Wizard: Start with Biological Transformation to Grind Experience Chapter 275 - 026: Draw the sword!

There was a montary silence in the stands, followed by rapid murmuring.

"What’s going on? How can this Muggle be a High-level Wizard?"

"He only advanced to Wizard not long ago... How is this possible?"

"Where did he get the Wizard Inheritance? Who gave it to him?"

Clearly, people couldn’t make sense of it.

By this point, it’s been barely thirty years since Lynch advanced to Wizard—a tifra utterly negligible in the cultivation of the Wizard Levels. How could he have completed the liquefaction and solidification of spiritual power, achieving High-level Wizard?

Moreover,

Avery handing over the Wizard Inheritance to Lynch was done secretly, outside public scrutiny. Most Wizards didn’t even know about it, and among those who did, many were aware that Lynch’s inheritance had issues—issues that should have barred him from advancing.

In the stands, Albert was completely dumbfounded: "This... How is this possible?"

The Wizard Families had collectively targeted Lynch primarily to protect their own class interests. Albert, pushed forward as the public face of their opposition, had personal jealousy driving him even more.

Lynch was of a similar age to Albert, both having embarked on the Wizard’s Road in the sa cohort.

In terms of lineage, Albert ca from a noble Pureblood background. In terms of resources, he was grood extensively by the Mountbatten family. Though he had yet to advance to Wizard, he had already cultivated ten Basic Runes early on—it was just his bad luck holding him back temporarily from breaking through his shackles.

All in all,

Albert had always considered himself a hundred tis better than Lynch, but he could never understand why this re Muggle could garner the admiration of Avery, the noble Tavendish family’s highborn lady—a lofty existence he himself could only dream of.

He was fully aware that those Purebloods were stirring the pot just to use him as a pawn, yet driven by his jealousy, Albert willingly accepted their manipulation. He simply couldn’t figure out what he was lacking.

But in this mont, it seed he had found his answer.

At the sa ti, in the Judgnt Seat.

Berserker Leo, perched on the podium as a passive spectator to this lodrama, finally lifted an eyelid, a glimr of interest appearing in his gaze. A High-level Wizard alone wasn’t enough to faze him—he was rely curious what tricks this little Wizard had left up his sleeve.

Compared to Leo’s calm deanor, Marshall, responsible for maintaining order, was far less composed.

First the Bloodline Knights, and then the Wizards—loss after loss among personnel had only worsened the chaos at the scene. The Judge was sitting right there watching everything unfold, and doubts about Marshall’s competence were mounting.

Thus, although he didn’t truly believe a re High-level Wizard could stir up much of a storm, Marshall resolved to go all out, mobilizing all available forces to restore order.

Indeed, despite all the upheaval, Marshall remained confident that the situation was under his control. He was fully convinced he could eliminate the current trouble and that the established rules here remained unshakably intact.

The majority of Purebloods present shared this view: Lynch, who dared to challenge the rules, was still like a moth striking a stone wall!

"All Law Enforcers, follow my lead!"

Marshall left the stands, soared into the air, and activated his Wizard Force Field. This was a Wind Elent Wizard Force Field, his Lifebound Magic: Wind Order. Within this field, Marshall could imbue anyone with flight capabilities.

In an instant, Black Robed Enforcers stepped forth, ascending into the air under the influence of Marshall’s force field.

Knights, apprentices, Wizards—a force of several hundred strong.

Draped in black robes, they ford an unbroken, tightly-knit network in the sky, akin to a massive hand overshadowing the entire heavens. Its oppressive presence demanded submission from all living beings beneath it.

This was the hand nad Rule.

Devoid of compromise!

"What of talent? And what is the worth of gifted prowess?"

"We’ll show you who truly dictates the world!"

"This is the price of defiance!"

Cold sneers rippled through the crowd.

Victory was within their grasp—for compared to this vast, sky-darkening hand, Lynch, standing alone on the square, was pathetically small. What difference did being a High-level Wizard make? Could one man hope to overco hundreds of foes?

Even if he possessed infinite skills, in the face of established rules, there could only be one outco!

"Heh!"

Lynch chuckled softly, his gaze sweeping across the crowd. His eyes t nothing but venomous glares, and even from afar, he could feel the malicious intent seeking to devour him alive.

The progression of events had unconsciously transcended the matters of his union with Avery, of Graham’s fate.

This had beco an outright confrontation between rule preservation and rule rebellion.

His very presence was an insult to the rules, and the more he defied their preordained destinies, the more they hated him—hated him enough to want him dead.

Was he guilty today?

Of course he was.

A re Muggle who didn’t dutifully accept his fate of serving the noble Pureblood families, striving toward the resources they enjoyed—but instead dared entertain wild ambitions, even plotting to rise above them.

In their eyes, this itself was an unforgivable cri!

Only by completely erasing him from existence could they validate their order, prove the unshakable rigor of their rules.

Only for eternity!

How laughable that he once considered departing peacefully. In a world like this, what peace was there to coexist? True survival had always been...

A battle to the death!

"Clatter, clatter!" The sharp sound of pages flipping echoed.

Strong winds swept through, carrying the massive Sealing Technique Book into the air. Its fluttering pages scattered in the fierce winds, spiraling around Lynch as they ascended. Each page bore a distinct design.

Standing amidst the tempest, Lynch chanted his Spell loudly:

"You who wander the road of darkness—the Undead lingering with forgotten souls,"

"Hear my command and assemble here."

"Shattered mories, lost glories—turn your pain and resentnt into my Scepter."

"Today, you shall reclaim power,"

"And with , shatter this decayed world,"

"Declare war upon rule itself!"

The scattered pages ignited into black flas, and as each fla burned, black magic arrays materialized on the ground, releasing countless Undead Creatures sealed within their confines.

Zombies, Skeletons, Skeleton Axe n, Skeleton Archers, Skeleton Giants, Zombie Giants...

Years of accumulation and preservation—Undead Servants dormant in Lynch’s book now answered their master’s summoning and returned to this world.

"Boom!"

A massive teor crashed into the ground, leaving a crater with a diater of over ten ters. The teor, however, did not shatter—instead, it rapidly unfolded and rose up, revealing a seven-to-eight-ter-tall Rock Giant engulfed in blazing flas.

"Crack! Crack!"

The sound of chanical components rotating rang out as several Alchemy Spheres scattered across the ground expanded rapidly, transforming into three chanical monsters engraved with Runes—one hovering in midair, another wielding a Great Sword, and the third with a large and imposing physique.

"Alchemy Guardians?"

Berserker Leo sat upright, his expression becoming more serious.

Though he still maintained composure, the people in the surrounding stands were far from calm.

Watching a legion of Undead Army erge alongside increasingly formidable Magic Creations, the Pureblood spectators—initially filled with contempt and disdain—shifted to confusion and shock, and now, they felt a faint unease.

And if their current unease stemd rely from the sight thus far, then Lynch’s actions next would cent genuine fear...

Lynch took a single step forward.

It seed nothing more than a casual step, like a stroll after dinner. It was light and carried no air of intimidation.

Yet, as his foot landed, a magic array suddenly appeared at Lynch’s feet.

This was no ordinary magic array—it was a Mystical Magic Array, spanning tens of ters in diater, its intricate runes seeming to move like living beings upon the earth. Each line shimred with ethereal brilliance, imbued with endless wisdom and power.

The runes intertwined, forming a complex geotric design—paths of stars alongside abyssal whirlpools, integrating the mysteries of the cosmos with the chaos of darkness.

At the magic array’s center lay the shadowy image of a door—the Gate of Truth. Along its fra were ancient runes, while its surface bore intricate patterns resembling entangled threads of fate crossing dinsions. The central seam glimred with profound light, hinting at a portal to the unknown.

At that mont, everyone present paled in shock.

Whether the Pureblood elites on the stands, the Black Robed Enforcers in the air with Marshall, or even Berserker Leo himself sitting on the podium—none could maintain their previous composure.

Everyone recognized the array beneath Lynch’s feet—

The Mystical Magic Array, also known as the Gate of Truth!

Leo suddenly leapt to his feet: "The Gate of Truth—you’re a Mystical Wizard!!!"

It was almost comical—the emotions of everyone present had been stirred violently by Lynch, yet he, at the storm’s epicenter, seed completely indifferent to their gazes, his thoughts wandering elsewhere.

He was thinking of his departed elder brother and his friend Jamie, recalling the words they had left him before parting ways.

"Go forth, and this ti, don’t look back or hold on to regrets. Venture into a farther and wider world."

"No need to worry for us."

"For no matter how far you go, we will always remain by your side."

...

"As your friend, I offer you my most truthful blessing."

"May you,"

"Forever remain a Knight—to face challenges, failures, and troubles without hesitation or doubt, and simply—"

"Draw your sword."

...

A fla suddenly erupted at Lynch’s feet, winding upward like a fiery serpent coiling around his body. Enveloped by these flas, Lynch’s Spiritual Field rapidly surged.

The blood in his veins felt as though it were boiling, his once black hair turning blood red, extending to his waist.

The Fearless Great Sword slowly ascended from the magic array.

Lynch grasped its hilt and swept his crimson hair behind him.

Right or wrong, truth or falsehood—Lynch had no intention of dwelling on such matters now. All he knew was that, freed of any attachnts, when confronted with dissatisfaction, he could act as a true Knight would—

Draw his sword!

He unsheathed the Fearless Great Sword and leapt into the air!