Wizard Bloodline

[Immaculate Body]!

[Immaculate Body]!

Ronan once again felt an urgent need to find the continuation of the [Ascetic Body Training] inheritance. It wasn't that he was overly ambitious about the powerful inheritance Benigo mentioned, but he thought it wise to prepare for it.

At least he shouldn't let this unique advantage, different from other wizards, be buried by time.

"What are the conditions for changing rings?" Ronan asked Benigo after some thought.

Benigo replied, "Very stringent, nearly impossible. Especially since you've already demonstrated outstanding talent in the test..."

"Then never mind."

Ronan accepted this fact calmly.

There are rarely perfect situations in the world. A month ago, he hadn't even predicted he'd switch to ice spells.

The effect of doubling ice spell power was indeed tempting, but with the "Arliss Ice Ring Necklace," the sigil would be just "icing on the cake."

Upon reaching mid-first-level, he planned to reserve the second soul sigil slot for the [Silverization] sigil.

"My main interest is the metal spell inheritance."

"Here you go."

Benigo handed Ronan a rune stone.

Ronan caught it and infused it with mental energy, discovering it contained the complete set of first and second-level metal spells and the [Silverization] sigil inheritance.

"Although you're now a core member, you would normally need at least half a year to accumulate enough contributions to obtain these.

"You're bound to get them sooner or later, so giving them to you now isn't against the Ring's rules."

Benigo said casually.

This was beyond their transaction. Ronan looked at the rune stone in his hand, his eyes flickering, but he still thanked Benigo.

"Let's go, I'll show you around."

Benigo beckoned Ronan, walking off in a random direction.

The entire Seventh Ring was essentially a circular area built around the Seventh Silver Tower.

Beneath the silver tower, many buildings clustered, with more open space the further out you went. It was like a layer cake with the tower at its center; Benigo and Ronan were now walking around the cake's edge.

"The silver-white giant tower at the center is where the ring leader retreats and rests. The ring leader's brilliance covers the entire Seventh Ring. You might consider moving in later, as meditation here is slightly more effective than outside."

"Do you see the ten gray towers around the giant tower?"

Benigo pointed out a direction, and Ronan followed his gaze.

They were ten wizard towers, entirely gray, each topped with a prominent blue light orb of varying sizes. The higher the tower, the brighter the orb, resembling ten beautiful lighthouses.

"They represent the best meditation spots in the entire Seventh Ring.

"The highest tower offers ten times the normal meditation effect.

"Only the ten most powerful and talented wizards under a hundred years of soul age are eligible to reside there."

Benigo looked toward the gray lighthouses, his eyes showing a hint of reminiscence, "I once lived in the sixth tower; those were indeed wonderful times."

Ronan glanced at Benigo, understanding how he obtained the three-ring mark on his robe.

As for why he now had only late first-level strength, it was likely because of his bad temper and arrogance, which had left him crippled.

"Soul age has a limit? I thought for wizards, seeking soul immortality, age was just a number?"

Ronan remarked casually.

Benigo turned to him, eyes narrowing slightly, speaking in a calm yet serious tone, "This is what I need to tell you next, Damien, about the most important thing in the Ring."

Ronan paused, waiting for Benigo to continue.

"Do you know why we're the Seventh Ring?"

"Because... we're the weakest?!"

"Yes."

Benigo nodded, "Not only are the Rings ranked by strength, but the seats of the seven ring leaders are also ordered by their power.

"And rankings relate to resources.

"Our Seventh Ring has the fewest resources among the Seven Rings."

"For example, the wizard towers I mentioned that enhance meditation.

"The Seventh Ring's best tower only multiplies effects tenfold, but in other Rings, even the worst might exceed ten times.

"That's the resource gap."

Benigo looked Ronan in the eyes, speaking softly, "Damien, if you want to survive and thrive in the Ring, the first thing you must learn is—to compete!"

"Compete?"

Ronan's eyes showed a slight ripple.

"Resources, inheritance, reputation, connections—compete for everything!

"The residency of the ten meditation towers is just the surface."

Benigo said coldly, "The truly top resources are in ancient secret realms, but do you think everyone can enter?

"Most secret realms have limited spots. If you don't compete, you won't get in.

"Wizards of the same level are often separated like this, step by step."

"The more powerful a wizard faction, the more it encourages internal competition, because factions themselves compete.

"They need resources and space, which are only obtained through competition.

"If you're not strong enough, other factions will surpass, swallow, and replace you.

"Have you heard of the Nine-Ring Continent?"

Benigo suddenly asked.

Ronan paused, thinking, "The Nine-Ring Continent?"

"Close enough. No one knows how many layers the world has been divided into..."

Benigo said calmly, "But the continuous sinking of free energy particles is an undeniable fact.

"The concentration of energy particles determines resource abundance. The lower the land, the more resources, the smoother the path to advancement.

"Every wizard should have a desire to sink continually.

"The ancient wizard factions that once flourished on this continent, except those erased by time, have moved to lower layers."

"If you aim higher, make sinking instinctual."

"So..."

Ronan couldn't help but frown, interrupting Benigo.

"What does soul age have to do with this?"

He understood Benigo's emphasis on competition, the law of the jungle, survival of the fittest, something he'd always lived by.

Before, he fought not for resources but for the slim chance of survival as the weak.

In response to Ronan's question, Benigo said calmly, "Soul age is your ticket to the sinking competition."

"Hmm?"

Ronan blinked, puzzled.

"Young souls are vibrant, aggressive, more suited for fighting for the Ring."

"Most importantly, many ancient secret realm entrances only allow young souls.

"Because most secret realms have different time flows than the outside, the older, the more chaotic.

"These entrances are surrounded by time energy particles, forming a mysterious force known as time curses.

"Time curses love clinging to wizards with decayed souls, devouring them like hungry snakes.

"No matter how strong you are, you'll be affected.

"Only youthful auras repel them, withstand the curse."

"So the Ring favors young, talented wizards, directing resources to them."

"Soul age of a hundred is a dividing line. The treatment difference between a second-level wizard above and below that age is vast."

Benigo stopped, his pipe melting like mercury into a black short sword.

"Youth is your first blade, Damien."

He looked at the sword, speaking softly, "Use it wisely, compete when needed, never hesitate or relent.

"Otherwise, such opportunities may never come again."

Ronan remained silent.

After a moment, he produced an ordinary black wooden box, tossing it to Benigo.

"Here. The Sacred Blood Tree seed you wanted."

But as he threw it, the box returned to his hand.

Ronan looked at Benigo in surprise.

"Give it to me in three days.

"I'm leaving the Ring then. Bring the seed, infuse the ice energy into the coffin rune array one last time.

"Whether the seed survives, I'll return it to you.

"Of course, if you don't trust me..."

Benigo said calmly, "You can back out."

Ronan's eyes flickered, "Why not tell me about leaving after getting the seed?"

Benigo didn't answer, turning away, tossing Ronan a communication stone.

"I've offended many in the Ring. By asking me to vouch, you risk being associated with me.

"You might attract trouble.

"Keep this stone; in need, seek help from the other stone's owner. He'll help you."

Ronan stared at the stone, its light reflecting in his eyes.

When he looked up, Benigo was gone.

"Three days."

In the Blueberry Inn, Ronan sat on a leather sofa, playing with the small box containing the Sacred Blood Tree seed, eyes on the items on the table.

A rune stone recording all first and second-level metal spells and the [Silverization] soul sigil, and a plain communication stone marked with a contact imprint.

Both were from Benigo.

Ronan had checked them; the inheritance seemed fine, but the stone...

"I can't sense the other's imprint."

Ronan frowned slightly, "Is this Benigo messing with me, planning to trap me, or... was he tricked?"

The latter seemed more likely.

So far, Ronan had gained far more from their deal.

Aside from charging the rune array once, he'd given nothing.

Perhaps Benigo's reputation unwittingly brought him trouble, but...

He'd chosen it, knowing beforehand.

Between thirty years of Bazel's exploitation and possible trouble from Benigo, he chose the latter.

"The smartest move now is to keep the seed, move into the Ring, and distance from Benigo."

Ronan mused.

Soon, he put the box away, calmly picking up the rune stone to study the metal spell inheritance.

"Shall we wait for sunset?"

Benigo sat on mossy stone steps, tapping his pipe on the edge, speaking softly to the upright wooden box beside him.

Before him lay a desolate courtyard, a dry, collapsed pool, gray walls covered in dead vines... and a sun halfway westward.

"I could have left with the seed."

Benigo placed the pipe mouthpiece in his mouth, inhaling habitually, but no smoke emerged.

He never smoked near Fiona, as even a hint of tobacco made her cough.

"He even handed me the seed, yet I refused."

"My soul decays faster, my power wanes daily, mental energy waves goodbye during meditation.

"I'm worried... I won't last to return it."

Benigo murmured with his pipe, looking at the wooden box, speaking softly, "I might have abandoned your only hope, Fiona."

The box stood silently, but Benigo seemed to find his answer.

He caressed its surface, his left cheek's wounds softened.

Suddenly.

Footsteps approached outside.

"Here they come."

Benigo's eyes brightened, standing.

But his expression changed, quickly storing the box.

"Not who we wait for, Fiona."

A hint of ferocity crossed his face, gripping his pipe, robes stirring.

He crouched, moving toward the sound.

His steps light, like a cat on carpet, silent, aura contained.

Black dots appeared on his exposed skin, forming lines like runes.

His pace quickened, eyes hardening.

Finally, he neared the sound, just a wall between.

Silently, Benigo mimed a slashing motion toward the wall.

As he moved, the black lines flowed, forming a massive, hiltless sword.

When he swung, the sword silently shifted from black to silver, mysterious energies swirling.

The strike compressed air, distorting light.

"Boom!"

The sword slashed, exploding air, the wall's gray bricks turning to dust. Outside, someone grunted, something pierced, then flew back without a sound.

"Harry!"

Intense mental energy flared outside, voices cried in rage, incantations followed.

"Crash!"

An energy storm erupted, the courtyard's walls crumbling, dust rising, light flashing.

Benigo's eyes remained cold. His sword returned, turning black, as he readied another strike, but suddenly paled, coughing violently.

The sword dissolved, black dots merging with his skin, his aura weakening.

Benigo retreated, hurling dozens of black metal balls like ink.

The balls' energy clashed, exploding in the dust, unleashing shockwaves, flattening earth and vegetation.

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