The Witcher: Grinding Experience Starting as a Wolf School Witcher

The Ring of Elements.

Vesemir gazed at the Blue Mountains and remained silent.

Paul and his two companions waited anxiously.

A man in a black and red leather jacket emerged from the corner.

"Aiskar, how are Arwen and the others?"

"By the goddess Meritelli, Alwin and Aiken will be alright."

The moment Paul and his two companions saw each other again, they immediately surrounded each other.

Vesemir turned around and frowned.

The other party had been down the mountain for less than an hour. At their speed, they wouldn't even have reached Old Spearhead's cave. How did they get back so quickly?

As Eskar walked past Paul and the other two, Vesemir asked, "What's going on?"

"It's over."

"Is it over?" Vesemir asked, puzzled.

"Yes."

Aiskar didn't explain much, he just shrugged, turned to the side, and gestured for everyone to look behind him.

Everyone stared in that direction, and a black-haired boy carrying Aiken, covered in blood, walked heavily into view.

At the boy's waist hung a huge head covered by a blood-stained cloth.

The lifeless, murky single eye swayed incessantly like a bell.

The eyes of the Vesemirs narrowed.

That's Old Spearhead's head!

Then came extreme silence, so quiet that everyone held their breath and could hear the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Winston rubbed his eyes, looking completely incredulous. "Damn it, is this some kind of illusion by the little mist fairy? Alwin and the others are back alive."

Paul dug his thumb deep into the web of his hand, and the sharp pain confirmed that he was not hallucinating.

"Gulp!"

He couldn't help but swallow hard. "It's true, it's true, Alwin killed Old Spearhead!?"

"Merritori, my God!" Horton's expression was one of utter shock.

Even Vesemir was somewhat dazed at this moment.

His gaze shifted to Aiskar beside him, who flashed the ogre sword oil in his pouch. "Old man, it seems that Kaer Morhen is about to produce a remarkable figure."

Seeing the group frozen in place as if they'd seen a ghost, Alwin hurriedly said, "Quick, Aiken is seriously injured."

Vesemir reacted immediately and stepped forward to help Arwen lay Aiken down on a blanket not far away.

Vesemir stretched out his finger and pried open Aiken's left eye, seeing that his vertical pupils were slightly constricted, his face was as pale as paper, and his lips were bluish.

He examined her right arm again and said in a deep voice, "The fainting was caused by excessive blood loss. She has many abrasions, especially her right arm, which has multiple fractures due to being crushed by a heavy object, but..."

He frowned slightly, bent down, and sniffed the air. At the same time, the wolf head badge on his chest trembled slightly.

"Residual magical energy...it's a healing spell!"

His pupils flashed with horror as he looked at Alwin in disbelief.

Arwen nodded to him in response.

Can witchers cast magic?

Vesemir's heart raced, and a word popped into his head.

The Perfect Witcher.

According to the theories of Arzul, the founder of the Witcher tradition, a perfect Witcher is someone who combines magic and chivalry, much like a melee mage rather than someone who casts simple hand seals.

In his shock, he cried out, "Eskar, the Black Gull, the Golden Oriole, the stretcher, the bandages, and the ointment made from Bone-Weaving Grass!"

Before he finished speaking, Eskar had already brought what Vesemir needed.

Vesemir first picked up the black medicine bottle, uncorked it, and gave it to Aiken to drink.

【Black Gull】Potion, a hallucinogen containing toxins that can bring witchers sweet dreams and alleviate their pain.

However, Vesemir generally forbids witchers from using this item, and it is only used when treating unbearable wounds.

If you'd like some relaxation, there's a gentler option called the "White Seagull" potion.

Then came the hemostatic "Golden Oriole" ointment. After two doses, Aiken's furrowed brows relaxed considerably.

Next comes the bone setting and medication application.

The sun was setting.

Vesemir wiped the sweat from his forehead with a towel, straightened up, and let out a long sigh.

Aiken's upper body was wrapped in bandages, making him look like a white rice dumpling, with only a pair of tired cat eyes showing.

He looked at Alwin beside him with gratitude.

"Let's go over there. Let him rest here for a while. There's a ceremony to be held tonight."

Arwin nodded and followed Vesemir to the wall not far away.

Paul and Winston quickly gathered around, very curious about how Alwin had killed Old Spearhead.

As for Escal and Horton, they went to Killer Lake.

The corpse of the Cyclops is an extremely valuable alchemical material, comparable to that of a dragon, and must be retrieved as soon as possible.

Vesemir spoke up: "Tell me, Arwin, how did you do that?"

Paul and his companion looked on with anticipation. At this moment, it was as if they had returned to the winter gathering in Kaer Morhen, where everyone sat around a table, eating roasted venison and listening to Vesemir recount his experiences and the legendary story of the seven witchers carved on the city walls.

Now, the storyteller is no longer Vesemir, but Arwin.

Alwin gave a general account of the events, deliberately omitting details about his own system.

"In short, it was the ancient little mist demon who led a group of little mist demons to seek revenge on the old spearhead. I only managed to escape this calamity by hiding in the lake."

"As for being able to kill the old spearhead, it was because it was severely injured by that ancient little mist demon, which allowed me to take advantage of the situation."

Paul and the other two were amazed when they heard this, and their eyes were filled with admiration as they looked at Alwin.

Vesemir looked pleased and asked about the details of the ancient little mist demon before falling into deep thought.

"Being able to imitate my swordsmanship is beyond the scope of the ancient mist demon. There is actually such a monster hidden in this Blue Mountain. After Old Spearhead dies, he will probably dominate this area. We need to investigate him thoroughly."

Alwin seemed to be deep in thought.

As for the origin of his swordsmanship, Vesemir didn't dwell on it.

He's killed monsters in Blue Mountain countless times; who knows, this ancient little mist demon might have been watching him at some point.

"Hiss..."

The heavy object rolled over the bushes, making a cracking sound.

Eskal, Horton, and "Scorpion" were chained together to a wooden frame on which rested the head of a small mist demon and a headless corpse the size of a small mountain.

The two men and one horse walked heavily, step by step, up the mountain.

Vesemir and his companions rushed over. Even though they had already heard the story, they were still shocked when they saw the enormous creature.

Paul and the other two, in particular, looked at Alwin with increasing respect.

"Coo coo coo..."

The call of the night owl echoed through the woods, the sky darkened, and the stars gradually emerged from behind the clouds.

Vesemir touched the wolf head badge on his chest with his rough hands.

"Eskar, apply some more carnivore oil to Old Spearhead's corpse. I'll go prepare."

"Congratulations, lads, you've passed the trial. Go wake Aiken up, give him something to eat, the most important moment is about to arrive—the moment of receiving the badges."