Ancient Wizards Return to Hogwarts...

Chapter 476 Rice: If you just hit me once, I'll grant your wish.

Despite being praised as a god, Rice was not happy at all.

He felt that the two people in front of him were completely insulting him.

Who's the god? Get lost! I'm a legitimate wizard!

To modern wizards, their abilities do indeed resemble the divine powers described by Muggles, so being misunderstood is simply a matter of misunderstanding. Although they don't believe in gods, they wouldn't bother explaining themselves if mistaken for deities. But to old-school wizards like Rice, being regarded as a god is undoubtedly an insult.

He no longer wanted to talk to those two people.

Completely unaware that they had stepped on the "Demon Lord's" landmine, the two continued to tirelessly articulate their needs. In their words, the powerful Demon Lord was like a wishing machine by the roadside.

However, the two suddenly shut their mouths, not only because Rice raised his hand, but also because they felt as if their blood was boiling.

The humanoid monster beneath the altar instantly froze.

When the Demon Lord was first summoned, he didn't sense anything extraordinary about him. But the moment He became serious, the monster felt the overwhelming pressure that the Emperor and the God of Light had faced six hundred years ago.

Even from a distance of over ten meters, he still had the unsettling feeling that his blood was about to be evaporated alive. If it weren't for the fact that his abilities overlapped in this area, his fate would likely have been no different from the two on the altar. Perhaps the weaker ones wouldn't even be able to speak in front of the Demon Lord when he was serious!

"The quantity of words is inversely proportional to strength." Rice looked at the two men kneeling before him, their faces swollen like tomatoes, and sneered at them with disdain.

He stepped down from the altar, and a cloud of blood mist burst from the bodies of the two people behind him, instantly turning them into mummies.

Sensing the overwhelming stench of blood, the strange man did not hesitate at all. He immediately knelt down on one knee, his eyes fixed on the ground, not daring to make any sudden movements.

"You have the right to speak to me. Stand up." Rice looked down at the strange man cowering at his feet, indicating that he could stand up and talk.

"I wouldn't dare," Rice said, but the strange man dared not obey. He remained kneeling on the ground, motionless, in the same position.

"Fine." Rice didn't bother with him anymore. He felt a familiar feeling from the strange man in front of him, which puzzled him a little.

"What are you? Why do you seem somewhat familiar?"

Upon hearing the Demon Lord's question, the strange man immediately replied, "My name is Boiling Blood. I am one of the insignificant benefactors who have been blessed by you, thus gaining sentience and power."

Rice frowned: He didn't recall leaving any legacy in this world; he only left behind disasters and plagues.

Hmm? Rice had a small guess.

"Could you be an evolution of the potion I left behind? Or the embodiment of the plague?"

"Indeed! We are all embodiments of blessings, and you are our benevolent father," said Boiling Blood. "However, plagues and such are just terms used by mortals. What you left behind is clearly a blessing that allows life to evolve—those who refuse this blessing all have a way to bring about their own demise!"

Boiling Blood's answer surprised Rice quite a bit.

Rice initially thought that the potion he had left behind had come to life and developed its own consciousness through continuous evolution. But he quickly realized the absurdity of his own thinking.

No matter how adept those potions are at evolving, they could never develop their own consciousness. This person before me is clearly a native of the alchemical world who survived infection by his own potion and inadvertently gained immense power—a process they call a blessing…

Rice himself was speechless. He never expected that life would find such a way out on its own.

What was originally a calamity and epidemic has been transformed into a force to fight against a powerful enemy in the hands of these infected individuals.

It was normal for him to feel that the monster in front of him looked familiar, after all, it was a creature carrying the plague.

"What do you want from me?" Rice changed the subject.

"I hope you can grant us greater power so that we can fight against those who refuse to be blessed..." Seeing that his benevolent father was finally getting down to business, Boiling Blood was overjoyed and immediately began to describe his request.

Those who survived the infection did indeed have an overwhelming advantage over ordinary creatures in the Alchemist world. In addition, many of the top combatants in the Alchemist world had been eliminated by Rice, so they were initially invincible and seemed poised to sweep away the world.

Unfortunately, the infected were not united and preferred to fight individually, which gave humanity a chance to breathe. Later, several top experts emerged and turned the tide of the battle.

Now it's the infected who are at a disadvantage.

So, this infected person named Boiling Blood thought of seeking help from his ancestors.

However, Rice had long since left the alchemy world, so his prayers had no effect. But Boiling Blood never gave up, and today he finally managed to "summon" Rice back.

After hearing what Boiling Blood said, Rice frowned.

"I feel like I'm your wish-granting machine," Rice couldn't help but complain, then told Boiling Blood that he didn't have a way to increase the infected's strength.

Rice is a wizard, not one of those false gods, and cannot bestow blessings that allow people to quickly increase their strength. Moreover, that would only be asking for trouble—he wants to wipe out all the top combat power in the alchemy world, and these infected people are no exception.

Even if there really is some kind of treasure that can quickly increase strength, he would still have to kill these infected people one by one after he increases his strength, which is really too troublesome.

"You only need to bestow the primordial blessing once more," Boiling Blood said earnestly, pressing his forehead to the ground.

"Oh?" Rice narrowed his eyes.

Do they need the original version of the potion? He does have some, but can this first-generation potion really help them?

Considering that the monster in front of him seemed sincere, and that he did indeed want to conduct another experiment, Rice decided to give him a chance.

"How about this, if you just hit me once, I'll grant your wish, okay?"

"Huh?!" Boiling Blood's eyes were filled with shock.

I hit my loving father? Really?

But if it's just a single hit...

He felt that even if there was a gap between his strength and that of his loving father, surely he shouldn't be unable to even touch him?

"Regardless of victory or defeat, I will eliminate the strong among those ordinary people. You just need to bring me to them," Rice added, reassuring Boiling Blood.

After receiving his father's assurance, Boiling Blood felt relieved and decided to exchange a few blows with the legendary Demon Lord.

"Alright, I—"

Boiling Blood instantly sprang up from the ground and attacked Rice.

"—You won't be polite!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Update delivered, goodnight~

There will be another update tonight~

(End of this chapter)