Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

The air inside the miniature secret realm seemed to solidify, creating a suffocating atmosphere.

Within that enormous cocoon of blood, a war at the microscopic level is being waged silently yet brutally.

An ancient and evil will, filled with destructive desires and violent instincts originating from antiquity, surges like an undercurrent in the deep sea, violently impacting every inch of the spiritual space.

The other will, however, was clear and calm, like a stream flowing quietly through the forest on a winter afternoon, carrying the unique rationality and resilience of humankind, yet it appeared precarious under the erosion of this primordial force.

Under the overwhelming pressure of the former, the latter is rapidly weakening and fading away, like a drop of ink falling into the ocean, being mercilessly swallowed, dissolved, and eventually assimilated.

On the surface of the entwined blood cocoon, every crimson tube trembled violently, as if bearing an excessive energy transmission load.

Countless fine and mysterious rune paths appeared on the tube wall. These runes flickered with light, and each pulsation was accompanied by the surge of the power of the rules.

As the runes lit up, a trace of that ancient and evil aura was forcibly extracted and quickly dissipated.

However, the situation is rapidly deteriorating on the side of the Blood Tree of the Imprisoned God, which serves as both a container and a converter.

The mysterious glow that had enveloped the tree trunk quickly dimmed, like a candle flickering in the wind.

The entire tree withered at a visible speed, its bark cracked and lost its original fleshy luster, and countless scarlet leaves fell with a "whoosh," turning into grayish-white powder that drifted into the air before even hitting the ground.

This is not just a consumption of energy, but an overdraft of the very essence of life.

With just one intense bloodline extraction and suppression, the still-young and not yet powerful Imprisoning God Blood Tree almost exhausted all its accumulated power. Faced with the domineering bloodline of an ancient creature, the mortal magical plant appeared so fragile.

Bernal's eyes were as cold as knives, showing no sign of panic, only the absolute focus and ruthlessness of a wizard conducting a high-risk experiment.

Without hesitation, he took out bottles of potions from the storage pouch at his waist. Some of these potions were an eerie emerald green, bubbling with bubbles; others were a viscous dark red, emitting a nauseating bloody stench.

These are all high-concentration nutrient solutions and activity-stimulating agents that he prepared to deal with extreme situations.

"Gulp, gulp..."

He roughly opened the bottles of medicine, either mixing them directly or without mixing them, and poured them onto the exposed roots of the Blood Tree of the Imprisoned God.

The liquid medicine made a "sizzling" sound when it came into contact with the tree roots, as if it were being greedily sucked up by the parched earth.

After emptying all the potion bottles, Bernal glanced at the still trembling blood cocoon, a ruthless glint in his eyes.

He raised his wrists, his fingernails slicing across them, then slashed open both of his wrists. Crimson blood gushed out, but he didn't stop the bleeding; instead, he let the blood, imbued with the wizard's spiritual power and life force, flow onto the tree roots.

"With my blood, I give you my spirit."

Even so, the power of the Blood Tree of Imprisonment was still insufficient to satisfy the will of that ancient monster.

The enormous blood cocoon ceased to pulsate regularly, instead exhibiting a morbid, irregular, slight tremor.

The runes on the surface of the blood cocoon even showed signs of breaking, as if something terrifying could no longer be restrained and was about to break out of the cocoon and tear everything around it to pieces.

The massive blood loss left Bernal pale as a sheet, his body swaying precariously, and his vision beginning to blur.

But he seemed oblivious, his brows furrowed, his gaze sweeping across the room, searching for the key variable to break the deadlock.

If this ritual fails, not only will Dago be completely transformed into a monster, but he will also face an out-of-control ancient creature. In this sealed secret realm, the only outcome will be death.

Suddenly, Bernal's gaze fell on the large ice serpent crouching low in the distance.

This once invincible apex predator is now trembling with fear due to the absolute suppression of its bloodline.

It sensed Bernal's calculating and cold gaze, a hint of wariness flashing in its vertical pupils, and responded with a cold and threatening hiss.

Bernal was not intimidated. His eyes flickered, and he spoke in a low, hoarse voice, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth:

"I know about your relationship. You resent him, try to break free from his control, and even want to turn against him to gain your freedom."

The giant ice serpent did not move, but the cold light in its eyes intensified.

"But if you think this is a great opportunity, you're sorely mistaken."

Bernal sneered, his tone laced with mockery, "You're nothing but a mutated giant ice serpent, while he awakens the bloodline of the ancient Despair Winter Dragon within him. That is a predator standing at the pinnacle of the laws of frost."

"Once his will is completely devoured by the lingering will of the ancient Despair Winter Dragon in his bloodline, turning him into a pure monster who only knows how to kill... then you will truly have no chance of redemption! That monster will devour all creatures with frost energy around it to replenish itself, and you will be the best supplement!"

"roar--"

The great ice serpent let out a furious growl, its body writhing uneasily, as if expressing disdain for what Bernal had said, or perhaps trying to conceal its inner fear.

Bernal met his gaze calmly, without backing down in the slightest.

This is a psychological game; he's betting on the beast's survival instinct.

I don't know how much time passed; it might have been a moment, or it might have been a long time.

As the surface of the blood cocoon released by the Blood Tree of Imprisonment began to show fine cracks, a chilling aura leaked out, and even the surrounding air began to freeze.

Finally, faced with the terrifying pressure emanating from the source of its bloodline that was about to awaken, the Great Ice Serpent wavered.

It let out a resentful screech, a sound filled with humiliation and helplessness. Then, reluctantly, it slowly swam its massive body closer to the withered blood tree.

"hiss!"

The giant ice serpent opened its massive jaws but did not attack. Instead, it bit into its own body, and icy blue blood gushed out like a spring, drenching the Blood Tree of the Imprisoned God.

With the support of the large amount of blood from the high-level magical beast, the Great Ice Serpent, the originally withered Blood Tree of the Imprisoned God seemed to have been given a shot of adrenaline. The withered branches regained a hint of blood color, and the broken rune paths were reconnected.

The power of the Blood Tree of the Imprisoning God could be barely maintained, continuing to suppress the raging ancient will.

Bernal's gaze relaxed slightly, and he quickly cast a hemostatic and rejuvenating spell on himself.

But when his gaze returned to the blood cocoon, it was immediately enveloped by a thick gloom.

He has already done everything he could to create favorable external conditions; what remains is the internal war.

He was well aware of Dago's current situation; the bloodline transplant notes Dago had given him had detailed this condition—"will assimilation."

That was the most severe backlash suffered by the host after a failed attempt to forcibly fuse with a high-level bloodline.

This is not the collapse of the body, but the demise of the soul.

The self-will and the ancient will remaining in the blood enter into the most primitive and direct struggle. It is a battle that takes place in the sea of ​​consciousness, with no way out. Only the victor is qualified to gain ultimate control of the body.

If one is not careful in this process, one's will may be swallowed up by the vast and violent emotions, and one may fall into complete depravity, becoming a monster that acts only on instinct, and becoming the resurrected vessel of that ancient creature in the present world.

If it were a normal monster bloodline, it might be fine, after all, Dago once took five bottles of "Solomon's Blessing," known as "the devil's temptation," in order to strengthen his mental power.

While that drug can greatly enhance mental resilience, its side effect is that it keeps the user constantly on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Even so, his will was so strong and tenacious that even Bernal was astonished.

But what is rooted within him is the unprecedented, forbidden bloodline of the ancient Despair Winter Dragon Beheilite, which is considered taboo in the wizarding world.

Once the will of this ancient overlord awakens from its bloodline, even a tiny, scattered remnant of its soul is something that ordinary human souls cannot contend with.

The danger and despair involved are beyond the comprehension of outsiders.

"Dago..."

Bernal gazed at the blood cocoon, watching the runes that alternated between light and darkness, his eyes filled with complex emotions as he murmured softly, "I will do my best to do what I can. As a matter of equal exchange, I have already paid my price. But the rest... is up to you. The path to truth is always paved with corpses, and I hope you will not become one of them."

After saying that, Bernal took out a bottle of precious healing potion from his storage pouch, slowly swallowed it, and felt the medicinal power dissipate in his body.

Then, expressionless, he slashed his wrist again, making the blood flow faster, to maintain his precarious balance.

……

Meanwhile, outside...

The incident at the Goblin Plains was like a meteorite crashing into a calm lake, directly shocking a large part of the wizarding world in the southern Emerald Forest.

"The Revival of the Old Days".

This name, so ancient that it had been almost forgotten by many in the dust of history, has once again forced its way into the view of all southern wizards in a bloody and brutal manner.

In order to seize the legendary "Shattered World Stone" that involves the power of rules, the Ancient Witch Resurrection Society unleashed all the power that had been buried in the shadows for hundreds of years.

Only at this moment did everyone realize the extent to which this evil organization had infiltrated the major wizarding forces in the south—like a malignant tumor, penetrating to the very marrow.

The battle on the Goblin Plains was extremely fierce.

The current patriarch of the Lava Brotherhood's Sargils family, a great wizard renowned for his mastery of fire elemental magic; and the head wizard of the Water Palace, a powerful expert in nature magic... These two miracle wizards, both at level four, betrayed their comrade at a crucial moment.

Under the combined wrath and anger of several wizards of the same rank, led by Thunder Tower, the two traitors were eventually defeated, one escaping and the other dying, but they caused irreparable damage to the allied forces.

The latter side paid a heavy price: a miracle wizard from the Black Swamp, renowned for his defense, was ambushed and killed, his soul fire extinguished.

The Dark Crystal Cult's miracle wizard was severely injured and his very essence was damaged; and the shattered World Stone, which had just been unearthed from the Ancient Mirror Forest and had not yet been warmed up, was nowhere to be found amidst the chaos.

At levels below the level of miracle wizards, bloodshed is rampant.

On the Black Swamp side, Ang, the chief genius hailed as the most promising candidate to achieve a miracle in a century, turned out to be a spy planted by the Resurrection Society.

He led a group of twenty-three wizarding geniuses, all of whom were at least second-ringed wizards, in a rebellion, ruthlessly killing their former classmates.

Gehrman, the top genius of Thunder Tower, was seriously injured and on the verge of death during the siege, and the Heart of Thunder was almost shattered.

Apart from the chief genius Rufus who escaped by chance with the help of a secret treasure, all the wizard geniuses ranked second to seventh in the Dark Crystal Cult died on the spot, leaving no trace of their bodies.

The entire Sargiel family of the Lava Brotherhood betrayed the group, and they even frantically released the blood of the ancient fire demon sealed at the bottom of the lake, causing the Lava Crystal Lake to boil completely, turning the surrounding area into scorched earth.

The Water Palace was plunged into a massive internal conflict, with wizards' blood staining the Emerald Forest red and countless rare magical plants being reduced to ashes in the flames of war.

What was originally intended as a competition of top talents to showcase the power of the new generation, held on the Goblin Plains by the six major wizarding factions, ultimately turned into a stage for a complete massacre and conspiracy.

A shattered Worldstone, like a fuse, continuously drew out the forces belonging to the Ancient Wizarding Revival Society, and completely shattered the false peace in the wizarding world.

A massive upheaval in the wizarding world, affecting a large part of the south, is slowly unfolding.

Trust collapsed, everyone felt insecure, and the shadow of war loomed over every wizard's tower.

One month later, the Thorn Ring, the Silver Tower.