Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

Below, the black-robed figures of the Resurrection Society wizards were rapidly retreating, like a swarm of startled rats scurrying into the cracks of shadow.

However, under the all-encompassing radiance of the three miraculous days, the violent disturbances of the elemental particles rendered their concealment spells clumsy and ineffective, leaving them with nowhere to hide.

After a brief silence, some people came to their senses, and greed and the desire to kill overwhelmed their fear.

Immediately following, a fierce chase broke out between wizards, the explosions of elemental magic and the surge of spiritual power intertwining in the air to create a deathly symphony.

.........

"Click—"

The crisp cracking sound was particularly jarring in the silence.

The miniature secret space was filled with a strange smell of formaldehyde mixed with some ancient herb.

Bernal, who was busy at the lab bench, suddenly stopped what he was doing. A hint of scrutiny of the unknown variables flashed in his calm, almost indifferent eyes.

He turned to look at the source of the sound and slowly picked up a silver hourglass used for simple timekeeping.

This hourglass is no ordinary object, but a solidified product utilizing some kind of spatial rule. At this moment, a neat crack appeared in the middle of the hourglass, and the silver sand inside did not slide down, but instead floated outwards and leaked as if weightless.

"A disturbance to the rules... or a magnetic field resonance caused by the arrival of some high-energy being?"

Bernal looked at the hourglass in his hand, his eyes flickering slightly, and a strange sense of unease began to grow in his heart.

This feeling is not the fear of ordinary people, but the instinctive vigilance of wizards towards situations they cannot control.

"Is it a prophetic talent inherent in the Grey Elf bloodline?"

As a wizard who pursues the truth, Bernal never blindly trusts intuition; he prefers to call it "the subconscious's ultra-fast processing of environmental information."

He casually picked up his notebook, the quill pen scratching softly on the parchment, and thoughtfully made simple notes of the frequency of energy fluctuations, the time points, and his own heart rate changes.

After recording the data, he paced back and forth in front of the lab bench, his steps as precise as if he were measuring the land.

Upon reaching the ice coffin where his wife was kept, he stopped and used his mental energy to examine it carefully.

The runes inside the ice coffin were functioning normally, vital signs were stable, and no abnormalities were observed.

"If the variable is not internal, then the source is external."

Bernal made his judgment and then stepped out of the secret realm.

The roar of the water echoed in his ears. He had just stepped out from behind the waterfall that concealed the entrance to the secret realm when he froze for a moment.

The once vibrant valley now seems to have been frozen in time.

The once empty valley was now covered with a thin layer of frost. It was not ordinary ice and snow, but dark blue ice crystals rich in negative energy particles.

The air temperature was so low that even light appeared distorted when it refracted through the ice crystals.

A colossal ice crystal serpent with a single horn on its head and an enormous body coiled within, each of its scales resembling a mirror, reflecting a chilling light.

It did not attack, but instead stared intently at Bernal. The vertical pupils revealed not the ferocity of a predator, but the fear and unease of encountering a more advanced predator.

"It's you? The giant ice serpent from Glacier Valley?"

Bernal recognized the creature; according to the biological atlas, it was a predator that should be at the top of the food chain.

The giant ice serpent glanced at Bernal briefly before looking away, as if it had no time to care about this tiny human.

It looked up at a high point in the sky, hissing anxiously as it shrank back involuntarily, its scales scraping against the rocks with a teeth-grinding sound.

Just as Bernal frowned, preparing to construct a defensive sorcery model, a powerful, ancient, majestic, and evil will suddenly descended upon the valley.

This will was so immense that it seemed to have sucked all the air out of the valley, creating a suffocating vacuum.

The next second, a figure rapidly magnified in Bernal's field of vision. It wasn't freefall, but a precise airdrop carrying immense kinetic energy.

Upon seeing the figure clearly, Bernal's pupils contracted sharply, and even his mental sea rippled.

The newcomer had long, dark blue hair that cascaded down his back like a waterfall, each strand seemingly imbued with icy magic.

He had a long, slender body covered in dragon scales, which were arranged in perfect geometric patterns and shone with a metallic luster.

Ominous lines were etched on both sides of his cheeks, like the embodiment of some ancient curse.

He exuded an aura of nobility, antiquity, and evil, as if he were a king who had emerged from an epic abyss, carrying an arrogant disdain for all living beings.

The figure descended into the valley like lightning, and with a loud "boom," the ground cracked and rocks flew everywhere.

He stomped hard on the head of the giant ice serpent in the valley.

There were no magical fluctuations; it was purely an overwhelming force of physical strength and bloodline pressure.

That massive ice floe, with muscles strong enough to crush rocks, was now as powerless as noodles.

Almost instantly, it lowered its body, its massive head being crushed into the frozen earth, while it let out a defiant hiss—the instinctive fear and submission of a lower-ranking creature to a higher-ranking bloodline.

"Despicable blood. Do you want to defy me?"

A low, muffled sound, like countless shards of ice rolling and rubbing together in an abyss, rang out.

The voice was devoid of any emotion, carrying only the pure meaning of judgment.

A bewitching figure with long, dark blue hair stood on the head of a giant ice serpent, coldly looking down at it. The oppressive aura emanating from the depths of its bloodline rippled through it, penetrating to the very marrow. Instinct drove the serpent to completely give up resistance, trembling and submitting to the ground.

Bernal narrowed his eyes, forcibly suppressing the trembling instinct in his body.

He tried to analyze the other person's facial features through the dark blue frost particles that surrounded the figure like thick clouds.

On that bewitching, almost inhumanly handsome face, he could vaguely discern some familiar bone structure.

"Da...Ge?"

Bernal blurted out, his voice sounding particularly abrupt in the cold valley.

The sound drew the attention of the figure, whose pair of blood-red vertical eyes, devoid of any human emotion and exuding endless coldness, instantly fell upon him.

The moment Bernal was stared at by those vertical eyes, he felt his mental shield was as fragile as paper.

It was a kind of freezing from the soul level. He almost had the urge to kneel down, as if the creature in front of him was a god at the top of the food chain, and he was just a lowly ant.

The figure did not speak, but slowly walked towards Bernal.

With each step he took, the void beneath his feet would solidify, leaving behind a dark blue frost mark resembling a rune, radiating a chillingly low temperature.

As the figure approached, a vast, icy chill enveloped Bernal layer by layer.

This is not simply low temperature, but some kind of law that can freeze the flow of thought and magic.

He felt as if his throat and heart were being gripped tightly by a pair of icy, invisible hands, making each heartbeat incredibly difficult.

"thump--"

The body's self-protective mechanisms kicked in, and Bernal knelt down on one knee. The color drained from his face, turning him as pale as a corpse.

The blood in my body seemed to freeze, ceasing to flow, and the magic circulation also came to a standstill.

At this moment, he felt an unprecedented threat of death, like a tangible dark cloud gradually enveloping him, threatening to freeze his soul forever in this valley.

"roar!"

Bernal let out a low growl of resentment.

He forcibly burned his spiritual power, and a faint spiritual energy fluctuation emanated from his body, attempting to break through the oppressive barrier.

But faced with the invisible, gathering, heavy cold and absolute power, his struggles were utterly ineffective, like a spark falling into an icy sea, instantly extinguished.

Just as Bernal thought he was about to die in the next second, and was even rapidly recalling the unsolved truths of his life, the figure suddenly stopped.

All the oppressive force receded in an instant, like a receding tide.

"Whoosh—whoosh—"

A series of extremely heavy breaths rang out, the low growl of a wounded beast, and the discordant sounds of a soul being torn apart.

Bernal looked up with difficulty and saw a tall, slender figure whose shoulders were heaving violently, and whose bewitching face showed an expression of extreme pain and struggle.

The mask of indifference shattered, revealing a fierce internal conflict.

Those tightly closed eyes opened again. In those vertical, bloodshot eyes, a clear and calm human brilliance and a violent and savage beastly instinct were engaged in a life-or-death struggle, the light flashing back and forth like two stars colliding.

He reached out his hand to Bernal with difficulty, his fingertips trembling, and urged him in a hoarse voice, as if there were ice crystals in his throat, his tone filled with an undeniable urgency:

"Bennal... quickly prepare the second bloodline purification ritual for me!"

The icy chill that had been pressing down on him had vanished without him noticing, and Bernal gasped for breath, breaking free from the pressure of death.

As a learned wizard, he quickly regained his composure. Looking at the figure struggling in pain before him, and considering all the previous signs, an academic term instantly came to mind.

"Soul and will devouring?!"

That is an extremely dangerous state in which an excessively powerful foreign bloodline attempts to take over and devour the host's original consciousness.

This is a war for control of the body, and the loser will become nothing more than the shell of the winner.

Bernal's face was solemn, and he said nothing unnecessary, nor did he show any extra emotion.

In the wizarding world, efficiency is life.

He turned and swiftly stepped into the secret realm, his movements precise and rapid.

A moment later, he used his levitation technique to move the Blood Tree of the Imprisoned God, which was over five meters tall, with lush foliage and bathed in a mysterious red glow. The tree seemed to have its own life, and the red light pulsed like breathing.

The moment it saw the figure, the Holy Blood Tree seemed to smell the most delicious nourishment, and all its branches and leaves began to tremble eagerly.

Dense, crimson tubes immediately sprouted from beneath the branches and leaves, like countless greedy tentacles, slicing through the air and wrapping around the figure.

"Sizzle—"

But as soon as these thin tubes touched the uncontrolled dark blue frost cloud surrounding the figure, they immediately made a cracking sound as if frozen, and then shattered into red ice shards that fell to the ground.

This is the power of despair and frost within Dago resisting external intervention.

"Dag, restrain your power! Do not yield to Him! Control your instincts!"

Bernal's eyes flashed, and he spoke quickly, his voice carrying a psychological intimidation, attempting to awaken Dago's consciousness.

He knew very well that this was the key to the success of the ritual, and that the host had to actively accept the guidance of the Blood Tree of the Imprisoned God.

The figure with its eyes closed let out a low growl, a roar that came from the depths of its soul.

He suddenly bit his lip, even breaking the skin, and blue and red blood meandered down from the wound—blue representing the alienated bloodline, and red representing the essence of humanity.

In extreme pain, Dago, with astonishing willpower, forcibly suppressed the rampaging energy within his body.

The frost clouds that surged violently around its body gradually gathered into its strong body like smoke, and the scales on its skin also slightly contracted.

Without the obstruction of the frost clouds, the countless crimson tubes released by the Holy Blood Tree were finally able to attach smoothly to its body.

As if they had found an entrance, they greedily pierced the skin, quickly wrapping it layer by layer, with countless roots intertwining and entwining, eventually weaving into a huge, pulsating blood cocoon.

At this moment, Bernal, standing to the side, could perceive more clearly that within the blood cocoon, two completely different wills were engaged in a more tragic and profound silent struggle.

This is not merely a fusion of powers, but the ultimate battle between humans and monsters, reason and instinct.