Chapter 373 Later Stages, Encounters, and Advancement

It was all over. When the gray mists settled down amidst the silver light and the altar platform, Shaoke knew that this advancement was a success. Of course, there was still a great deal of work to be done. Only after he had fully constructed this much-shrunken meditation space could he truly be considered a Ninth-rank Spellcaster. This task would take quite a while.

When he withdrew from his meditation space, he saw the Blue-robed Mage watching him nervously. Seeing him awake, the Blue-robed Mage let out a quiet sigh of relief. Shaoke’s advancement had taken over ten full days, during which he neither ate nor drank and expended a tremendous amount of mental energy. The Blue-robed Mage, when she advanced, had completed the process in less than three days.

“You need to replenish yourself now.” The Blue-robed Mage carefully took out some clear water and fed it to Shaoke. He tried to reach for it, but failed after several attempts. Though momentarily alarmed, he quickly calmed down. He took a small sip of water as the Blue-robed Mage instructed. She then got a low, soft stool for him to lean on and started feeding him small sips of honeyed water.

After drinking some water, Shaoke regained enough strength to speak. He said hoarsely, “Is there any food? I think I need to eat something.” He licked his lips—actually, he still wanted more water, but he expressed it this way. The Blue-robed Mage shook her head, refusing him food.

However, the Female Mage did take out a fruit, used a spell to turn it into pulp, and then spooned it into his mouth little by little. This fruit quickly restored expended energy and was very useful for Shaoke at the moment. After that, the Blue-robed Mage put a bit of honey into his mouth.

“Your advancement should be complete, right?” After finishing, the Blue-robed Mage looked at Shaoke nervously. She worried his advancement might have failed—many failed professionals who survived showed the same symptoms as Shaoke. “I can feel a great change in your mental power.”

Shaoke nodded to confirm it was a success. The Blue-robed Mage hugged him happily, since it meant he could help her again in the near future, and she believed that Shaoke, now a Ninth Rank, would provide even greater help—perhaps not inferior to ordinary Tenth Rank ascendants in some matters.

After making sure Shaoke was okay, the Blue-robed Mage summoned two maids to carry him to a medicinal pool, since his physical condition left him unable to walk. After settling him, she prepared a large amount of restorative medicines and then returned to her own room to rest. She had not slept for over ten days.

The two young maids gently helped Shaoke lie down in the pool and then got in to bathe him. It was then that Shaoke realized his current state. His body was so emaciated that bones were visible. He wondered if he was still alive only because he was a transmigrator. Of course, that wasn’t the reason. He knew that with proper care, he would recover quickly, as the medicines he now used were far superior to those from his Third Rank days. But for now, his greatest desire was to sleep—he was too mentally exhausted to think clearly.

After giving some instructions to the maids, Shaoke leaned against the pool edge and fell asleep. The two maids, following the Blue-robed Mage’s orders, continued to massage his entire body, taking turns doing so, so that he could recover as quickly as possible.

A full day and night passed. When Shaoke woke up, the two young maids had stopped massaging him. Perhaps exhausted, they had taken him into their arms and fallen asleep leaning against the pool edge. The medicinal pool had been replaced many times, and even now, some milky white residue remained.

Shaoke tried to move his limbs. When he realized he could once again control his body, he felt truly relieved. Over the following month, he spent most of his time in the pool, with the Blue-robed Mage bringing him precious medicines and high-rank magical beast meat to accelerate his recovery.

As time passed, Shaoke could walk on his own again. Though still a bit weak, he was close to his former physical state. At this point, he began to thoroughly organize his meditation space. Although this space was now dozens of times smaller than during his Eighth Tier, it was many times more solid. Of course, he could expand the space, but that would require him to reinforce it personally.

Once again immersed in his meditation space, he saw silver light still streaming from the altar, constantly striking the nine-pointed star-formed ground. Each time the light hit, that area appeared more solid. Mana and mental energy, after passing through the altar, formed ribbons that merged into the ground, darkening its color. Only when the entire ground became crystal-like could he attempt another advancement.

After observing these changes for a while, Shaoke began to strengthen his meditation space using the techniques of Ancient Spellcasters. He conjured magic scripts one by one, which then formed a magic array. Under his control, the array slowly settled onto the ground, further tempering the space’s solidity. This method was rarely used by modern mages. If one looked closely, they would see that the array’s structure was no different from the Nine-pointed Star Magic Array used during advancement.

Not all his time was spent on the meditation space. Shaoke also began studying Ninth-rank spell knowledge. The first spell he investigated was the advanced version of Death Gaze: Death Will. This spell could only be advanced to Ninth Rank, but that didn’t mean its power stopped there. According to the texts, its strength depended on how much mana and mental energy were expended at once. Of course, special scripts and techniques could also enhance its power.

Learning and practicing this spell took him a very long time—fully three months—before he successfully embedded its structure on the eighth-layer altar. By then, he had also stored only Death Will spells into his black crown. After this work was done, he finally felt truly safe. At least an ordinary Ninth-rank Mage could no longer trouble him.

One day, just after finishing his spell research and planning to speak with the Blue-robed Mage, she came to him. “Mage Xueye, I need to leave now.” She shrugged, explaining that she still had important matters to attend to. Now that Shaoke had advanced, she no longer needed to stay here.

“How can I quickly cultivate children with high talent?” The Blue-robed Mage suddenly turned back and asked Shaoke as she was leaving. She had been working on this for a long time, but progress was slow. She hoped to get some ideas from him.

Shaoke was momentarily at a loss for words. After thinking for a while, he replied, “If you can obtain a large population, I suggest you take a thousand men at a time and have them fight, with only one survivor. That survivor earns the right to reproduce.” He paused, then added, “Then, let those survivors fight again. Each victory grants another chance to reproduce; the loser dies.” He shrugged and continued, “But this method is extremely difficult and time-consuming.”

The Blue-robed Mage nodded. “Having their descendants join such battles—after a few generations, some talented children should appear.” She thanked Shaoke and left. Whether she would actually use this method, he didn’t know. He had merely offered a suggestion, unconcerned about the consequences.

After the Blue-robed Mage left, Shaoke resumed his usual calm life. In his free time, he would visit Mage Roman, for only there did he feel like a living person with emotions.

“Xueye, bring some Purple Flame Essence powder.” When Shaoke next visited Roman, she had him busy with this and that. He agreed, spending about ten days at a time there, during which he did no spell study or reading, but devoted himself entirely to the two female spellcasters. This had only started after he became a Ninth-rank Professional.

After precisely preparing the powder, Roman began drawing a magic array with various gem powders and other materials. The Cleric cast support spells on her, then took out her golden book and began spellcasting. Golden light fell onto the array, and Roman threw in a large amount of materials. Chanting the incantation, the array rapidly activated.

Numerous magical materials floated in the air. The White-robed Cleric quickened her incantation, and the golden beam thickened, shining onto the swirling materials. Around them, Shaoke and some young Alchemists and Clerics watched, waiting for the experiment’s conclusion.

After half a magic hour, the array stopped spinning. The magical materials had disappeared, replaced by dozens of black staffs floating in the air, all very suitable for Sixth Tier mages. The young Alchemists looked on with envy, imagining how many years it would take them to mass-produce ordinary staffs like this.

“Xueye, you should prepare us some wine to celebrate.” The Blue-robed Mage reminded him somewhat helplessly. In the two years since Shaoke became a Ninth-rank Mage, his emotions had grown increasingly indifferent. Even when with Roman and the others, he often seemed unconcerned.

Shaoke brought fine wine and honeyed water to the two women, then habitually pulled up his hood and stepped back. But Roman and the White-robed Cleric simultaneously stopped him, pulling down the black hood again. They had done this many times before.

At night, when locked in passion with the two female spellcasters, Shaoke finally acted a bit like a normal person, though it was still more intense than usual. He pounded into them like crazy, ignoring the White-robed Cleric’s sobs of pain from her body’s inability to endure.

Of course, Mage Roman and the others did not blame Shaoke for anything; they figured he'd get back to his old self eventually.

“Moxier, let’s leave this place,” Shaoke said one day after being intimate with the two. He held Mage Roman tightly, while the Cleric lay limp beside them, letting Roman’s small hand wander over her body. “It's suffocating here, and there's no freedom.” He gazed at her quietly, the faint purple Nine-pointed Star Array flickered back in his eyes, with tiny star-like specks flashing in and out of the array. That was because he wasn't bothering to control it.

“That experiment is almost complete. Once it’s done, we’ll leave together,” Mage Roman said, patting Shaoke’s cheek with a quiet sigh. He'd changed way too much, turning colder and more ruthless. Yet, from his occasional tenderness, they still thought he wasn't a lost cause.

After getting shot down, the mage didn't say a word, just nodded before holding them close and falling into a deep sleep. Back in the day, he'd have meditated or read a book after sex. Now everything was different—but Roman and the others were fine with that.

Shaoke hung around a bit, then pulled his hood up and headed back to the Storm Academy. After he left, Roman and the others sighed, rubbing their bellies, and went back to their laboratory to get ready for the magic item they'd been working on for centuries.

Shaoke floated silently over the Misty Forest, deep in the trees where no mercenaries or caravans ventured, and no traces of the Savage Descendants remained. Here, he could train in peace. He stayed every night until dawn, then returned to the academy.

After hitting the Ninth Rank, Shaoke's mental power shot up dozens of times, and his instantaneous output of magic and mental power grew significantly. He could now let his mental energy loose for long stretches to sense hidden stuff in the world. But this sensing was different from when he was at the Eighth Tier, as he now followed a method learned from a book found in the underground city of the fallen capital.

This method could only be used by Nine-rank Professionals, relying on their powerful mental strength.

As beastly roars boomed from the altar in his meditation space, a vast amount of mental energy spread through the air in specific waves. Shaoke then sank his mind fully into the meditation space. Soon, weird structures popped up in his mind, and he focused on memorizing them. Later, he would transcribe these structures and experiment with them slowly.

Over time, the roars from the altar grew louder, and small, pale golden beasts emerged from it. Each beast had thirteen horns, each horn with thirteen branches, and each branch with thirteen offshoots—identical to the golden Giant Beasts Shaoke had encountered. For some unknown reason, projections of these beasts had appeared in his altar. He figured it was because of the growing silver light, but he could only guess, with no way to test it.

There were thirteen of these beasts, and they consumed large amounts of mental energy and magic power from the altar daily for growth. Yet, after a year, Shaoke felt they hadn’t grown much. He suspected it was because they absorbed too little energy.

Each time the beasts roared, strange characters flew from their mouths, absorbing mental energy and magic power before leaving the altar and merging into the barren land.

One night, as Shaoke was immersed in his meditation space, sensing changes and structures, a magical fluctuation suddenly erupted nearby. Alert, he immediately donned the black crown, tore through space, and appeared where the magic and aura fluctuations originated. This was the edge of the Misty Forest, where two groups were locked in battle.

One group wore Mage Guild robes, while the other bore family insignias. Shaoke didn’t intervene; instead, he floated silently, watching the low-order beings fight. Such skirmishes no longer interested him enough to join.

“Mage Peyton, you should heed our master’s orders. This escape is pointless,” a warrior urged, shattering the spells released by the Mage Guild members. “The Mage Guild has abandoned you; otherwise, they wouldn’t have sent so few to scout this Misty Forest.” He waved his sword, and nearly a hundred warriors and mages slowed their attacks, regrouping for a hit-and-run strategy.

“I can work for you in exchange for payment, but I won’t be forced into anything,” a crisp voice called out below. The female spellcaster’s voice and name made Shaoke pause. If his memory served, that name was deeply etched in his distant past, unforgettable. After many years, he heard it again.

“Who allowed you to fight here?” Shaoke asked calmly, his voice soft but halting everyone. He released his powerful mental suppression. The pressure of a Nine-rank Professional was more than these low-order beings could withstand.

“Honorable Mage, these people accepted a Mage Guild task but refused to complete it, attempting to desert. We’re assisting the Guild in capturing them,” the warrior quickly sheathed his aura, bowed respectfully, and struggled to explain under the intense mental pressure, before falling silent.

“Leave this place,” Shaoke commanded, waving his staff. He disliked this warrior. “Leave within ten breaths, or face death.” He closed his eyes and floated silently.

But the mental pressure didn’t diminish, becoming instinctive. In battle, strong mental suppression prevented low-order professionals from casting spells against higher-ranked ones, avoiding unnecessary trouble.

Shaoke’s pressure suddenly intensified, forcing the warrior and his group to their knees, while the Mage Guild members remained unaffected. Satisfied, Shaoke eased the pressure slightly, allowing them to leave. “Remember, always show proper respect to higher-ranked professionals.” He glanced at the Guild members, who bowed deeply in greeting.

“We are—” the warrior began, his face pale as the pressure lessened, but Shaoke gave him no chance. Ten breaths had passed, and he had to keep his word.

‘Death Will.’ For the first time, Shaoke used this spell on professionals, only unleashing a fraction of its power. Two beams of black light shot from his eyes, striking all those in his sight. Instantly, the hundred or so low-order professionals were petrified, turning into black statues left to be buried by wind and snow.

Silence. The death of a hundred pros stunned the Guild members. Among them were over a dozen Seventh Rank existences, killed effortlessly by a mage above Eighth Rank. Fear took hold of everyone.

“Honorable Mage, thanks for saving us,” a female mage stepped forward, bowing again. “May we know your name? If you ever need our help, we’ll gladly offer it.” She gazed at him, unable to see his face, as Shaoke now preferred to shroud himself in black mist. His mental fluctuations were so suppressed that these low-order beings could no longer sense them.

“Leave this place. I was just passing by. You won’t encounter me again.” Shaoke sighed softly, gave the female mage a long look, ripped through space, and disappeared. Mage Peyton and her companions bowed toward where he had disappeared, then continued deeper into the Misty Forest. Behind her, another female mage appeared, holding a baby sleeping peacefully under a defensive spell, unaware of the recent danger.

“That mage might know you,” she said, handing the baby to Peyton. “His gaze was unusual.” She shook her head, doubting her daughter knew a mage above Eighth Rank.

“Mother, let’s not discuss this. If we complete this task, we’ll surely gain the Eighth Rank advancement method,” Peyton whispered, taking the child and wrapping it in animal skin to shield it from the cold. A young mage beside her hugged Peyton tightly, murmuring comfort in her ear.

Shaoke reappeared at his original position, tears streaming from his eyes. Why was he crying? Why was he so sorrowful? Now that he had seen Francis Dun again, he didn't know what to say to him. After years apart, his former lover felt so unfamiliar.

After weeping for a long time, Shaoke descended from the air and sat absently under a large tree. As dawn broke, an aged mage flew over. The mage saluted Shaoke and stood there gazing at him silently. After a moment, he said, "Honorable Mage, that group is heading toward a distant elven tribe. Their destination is likely that tribe." Then he lowered his head, not daring to meet Shaoke's eyes. This mage was the old gatekeeper of the academy's mage tower after his failed promotion. His status was no longer what it once was, so he had to show Shaoke sufficient respect.

"If possible, I hope you can escort them safely there," Shaoke said with a sigh, waving him away. The depths of the Misty Forest were extremely dangerous for practitioners who had not yet reached the Eighth Tier, and he did not want Peyton and her group to encounter any mishaps there.

After the old mage left, Shaoke stood up and once again floated in the air. "If I had joined the Mage Guild back then, perhaps I would still be like you now, struggling to obtain the ritual for ascending to the Eighth Tier." He murmured to himself, as if Peyton were right before him. "Everyone has different choices. I don't think you regret yours, do you?" As he spoke, he wept again, for his former lover now had a man of his own.

Thus, Shaoke stood there for several days until the old mage informed him that Peyton and her companions had safely left the Misty Forest and returned to the Mage Guild. Upon hearing the news, Shaoke simply nodded and dismissed the mage.

During this time, some people came to the site where he had slain the practitioners. Shaoke either let them leave, turned them into stone statues to remain in the Misty Forest, or allowed them to return safely. All of this he decided according to the courtesy they showed.

Perhaps due to the many dead practitioners, the Mage Guild, the military, and a noble family each sent several Eighth-order Practitioners to investigate. After carefully examining the stone statues, they quickly departed. After all, instantly petrifying so many low-order beings is achievable only by a few special spells, which require Ninth Rank practitioners or above. They had no reason to provoke a Nine-rank Mage over low-order beings. Of course, the military identified the spells and, after deducing the culprit, approached Shaoke. After confirming he was responsible, these Eighth-order Practitioners said nothing and left.

A month later, the forest where Shaoke stayed finally quieted down, but the mage began to busy himself. The reason was simple: the Blue-robed Mage, who had helped him greatly, now sought his assistance. Seeing her tired expression, Shaoke nodded and agreed.

"Over the years, some wandering mages and I have built a permanent stronghold in the former Luanyun Empire. Now the entire Luanyun Empire has become a paradise for all wanderers on the wasteland continent." She added, "As the population grows, some wanderers are trying to seize control of our stronghold. That's why I need your help." She was deeply troubled by this matter. Many wandering practitioners she knew in the Blue Feather Empire had already been recruited, and she had finally come to Shaoke. She had expected to have to persuade him, but he agreed surprisingly quickly.

"Can I bring some people to live there?" Shaoke asked the Blue-robed Mage. He now wanted to establish his own family, but didn't know where would be best. Through the Blue-robed Mage, he hoped to settle in the Luanyun Empire—provided they could gain control of the place first.

"Of course you can," the Blue-robed Mage nodded. "My family has moved there now. Hmm, Mage Meigan and the others are also building their families there." She added with a smile, "It's very free there, with vast tracts of land. We can build our families according to our own designs." Her tired face lit up, showing that the environment suited her well, and her family seemed to be thriving there.

Shaoke then asked the Blue-robed Mage to stay for a while, and he spent a magical hour traveling to the Bloody Fortress to personally inform Mage Roman and the others of his plan to go to the Luanyun Empire. The two female spellcasters said little, only repeatedly telling Shaoke to be safe. Shaoke held them close and recounted what had happened recently, including his encounter with Peyton.

"What is lost can never be regained. Let the past pass," Mage Roman advised Shaoke. "She is probably happy now. We should wish them well in everything." As she spoke, she touched her lower abdomen. It had been so long, and she still had no child, which grieved her deeply. Sometimes she even wondered if she had lost the ability to bear children.

Shaoke did not linger long with Mage Roman. He then inquired about Lan Wei'er's situation. It turned out that Lan Wei'er had been in deep cultivation for a long time. Not only did she need to gather as much magic and mental power as possible within a century, but she also had to learn hundreds of magic scripts and formations within that time. All of these were necessary for her future ascension to the Eighth Tier.

After secretly checking on Lan Wei'er's progress, Shaoke bid farewell to Mage Roman and the White-robed Cleric, promising to return as quickly as possible once his business was done. They both agreed, knowing that his current efforts were for their future home.

After leaving Mage Roman and the others, Shaoke joined the Blue-robed Mage, and they swiftly flew toward the Luanyun Empire. At every empire they passed, they registered with the local military—a precaution every empire took to prevent powerful practitioners from causing wanton slaughter. Of course, some practitioners skipped registration, as long as they didn't unleash large-scale offensive spells, the empires would turn a blind eye. Still, some surveillance remained.

Relying on the space-tearing spell, Shaoke and the Blue-robed Mage—now both Nine-rank Professionals—reached the war-torn Luanyun Empire in just a few months.