Alchemy Principles of Type-Moon World

"Xing, that kid Weber is here," Kenneth said to Xing Qingjiu via telepathy, "but something seems to have gone wrong."

"What's wrong?" Xing Qingyu lowered the camera and continued filming while replying in telepathy.

"I don't know, but the amulet on that kid has activated," Kenneth said calmly, even though Weber was clearly in trouble. "Given Weber's unlucky nature, he's bound to get caught up in some incident wherever he goes. He's probably in trouble again."

"Huh?" Xing Qingqiu was slightly taken aback, almost pressing the wrong button. He glanced sideways at Kenneth, "You mean, Weber encountered a dangerous enough situation right after getting off the plane that the amulet you gave him activated automatically?"

"That's probably it."

"What is this?" Xing Qing put away the camera. "What's this?"

"Haha," Kayneth smiled calmly, his eyes still wandering in the light and shadow of the temple, "I guess he's running away sweating profusely right now."

"So you're just going to wait here for him and wish him the best?" Xing Qingyu said in a telepathic voice as he gently put away his camera and put his messenger bag back on.

"Well, no rush," Kenneth continued observing the temple's reliefs. "That kid probably doesn't know I placed a protective amulet on him. Anyway, his life isn't in any immediate danger, so it's good to let him experience some experience on his own."

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The next chapter will enter the next plot. Finally, Kenneth will no longer be a humanities commentator. Although there is nothing wrong with his character setting, I always feel that this kind of thing has to happen in the second life.

The above is a new book by a new author. Please vote and give me feedback. Thank you!

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Friday, tomorrow is Friday, and then it’s the weekend——

But I don't have any vacation time at all.

Volume 8: Endosymbiosis: . Kenneth is on vacation, but what about Weber?

Weber felt that he was extremely unlucky.

Fresh out of the airport, the chill of June in South America forced him to pull his coat closer. A cool, damp winter breeze swept through the empty streets, bringing a distinct sense of coldness and loneliness. June here was completely different from the northern hemisphere summer he'd grown up accustomed to. Walking on the slippery cobblestones, Weber looked up at the distant mountains, faintly visible through the mist. Before he could even contemplate his feelings, a problem arose.

Just as he was about to head to the address Kenneth had given him, he suddenly sensed something strange about the surroundings. Then, someone sacked him. Weber was certain it was a magician's handiwork, because the person who had sacked him was kindly giving him directions one moment, and then, before Weber could even turn around, they grabbed a nearby sack and sacked him in.

Before Weber could react, he fainted.

Generally speaking, magicians usually set up bases near the land, city, town, or village where they live. This is because using magic means first connecting to the magic base engraved somewhere and executing pre-set functions.

Land is limited, and even fewer are the areas rich in spiritual veins that can be utilized by magicians. Although magicians are considered a rare species in modern times, compared to the even rarer land, the overall situation is still that there are more people than resources.

It is also for this reason that there are a large number of wandering magicians without land among magicians. Generally speaking, ordinary wandering magicians will not directly fight for land. Due to the huge gap in strength, if they fight for it, they will die.

But for those magi whose talents are neglected, fighting for the dwindling land is a necessity. Without the support of land, many things, including research, would be greatly inconvenient.

It is for this reason that magicians generally do not enter other magicians' territories without permission. If a stranger magician enters another magician's territory without informing them beforehand—

——Basically, it assumes that you are here to cause trouble.

Weber originally thought that Kenneth should have communicated with the local magician, but when he thought about it carefully, he found something wrong.

Xing Qingyu had always looked down on traditional magicians, generally being too lazy to interact with them and disdaining to follow these rules. In his words, only the weak and sensitive would follow these rules out of insecurity, while those with sufficient strength wouldn't mind what others did.

——So if a magician comes to Xing Qingjiu for this kind of thing, he will definitely not be able to beat Xing Qingjiu.

As for Kenneth? He certainly knew the rules. But you know, he was the Clock Tower's prodigy, the Lord of the Minerals Department, and the Director of the Spirituality Department—Kenneth El-Melloi Archibald. While not as powerful as the three Lords, he was still considered the aristocrat of the Clock Tower, the Union Jack of the aristocracy.

Now that he had come to this rural area at the invitation of a friend, in Kenneth's eyes, his presence had already brought honor to this place. As for wanting him to take the initiative to visit the local magic family?

Weber would rather believe that one day Kenneth would no longer be afraid of his wife...or his master's wife.

In short, when Weber woke up again, he felt only the cold and damp air around him, and the slippery stone floor made him uncomfortable. The sack had long been removed, but his hands were tied tightly behind his back, making him unable to move.

Sunlight streamed in from the skylight high above, illuminating the statue in the center of the room. Before it, a thin old man knelt devoutly. In front of the statue lay a dish of cornmeal and a small bunch of herbs. Next to the cornmeal sat a glass filled with a pale yellow liquid, likely some kind of offering.

He tried to struggle, but felt the hemp rope on his wrist almost cutting into his flesh. The surroundings were eerily quiet. Aside from the old man's muttered prayers, the entire room seemed devoid of any other sound. Sunlight slanted across the ground, illuminating the outline of the statue.

Weber struggled a few more times, trying to free his wrists, but found the ropes binding him incredibly tight, the fine knots pressing painfully against his wrists. The ropes dug deep into his skin, leaving no room for loosening. Weber instinctively clenched his teeth, his mind racing with possibilities for escape.

Waver glanced around, searching for something he could use. However, aside from the statue and the offerings, the room was nearly empty, with only the mottled stone walls and a skylight high above letting in light. He took a deep breath and prepared to chant the magic to cut the ropes. But just as he recited the first step, the old man praying to the statue slowly stood up, paused, and stared at Waver indifferently.

Weber subconsciously stopped chanting the spell and suddenly became nervous.

"Uh... sir?" Weber felt a little uneasy under his gaze and couldn't help but open his mouth to try to negotiate with him. "I'm just here for sightseeing. I don't have any thoughts on your Qunwu Yi Ni (Eight) Baling Banner Liu Yi's land..."

The old man's eyes didn't waver at all, still staring at Weber intently as if he were gazing at his prey. His face was expressionless, and his indifferent attitude made Weber feel even more uneasy.

"The previous magician said the same thing." The old man's voice was hoarse and low, and his expression was quite indifferent.

Weber realized that there was a strong hostility hidden in the old man's words, but before Weber could open his mouth to explain, the old man had already taken a step, slowly walked up to him, and looked down at him condescendingly.

"I don't know what good things there are in Crystal Valley that could attract magicians like you to your deaths one after another."

"It would be fine if you were courting death," the old man's voice grew increasingly stern, a hint of gnashing teeth lingering in his voice. "How dare you covet the legacy of the God Inti..."

"Wait, what Crystal Valley?" Weber wanted to argue, but just as he was about to open his mouth, the old man waved his hand impatiently.

Before Weber could say another word, the old man quickly muttered a few incantations in Spanish. The magical fluctuations in the air suddenly intensified, and Weber felt his throat suddenly tighten, as if some invisible force was firmly blocking his voice. Then, his mouth seemed to be bound by invisible shackles, and he could no longer utter a single word.

"Mmm...!" Weber let out a few suppressed moans and struggled desperately, but to no avail. He could only watch helplessly as the old man turned away indifferently, pushed the door open and left, leaving only the sound of the door locking echoing in the room.

"What on earth is he planning to do..." Weber wondered. The hostility in the old man's tone was unmistakable, but he didn't resort to killing him outright. He felt that perhaps things weren't yet at the point of no return, and there might still be room for maneuver.

"Alas..." He sighed, his eyes sweeping over the offerings placed in front of the statue, trying to calm himself down.

In reality, Weber had come to South America with the intention of taking a vacation. Kenneth had said he'd "let him handle everything," but from his description, this was essentially an adventurous exploration of a foreign land. At least in Weber's opinion, compared to those truly troublesome missions in the past, this one was completely insignificant. After all, just look at who was on the team this time—

One was the monarch of the Clock Tower and the head of the Necromancer Department, whose religious ritual magic fell squarely within the purview of the department. The other was a monster capable of crushing a certain Lord in a private magic battle. With just these two characters, Waver felt he had nothing to worry about. He only needed to use his brain and handle the minor details.

This mission wasn't so much a mission as it was an opportunity to relax. Weber thought to himself that his years with Kenneth had already given him a good understanding of his teacher's temperament. This time, like the others, was likely a "mission" disguised as a relaxing vacation. It was precisely because of this mindset that Weber wasn't overly alarmed by the "attack."

"Mr. Kenneth will definitely come to rescue me." Weber thought confidently, with a slight smile on his face. However, he also knew that if Kenneth found out that he was doing nothing and just waiting for rescue, he would definitely be very disappointed in him. Thinking of this, he encouraged himself and began to think about how to escape. Just when this kid was convinced that his teacher was preparing to rescue him -

At that moment, Kenneth stood leisurely before the stone walls of the mountain temple, his hands in his pockets, his gaze intently examining the ancient murals. Sunlight streamed through the temple's stone windows, casting a shadow that made the patterns on the walls seem to undulate slightly. A faint smile played on Kenneth's lips, clearly enjoying the exotic locales and customs.

As for Weber's safety? It was not within his thoughts at the moment.

Meanwhile, Weber was concentrating, his ear pressed against the cold stone wall. He heard the old man's muffled voice from the other end of the room, faintly carried along the stone wall:

"Yes, it's me, Isidro." The old man's voice was still as hoarse and low as before. "I caught a magician. Aren't you in need of a sacrifice? Come and get it yourself."

Weber frowned. Now he understood why he was not killed.

——The colonial magician from Spain is trying to replicate the old trade in modern times, except that this time it is Weber who is being sold.

Weber shook himself, trying to hear more clearly, so he moved as close to the wall as possible and pressed his ear against the cool stone surface.

The old man's voice continued to echo from the other end. "What? There's a drug lord at home, and I can't get away? You want me to cut out my heart and mail it to Mexico for you?" His tone suddenly became sharp and impatient, and his tone suddenly rose with his emotions. "How many times have I told you, I can't handle your Aztec stuff! I don't have an obsidian dagger here!"

After a moment's silence, the old man added coldly: "That's it, come and get it yourself before Sun Festival." As the words fell, there was a slight sound of something being put down, which sounded like the sound of a phone being hung up.

Weber held his breath cautiously, his heart pounding. The old man's voice then turned to a mumbling tone, filled with annoyance and disgust:

"Bah, those Aztec barbarians who perform blood sacrifices every day..."

Weber heard the old man's curses gradually fade away, until a dull slamming of a door echoed throughout the stone chamber, and all other sounds returned to silence. Weber finally breathed a sigh of relief. He raised his head and looked around the narrow room, quickly thinking of a way to escape.

He struggled to hold his upper body upright, his wrists and shoulders tingling from the prolonged restraints. But he gritted his teeth and focused on his surroundings. The room was a completely enclosed space, its surrounding stone walls shimmering with a cold, gray luster. There were no windows, and the only light came from a small skylight in the high ceiling. Through the skylight, a faint stream of sunlight filtered in, illuminating the stone floor and barely allowing Waver to discern the outlines of the interior.

The skylight was too high, and the stone wall was as smooth as a polished mirror, without a single bump or dent. Waver looked up at the skylight helplessly, sighing inwardly. Unless he used magic, escaping from this place was simply impossible. But there was a more pressing problem: the ropes around his wrists were still tightly bound, tightening painfully.

He tried to struggle a few times, but the rope was still as tight as an iron chain, and his skin was hurting. Weber frowned, gritted his teeth, and began to look around. The room was cold, with no windows on the stone walls. It was empty, with almost nothing around except the stone statue and the altar. But he soon noticed the altar in front of the statue.

—on it were placed an earthenware offering plate and a fragile-looking glass wine glass.

He endured the pain in his wrists and shoulders, slowly moving his body on the stone ground, approaching the direction of the statue. The stone slabs on the ground were uneven, and the cold touch came through his clothes, and he was like a maggot crawling on the ground... I mean, a snake.

Finally, with great effort, Waver moved to the front of the statue. He straightened his body and put his head as close to the edge of the stone table as possible.

Weber unleashed his Iron Head Technique! But it had little effect; the plates and cups only shook, not falling. After repeatedly unleashing his Iron Head Technique, he finally pushed them off the edge of the table, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

He lifted his bound feet and pressed down hard on the ceramic plate. With a crisp "crack," the plate instantly shattered, and sharp fragments scattered everywhere. Weber didn't dare delay. He found a way to reach a sharper piece, carefully moved it under the rope, and began to cut the restraints bit by bit.

The pottery shards scraped across the rope, making a slight "swish" sound. Although every movement was very careful, the sharp fragments still scratched his wrists with tiny wounds, and blood quickly seeped out, staining the rope red.

The pain burned him like fire, but Waver gritted his teeth, his eyes determined. He knew this was his only chance.

The rope gradually loosened, and finally, with a snap, it broke. His hands finally freed, Weber collapsed to the ground, his wrists drenched in blood.

"Okay," Weber tried to open his mouth, but found that he still couldn't open it. This also meant that he couldn't use the conventional magic chanting method. "It's time to think about how to proceed to the next step."

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OK, the first step of introduction has been completed. I tried to move smoothly from Inti beliefs, the Sun Festival to the special foreign ecology of Latin America. That’s about it.

The above is a new book by a new author. Please vote and give me feedback. Thank you!

Volume 9: Symbiotic Relationships: . Eh? Is it true that the Yinsha Bullet is hitting the Great Magic?

Waver felt his pockets; most of his magic attire had been taken, leaving only a few insignificant items. Perhaps because the weather was getting colder, he had dressed more than usual, and there was a cigar hidden in the lining of his clothes, which had surprisingly not been discovered.

However, with his mouth sealed, Weber still couldn't use magic the conventional way. This was because the release of conventional modern magic required the following conditions: 1. Connection to the magic base; 2. A supply of magic power, whether through a magic circuit or an external magic supply; 3. Chanting.

But Waver's current situation was very awkward. Because, apart from some relatively special magic bases, such as the Church's "God's Teachings" which had the most extensive base, it could be used almost anywhere in the world without much impact.

Most modern magic bases are strongly tied to specific regions. While magic bases carved into the form of knowledge and religion are deeply embedded in the earth's veins, allowing magi using them to operate anywhere on Earth, if they leave the land where their magic bases are carved, the land's support weakens and their power deteriorates.

This is also why foreign magicians normally find it difficult to compete against magicians who own the land. This geographical advantage gives local magicians a strong advantage within their own territory, while outsiders are at a significant disadvantage. While Waver can still use magic normally outside his normal range, the chanting process becomes more complicated and the power is greatly reduced.

For example, in the previous volume, Uncle Liu's worship of Guan Gong, far away in North America, naturally could not connect to the Asian thought disk, so his daily worship and divination of Guan Gong became a simple daily routine. Only after he performed a more complex ritual, did "Guan Gong appear".

Incidentally, if we consider Uncle Liu’s sacrifice and the throwing of the Holy Grail as a kind of “calling Guan Gong to ask for his help”, then he is not actually directly contacting Guan Gong in Asia. To do so would require a larger-scale sacrificial ceremony.

He actually first connected to Cuba's "San Fancón," the Cuban version of Guan Gong, and then used him as a springboard to connect with Guan Gong. From this perspective, perhaps this is also a kind of transfer.

Chanting, or the "throat" Kenneth mentioned, is the process of activating magic. However, chanting is not limited to words; any action that can produce sound can be part of the chant.

To put it simply, any form of "sound wave" could be used to guide the magic. However, with his mouth firmly sealed, Waver's normal chanting path was cut off. Being far removed from his magecraft foundation, he needed a more complex chanting process to activate his magic. Under these circumstances, the difficulty of performing his spells was undoubtedly increased significantly.

It wasn't that there wasn't a solution. In fact, he only needed to take a puff of the cigar that had been transformed into a magic ceremonial garment to activate its pre-programmed effects. Lighting herbs and inhaling their smoke could be considered one of humanity's oldest witchcraft practices. While modern society has abandoned ancient witchcraft, similar principles have been inherited and simplified through cigars and cigarettes. This was also the basic principle behind Weber's magic ceremonial garment.

However, this cigar was not made by Weber, but by Xing Qingjiu——

——"It can replenish your magic power and make you feel high at the same time." Xing Qingyu only said this when he handed this thing to Weber. The irony in his words made Weber unsure whether this thing was reliable or not.

Weber's fingers caressed the rough surface of the cigar. While this was a simple method, it wasn't foolproof, and it wasn't his only method for guiding the spell. A magician's blood itself was an excellent medium for casting spells. If he could use his own blood as a guide, he should be able to complete a simple spell and simplify the chanting process.

He squatted down and unbuttoned his cuffs, revealing the injured skin on his wrist. Dipping his fingertips in the bright red blood, Weber began to write a string of Latin letters on the floor. The blood formed dark red writing on the ground, flickering with a faint light.

But just as he was halfway through writing, he keenly heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. Perhaps the warning barrier set by the old man had been triggered, or the sound of the breaking plates had startled him. In short, Weber didn't have time to leisurely write the spell.

If someone discovers that he is about to escape, the consequences will be disastrous.

So, what else can we do now?

He touched the cigar in his arms, and felt the rough texture of the grass with his fingertips. After weighing it for a moment, he decided to take a gamble and try his luck.

Weber quickly dipped his fingertips in the blood from his wrist, then quickly traced the Anglo-Saxon "?" on his palm, meaning torch. The blood formed a deep red rune on his skin, which shimmered with a faint light. Weber clenched his teeth and clenched the rune in his hand. He felt a slight sting in his magic circuits, and he felt magic flow from his palm like warm liquid into the rune. Soon, a tiny flame rose from his fingertips. The flame was weak, but more than enough to light a cigar. The tobacco was licked by the flame, making a slight "hissing" sound, and the orange-red flame danced on the edge of the cigar.

But Weber couldn't open his mouth to smoke his cigar. Meanwhile, he could hear the rattle of the locked door bolt being pulled back open. The person outside was unlocking the door, which meant he was running out of time.

How to do?

When ancient wizards inhaled the smoke released by burning herbs, they did not inhale it with their mouths like modern people do when smoking. They inhaled it more often with their noses.

Yes, the magic gift made with this principle can also be used by inhaling through the nose. It is better to say that this is the original real method of use, and Weber decided to follow the example of his wizard predecessors -

——Put the cigar in your nose.

Amidst the swirling smoke, he took a deep breath, feeling the thick smoke suddenly rush into his nostrils, accompanied by a burning sensation that instantly filled his entire brain. His body trembled slightly, and magic power spread through his nasal cavity, then poured into his magic circuits. A paralyzing pain followed, as if countless needles were piercing every magic circuit in his body, causing waves of swelling and pain.

His breathing became increasingly rapid, but the pain soon faded, replaced by a feeling of fullness and vitality, a surge of magical energy. He could clearly feel the magic flowing through his body. As the magic continued to flow in, Waver suddenly felt a strange sense of lightness, as if his body had become light and airy, as if he were being lifted up.

"I feel so light. I've never experienced anything like this before," Waver thought to himself as he stretched comfortably. "There's nothing to be afraid of anymore."

Smoke swirled around him, and everything in the room seemed to begin to blur. Waver subconsciously took a step forward, but was surprised to find that his feet had left the ground. He was suspended in mid-air, his limbs floating, and he had lost his sense of weight.

——In the end, it actually flew up.

Weber hung in mid-air, the air around him gently lifting him like a tide. He slowly rose upward, as if freeing himself from the earth's gravity. The ground beneath his feet receded, and the shadows in the room gradually disappeared into a hazy mist. Weber raised his head slightly. The skylight was just around the corner. He could escape from this place immediately.

However, just as he approached the ceiling, a low "click" sound finally came from outside the door, indicating that the door lock was unlocked. Weber's heart tightened, and he instinctively turned his head to look in the direction of the door.

Isidro stood at the doorway, his slightly hunched figure elongated by the dim firelight outside. He stepped inside, the runestones in his hands gently clacking against each other, making a dull sound. However, Isidro didn't notice that Weber was floating toward the ceiling, seemingly ignoring him completely.

Isidro's footsteps seemed exceptionally heavy in the dim sunlight. His leather boots tapped softly on the stone floor, creating a low echo. Weber saw no sign of panic or confusion in the old man. He remained calm, his face expressionless, his eyes cold as he stared intently at the spot where Weber had once been.

Weber frowned slightly, followed Isidro's gaze, and then felt his heart skip a beat. There lay a familiar figure—

—A long-haired man with a cigar stuffed in his nose, lying quietly on the cold stone floor. His face was expressionless, his complexion pale and his posture stiff.

He stared at the lifeless body, countless tiny thoughts flashing through his mind, and he instantly understood the current situation.

The separation of the soul from the body is not a new concept in magic. Ancient wizards, especially those who relied on plants to induce hallucinations, often used smoke and fire to enter hallucinations. In that state, the soul left the body, ascended, communicated with the gods, and even gained power and enlightenment.

Originally, this practice wasn't exclusive to wizards. Instead, the entire clan, guided by the shaman, would collectively enter a hallucination, where they would joyfully visit their grandparents. Over time, the ritual evolved, until only the wizard remained as the messenger, his spirit traveling back and forth between heaven and earth to deliver the oracles. He became the original priest, or a kind of magician from the Age of Gods.