Wizard Bloodline

Ronan and the girl settled down in the mountains and forests.

The girl, whom he named Moriel, took care of his daily needs, while he taught her how to read, identify medicinal herbs, hunt, and fight wild beasts.

He devoted all his energy to studying the ancient spirit scripts.

At regular intervals, the golden ladybug representing Alazan would appear under the moonlight, bringing him new patterns of spirit scripts.

The frequency of the golden ladybug's appearances was closely matched by the Black Snake Knights of the Deep Drown Church. Every few months, they would enter the mountains to search for the "canary" that had inexplicably fled from the Pope's side.

Ronan and Moriel were forced to continuously move deeper into the mountains, further away from human settlements.

After five years, the appearances of the Black Snake Knights decreased.

After ten years, no trace of them could be seen.

After the Deep Drown Church had thoroughly searched every corner of their territory, the lofty and supreme Pope seemed to have finally given up on finding Ronan.

Years passed, with the cycle of day and night, and the alternation of seasons.

On a snowy winter night, Moriel, who had loyally served Ronan for a lifetime, passed away by the campfire.

She had encountered the most brilliant dawn of her life on a warm and breezy afternoon when he unexpectedly entered her life, leading her step by step out of the mire of ignorance, bestowing upon her courage, wisdom, and strength, and adding many vibrant colors to her otherwise dull and stagnant life.

Moriel died peacefully and contentedly.

Three years after Moriel's death, Ronan also reached the end of this lifetime's cycle.

In his final moments, Ronan saw a giant black snake emerge from the void. On the snake's back, Sekaterin, wearing a crown and holding a scepter, coldly gazed at him, just as she had when he left.

"Hum—"

The air emitted a faint tremor, and Ronan opened his eyes.

Before him was still the bright and clean interior of the Tower of Knowledge, with endless bookshelves occupying his entire field of vision.

His body and mind felt like machines that hadn't been used for a long time, with gears slowly turning and rust gradually falling away. Finally, the weariness and sense of age in Ronan's eyes faded, like sediment settling in murky water, and his gaze regained its clarity.

"This time... I was inside for eighty-five days?"

Ronan spoke in a low voice, his voice hoarse and dry from disuse.

"Almost."

Alazan's voice sounded in his ear, "During that time, I transmitted a total of four hundred and thirty-two ancient spirit scripts to you. How many do you remember now?"

Ronan opened his character panel. Under the skill section's list of runes, a dense array of ancient spirit script patterns filled a large blank space, with no proficiency displayed, as these were not actual runes.

The total was four hundred and thirty-one. The last ancient spirit script Alazan had transmitted, he hadn't had time to fully memorize before that lifetime came to an end.

"Less than half."

Ronan pondered for a moment before answering Alazan.

He didn't want to reveal the secret of his panel.

"That's already very good."

Alazan spoke in a comforting tone, "No matter how real it may seem, a dream is still a dream. After waking up, the experiences from the dream will inevitably fade like a beach at low tide, with part of it being carried away by the receding waters. You are not the first wizard to think of utilizing the 'Cycle of Dreams' in this way. Most people can retain only about a third of what they learned in their dreams after waking up."

"So you knew this was possible? Yet you didn't remind me."

Ronan spoke indifferently.

"Don't forget, you're just a beginner. Although your performance in the first Soul Refinement was outstanding, as your 'guide,' it is my responsibility to ensure you don't get lost in the cycle first."

Alazan replied with a serious tone.

"In this cycle, I saw a black snake, so massive it could coil around the entire world..."

Ronan looked up, his eyes filled with a trace of confusion and reminiscence.

Alazan suddenly fell silent.

After a moment, he spoke in a low voice, "Damien, your progress in cultivating the 'Soul Amber' is too fast. There are things you're not yet ready to encounter. Before you fully ascend to Dawn, do not continue 'entering the dream.'"

"You still keep many secrets from me."

As Ronan spoke, he took out some food and potions from his space ring, silently replenishing the physical energy he had expended over the past three months.

Once his condition had mostly recovered, Ronan found a relatively comfortable spot, sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and spoke calmly, "Continue, Alazan. I still have time."

"You—"

Alazan frowned, but before he could finish his sentence, a petal from a black dandelion gently fell.

In the end, all his warnings and advice could only turn into a soft sigh.

"Ah..."

Three months later, Ronan awoke from his slumber for the second time.

This time, he spent an additional two months stabilizing his mind and purging the impurities from his soul. Then, he once again requested to "enter the dream," and unsurprisingly, faced strong opposition from Alazan.

"Entering the dream twice in a row is already a very dangerous thing. Do you really want to go for a third time? Are you insane?"

"I know my limits."

Ronan ignited the [Golden Flame] in his soul, wisps of golden smoke rising from his body, carrying away some of the soul's impurities.

"I remember telling you what kind of person I am. A long time ago, someone said something similar to me. It was a special potion that could tear apart an ordinary wizard's soul with just two bottles. In the end, I drank six."

"I've seen too many people like you who think they're extraordinary. Most of them were far more outstanding than you."

Alazan said coldly, "Later, they all ended their supposedly brilliant lives prematurely in endless pain and regret."

"There are always exceptions, aren't there?"

Ronan spoke calmly, "I know what you're worried about, Alazan. If I get lost and fall, my remains can be left to you."

With that, Ronan closed his eyes.

Four months later, Ronan awoke.

His once clear eyes now seemed veiled in a layer of gray, his consciousness somewhat muddled, yet his entire being exuded an indescribable depth and heaviness from within.

This time, he spent even longer sorting himself out.

The flames of the Golden Soul scorched the soul, emitting a crackling sound like damp firewood burning, and the smoke emanating from the surface of the body was tinged with a deep gray-black hue.

"Again."

For the fourth time, Ronan awoke from the "cycle."

"Alazan."

Ronan called out Alazan's name in a hoarse voice, but there was no response.

His eyes were clouded, his body curled up on the ground. Golden flames silently rose from his shoulders and back, producing thick "gray smoke."

The heavy aura around him grew denser.

The halo of spiritual energy seeped out of his body, presenting a viscous amber color that completely distorted the surrounding void. An invisible wind arose, causing the gray-covered books on the nearby shelves to rustle.

A golden ladybug hovered silently nearby, watching him coldly.

Ronan's consciousness was in chaos. The memories of four lifetimes of "cycles" intertwined, like a ball of yarn that had been unraveled and tangled, clogging his mind in a messy heap.

He remained curled on the ground for a long time, the golden flames continuing to burn, the gray smoke unceasing.

Months? Or perhaps half a year?

Finally, a glimmer of clarity returned to Ronan's eyes.

"Alazan."

The golden ladybug flew closer to him, its voice cold.

"Will you continue?"

Ronan silently propped himself up, leaning against the bookshelf, his breath rising and falling like turbid water being constantly stirred.

"Is it still possible?"

Ronan's lips moved as he spoke, asking Alazan, though it seemed more like he was questioning himself.

"There's no need anymore."

The golden ladybug gently landed on the back of his hand, its tone a mix of sighing and deep complexity.

"The trial is over, Damien."

Ronan was stunned, slowly raising his head.

Only now did he suddenly notice that ten deep blue crystals, as dazzling as falling stars, were quietly floating around him, encircling him.

The surrounding environment became illusory at this moment, and a force pushed Ronan outward.

Alazan's final advice echoed in his ears.

"After this ends, spare no effort to gather the materials for the 'Awakening Potion' as quickly as possible."

"...Yes."

Above the space of the Spirit Lake Secret Realm, several figures clad in moon-white robes appeared.

"It's almost time."

One of the moon-white-robed wizards glanced at the nearly emptied golden hourglass in his hand and spoke indifferently.

The others nodded, and one of them picked up a short staff, gently tapping the void before them like a drum.

Ripples spread across the void, instantly permeating the entire Spirit Lake space.

Soon, around the moon-white-robed wizards, figures wearing robes of various colors appeared.

Some were indistinct, their faces unclear, while others had most of their bodies hidden in the void. Without exception, each figure exuded an aura far surpassing that of an ordinary Dawn Wizard.

Though these figures stood casually and scattered, they roughly formed three distinct clusters, representing the three major schools of the Spirit Lake, clearly demarcated from one another.

The high-ranking members of the three major schools had all arrived, and three figures in gray robes quietly materialized.

On these three, there was almost no trace of any powerful aura, yet their appearance prompted all the wizards present to bow in unison, a testament to their transcendent status.

The three gray-robed individuals exchanged brief glances. The leader, holding a staff of wicker wood as tall as a person, moved his lips slightly, as if silently issuing some command.

The initial few wizards in moon-white Wizard Robes received the instruction and began to wave their staffs, accompanied by the chanting of strange incantations.

Within a few breaths, the surface of the spiritual lake beneath them, as smooth and calm as a mirror of the sky, began to ripple faintly.

It was as if invisible raindrops were falling from the void, landing on the lake and creating one ripple after another.

Gradually, within each circular ripple, "stars" of varying brightness began to glow.

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