Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

into the night.

The night sky is filled with stars.

"What happened to this perfectly healthy child? Let's take him to the vet tomorrow. He cured Old Pick's refusal to eat last time, so maybe he can help with Dago's problem?"

"Yes, he even had to eat half of the pig offal for that! I don't have any extra food to pay for his medical consultation, especially since this is another case of treating someone else."

"We can't just watch Dago turn into an idiot, can we? My poor child, boohoo."

"What does it matter if I'm smart or not, as long as I can learn to be a good pig farmer? Go to sleep, damn it, life is bad enough as it is, don't make me feel bad about this little thing."

From the dark mud house came the sounds of a man's complaints and a woman's weeping. Dago lay in the filthy, smelly pigsty, his head resting on damp straw, gazing up at the starry sky above.

His face was ashen, and his mood was extremely bad.

Everything around him felt incredibly real, and after half a day of "exploration," he understood his current identity.

His name was Dago, the son of the pig farmer Dago. He had no surname, as did everyone in this poor and backward village.

When the man in the house who refused to trade half a pig's offal for a healthy brain for his own son dies, he will inherit the prefix "pig herder" and become the new pig herder, Dago.

By then, he might already have a son, who might be named Dago, or perhaps something else entirely. None of that matters!

The important thing is that—in the past half day, he tried meditation and all the basic methods of a wizard, but to no avail.

Let alone the profound and complex [Primordial Star Meditation Method], even the [Basic Meditation Technique], which has been mastered to the point of being instinctive, cannot achieve this.

He couldn't sense any trace of free energy particles in the air.

even

Even the system panel that had been firmly bound to him since he transmigrated had disappeared!

"What ancient and bizarre method could allow an aged, almost decaying soul to so easily seize the powerful will of a peak third-ring wizard?!"

Dago murmured, reaching out to the night sky as if he could grasp the stars in his hands.

Suddenly, an even greater sense of fear arose in his heart.

Or perhaps,

"Everything I experienced before, everything about wizards, was just a dream before the real time travel arrived?!"

"Or was even the time travel a hoax, and from beginning to end I was just a pig farmer's son? Is everything now the real reality?!"

These two guesses made Dago almost tremble; nothing in the world could terrify him more than this.

Everything he once knew had abandoned him, and he was plunged into an indescribable and immense despair.

He was filled with immense sorrow and confusion.

Everything around him felt like a sharp sword piercing his heart.

He tried to curl up, trying to escape the omnipresent cold and darkness. His fingers dug deep into his dirty, matted hair, scratching his scalp until it bled.

Until dawn broke, the first rays of sunlight fell on the small figure in the pigsty.

Dago raised his head, his bloodshot eyes facing the direction of the rising sun, and suddenly a fire was ignited by the sunlight!

The confusion and despair were swept away in that moment, and Dago stood up.

He walked out of the pigsty, ran out of the village, and in the morning mist, barefoot, he walked step by step towards the golden distance.

On this day, something not so big happened in the village—the pig farmer's son suddenly disappeared after suffering a head injury and never returned. Because of this, the blacksmith's daughter, Gina, cried for an entire afternoon, because she was only six years old and had already become a "widow".

From then on, a homeless child named "Dago" appeared on this land.

The following year, people called him a "thief," a "pickpocket," and a "shameless thief."

In his third year, he became a naive and inept bard.

Later, the bard joined an adventurer's party and became a trainee mercenary whose height was not even as tall as the hilt of other people's swords.

after that.

Countless years have passed, his temples are gray, he is revered as a "legend" by his worshippers, cursed as a "mad dog" by his enemies, and ridiculed as a "charlatan" by his busybodies. Dago, who never gave up his pursuit of everything about wizards for a long time, finally collapsed and died slowly beside the burning campfire after his countless and final attempt at meditation, clutching his worn-out longsword.

"This body may not actually have the potential to become a wizard."

On his deathbed, Dago whispered the words he had told himself countless times.

In a daze, he saw a beautiful golden ladybug, like a shooting star or a firework, flashing quickly before his eyes.

"rustle--"

Inside the quiet and secluded cave, Dago slowly opened his eyes.

A brief moment of confusion flashed through his clear, jewel-like blue eyes, followed by a deep sense of vicissitude that seemed completely at odds with his appearance.

Dago's lips moved slightly; he felt only thirst and hunger. It was as if he hadn't eaten or drunk anything for a long time.

But these physical discomforts could not diminish his inner satisfaction and joy at this moment.

"I."

"Finally back."

The voice that came from his mouth was hoarse and dry, yet it conveyed an unprecedented persistence and determination.

An aged voice slowly echoed in his mind.

"You shouldn't have tried it when I wasn't around."

Dago didn't speak. The voice paused for a moment, then continued with a somewhat complicated tone, "But your performance certainly far exceeded my expectations."

"Most wizards who undergo spiritual cultivation for the first time will not be able to withstand the blows during the first three years of the 'Dream of Reincarnation,' and will collapse, choosing to commit suicide and withdraw."

"The best performer only lasted until the fifth year."

"How long was I inside?"

Dago spoke, as if asking a question that had nothing to do with it.

Arajan was silent for a moment, then replied, "Seventy-two years."

"Has it been that long?"

Dago murmured, the vicissitudes and sense of age in his eyes gradually being washed away, and the vigor and vitality of youth resurfaced.

He looked around and saw a paper bluebird perched crookedly on the muddy ground beside him.

Dago reached out and picked up the bluebird, read the message inside, narrowed his eyes, and asked, "How much time has passed in reality?"

"Seventy-two days, two months."

"Two months"

Dago's eyes flickered for a moment, then he calmly said, "So, this is the core inheritance you have as the leader of the Spirit Shamans?"

"The effect of 'Spiritual Amber' is to give me a dream that lasts as long as seventy-two years within two months? The only benefit is that it makes my will as a wizard much stronger."

"hehe."

A beautiful golden ladybug flew out of Dago's body and danced wildly in front of him, while Alazan's laughter rang in his ears.

"Benefits? Your gains are only just beginning."

No sooner had Arajan finished speaking than a strange and immense surge of soul energy erupted from a deep part of Dago's body.

Enveloping his seventy-two years of experience as "Dago, the son of a pig farmer," every frame, every scene, suddenly merged into his soul.

"Click—"

In just a moment, within his consciousness space

The eleventh soul crystal has quietly taken shape!