Hogwarts Summoning Guide

Deep space was dark and utterly silent. The colossal ancient stellar beast, the "Skeleton," comparable in size to a small galaxy, floated silently in the boundless darkness. Its flat, expansive body obscured the countless stars, its surface covered in layers of dark crystalline scales, absorbing the drifting dark energy of the universe, becoming an eternally floating, mobile inferno in deep space. No one knew how many years this ancient behemoth had lived; all that was known was that at its core lay a secret cavern, isolated from the laws of the heavens and nurturing the corrupt power of the ancient gods—one of the hidden strongholds of the ancient rulers.

The core of the cave is vast and deep, unlike the cramped confines of ordinary caves. Its naturally formed dome rises thousands of feet high, and the cave walls glow with a ghostly purple light. Fine, black mist, like stardust, seeps from its crevices, each wisp carrying the distorted, pervasive power of ancient gods that distorts the mind and alters perception. The ground is covered with solidified, dark, gelatinous rock, soft and sticky underfoot, wriggling slightly as if alive. The air is filled with a strange aura of coldness, decay, and illusion. Here, the laws of the universe are stripped away; the flow of time is disordered, and the spatial structure is fragile and wrinkled—a perilous battlefield perfectly suited for the slaughter of ancient gods' minions, yet utterly deadly to mortal beings.

In the center of the cavernous secret realm, a tall and handsome figure from the East stood out. Bai Lin's long, jet-black hair was tied up with a black jade hair ornament, with a few stray strands falling across his forehead, fluttering gently in the chaotic air currents. His brows and eyes were deep and sharp, his pupils clear as cold stars. Even in the ancient god's domain filled with filth, his aura remained untainted. His tracksuit had transformed into a custom-made black bodysuit that clung to his body, outlining his well-proportioned and taut martial artist's physique. The hem of the garment was embroidered with delicate golden cloud patterns, subtly reflecting the principles of Yin and Yang.

Although the surprise attack had failed, Bai Lin was not discouraged. He even quickly analyzed countermeasures based on the strength of Grakua's resistance.

His aura was extremely unique, exhibiting a strange state of extreme contradictions yet perfect coexistence. His left side was shrouded in a deep, dark, ferocious mist, with chaotic and disordered magic surging and flowing, concealing a chaotic power capable of destruction, devouring, and overturning everything; his right side was enveloped in a clear and dazzling golden holy light, with orderly and refined divine power steadily settling, bearing the orderly power to purify, protect, and judge all things. Chaos and order, two diametrically opposed supreme powers, perfectly merged within his meridians, dantian, and the depths of his soul, neither conflicting but rather balancing each other, constructing a unique dual-order martial arts and magic system.

A small, ancient, gilded illustrated book floated in the air in his palm—the Summoning Illustrated Book, a supreme treasure left behind by the Sun God. The cover was engraved with an ancient sun totem, its gilded patterns still gleaming after countless ages. As the pages slowly turned, a warm and powerful force of the Sun God's essence flowed forth, continuously nourishing his body and tempering his soul—his ultimate trump card for dominating the heavens and reversing the course of battle. A thousand-year-old jade-hilted dragon sword hung diagonally at his waist. The warm, translucent Hetian jade hilt was warm to the touch. Within its dark scabbard, sealed the sharp edge of Eastern swordsmanship, capable of tearing through the void and slaying gods and demons, silent and awaiting its unsheathing.

Aside from his dual magic and unparalleled swordsmanship, Bai Lin possesses numerous trump cards: he is proficient in all high-level dark magic from the Harry Potter system, and can easily wield spells such as imprisonment, tearing, and curses; his Apparition technique is masterful, allowing him to instantly switch places regardless of spatial distance; in dire situations, he can transform into a purplish-black demonic ape avatar, increasing his combat power several times over, combining brute force with magical lethality; most remarkably, through countless illusions and mental battles, his soul has been tempered to be incredibly resilient and clear, and ordinary god-level mental erosion and illusionary illusions cannot shake the clarity of his mind.

The darkness of the entire cavern suddenly writhed and surged violently. The previously scattered fine black mist rapidly converged and compressed, condensing into an extremely dense, dark shadow a hundred meters directly in front of Bai Lin. The shadow twisted and distorted, gradually outlining a hideous and terrifying humanoid silhouette. The figure of the ancient god Grakua slowly appeared, instantly causing the temperature of the entire secret realm to plummet and the evil energy to surge.

Gracchus possessed no human beauty whatsoever, his entire being radiating a Cthulhu-esque eeriness and madness. He had no human head; instead, he had a gigantic octopus head several meters in diameter, its surface covered with moist, wrinkled, dark gray flesh that felt sticky and foul to the touch. Dozens of inky black tentacles of varying lengths and thicknesses extended from around his head, the thickest of which was comparable to the trunk of an ancient tree, while the slender ones were as supple as whips. Each tentacle was covered with densely packed barbs, suckers, and bizarre spiral patterns, stained with deep-space venom capable of corroding the soul.

Thousands of orange-yellow compound eyes, varying in size and arranged in layers, densely covered his head and antennae. Each pupil spun rapidly, reflecting the cold, greedy, violent, and insane malice of an ancient god, fixed on Bai Lin's figure as if examining a treasure about to be dismantled and sacrificed. His torso was bloated and twisted, his skin loose and wrinkled, a deathly gray-black color of deep space. His limbs were deformed and thick, with sharp, long fingertips that constantly dripped viscous, black, corrosive liquid. The moment the liquid hit the ground, it corroded the colloidal rock layer, creating sizzling, smoking pits. With each breath, he exhaled large plumes of black mist mixed with the whispers of the dead. Wherever the black mist passed, space distorted, light extinguished, and all things decayed.

"Insignificant mortals, laughable dual-path cultivators." Grakua's voice did not originate from the vibration of his mouth and nose, but directly pierced through space, resounding in every corner of the entire cavern. It was a fragmented, layered noise, mixed with the wails and murmurs of countless abyssal souls, possessing an extremely strong effect of mental interference and soul erosion. "Possessing the treasure of the Sun God, wielding the power of both order and chaos, your body and soul are the perfect materials for sacrificing to the ancient gods. Indulge in tender old dreams, forever fall into a false illusion, and become dust under my command."

The moment the words fell, without any incantation or magical fluctuations, an invisible and intangible top-tier mental storm suddenly swept across the entire area. This was Grakua's most relied-upon trump card, a high-level mental illusion exclusive to the ancient gods. It required no medium, directly penetrating the physical body's barriers, bypassing magical defenses, and striking the very essence of a being's soul. It forcibly tore apart fragments of the target's memories, weaving an extremely gentle and peaceful dreamscape of the past.

For all living beings, attachment and memories are their Achilles' heel. Grakua's illusions precisely target the core of a being's heart, amplifying the most cherished, peaceful, and irreplaceable moments of their life: the joyful laughter of family reunions, the carefree days of youth, the peaceful years free from strife and bloodshed, and the tender moments spent with a beloved companion. Layer upon layer of beautiful illusions instantly filled Bai Lin's consciousness, enveloping his entire body in a gentle atmosphere, constantly eroding his fighting spirit, enticing him to lower his guard, and ultimately causing his soul to succumb, permanently imprisoned, and reduced to a puppet of an ancient god devoid of self.