Chapter 166 Punishment and Time

The mage, who had been about to launch another spell attack, quickly halted his frantic actions. The clarity that should have been in his gaze disappeared, replaced by a dazed confusion as he stood there, quietly awaiting the next move of the Eighth Tier Mage.

"You won't be seeing him again for quite some time." The Eighth Tier Mage gently swayed his staff, and the naked male mage, holding his staff in a daze, walked to stand beneath him. "When you see him again, I believe you will be quite satisfied with the punishment he will have received." With that, he floated into the air and departed with the mage in tow.

The remaining mages did not press the Eighth Tier Mage to punish the male mage on the spot, instead drifting away in small groups. Even this vast space showed no signs of damage from the mages' conflict.

After the Eighth Tier Mage left with the stripped mage, the female mage who had cast the attacking spell suddenly let out a piercing scream. Her hands, clenched white-knuckled around her staff, flew to her head as she rolled on the ground in agony. The mages who had not yet left quickly sensed the intense psychic emanations radiating from her, realizing this was the Eighth Tier Mage's punishment.

Several other women mages still present rushed to her side, with one quickly casting a few spells to soothe her mind. However, these had no effect. Fortunately, the female mage's screams did not last long, which allowed Shaoke, who remained nearby, to quietly sigh in relief. He had been worried that the pain might cause her mental space to collapse.

Supported by several fellow women mages, the female mage meditated for a while, and the pallor on her face gradually faded. Seeing this, Shaoke returned to his alchemical pool, retrieved his clothes, and went back to his own room.

Another mage, now wearing a Fourth Tier robe, simply stood there quietly, holding a transparent book and pen, continuously handing them to mages coming and going. He allowed them to record their task completions or recorded them himself, helping to deposit the task tokens into a large box nearby. Over and over, he explained things to some mages.

In the following days, Shaoke repeatedly immersed himself in studying spell knowledge, meditating, reading books, and carrying out those dangerous tasks. He never left the underground base of the Death Mage Corps again, though he continued to correspond with mages and physicians he had known before, using these letters to keep tabs on the outside world.

After completing his second task, Shaoke received a letter from Mage Roman. She mentioned that she had successfully advanced to the Fourth Tier Mage and had begun focusing on studying alchemical knowledge. Of course, she made only passing, implicit mention of missing Shaoke.

As time passed, Shaoke had carried out dozens of tasks. Although many dangerous situations arose during this period, Shaoke, like other mages, was lucky to survive. Naturally, this was also related to each individual's strength. At least, Shaoke believed so, especially since he no longer saw mages with slow casting speeds or weak spell power on the training grounds. This included that mage who was so fond of chatting with others. Shaoke didn't know when that mage had died during a task; he just never saw that mage here again after returning from his third task.

One day, as Shaoke leaned against a massive bookshelf reading alone, the appearance of a group of Black-robed Mages caught the attention of the mages reading there.

Seeing those mages wrapped in black cloaks, Shaoke suddenly felt everything before him was strangely familiar. He quickly recognized the leading mage—it was the same mage who had led them here initially. Now, Shaoke also identified his status through the special insignia on his robe: an Eighth Tier Mage who had not yet undergone specialization.

Everything felt so familiar. As the mage led his team past, a flood of mental and magical energy probed toward him. Even the Seventh Tier Mage reading beside Shaoke put down his heavy book, gathered his magical energy, and directed it toward the leading mage.

A Blue Rhombus Flower, woven from massive green flames, materialized overhead once more. After lingering for a moment, the various mental and magical probes quickly withdrew. When the Eighth Tier Mage glanced in their direction, Shaoke hurriedly stood up and respectfully bowed to the mage who had originally brought him here. Only after the mage left did he lean back against the shelf and resume his reading.

"Was it that mage who led you here when you first arrived?" The Seventh Tier Mage beside him, having withdrawn his magical probe, closed his book, glanced at Shaoke, and asked quietly, "When did you arrive here? How are you still a Third Tier Mage? Would you be interested in becoming a specialized mage?"

"After the last war ended," Shaoke replied after a moment's thought. Worried the other might not understand, he quickly added, "The one they called the Night of Death." However, regarding the other question posed by the Seventh Tier Mage, Shaoke remained silent.

Seeing that Shaoke showed little interest in conversation, the Seventh Tier Mage stopped inquiring further. Instead, he took out a piece of white paper, wrote a line in the common magic script, and handed it to Shaoke, gesturing for him to keep it. "If you wish to specialize as a mage, I think you might find time to visit this place." The mage stood up, casually selected a few books, and added, "There are some mages there who specialized after advancing to the Fourth Rank. You can take a look." With that, he left the bookshelf and disappeared to an unknown location.

Gently folding and storing the white paper with the address, Shaoke leaned against the bookshelf and silently watched the mages moving among the shelves. Having not left this place for a long time, he felt a growing weariness with everything here. "I wonder how Mage Roland is doing in the Blue Feather Legion." Thinking of this, Shaoke tried hard to recall what Mage Roland had mentioned in his last letter.

"Mage Xueye, would you like some food?" The maid attending to Shaoke snapped him out of his reverie, reminding him that it was time for a meal. Faced with her kindness, Shaoke did not refuse. After picking up a few books, he left with the maid, returning to his room in silence.

After eating a little, Shaoke returned to the spell training ground, where he would continue his casting practice. After all, surviving tasks was impossible without proficient casting speed.

Using the Ancient Magic Tongue, which incorporated Abyssal phrases for certain expressions, shortened the casting time. With his hand-sealing techniques, he managed to cast a Third-level Spell slightly faster than other mages. 'Death Coil'—this spell was one Shaoke had obtained from the spellbook of the Black-robed Mage he had hunted during his first task. It was a special type of spell not found here.

Similar to the casting and manipulation methods of Green Flame Manipulation, this spell had far fewer variations—only a few simple ones—but its power was significantly greater, or so the high-ranking mages who obtained it deduced through practice and comparison of its Spell Structure. Moreover, during his practice, Shaoke also felt the formidable power of this spell.

A slender black flame writhed rapidly above the Spellcaster. As the caster made subtle adjustments to the spell structure in a specific manner, the black flame suddenly split into two segments. One shot toward the black stone wall ahead, while the other fell to the ground and, under the mage's control, slithered swiftly toward the base of the wall.

"Boom..." The explosion of the spell rang out abruptly. The two black flames did not follow the caster's will; instead, they detonated prematurely before reaching their targets. Shaoke also suffered severe spatial turbulence due to the spell's failure. Powerful magical and mental energies churned violently under the shock. With the aid of silver light and prolonged meditation, he finally managed to calm the turbulence caused by the failed casting. However, his energy was depleted by more than half, forcing him to halt his spell practice once again and turn to other matters.

Shaoke let out a low sigh, feeling utterly dejected. He had been practicing this spell for a long time, but the spell structure, many times more complex than that of Green Flame Manipulation, was not easy for him to control. Moreover, he always felt that the incantation for this spell was not meant to be chanted in Ancient Magic Tongue or Abyssal. Of course, all this had been confirmed by the high-ranking mages.

Leaning back in a chair, Shaoke casually picked up a quill and began sketching the structure of the Death Coil spell on paper. Although no magical energy or special fluctuations were infused, the casually drawn spell structure still made the nearby attendants uncomfortable.

Quietly savoring the fruits prepared by the attendants, Shaoke leaned in his chair, silently observing the other mages still practicing in the training ground and carefully sensing the fluctuations emitted by their spells. He hoped this would help improve his casting proficiency. Of course, the effect was not significant, but gaining some insight during rest was still a good thing.