, the Heart Clan's overseer stationed in Twilight City.

He bowed to each of the elders present, his manners impeccable yet neither servile nor arrogant, before taking out a sealed document from his robes.

"This is a complete progress report on the research on Red Hook by Twilight City."

Nigel's voice was calm and clear:
"This was written by me personally, and every piece of data has been cross-validated. There is absolutely no exaggeration or concealment."

The document was passed to the elders.

The sound of pages turning filled the hall, occasionally punctuated by a few hushed gasps of surprise.

Nigel stood quietly in place, waiting for everyone to finish reading.

He knew the contents of the report were shocking enough.

It doesn't depict any glorious achievements; on the contrary, the cold, hard data and frank analysis are almost cruelly honest.

In the "Assessment and Recommendations" section, Nigel wrote:

"The core mechanism of the red hook has been initially deciphered."

Although the production of seven bottles was meager, it proved one thing: the red hook effect can be replicated.

"Being able to replicate means being able to mass-produce it;"

Mass production means it can benefit the entire vampire race, not just the few high-ranking nobles qualified to approach Red Hook.

"Continuing to lend Red Hook is in the long-term interest of the Heart Clan far greater than withdrawing it early."

He added a note at the end of this passage, the handwriting slightly smaller than the main text, but exceptionally neat:
"If Twilight City can truly mass-produce high-level anti-madness potions, the Heart Clan, as the lender of Red Hook, will automatically obtain priority supply rights and technology sharing."

This is far more valuable than clinging to an increasingly 'outdated' sacred relic.

After reading the report, the old marquis frowned deeply.

The discussion in the hall lasted for a long time.

Some people support it, some oppose it, and some are undecided.

But in the end, when Alkadi asked for a vote, the elders who supported continuing to observe and wait for the loan period to end before making a decision gained a narrow majority.

………………

Meanwhile, deep within the main tower of the ancestral land of the Crown Clan, Eve was meditating.

The meditation method known as "Absurd Tales," a special practice of the Crown Clan, requires resonance training in order to maintain the faint bond with one's ancestors.

Her spiritual power extended like vines, touching that absurdity buried deep within her bloodline.

Normally, this kind of meditation is calm.

Occasionally, a few fragmented images would flash by, but they were fleeting and did not leave a deep impression on my consciousness.

But today, everything changed when Eve's spiritual tendrils just touched the depths of her bloodline.

There was no warning whatsoever.

Her consciousness was suddenly seized by an extremely ruthless force.

Like an ant being picked up by a giant's finger, the entire spiritual entity lost control of itself.

The world spun around.

When she reopened her eyes of consciousness, she saw an upside-down ocean.

The ground beneath our feet was even more outrageous.

Eve looked down and found herself standing on a giant playing card.

On the cards, the portraits of court figures keep changing:

Sometimes he is a knight wearing a crown, sometimes a priest holding a holy grail, and sometimes a dancer with six arms.

Their faces were always blurry, yet they all wore smiles.

That smile was extremely joyful, as if telling the viewer:
Everything you know is nothing more than an unsolved mystery here.

After her initial surprise, Eve quickly regained her composure.

She recognized the place.

"The ancestral kingdom, the 'Land of Absurdity'?"

The response came quickly.

Someone stuck a note in her mind:
“Little Eve, your mother works as a maid for Allen. Go and bring her back.”

Eve paused for a moment.

She then confirmed two things:

First, this information truly comes from the King of Absurdity; it is neither a hallucination nor external interference.

Second, "Allen" likely refers to Mrs. Allen Meredith—her mentor's mentor and also her mother's senior in school.

Then, as if to confirm her guess, an amethyst butterfly materialized from nothingness.

The butterfly circled above the playing cards once, then gently landed on a medicinal herb.

When the butterfly stopped flapping its wings, the herb had transformed into Cassandra's face.

The mother on the human-faced grass suddenly started staring at her and laughing in the blink of an eye.

Eve was awakened by this bizarre scene.

She raised her hand and found her fingers trembling violently.

The mother is not only alive, but also in the Lord's world.

She worked as a maid for Mrs. Allen in the herbal medicine shop in the Emerald Forest.

"Seventy years..."

She transformed herself from a sickly girl who wasn't even a proper wizard into a Dark Sun-level wizard and a candidate for Grand Wizard.

Over the years, she has experienced the passing of the torch and the departure of Professor Utter, the long-distance relationship with Ron from teacher and student to husband and wife, and countless close calls and struggles.

Throughout all of this, she believed that her mother was no longer alive.

It wasn't that she gave up hope; it was that she learned to seal it away.

The greater the expectation, the greater the disappointment.

But now, the lock opened with a gentle touch from the amethyst butterfly.

………………

When the communication crystal was activated, Elena was sunbathing in the treetop canopy, like a big cat taking a nap.

“Your Highness Eve,” she said without even lifting her eyelids, “I guess you finally found out.”

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the communication crystal.

“Senior Elena, you already knew that my mother is with Mrs. Allen.”

It was said in an affirmative tone.

"know."

Elena opened her eyes, sat up straight in the treetop, her legs dangling in mid-air.

"Actually, I was the first to discover her. I sensed her presence as soon as Cassandra reached the edge of the forest."

Even if the ethereal energy at the level of a Grand Wizard has weakened to its lowest point, it's still as conspicuous to me as a campfire in the dark.

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she wasn't the right person to meet you at that time."

Elena glanced at the communication screen; the black-haired princess was biting her lip.

"Eve, have you ever seen a great wizard whose body is mostly shattered, whose body is filled with various incompatible and heterogeneous energies, and whose mental state is constantly teetering on the brink of collapse?"

"The night she arrived, her hands were trembling even as she held a teacup."

"What do you think would happen if you asked someone in this state to face their most cherished daughter?"

Eve did not answer.

“She’ll break down,” Elena said, providing the answer for her.
"And the way she breaks down will never be by holding you and crying."

"Given your mother's personality, there's only one way she could break down:"
To prove one's continued strength through more extreme means, to show off, to take risks, and to do things completely without regard for the consequences.

Why did she venture alone into the cradle of the Vital star system back then?
It's because she can't accept the possibility that 'I might not win.'

"If you let her see you in that state, she'll do the same stupid thing to prove to you that 'Mom is still strong.'"

"At that time, it won't just be her who dies."

These words were utterly merciless, and they brought Eve to her senses completely.

She knew Elena was right.

Based on her understanding of her mother, Cassandra saw herself in that extremely weak state.

My first reaction would be, "I can't let her see me like this."

Then, they will try every means to hide their vulnerability.

The most direct way to hide vulnerability is to force yourself to do things beyond your capabilities.

"But things are different now."

Elena's languidness vanished, and she answered earnestly:
"Most of the foreign energy in your mother's body has been cleared away."

The remaining things, while still needing time to process, at least no longer pose a threat to her life.

"Mental state..."

She played with a strand of her hair:
"How should I put it? After spending these few years with Allen, I've at least learned to stop seeing every problem as an obstacle that needs to be crushed with force."

"She can now accept that she can't do certain things, ask others for help, and honestly correct herself after being scolded."

"Although I still mutter things like 'Senior, senior, you're too harsh,' at least I don't want to flip the table like I used to when I encounter setbacks."

“She has made great progress, at least for her.”

Eve's lips involuntarily curled up slightly.

She tried to imagine her mother silently admitting her mistake after being scolded by Mrs. Allen, and found that the image was unusually vivid in her mind.

The woman who once commanded thousands of wizards was now squatting in the backyard, diligently pruning herbs. When someone pointed out her mistake, she lowered her head and muttered, "I know."

It was absurd, yet it made her nose sting with tears.

"There is an even more important reason."

Elena lowered her voice slightly:
"The park is collapsing at an accelerated pace."

This statement pulled Eve back from her personal emotions to a more macro level.

"Don't ask me how I know, I just have my own channels."

The park's defenses have developed large-scale cracks, and a window of opportunity of several to more than a decade is expected, though no one can accurately calculate the exact timeframe.

But one thing is certain: when the park completely collapses, all the power it has suppressed will be released simultaneously.

"At that time, the wizard civilization will face a great shock no less than the end of the last era."

She jumped from the treetop and landed steadily.

"Regardless of her current state, your mother is one of the few top-tier wizards in the wizarding civilization."

In the face of a crisis of that magnitude, no powerful wizard capable of fighting should be wasted on gathering herbs.

"It's simply not enough time for me to slowly treat her in the small room."

She needs a more systematic treatment plan, stronger resource support, and a reason for her to fully cooperate with the treatment.

The witch stared directly at the communication screen: "The only reason is you."

Thank you for your answer.

Eve bowed slightly to Elena, her resolve hardening: "I will go and bring my mother back." (End of Chapter)