Don't disturb the sorcerer's scientific research

Chapter 231 The matter seems to be resolved...

The exit is right there.

Little Jack stared at the basement exit, which was just a stone's throw away, secured only by an old lock.

He can open such a lock in ten seconds, no, five seconds.

Having opened all the locks in the manor, that's how confident I am.

However, the hoarse voice coming from behind him made his back tremble uncontrollably.

Why? Wasn't that bad guy already asleep?
Little Jack didn't dare to look back.

It's as if as long as you don't look back, you won't face the most desperate situation.

He rushed headlong toward the exit, his trembling hand clutching a short piece of wire—his key to hope.

But because he was too nervous, he couldn't even poke the lock properly, even though it should have opened easily.

A slow, unhurried voice came from behind.

"You know, a long time ago, hypnotic drugs stopped working on me; they only made me a little calmer."

The voice was steady and calm, explaining to itself why he wasn't asleep, without rushing to catch Little Jack, who was trying to escape.

He seemed to have everything under control.

“Everything should have gone smoothly, proceeding exactly as planned. This decadent city disappeared in silence, and the clean land was free from sin, pain, and torment. I had chosen the most lenient way to let everything end in a dream, but you rejected my mercy and insisted on ruining my plan.”

The hoarse voice gradually took on emotion, turning into anger.

It seems that what angered him most about Jack's escape was not the escape itself, since it hadn't been successful yet, but rather that the attempt to escape had slightly altered his plans.

The words, when spoken to Little Jack, became a tremendous burden.

His movements were completely distorted.

The old, broken lock was now as if it had been enchanted with the most intricate protective magic, and it could not be opened no matter what.

“I gave you a chance, but you didn’t seize it. Disobedient children must receive the most severe punishment. You will not find relief in your sleep; you must be awake and experience everything, and become the next sacrifice.”

As punishment for those who attempted to escape, he decided to change the original order of sacrifices.

A rough, large hand gripped Jack's slender ankle tightly, like an iron clamp.

Little Jack knew he had failed and closed his eyes in despair...

Suddenly, I heard a "click" sound, which sounded a bit like a lock being pulled open.

Immediately afterwards, I felt my vision turn red.

Even with his eyes closed, Little Jack could clearly feel that the darkness had turned bright red.

Is there something bright up ahead?
He was a child who loved to observe life, and he discovered early on that closing your eyes didn't mean you couldn't see anything.

For example, if you close your eyes and look up at the sun during the day, you can see the red color even through your eyelids.

He couldn't imagine why there was a sudden bright light, but instinctively, Jack lowered his head. This was his last struggle; what if the bright light blinded the bad guys and they let go?

In the instant he looked down, he felt something fly past his hair and the fine hairs on the back of his neck, leaving only a slightly warm feeling.

Then, the large hand that had been gripping his ankle loosened, and half a second later, a thud and a painful groan came from the basement.

At the same time, sounds came from ahead.

"Are you starting with a big fireball? What if you burn a child?"

"Don't worry, my most proficient spell is the Great Fireball. When your master taught his students, regardless of their school of thought, they all required them to master the Great Fireball. It was a tradition of their sect, and students who didn't learn it well wouldn't graduate. This fireball will be absolutely accurate, and it looks very dangerous..."

"It's actually not safe at all?"

"Actually, it's very safe! You should thank me for not continuing the tradition of our sect. You can't even throw a big fireball, what kind of mage are you?"

"I'm not a mage!"

So what just flew by was a huge fireball.

That's actually quite accurate.

Little Jack listened to the conversation and felt it sounded familiar; he thought he had heard it somewhere recently.

Has someone come to rescue them?
He tried to open his eyes and could vaguely see several figures.

Although he couldn't see clearly, he remembered where he had heard those two voices before.

"Mr. Reporter?"

"Yes, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Jia Xiu helped little Jack, who was lying on the stairs, up.

Are the others here as well?

"They're all down there, locked up. Please save them!"

"Of course, don't worry, it will be over soon."

Judging from the effect of that big fireball, Jia Xiu and his group had a general idea of ​​what was going on.

This person who performs sacrifices is a pervert.

That's all there is to it; he's no match for Margaret at all, and Elizabeth doesn't even need to lift a finger.

Perhaps Larvin's average level is a bit too high, or perhaps he has seen too many high-level combatants, so it's a little hard to get used to a villain who can't even withstand a big fireball.

Margaret strode down the basement stairs with an air of indifference.

Jia Xiu cast a light spell on the back, a normal one, illuminating the dim space.

The basement is very large, twice the size of the living area above ground.

Looking around, one wall was covered with documents nailed to it. A quick glance revealed words related to demons and the undead.

The most important thing was an altar, and on a platform in front of the altar was a thick book that exuded a magical aura; it was probably a ritual book.

This isn't mentioned in the records about the Sleep Demon; I'll have to study it in more detail later.

Facing the altar was an iron cage and a wall neatly hung with knives. The murderer was indeed an obsessive-compulsive, as even the basement was tidy.

Inside the cage, several children were sleeping on the floor.

They look terrible, but they're all still alive.

Jia Xiu felt a little relieved.

Sacrificing a child for a ridiculous reason is never something that can be accepted, no matter the circumstances.

Meanwhile, the culprit was smashed against the corner of the wall, covered in rubble and dust, his clothes burned to ashes, leaving only black ash and small fragments, with a few small flames still burning.

That fireball hit hard.

Although spellcasters often ridicule the Fireball spell for lacking imagination and technical skill, it must be admitted that it is indeed simple, brutal, and effective.

Jia Xiu and his group now have the appearances of a golden-haired man, an orc, a drow, and a lich.

Standing there so aggressively, the one sprawled on the ground seemed more like the victim.

Because his clothes were burned away, he is now completely "open and honest".

Upon closer inspection, its skin was deathly pale, covered with large, regularly spaced wounds, seemingly traces of some kind of modification.

Different parts of the body are covered with different magical runes, and some even have magical items implanted in several parts. At first glance, they look quite impressive, but upon closer inspection, it's not hard to see that they are not as useful as they appear.

It's not systematic; it feels like a desperate attempt to find a cure, with all sorts of effects added haphazardly, and the quality varies greatly. It doesn't seem like something done by professionals; it's more like something self-taught.

He was still alive, but his body looked like it had been examined by a forensic doctor and then stitched up.

This aligns with Jia Xiu's consistent deduction about this person.

It has some substance, but that's about it.

It does seem to fit the scenario of encountering an insurmountable bottleneck on the path of magic, leading to the attempt to try various methods, both reasonable and unreasonable.

His methods became increasingly radical, eventually leading him to this terrible state, even to the point of joining the demon race, a rather obscure one, and engaging in bloody sacrifices, with even the sacrifice process being rather irregular.

Between the sinister-looking ritual book and the records in the Holy Light Church's collection, Jia Xiu chose to believe the latter, which was a sign of his trust in the Holy Light Church's strength.

Now, the "failed experimental subject," slumped on the ground, is still breathing heavily, his chest heaving.

Jia Xiu unilaterally concluded that all the experiments he conducted on himself had failed, and the results were so poor that even if they had been successful, they would still be considered failures.

"who are you?"

The first question was asked in a hoarse voice.

Margaret's answer made them seem more like a group of villains.

"None of your business?" "Ha—"

The other person laughed, whether out of helplessness or anger, but the laughter sounded weak and lifeless.

"If you want to kill me, can't I even know who it is?"

"First of all, we don't necessarily have to kill you. You still have a chance to surrender. Secondly, even if I were to kill you, what would that have to do with you?"

Margaret said with an air of dominance.

She treated her like a "roadside guide" in Saint-Deux-Land and didn't complain, but once she left Saint-Deux-Land, it was a completely different story.

"That means there's no chance."

He struggled to his feet.

Having said all that, the meaning is clear: they still want to take a gamble.

He stared intently at Margaret, his eyes revealing not only his respect for his opponent but also a hint of jealousy.

Why, at such a young age...?

He resented all geniuses.

He took out his patina-covered staff, waved it once, and chanted a spell.

A sinister magical energy surged forth, causing several large boxes in the basement to stir and then suddenly spring open.

Several corpses, emitting corrosive toxic fumes, crawled out of a large box.

He's still the necromancer who fits the stereotype perfectly, starting by pulling a corpse.

As a Spore Society druid who was practically a colleague of necromancers, Mia gave a very direct assessment of the quality of the corpses' creation.

She simply shook her head.

When Mia makes this gesture, it usually means that what's in front of her is not only of limited quality but also worthless.

Margaret calmly took out a legendary staff inlaid with gemstones, made of precious wood, and enchanted by a master craftsman.

As he mobilized his magic power, different magical fluctuations emanated from various parts of his body.

Earrings, necklaces, rings, belts, bracelets...

He was covered in magical artifacts from head to toe.

As it turns out, being a spellcaster is an expensive profession; having more magical items makes you more powerful.

He was decked out in magical items, and all sorts of effects were instantly amplified.

If you could see the status bar right now, Margaret's current status would probably be difficult to display in two lines.

Although she appears arrogant and domineering, she still maintains excellent combat skills.

While they may verbally express contempt, they do not actually underestimate any opponent.

Applying buffs before engaging in combat is in line with the standard combat procedure for spellcasters.

The level of importance one places on a battle is directly proportional to the number of buffs they have.

Of course, Margaret might be too rich, with too many items, resulting in a huge amount of buffs whenever she adds them.

Compared to their opponents, the standard big-city rich family mages, who have been in power for generations, "bully" the wild mages from small towns.

Margaret, surrounded by various shields and radiating different lights, waved her staff and instantly cast a water spell without chanting, moistening all of her opponent's corpses.

If they add water first, then the next step probably won't be...

Jasmine guessed what Margaret was going to do.

In an instant, lightning flashed in the basement, and intense bolts of lightning bounced between the targets. Wherever they struck, the corpses were destroyed. The chain of lightning struck all the targets almost instantly. After a flash, only a pile of charcoal-like material that was hard to identify was left.

Jia Xiu was slightly surprised from behind.

Unexpectedly, this mentor, who usually seems to have no special talents, is quite ruthless when he gets physical.

A good standard hydroelectric reaction routine.

Is this what the academic school is all about?

In just a few seconds, the necromancer who had painstakingly summoned a group of corpses was once again left all alone.

Looking at the patina-covered staff in his hand, a great sense of sorrow welled up in his heart.

He raised his head and took one last look at his opponent, whose skill level was far below his own.

He chose to preserve his final dignity.

Without hesitation, he bit the poison hidden in his mouth.

To be honest, Jia Xiu doesn't understand why anyone would consider suicide a dignified way of life.

But when he saw the man start convulsing and foaming at the mouth, he realized that the man had ingested poison and needed to be saved.

Of course, I didn't help him out of any great kindness; it was simply because I still needed to ask him something.

With current magical methods, it's easier to question the living than the dead; given a choice, the living should be prioritized.

Mia reacted quickly, and seeing Jia Xiu rush up, she immediately followed.

As the necromancer lay dying, he saw a man and a drow rushing towards him and realized that they hadn't come just to save him; they wanted to know more.

Ridiculous! How could we possibly let them succeed?

All secrets will depart with one's death.

He had no intention of being resurrected; no resurrection spell could bring back someone who was determined to die.

The poison would damage his vocal cords, and no information could be obtained from the deceased's conversation.

It was all part of his plan; this was his final act of defiance...

No, how come this healing spell is so powerful?
After convulsing for several seconds, the necromancer suddenly realized that his condition seemed to be improving.

What kind of healing technique is this? How can they try to save him from poison without offering an antidote?

No, it doesn't matter. I'm still doomed. This is a deadly poison he developed with all his might, a miraculous substance extracted from numerous corpses. Just a tiny bit is enough to kill an elephant.

The dose he swallowed was enough to kill a thousand of him.

Healing spells consume mana and cannot heal indefinitely until all damage is gone.

Don't expect things to go your way...

"So this is the kind of fungus."

Another voice came from beside me.

what?
The necromancer was bewildered. What did he mean by "this kind of fungus"? What is a fungus?

Mia took out a small jar, inserted a needle into it, and then stuck it into his body.

"You'll get better soon, don't panic. I'll take the medicine money from your house myself."

Will it get better soon?
How could all his life's work... how could it all...

No, there's still one last resort. There's an explosive device in the basement. We originally wanted to leave him with a complete body, but now we have no choice but to detonate it!
"when!"

The sound of a hammer blow rang out.

It was Ram's hammer.

"What are you doing?"

Jia Xiu asked.

"There was a bomb, but don't worry, it's been defused."

The necromancer felt dizzy and lightheaded.

It's been taken down? You took it down with just one hammer blow?

"How did you know? Was there a bomb?"

He struggled to ask.

Ram scratched his head. "It said itself that it didn't want to explode today, so I... I'll help it."

Upon hearing Ram's words, the necromancer closed his eyes in despair.

These people are crazy...

(End of this chapter)