...This stuff is quite potent.
"Since it’s supposed to dissolve in blood... may I touch it?"
Annan asked, "Or would that contaminate it?"
"How could that be, feel free to touch it."
Salvatore couldn’t help but laugh, "If it could be contaminated that easily, it would not be the Philosopher’s Stone. Even if you scatter dust in it, it won’t be contaminated.
"But be careful. Although it appears to be as liquid as water, its weight is close to that of rcury of the sa volu, much heavier than it looks. If you’re not careful, you might break a bone."
Seeing Annan about to step forward, Salvatore reminded him.
Annan nodded, "Got it."
As he approached the ritual site, he clearly felt waves of heat hitting his face.
Just getting a bit closer, the temperature rose significantly, and sweat soon soaked through Annan’s body. The overly hot air made it difficult to breathe, and even his eyeballs felt scorched.
It was like being in a boiler room... No, hotter than a boiler room.
Annan suddenly realized why Salvatore had suggested he wear less.
The mont Annan touched the ever-flowing liquid Philosopher’s Stone, he indeed felt a sharp pain shoot through his fingers.
A screen of light imdiately appeared before his eyes:
[Hers Faction Philosopher’s Stone (Purity 34%)]
[Type: Consumable/Ritual Material/Sacrifice/Curio (Gold)]
[Description: The Philosopher’s Stone of Hers style, yet to be purified.]
[Description: You have never heard of it being used as a ritual material ("Advanced Mystical Rituals" check failed)]
[Description: You have never heard of it being used as a sacrifice ("Advanced Curio Studies" check failed)]
[Effect: After injecting a certain amount, gain a temporary rank for 180 seconds. Currently, rank can be raised to level 41.]
[Cost: Severe pain throughout the body for three days]
...Level 41?
Annan paused for a mont.
If the current pattern holds, the bronze rank is from level 11 to 20, the silver rank is from 21 to 30... the gold rank should be from 31 to 40.
According to what Salvatore said, it would be very lucky to reach level 40 after using the Stone of Truth.
But level 41...
This must be the Truth Rank, right?
Could it be because of the Book of the Celestial Chariot?
That’s indeed possible.
But... Hers?
Does this world also have Hers? Or is there a deity with this na?
No, that’s not very likely.
Annan quickly dismissed the thought.
If Hers were truly the na of a god, then it would constitute mystical knowledge. He wouldn’t have gained access to it so easily.
"—It’s quite heavy, isn’t it?"
Salvatore, standing behind Annan, spoke with a smug tone, "I actually didn’t expect that I could succeed in preparing it..."
"...You must be a genius, right?"
Annan couldn’t help but exclaim.
Upon hearing this, Salvatore fell silent for a mont, coughed lightly, "Well, it’s alright."
He hugged his arms tightly, as if trying to shrink into himself. His mood seed to drop significantly, and he fell silent.
Observing Salvatore’s behavior, Annan was thoughtful.
—He probably guessed it.
Salvatore always had an inexplicable, heavy pressure about him, and a faint self-doubt.
But this was unreasonable.
As a child of the Black Tower, this proved that his talents surpassed those of the current generation’s Tower Master.
For such a talented young man, not being arrogant was already good — look at Arthur, that was the real character and psychological quality of a golden reserve.
Compared with the overflowing confidence of Arthur, Salvatore was more than self-doubting; he was almost introverted...
—Now, it seed that his transcendent talent was sotis unreliable. Salvatore was troubled by this.
Annan couldn’t help but shake his head inwardly.
What’s there to be troubled about...
For geniuses whose talents fluctuate unpredictably, couldn’t you just use external forces to compensate for their weaknesses? Let the teammates determine the lower limit, and you decide the upper limit.
—Yes, that’s the team configuration for a protagonist with explosive potential.
"By the way, senior."
Annan asked casually, "Do you have anything good here? The kind that’s fun to play with."
"Ah, there is."
Upon hearing Annan’s question, Salvatore pondered for a mont, then replied, "But you need to put on so clothes—there are so of my cold-weather outfits in the wardrobe over there... Even though they might be a bit big for you. Put on the cotton shoes too, and head to the very back of the dungeon, where you’ll find a magic mirror."
"...A magic mirror?"
Is there really one?
Annan had a sowhat odd expression on his face.
He realized it.
The wealth of this Tower’s Child might be greater than he imagined.
Just the pigeon-egg-sized ruby alone was sothing ordinary people couldn’t just produce. Not to ntion the recipe for the Philosopher’s Stone.
But... what kind of magic mirror is it?
Annan walked toward the wardrobe Salvatore pointed out and casually asked, "What type of magic mirror is it?"
—Is it the kind that answers questions? Or the kind you can watch videos on?
Or is it the very flattering kind?
"It’s a cursed object."
Salvatore put the Panacea back in its place and explained, facing away from Annan, "There’s a compound spell from the School of Prophets and the School of Idols inside that lets you see your own soul essence... Of course, in a more abstract way.
"For example, if I place golden mistletoe in front of the mirror, it will reflect a golden oak, dripping blood, a beating heart, the cries of an infant, and the bellowing of a bull. This signifies its ability to revive the dead and an imnse healing power. We usually use it to test mysterious items, but what it predicts still requires your own analysis.
"However, without any clues, it’s still sowhat useful. At least it can reveal a vague direction for research. It’s better than nothing."
Salvatore turned around, smiling casually, "It’s like those ’soul reaping’ spells the Wizards perford on you, sothing to believe or not. It’s also a good way to kill ti."
"Okay, I’ll have a look!"
Annan donned the oversized and sowhat comical cotton clothes and shoes, heading eagerly toward the dungeon.
It wasn’t that he truly wanted to see the magic mirror.
But having already read through the Philosopher’s Stone, suggesting to leave at this point would be too deliberate; and if he stayed put, the atmosphere would beco awkward.
He was just discreetly giving Salvatore so private space to adjust his mood.
"Your secret is about to be discovered by Tan Juan, Salvatore."
A deep, mad voice with nurous echoes rose from the depths of Salvatore’s heart: "Have you decided what to do?"
Salvatore remained silent.
He just slowly went over to the Philosopher’s Stone, reaching out to lightly touch the flowing red liquid.
A stream no thicker than two fingers gently flicked his finger away the mont he touched it, as if he was trying to touch a swiftly spinning wheel.
"If I were you, I would kill him,"
the shadow chuckled, "He knows too many of our secrets, Salvatore."
"Shut up,"
Salvatore said calmly: "For now, at least, I’m the one in control of this body."
As he said this, he dipped his right index finger into the Philosopher’s Stone.
The mont his finger connected with the ritual, the Philosopher’s Stone lit up with a crimson glow, its spinning slowing down and then coming to a halt. The indented lines on the table lit up one by one; like the sun, the red gem dazzled with a brilliant light.
Salvatore’s pupils flashed with red light, much like the reflection of the red gem.
After a long silence, he slowly withdrew his finger. The ritual extinguished instantly, and the Philosopher’s Stone began to rotate once more.
His index finger emitted white smoke, the decaying wound healing almost instantly.
"The purification failed, didn’t it? I told you, you lack talent. Salvatore... what can you do well on your own?"
The shadow laughed mockingly, repeating, "You’re nothing but trash. You’ll fall asleep sooner or later, you can hardly hold on."
"I might not be able to do anything," Salvatore countered, his voice calr, "but if you were ... you would have given up long ago, fast asleep."
"The efforts of the untalented are aningless."
The shadow repeated, "How many more tis do you want to fail?"
But Salvatore didn’t say much more.
He just serenely watched the direction in which Annan had left, his deanor gentle and peaceful.
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