Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

As night fell, the moonlight was as desolate as water, and the wind howled like a demon deep in the forest.

Inside a secluded cave deep in the mountains, a roaring campfire dispels the biting chill.

Bare-chested, Dago, by the flickering firelight, picked up the green herbal paste in front of him, which had been crushed in a stone mortar and mixed in an extremely complex ratio.

Without even flinching, he reached out a finger, picked up the ointment, and applied it bit by bit, expressionlessly, to his horrific, deep, bone-revealing wounds, which were even festering.

"hiss--"

The moment the potent herbs came into contact with the rotting flesh, an intense burning pain erupted, but his gaze remained as calm as still water.

He didn't rest for even a minute during those three days.

He personally and meticulously destroyed his handsome appearance, which was enough to drive women all over the world crazy.

At the same time, with his crippled body, he calmly arranged all the survival supplies and escape routes for the long life he would spend in the deep mountains and forests.

To completely escape the control of Sekagerin, that power monster, from the frenzied search of the state apparatus, and to "destroy" "himself" as her male concubine, thus making her lose all interest in the search, is undoubtedly the best and most permanent solution logically.

Although his injuries were so severe that, to ordinary people, it seemed like a hopeless situation where even a miracle couldn't save him and death was inevitable.

But for Dago, whose mind contained a complete knowledge base of the orthodox wizarding system, relying on his mastery of potions from his previous life—

In this world, finding readily available and affordable herbs to concoct low-level healing potions that can save lives, detoxify, and promote tissue regeneration is really not an impossible task.

For Dago, who had faced countless brushes with death, this was a different story.

In this illusory yet real world of trials, as long as the "soul anchor" does not collapse, apart from the most core life and memories... there is nothing that cannot be put on the scales to be discarded!

Even this face, even dignity.

He slowly closed his eyes.

As his mind sank, he clearly felt the two incredibly complex "Primordial Spiritual Script" imprints deep within his mind, slowly wriggling and interacting with each other as if they were living things in his spiritual sea of ​​consciousness.

A deep, thoughtful light immediately flashed in Dago's eyes.

"Just as I expected..."

The deadlock problem that had caused him so much suffering in the Tower of Knowledge: "The mutual repulsion of ancient spiritual scripts leads to memory loss."

After entering this dream world, the absolute memory duration built up by the huge time difference has been perfectly resolved in a very short time.

During the three days of escape, he only spent a little time on the first night to reorganize and consolidate the foundation of his memory of the law structure of the first Primordial Spirit Script.

Since then, even when a second spirit script forcibly intervened, the phenomenon of "mark fading" caused by the law's rejection never occurred again.

"Based on the logic of the data panel from my previous life, this is probably because the underlying logic of this ancient spiritual script has been thoroughly analyzed by my soul essence and permanently recorded as a passive skill."

"Since it's already etched into our DNA, the concept of 'forgetting' simply doesn't exist."

Dago's lips twitched slightly, aggravating the scars on his face.

It has to be said that in this brutal trial battle, this was arguably the biggest trump card he had used to gain for himself by exploiting loopholes in the rules.

Just then, a very faint, deliberately low-pitched rustling sound of footsteps came from outside the cave.

A hunched figure, stretched long by the moonlight, appeared at the cave entrance.

It was that farm girl.

She was clutching tightly to a large pile of fresh medicinal herbs that she had just picked at the edge of the cliff under cover of darkness, as well as wild fruits and dry, hard food wrapped in leaves.

The girl entered the cave and, as if handling a fragile, sacred offering, carefully placed the object in her arms on a haystack five steps away from Dago.

After doing all this, she immediately recoiled as if she had been electrocuted.

She retreated to the shadows at the very edge of the cave, far away from the warm campfire, trying her best to shrink herself into a tiny black shadow.

She even suppressed her breathing to the extreme, like a frightened quail, afraid that her crude movements and breathing would abruptly disturb the "deity" sitting in the firelight.

After applying the last bit of ointment, Dago slowly raised his head.

For the first time ever, a faint, yet undeniably real, gentle light flashed in his only sightable right eye.

He gently waved to the girl huddled in the shadows in the corner.

The girl was startled.

She hesitated for a long time, as if she were doing some kind of great mental preparation.

In the end, she overcame her inner cowardice and crawled over, trembling with fear and trepidation.

When she came to Dago, she didn't even dare to lift her head, and knelt down straight under Dago's bare feet covered in mud.

"Thank you for today."

Dago looked down at her and spoke to her in a strained and hoarse voice with utmost seriousness.

Upon hearing this heavenly thank you, the girl was terrified. She trembled violently and buried her already humble head even deeper between her knees.

"What's your name?"

"Dago asked softly."

"I...I don't have a name..."

The girl trembled as she slightly raised her head.

A deep sense of bewilderment and inferiority was evident in those cloudy eyes.

She opened her chapped lips, but she was like a mute person abandoned by the world, completely unaware of what words to use to define her lowly existence.

"No name...?"

Dago seemed to be deep in thought.

Suddenly, images of people and events from the main world flashed through his mind.

"In that case, from now on, your name will be—Tracy, how about that?"

In a world with an existence that closely resembles "Michael," wouldn't this long life seem too boring if there wasn't a loyal and crazy "Tracy" by your side to witness everything?

Dago slowly extended his right hand, which, though wrapped in bandages, was still long and strong.

He paid no attention to the dirt and lice in the girl's hair, and gently and solemnly placed his palm on the top of her head.

Like a god, blessing his most devout believers.

The girl froze, and tears streamed down her face instantly.

Dago looked away.

He slowly turned his head, his gaze passing over the leaping campfire, piercing through the deep cave entrance, and looking out at the vast, deep, and coldly boundless starry sky.

His voice was extremely soft, so soft it sounded like a sigh, like he was speaking to the girl kneeling at his feet, or perhaps it was a whisper that traveled through the long river of time, to himself who was destined to walk alone:

"From now on... I will live in anonymity, staying in this secluded place forever, to pursue the path of truth that has no end."

"The prosperity and power outside are no longer relevant to me."

"Would you be willing to stay and keep such a monster company?"

"Tracy."

"You need to think this through, because it will be... a long, extremely tedious period that could consume almost your entire life..."

The campfire crackled and popped.

The girl never uttered a single word in response to her vow.

She expressed her determination with the most primitive and humble actions.

Like a fanatical martyr who had finally found her life's faith, she obediently bent down and kissed Dago's scarred feet again and again, tirelessly.

In this cold and cruel world, this was her only response.