Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

Dago did not refute Jason's erroneous guess based on appearances.

As he rubbed the rim of his wine glass, he rapidly weighed and pondered the bombshell intelligence Jason had just dropped in his mind.

He absolutely could never return to the territory of the Jade Court.

The omnipotent magic ring was deeply rooted and extremely powerful on that land.

The terrifying being of the Fifth Ring, Fumingo, has become utterly insane in his pursuit of the ancient Isidore legacy within him.

If that madman finds out that he not only survived the Stormlands but even benefited from it, he will absolutely not let this lamb to the slaughter go.

Moreover, Fomingo is by no means the only greedy wizard coveting the legacy of Herams.

There are probably many old monsters in the Jade Empire who are envious of this legacy.

He had already made up his mind to completely hide his identity and go into seclusion to cultivate in a new place where no one would recognize him.

Looking at the entire map, the "Tangista Wizard Empire," one of the three great empires, is located in the northernmost, frigid land of the central continent, millions of miles away from where he is now—too far away.

But the pendulum of fate was just around the corner.

Most importantly, Spirit Lake is a super-large wizarding holy land that is in no way inferior to, and even more profound than, the Omnipotent Magic Ring.

The high-level ice magic he urgently needs for his subsequent cultivation can probably be found in the vast knowledge base of the Spirit Lake.

After careful consideration from all aspects, this is indeed a bright and promising path full of infinite possibilities.

"I will seriously consider your suggestion."

Dago snapped out of his thoughts and slowly gave a reply.

"No rush. You can come with me first. It's a long journey, you'll have plenty of time to think it over."

Jason added casually, with a hint of self-deprecation in his tone: "A super-large wizarding force isn't like a rotten cabbage on the roadside that anyone can just crawl into."

"Their requirements for recruiting wizards in all aspects of talent, purity of soul, and combat skills are abnormally demanding."

"I'm not afraid you'll laugh at me, but I went to the Witch Heart Palace just to try my luck."

Of course, if I fail the assessment and can't get in, I've also prepared a backup plan: I can always choose to join another large force that's slightly less powerful.

"After all, you and I are both at the peak of the third ring, and we are on the verge of breaking through to the fourth ring miracle at any time."

For most large, established powers, our immediate combat capability is considered an honored guest, and they can come in freely.

It's clear that Jason did a lot of research and preparation before making this "job hopping".

He even meticulously considered every possible escape route after failure.

This further confirmed Dargo's earlier guess: this burly black wizard had a delicate and cautious heart that was quite different from his rugged appearance.

Dago nodded silently, not delving any further into the topic.

The two of them remained silent, each drinking the strangely shaped potions in front of them.

After finishing the glass of "Creditor" filled with worms, Jason seemed to still be enjoying it, and beckoned to order another glass of dark green, viscous drink called "Spell".

Dago discovered that the atmosphere of witchcraft research in the central continent as a whole was indeed much more intense and competitive than in the remote south.

Even in a remote place like White Pine Town, so remote that it's not even marked on a map, you can easily find these wizarding wines derived from advanced potion-making techniques, wines that can stimulate the soul.

Three cups of extremely potent potion wine were downed.

Jason's originally deathly pale skin began to uncontrollably flush with a slightly tipsy pink.

The alcohol also diluted the chilling, deathly aura emanating from him, aura unique to dark and necromancer wizards, which kept the living at bay.

He suddenly reached into his robes and solemnly took out the silver chain ring that Dago had previously returned to him.

"Dago, I don't know if this name is your real name, and I have no intention of finding out."

Jason hiccuped, his voice low and hoarse: "Although we've only just met today, you were able to resist the temptation of such a treasure and return this linked ring to its rightful owner without hesitation."

"This is enough to prove that you are a true person with principles and a worthwhile companion to befriend."

Jason's eyes, fueled by alcohol, appeared exceptionally sincere.

"Very few people in the entire wizarding world know about the shocking secret hidden behind the Chain Ring. I only managed to piece together a few clues after searching through a large number of ancient rare books in a certain ruin."

"Once I've settled down in the Empire of Destiny, I'll find the exact spatial coordinates of the treasure hidden behind this ring..."

Jason patted his chest emphatically: "I swear, I will definitely invite you to come in with me and share that fortune!"

After saying that, Jason generously took a communication device shaped like a strange black bat from his waist, slammed it on the table, and pushed it in front of Dago.

Dargo, clutching the cold communication bat, was caught off guard by Jason's sudden "drunken revelation."

He sized up the scarred man before him, who appeared somewhat simple-minded due to drunkenness, remained silent for a moment, and then suddenly asked:

"Jason, do you... usually not have many friends?"

Jason's hand, holding the empty wine glass, stiffened slightly.

He shook his head vigorously, a smile that looked more like a grimace than tears.

"I have no friends. In the world of dark wizards, making friends is tantamount to slow suicide."

The voice just fell.

When Dago looked up again, Jason across from him had already slumped heavily onto the greasy oak table with a "thud," emitting a heavy, rhythmic, and soft snore.

Dago put the messenger bat into his ring.

He picked up his half-finished glass of "creditor" on the table and expressionlessly downed the several struggling insects in one gulp.

He looked at his drunken companion and silently gave him an assessment.

"...He's really a strange, conflicted, yet somewhat interesting person."