"The Ancient Spirit Text can enhance your foundation better than any rune knowledge. With a full foundation in both soul and knowledge, I am confident I can have your Elental Spirit reach eight stars at Level 5."
After hearing Alazan’s statent, Ronan’s brow slightly furrowed.
Exchanging ten thousand Ancient Spirit Texts for doing one thing for Alazan, should he admire Alazan’s profound erudition, or resent that he had always held back from him?
Upon knowing that Alazan held such a vast quantity of Ancient Spirit Texts, Ronan suddenly felt his "desperate" actions in the Spirit Lake’s Tower of Knowledge were utterly aningless.
However, on second thought, Alazan wasn’t obliged to tell him everything he knew; their relationship, after all, was one of mutual exploitation.
In fact, he had always been rather good to him, already imparting much useful knowledge, and back at the Tower of Knowledge, he had warned and stopped him several tis; everything was his own choice....
"Alright."
Ronan thought for a while, then nodded in agreent.
He knew this day would co sooner or later, and had been waiting for Alazan to make the offer. Now having more of the Ancient Spirit Text legacy as a reward, there’s no reason to disagree.
Afterwards, a sowhat awkward silence fell between Ronan and Alazan for a long ti.
Of course, it might have only been Ronan feeling a bit awkward.
From the initial parasitic relationship to slowly becoming both teacher and friend, and now returning to the essence of mutual exchange and exploitation—the subtle "friendship" covering their relationship was stripped away, leaving Ronan slightly unaccustod.
Finally, he broke the silence.
"Juventus has nine-star soul quality and spell mastery, and although his performance in the Tower of Knowledge wasn’t as good as mine, his scholarly accumulation must far exceed mine... Is it possible for him to achieve a Nine-star Primordial Spirit?"
"Not likely."
Alazan shook his head.
"The Nine-star Primordial Spirit, also known as the Supre Primordial Spirit, is the first ticket to becoming a Nine-level Ultimate Wizard. Though this saying is exaggerated, few Wizards indeed manage to achieve a Nine-star Primordial Spirit...
Even in our era, those who beca Primordial Spirit Nine-star were top geniuses sought by all major forces...
Juventus might excel in various areas, but the bloodline flowing within him is still lacking a lot.
I have ntioned before, the Seventh-level Primordial Bloodline is both his innate gift and the shackle of fate imposed upon him, which is nearly impossible to break before Twilight..."
As Ronan listened to Alazan’s narration, he pondered.
He thought Juventus might also be quite aware of this, and his attempt to replicate Heramus’s legend might be an effort to break that shackle.
....
Half a year later.
In the Secret Realm Space, behind the castle, in the spell experintation field.
Ronan stood on a barren, withered grassland, quietly observing a black pool before him.
The pool was about the size of a small private swimming pool, filled with murky black liquid, furiously bubbling like it was boiling, continuously emitting wisps of black vapor without dissipating, and lacking any warmth one would associate with boiling water.
In the center of the pool, large bubbles rose continuously, appearing as if so living creature were struggling and writhing inside, occasionally letting out suppressed low growls of pain.
Standing by the pool, Ronan attentively watched the commotion within, murmuring low, hoarse incantations, occasionally tossing peculiar materials into the pool as though conducting a mysterious and evil ancient ritual.
This process persisted for a long period until suddenly, the boiling of the pool water ceased, and the suppressed roars from within also vanished, prompting Ronan to halt his actions.
The calm black water surface retracted all smoke into the water, and a vortex silently ford in the pool’s center.
The water level of the murky black liquid in the pool kept dropping.
"It’s done."
Seeing this, Ronan’s eyes slightly glittered. After a mont’s thought, he flipped his hand and tossed a thin crystalline piece engraved with mysterious rune patterns into the expanding vortex.
Monts later, the murky black liquid in the whole pool vanished completely, as if absorbed entirely by sothing.
Replacing it was a concentrated black mist hovering above the dry pool center, from which a faintly chilly aura emanated.
Ronan pinched a spell with his fingers and uttered a curt syllable.
The black vapor suddenly dispersed, and a slender figure erged slowly from the mist.
It was a youth appearing fifteen or sixteen years old, with tangled, withered-grass-like long hair cascading down the front, fading into a bloody red at the tips, and eyes crimson like they were soaked in blood.
The youth wore tattered robes, bare-footed and hovering, his entire body emitting wisps of blackish-gray smoke, revealing his essence as a Ghost at first glance.
Ahaxia!
Compared to before, the Ghost youth Ahaxia now seed to have completely reined in his towering resentnt, but his presence had grown stronger, the Death Spirit Energy he exuded imdiately froze over the entire pool, spreading even to the surrounding grassland.
Ahaxia surveyed his surroundings, finally locking his gaze onto Ronan. His deanor was ominous, the crimson light in his eyes continually flickering, as he took steps towards Ronan.
Ronan watched him calmly until Ahaxia approached and knelt respectfully on one knee.
Ronan lightly raised his hand, and Ahaxia’s form suddenly scattered, quickly transforming into a ghostly arrow shrouded in black vapor, which whooshed away.
With a thought, the ghostly arrow whirled through the void like a darting fish at an incredible speed, leaving behind dense, lingering faint black trails.
Throughout, the entire space was filled with a wailing sound akin to sobbing, penetrating to the soul and instilling an imnse sense of dread.
"Whoosh—"
The small black arrow, having circled countless tis, finally returned to Ronan’s palm, where he lightly caught it.
Rubbing the unusually cold and strongly tallic-feeling shaft, a hint of curiosity appeared in Ronan’s eyes.
The process of mastering this [Ghost Arrow] spell was quite peculiar; though called a spell, it was more akin to refining a unique magic tool, consuming substantial resources in the process.
However, the ultimate effect was satisfactory; the ghostly arrow, refined using Ahaxia as a base, could directly assault an opponent’s soul. Without appropriate protection thods, a Level 4 Dawn Wizard might fall instantly.
Even if they could resist, they would be influenced by the eerie sound emitted when the ghostly arrow was shot, and this sonic attack was in a range effect.
"Yet, the effect of this sonic attack could be further enhanced...."
Ronan rubbed the black arrow with his palm, which went "bang" and reverted to Ahaxia’s form.
"Where are the rune fragnts I fed you?"
Ronan queried him.
The ghostly youth Ahaxia shook his head, slightly opening his mouth, revealing a nearly intact rune pattern stuck like a sticker on his blood-red long tongue.
Ronan coldly said, "I fed it to you not for decoration... Rember it, comprehend it, engrave it into the very bones of your soul!"
Ahaxia withdrew his long tongue. Rather than showing any dissatisfaction or resistance to Ronan’s "harsh" rebuke,
His eyes seed to flash with a lively light, and he obediently nodded.
A ghost like Ahaxia, who remained in the world driven solely by a surge of resentnt after death, almost acted on a single thread of obsession, rarely thinking like a normal person, let alone possessing wisdom.
However, perhaps Ronan’s tone just then was exceedingly reminiscent of Ahaxia’s life ntor, the forr [Bone Bell], killed by Ma Fulin.
This triggered so lingering mories deep within Ahaxia’s soul, hence his exceptional respect and compliance towards Ronan.
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