Wizard Bloodline

As the wizards of the Silver Ring scrutinized the other three wizard forces, they, in turn, observed the Silver Ring. Once the airships halted, the Ring Master-level figures who led the Silver Ring and the other forces disembarked, rising into the air.

From the Molten Lake's airship emerged a bald wizard in a golden robe, adorned with bright flame patterns on his head. He wielded a black staff made of burning stone, topped with an orange-gold crystal, exuding an aura of nobility.

The leader from the Thorn Palace was a woman, her figure graceful, dressed in a robe woven from plant fibers, her hair cascading like vines to her waist, interspersed with vibrant flowers and leaves.

The Thorn Palace witch's skin was a healthy, vibrant green, her hands empty, her lips curled in a perpetual smile, radiating a warm, sunny charm.

In stark contrast, the Black Swamp's leader embodied the opposite extreme.

Their appearance was obscured by a mask adorned with strange feathers, their robe a peculiar black, etched with many white, eerie lines that appeared to squirm like worms in the wind.

They exuded a pervasive, dark, and evil aura.

As the sole black-robed wizard force present, the Black Swamp was most feared, with the other three airships keeping a considerable distance.

The four leaders gathered, enveloped in the glow of a rune array, seemingly discussing something.

Ronan overheard Clemens speaking.

"It seems the Crimson Tower and Thunder Council won't join us in the second battlefield, likely not in the third either."

"Do they not value the resources of these battlefields?" Ronan asked casually.

Clemens shook his head. "Quite the opposite, they usually claim the most. The Crimson Tower and Thunder Council are the two strongest of the southern six major wizard forces. They provided the Nepha Keys to unlock the Mirror Court's core. I suspect the six forces reached an agreement, with the Crimson Tower and Thunder Council focusing their efforts on the first battlefield."

Clemens mused, "In that light, not entering the first tier might be a blessing. The top wizards from these two forces are always a tier above us, each a prodigy, making it hard for ordinary wizard talents to compete. Only a monster like Orion dares to face them head-on."

"Is it that exaggerated?" Ronan frowned, finding it hard to believe such words from Clemens.

Clemens, once the pinnacle of the Seventh Ring's young wizards, had a talent and strength gap over the second-place wizard that was like a chasm.

Clemens shook his head, offering no further explanation.

At that moment, the four leaders concluded their meeting, returning to their respective airships.

Ronan finally saw their leader, a rugged, bearded man who, judging by murmurs, seemed to be the Third Ring Master.

The Third Ring Master called everyone to disembark, hovering in mid-air, guiding each to sign a soul contract.

Ronan listened closely, understanding the contract's essence: no hoarding the secret realm's gains.

While contemplating this, a conspicuous, unadorned ring was tossed to him.

Ronan caught it, finding it a spatial storage ring with less than half the capacity of his own.

"Inside the Mirror Court, anything you acquire must be stored in this ring. Submit upon exit, or forfeit all exploration rewards if anything is lost."

The imposing Third Ring Master sternly instructed each Silver Ring wizard.

Ronan's eyes flickered, sensing this was about centralized distribution, confirming with Clemens, who nodded. "Joint explorations always operate this way. Typically, your gains are divided into three: one for yourself, one for the Ring, and one distributed among all participating forces, based on strength and contributions. Outstanding individuals receive extra rewards."

The other three forces conducted similar procedures.

Ronan took the chance to observe the three groups exiting their airships: the crimson-robed Molten Lake wizards, the green-robed Thorn Palace wizards, and the black-robed Black Swamp wizards.

Most were young, powerful, and confident, each a talented elite.

Their mental power radiated as late second-level, with few at mid-second level. Ronan, as an early second-level, was still quite rare.

He didn't spot Anglair.

Ronan couldn't say if he felt relieved or disappointed. Last he saw Anglair, he seemed to be late second-level.

With Anglair's talent, having surpassed second-level wizards as a first-level, it was reasonable for him to aim for the first battlefield.

While pondering, Ronan felt a slight movement from the crystal embedded in his heart, containing the Ancient Frost Hydra bloodline.

The intense pain gave him a sense, quickly locking onto a figure.

In the Molten Lake's direction stood a young figure in a red robe, their hair flickering like flames in the wind.

As Ronan looked, the figure seemed to sense him, sharply turning to meet his gaze.

Ronan saw rare orange eyes, brimming with heat, imprinting them in his memory before quickly averting his gaze.

"Igor, what's wrong?" asked someone from the Molten Lake group, noticing the sharp-eyed youth scanning the area.

The youth, with a hint of indifference and hostility between his brows, withdrew his gaze, coldly shaking his head. "Nothing, just felt like something was spying on me."

The questioner paused, then spoke, "Before leaving, Master Ignatius instructed me to tell you... in this exploration, without killing, you may unleash some of your bloodline power."

The orange-eyed youth grinned oddly and cruelly, murmuring, "Finally... I can set a proper fire."

With preparations complete, the four leaders reconvened, and the beautiful third-level witch from Thorn Palace stepped forward, chanting softly toward Mirror Lake.

From her chest, a pale purple flower rapidly grew, its petals unfolding to reveal a finger-length golden key, glowing brilliantly.

The key's smooth shaft emitted a golden beam, shooting straight into Mirror Lake.

As the golden beam entered, the lake's mirror-like surface broke, rippling into a massive silver vortex, emitting powerful energy waves, stirring the wizards' robes.

"Enter," commanded a voice, and wizards from all four forces began stepping into the vortex.

Ronan followed closely behind Clemens, peering into the vortex's calm interior, where shimmering light and nearly invisible gray mist surrounded the entrance.

Ahead, a handsome green-robed wizard from Thorn Palace accidentally touched a gray mist, rapidly aging to an astonishing degree.

The wizard screamed in terror, desperately fleeing the vortex, drawing many onlookers.

"Don't stop, keep moving!" urged a cold, authoritative voice, pushing those who paused to proceed.

Ronan saw the aging wizard swiftly enveloped in green light by Thorn Palace's leader, then taken into their spell airship.

"Probably concealed his true soul age through special means," Clemens commented to Ronan. "Almost every ancient realm opening brings those hoping to escape time's curse. A soul age over eighty gets affected, and that guy lost enough life to suggest a soul age over one hundred twenty."

"That's the time curse..." Ronan's eyes flickered, recalling Bennigo's early warnings, yet witnessing it firsthand was unsettling.

"For us, it's no concern, don't worry," Clemens reassured, then gave Ronan a deep look, softly saying, "See you inside, Damien."

With that, he slipped into the shimmering light.

Ronan felt a slight tug, stepping into the gray mist, entering the vortex.

It felt like an eternity.

In reality, only a moment passed.

Ronan's feet touched solid ground, his first reaction noting a slight fatigue, likely a remnant of the time curse.

But a surge from the life orb within quickly dispelled the fatigue.

He opened his eyes, eager to see the legendary Mirror Court's core.

But what he saw surprised him.

Before him lay a small room, about seventy to eighty square meters.

A simple, unadorned room.

Empty, save for himself.

As the last Molten Lake wizard vanished into the vortex, the massive silver whirlpool slowly dissipated.

Mirror Lake returned to calm.

The green-robed witch controlling the Nepha Key retrieved it, casting another lengthy, peculiar spell.

As she chanted, her powerful third-level mental energy surged, and a hundred or more translucent ripples appeared above Mirror Lake.

The ripples spread, forming images.

Each image contained a figure, revealing the young wizards from the four forces who had just entered the realm.

The black rings distributed before exploration served more than storage.

They also displayed the realm's scene and monitored explorers' actions.

In the water-mirror-like images, the wizards' environments varied: bedrooms, peculiar mirrored staircases, and vast corridors...

Each person cautiously, curiously observed their surroundings.

Occasionally, two would meet, merging their images into a larger one.

"Whoosh—"

The green-robed witch exhaled, relaxing after her task.

"The three discovered entrances of Mirror Court... The first area leads to the core legacy, the third area to the ancient Mirror Court wizards' potion gardens and experimental fields. Our second entrance should correspond to the wizards' living quarters."

She mused aloud, then turned to the others.

The bald Molten Lake wizard, holding his burning stone staff, mumbled as if communicating with someone.

The feather-masked Black Swamp wizard remained motionless, while the Silver Ring's rugged middle-aged man ignored them, heading straight to his airship.

He sat mid-air above the ship, eyes closed, seemingly in thought or meditation.

His solitude lasted until interrupted.

"Caroni."

A gentle voice called the rugged man's name, prompting him to open his eyes. The green-robed witch had appeared before him, smiling.

"It's been a while... Care for a chat?"

The man's expression remained neutral as he nodded, replying, "This exploration might last a while."

The witch quickly produced some exotic, fragrant fruits, tossing them into the air between them, followed by two long-necked bottles, handing one to Caroni.

"They're at it again," the witch remarked, elegantly sipping her drink, glancing aside, speaking softly to Caroni.

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