Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

Dago slowly walked down the bright and dazzling arena, which also exuded a somewhat eerie atmosphere.

The air around him seemed to be boiling, and the clamor of discussions was like countless flies buzzing in his ears, yet it also converged into a torrent called "glory," trying to engulf him.

Some of those gazes burned like fire, a testament to the worship of the strong; others were as cold as ice, the result of jealousy at having their limelight stolen.

Others were simply onlookers, craning their necks as if admiring a cricket that had just defeated a rooster, savoring the topic of "cross-level challenge."

He became the sole focus of attention in this world, as if the spotlight on the stage had broken its switch, locking onto him alone.

"A triumphant victory against the third ring road," "A resounding triumph against a seeded opponent"—these phrases are like gilded plaques, forcibly hung around his neck.

That was an unprecedented feat, a moment worthy of being recorded in the annals of this competition venue.

Even more so, some were still savoring the memory of Dago's seemingly indiscriminate use of a single layer of magical resonance, a wasteful and extravagant attack that was practically mocking all wizards who painstakingly calculated their mana consumption.

Dago's reputation soared to unprecedented heights, as if he had boarded a jet engine.

There was a subtle but clear indication that he was on par with, or even surpassed, the veteran third-ring wizard geniuses on the field.

However, Dago felt no joy whatsoever.

His face was like a calm lake, undisturbed, but beneath the surface, an undercurrent called "confusion" surged.

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A thick layer of gloom, like a sheet of oiled paper soaked in water, hung heavily over his heart, making it hard for him to breathe.

"Dago, you..."

As soon as he arrived at the seating area of ​​the Thorn Ring, he was greeted by a sea of ​​amazement, admiration, and awe that was enough to overwhelm anyone.

Those wizards who might have had some complaints about him or kept a reserved distance on ordinary days now had smiles on their faces as if they had seen their long-lost fathers.

Violet seemed quite excited; her face flushed red and her lips trembled. She was about to say something to express her admiration when Dago raised his hand to stop her.

He wasn't in the mood for flattery; he just wanted to figure out what Yadar was really up to.

He strode through the crowd, and the wizards automatically made way for him.

He walked up to Carlos and Ronald, and called their names in a low voice.

"Well done, Dago."

Carlos's eyes were full of undisguised admiration for him, the kind of look that comes from an old farmer looking at the biggest pumpkin in the village growing in his field, feeling both gratified and proud.

Ronald, the fourth tower master beside him, also had a broad smile on his face, a smile that revealed a hindsight wisdom of "I knew this kid could do it."

The look in his eyes grew increasingly fond, as if Dargo was no longer a second-circle wizard, but a walking gold mine.

"I thought that if you wanted a chance to defeat Yadar, you should at least use the power of your ancient bloodline."

Carlos exclaimed, his tone carrying a sense of surprise that he hadn't expected to win despite thinking he would have to play all his cards. "I didn't expect you to be even better than I anticipated, accomplishing this amazing feat without using your bloodline. This is not only a demonstration of strength, but also proof of your profound foundation."

"Your ice magic lineage bears traces of the ice wizards of Icethorn Manor. Is it from there?"

Ronald casually asked as well, his focus clearly more academic, or rather, he was trying to find more "reasonable" explanations from D'Ago to justify the legitimacy of this genius.

However, despite the high praise from these two bigwigs, Dago showed no intention of accepting or responding.

He was like the only sober person among a group of drunks, watching everyone raise their glasses in celebration, and he could only feel absurdity.

He shook his head directly, a resolute and cold gesture that interrupted the two tower masters' self-absorption.

"I did not completely defeat Yadar." Dago's voice was calm, yet it was like a stone thrown into a deep well, creating a hollow echo. "He voluntarily conceded defeat."

"Um?!"

Carlos and his companion were slightly taken aback, their smiles freezing for a moment, as if cracks had appeared in their masks.

They exchanged a glance, both seeing a hint of confusion in each other's eyes.

"What do you mean?" Ronald frowned, his expression as if asking: You've already won, what are you still agonizing over?

Dago took a deep breath and described in detail the final moments of his battle with Yadar.

He talked about the abrupt surrender, about Yadar's meaningful gaze, and about the strange way the opponent chose to leave the stage when he clearly still had strength left.

After he finished speaking, he looked up and gazed in the direction of the Water Palace.

It was noisy over there too, but the atmosphere was completely different, filled with oppression and anger.

He searched through the crowd but couldn't find Yadar.

After being "defeated" in a battle with him, this person disappeared without a trace, like a drop of water merging into the ocean, or like an assassin who had completed his mission.

To onlookers, this seemed like "overwhelmed with shame," so he simply chose to "leave the scene."

This seems like the most normal reaction. Because Yadar carries too much on his shoulders; he was the first third-ring player to be defeated by a second-ring player, and that "first" isn't exactly a good reputation.

He was the Water Palace's greatest hope, the strongest genius of their generation and even the previous generation, yet he failed miserably in front of everyone, bringing shame upon the entire Water Palace.

After Yadar was eliminated, the competition was like a banquet that ended before it even began for the Water Palace, with almost no hope of achieving a good ranking.

At this moment, everyone in the Water Palace had extremely ugly faces. Some looked like they had lost their fathers, and others looked like they had lost their wallets. Their resentment could be smelled from a distance.

"It might not be as you think..."

After hearing Dago's story, Carlos did not show much surprise.

He paused for a moment, tapping his fingers lightly on the armrest of the chair, making a rhythmic sound, before slowly saying, his tone carrying a sense of worldly wisdom and confidence, "Perhaps this is exactly what Yadar hopes to see."

Dago frowned, looking at Carlos with confusion. "Does the Tower Master mean that he deliberately conceded defeat in this way to make me suspicious now? If it's for the sake of this match, he's already lost, so what's the point of doing this?"

"Um."

Carlos nodded, a meaningful smile curving his lips, as if instructing a junior, "Perhaps he really does still have some fighting ability, and I trust your judgment on that."

But he's a smart man, and a proud one. He probably felt that rather than being forced to reveal all his trump cards in the ensuing battle, even after using his bloodline power, and still possibly losing or suffering a pyrrhic victory, it was better to leave you with the illusion that "he hasn't lost," but simply "doesn't want to fight anymore."

Carlos paused, his gaze deep, "After all, many people know that you possess bloodline power that you haven't yet used, don't they?"

He's cutting his losses, and also saving face. He lost to your 'potential' and 'mystery'.

It's not that I lost because of your current 'strength'. There's a subtle difference in reputation involved.

"good."

Ronald chimed in, a cold smile on his face—a mockery born of a keen understanding of the darker side of human nature. "Old geniuses like Yadar, who's lived for nearly a hundred years, may look like a child, but their minds are far more profound than you imagine."

They've eaten more salt than you've walked roads, and they've used more tricks than you've ever seen magic.

"I've seen this kind of trick far too many times." Ronald waved his hand, as if shooing away an annoying fly. "It's a psychological tactic, and also a form of self-protection."

If you are truly distracted by him, start to doubt your victory, and become suspicious, then you have truly let him succeed.

His goal was to plant a seed of resentment in your heart, so that you would feel disgusted even as you enjoyed your victory.

"Just remember one thing," Ronald said, staring into Dago's eyes, emphasizing each word, "In this situation, no one, and no reason, will easily admit defeat."

This is a contest, a war, a battle for honor and profit! Not to mention that he has to sacrifice his reputation as a third-ring wizard to enhance the prestige of you, a second-ring wizard.

Unless he's out of his mind, or genuinely believes he can't win.

"The so-called deliberate surrender is nothing more than the last wail of a defeated dog, trying to disrupt the mindset of the victor."

Dago fell silent.

Carlos and Ronald's words sounded logically sound and reasonable.

This is typical of the "proud" mindset—every action of the strong must have a deeper meaning, while every behavior of the loser is an attempt to cover up their defeat.

In their view, Dago's strength was undeniable, Yadar's retreat was justified, and all the irrationality could be explained by "Dago being too strong" and "Yadar being too cunning".

"All right."

Dago seemed to be convinced, or rather, he knew that there was no point in arguing any further.

When everyone is cheering for you, if you say, "Actually, I didn't win; he let me win," you'll only be seen as excessive humility or hypocritical affectation.

"Prepare well for the next match, Dago. We all have high hopes for you."

Carlos encouraged him a few more times, his tone full of expectation, as if he could already see Dago lifting the championship trophy.

Dago nodded and said nothing more.

He walked to the side and sat down alone, sinking into the soft chair, his expression seemingly calm, like a sculpture that had just cooled down.

However, a faint gloom still lingered in his heart, refusing to dissipate.

Was it really as Carlos and the other man said, that Yadar's final surrender in the last battle was just a charade? Was it merely to save face for the last laughable moment?

he does not know.

But when he recalled Yadar's last look, he found no resentment, no shame, not even the dejection of a loser.

There was an eerie calm in those eyes, even... a hint of mockery?

I always felt that things weren't that simple.

In this world, there is never love without a reason, nor hatred without a reason, and certainly no surrender without a reason.