Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 109 The Embers of Magic

night.

“I’m still worried about that strange doctor staying with His Highness.” By the fire, Wyman stared strangely at another fire in the distance, where only two figures, one large and one small, were sitting.

This was their third night at the Lombard camp, and Ramon claimed he wanted to examine Thales' injuries alone, and strangely enough, the prince agreed.

“He’s a prince, he can do whatever he wants.” Putilay puffed on his pipe, exhaling a cloud of smoke, which made Wyah’s face darken. “Besides, relax a bit, Ramon’s fear of His Highness isn’t fake.”

“Moreover, with so many Exster soldiers guarding the area, His Highness’s safety is assured,” Putila glanced at the unfriendly Exster soldiers standing guard or patrolling around, then looked at Ada not far away, and said slowly, “Furthermore, if Ramon really is an assassin, he had too many opportunities on the previous battlefield… Don’t forget, it was he who saved His Highness.”

Wyman recalled the events on the battlefield, and a slight thought stirred within him.

"Speaking of this... what exactly happened to His Highness?" the young attendant asked worriedly. "He was clearly struggling to breathe..."

Putila looked at Wya with a suspicious expression and narrowed her eyes slightly.

"You've been holding a grudge about this all along?" the thin deputy envoy asked with interest.

“It’s not just this one thing,” Wyman frowned, recalling the incident with a heavy heart as he voiced his doubts, “His Highness’s constitution is excellent… in fact, far better than I expected. No matter how severe the injury, the recovery time is measured in days…”

But isn't that what makes it even more suspicious?
“Also, His Highness mentioned the special ability he learned from the Black Prophet… I can’t ignore that.” Wyman lowered his head, his gaze sweeping over the single-edged sword beside him: “After all, that’s the Secret Service. Although His Highness… he is still just a child. Getting too close to the Secret Service isn’t a good thing.”

Secret Service.

Humph.

Putila raised her head and exhaled a puff of smoke towards the moon in the sky with a complicated expression.

"You think the Secret Service is a terrible place?" The deputy envoy didn't look at Wyatt.

Wyman pursed his lips and nodded.

“I’ve heard many stories about that place, some absurd, some bizarre, and some incomprehensible,” the young sergeant said, drawing his sword with a hesitant voice. “But I have to admit that the mystery of the Kingdom’s Secret Service and the reputation of the Black Prophet are frightening.”

“I thought that at your age you shouldn’t have heard much about the Black Prophet’s deeds,” Putila chuckled. “You know, Morat has been in charge of the Secret Society for over thirty years. I even suspect that Morat was already working in the Secret Society when the young Eddie II was crowned.”

Wyatt wiped his sword and shrugged.

"During training at the Tower of the End, I heard this joke: One of the world's four major intelligence agencies each had an incident: the Scarlet Witch broke a teacup, the White High Priest burned out an oil lamp, the Blue Captain wore out a robe, and the Black Prophet slept through a pillowcase... Guess which one had the most serious consequences?"

“Perhaps there’s one more thing missing,” Putila said, taking a drag of his tobacco and curving his lips into a smile. “The Grey Guard has worn down a scabbard.”

Wyatt and Putila chuckled together.

“Master Shao is not as cold and terrifying as the rumors say. He is just more composed and steady as the tower master of the Tower of the End,” Wyman nodded with a nostalgic expression. “Besides, apart from his hair and beard, there is no gray anywhere on him.”

“Wyatt, as a page,” Putila said slowly and seriously after the joke, “it’s good to care about the prince you serve, however…”

He stared intently at Wyatt Cassel: "Want some advice?"

Wyman raised his eyebrows, revealing an expression of eager listening.

“Each Star Prince is like a separate secret society, and they all have a considerable collection of secrets,” Putila said with a deep look in his eyes. “It is enough to only care about what you should know.”

Wyman frowned.

“Don’t make life too hard,” Putila sighed. “You know, the princes’ lives are already hard enough.”

Especially... they also have the surname Canxing.

Putila said silently.

That figure from the past came to mind.

Wyatt looked at the crackling fire with a complicated expression.

“Lord Putila, I still remember what you said in the birch forest that day,” Wyatt turned his weapon over and said quietly, “You were once a squire as well?”

Putila's pipe no longer smoked.

The deputy envoy spat out his cigarette and looked at Wyatt.

The latter raised his eyes and asked him calmly, "So...which prince did you serve back then?"

Putila's gaze, which had been fixed on the fire, paused for a moment.

“Just like… your father.” He said slowly after a few seconds.

"However, I am more senior and left the prince's side earlier."

Wyman stared straight at him, his hand unconsciously stopping the act of wiping his weapon.

“Is that so, Attendant?” The young attendant’s expression was complex and his gaze was deep. “Do you have a family?”

Putila turned his head and gave Wya a deep look.

so funny.

He muttered to himself: "The famous 'cunning fox' of Xingchen, the leader and signatory of the Fortress Peace Treaty, can't even manage his own family."

But his eyes immediately darkened.

How much better off can I be?

“Listen, Wyatt,” the deputy envoy said, stroking his pipe which was slowly cooling in his hand, his tone heavier than usual:

“Gilbert was a competent and excellent chaplain, meticulous and always loyal to his ideals and goals—he had his own principles.”

Wyatt gently gripped the blade of his sword.

"Even when those principles are so cold-blooded?" the young attendant said calmly.

"Cold-blooded?" Putile scoffed.
"Sometimes, you have to make choices—no matter how difficult they may be."

Before Wyman could respond, a discordant voice suddenly interrupted their conversation.

"Good evening, distinguished guests of the Stars," Viscount Kambida, a subordinate of the Grand Duke of Black Sands and his most trusted advisor, approached from afar in his thick northern armor.
I hope I haven't bothered you!

Cambida sat down with a smile opposite Putila, whose eyes were playing with amusement, and Wya, whose face looked unwell.

“You have indeed disturbed us.” Wyatt looked at Cambida with hostility, lightly flicking the blade of his sword, producing a cool, crisp sound.

“Very well, that means I’ve gotten your attention.” Kanbida casually took off his gloves and warmed himself by the fire. “Why not stay in the tent? It’s cold, and this is the North.”

“We prefer the open fields,” Putilas replied indifferently, emptying the ashes from his pipe, his thin face flashing in and out of sight in the firelight: “The scenery is beautiful, and the view is expansive.”

“Don’t worry,” Kambida chuckled, seeing right through their thoughts: “You are in Exter, and the Exter people don’t have the habit of listening to the corners of tents.”

He turned his head and looked at the Star Prince and his doctor in the distance: "The prince is safe here."

Kambida narrowed his eyes: "What a special prince, isn't he?"

Otherwise, the Grand Duke wouldn't have given such an evaluation.

Wyman scoffed dismissively.

Putila frowned.

They started to notice the prince.

It's probably because that child said something strange in the tent in Lumba a few days ago.

This is not a good sign.

The deputy envoy pulled out his pipe, grabbed another handful of tobacco, and said casually, "It seems we'll have to set off tomorrow."

Wyman raised an eyebrow.

Kambida's expression froze, and he looked at Putila warily: "You know?"

“It’s written all over your face, and all those soldiers who’ve been coming and going all night…and,” Putilae said nonchalantly, picking up a burning branch from the fire and relighting his pipe, “isn’t that why you came here?”

"To convey your lord's wishes?"

silence.

Kambida stared intently at Putila, as if he wanted to examine him carefully once again.

“Yes,” the Viscount of Black Sand Territory said calmly, “We will depart tomorrow. I will lead a force of two thousand men, including five hundred cavalry and Lord Tuleha, the Fire Knight, to escort Prince Thales directly to Dragonsky City. We will not rest in any lord’s castle or town along the way, at most we will camp in the wild.”

"Two thousand men, and they even bypassed the castle? To ensure they wouldn't be ambushed again?" Putile chuckled softly. "I'm truly worried about your lord... It seems Lumba is also at his wit's end, completely clueless about the mastermind behind his scheme."

Kambida's expression changed slightly.

“I thought that keeping promises and being loyal were the glorious and proud traditions of the North,” Putilai asked softly as he puffed out a cloud of smoke, “but look at this military camp now, it’s full of intrigue and scheming. Who can you really trust?”

Kambida's expression gradually stiffened.

"Do you know what this is called?" Putila scoffed. "A crooked beam will cast a crooked shadow... whether it is King Nuen or your lord."

Kambida grabbed a handful of snow from the ground, gently crushed it, and watched it fall through his fingers.

"Don't criticize the internal affairs of the North, Imperials," the Viscount said coldly. "At least on the lands of Black Sand Territory, no more accidents will happen."

Wyatt sheathed his sword—he sensed something was amiss.

“An accident? That magic gun trainer might have a different opinion,” Putila put down his pipe and laughed. “Let me give you some advice, Your Excellency who is at a loss.”

Kambida's eyes flickered: "What do you know?"

“Stop investigating that officer Hardy’s connections with the Grand Duke and the lords; you’re doomed to fail,” Putila frowned, testing the temperature of his pipe to make sure it wasn’t burning well. “Instead, try to find his business contacts, starting with the scrapped magic guns circulating on the black market…”

Kambida looked puzzled: "The black market?"

“Ah, the North people who look down on magic guns,” Putila sneered. “Compared to purchasing directly from the Empire, training for magic guns is the most expensive thing. The integrity of the core and the newness of the parts are inversely proportional to the soldier’s proficiency in operating the magic gun.”

Kambida looked thoughtful.

Wyman, standing to the side, was completely bewildered.

“The Black Sands Duke’s magic lance troops are very skilled, and their accuracy when firing in volleys is also very good,” Putila glanced at Cambida and flicked the metal rod of his pipe. “In my experience, unless the Lombard Duke is willing to cut half of his knights and heavy cavalry and allocate a large amount of gold coins every month to support magic lance training, he will definitely not be able to train such a force in three years.”

Kambida pondered, "He needs to find sufficient financial resources to sustain such a force through extensive training so that it can be put to use in critical moments..."

“Fortunately, it’s only been three years, and there’s only one training officer,” Putila added some tobacco and said sarcastically. “In another three years, those troops will probably be able to execute orders like ‘turn around and fire at the Grand Duke’s location’ flawlessly.”

Ignoring Putila's sarcasm, Kanbida continued, enunciating each word clearly: "So he had to find a way in the black market, such as using a decommissioned magic gun that should have been destroyed according to the agreement, to exchange for money, worn-out parts, eternal oil, or even to bribe the purchasing officials who went to the Empire to buy magic cores."

Putila shrugged and lit his pipe again: "I guarantee his black market contacts know him far better than those soldiers do."

Kambida let out a breath, then pressed on, "Why can't he be the mastermind and financier behind the scenes, directly providing him with financial support?"

“If that were the case, you would have already found clues about his dealings with other forces. Why would you have dragged it out until now?” Putila said disdainfully.

Kambida blushed – he had been so overwhelmed by this matter these past few days that even his basic judgment had been affected.

Wyman frowned... He didn't quite understand their conversation.

silence.

“Lord Putila, the ‘Dark Room’ provided you with information,” Viscount Cambida said slowly, having come to some realization. “I’m starting to believe them.”

“Oh? What an honor,” Putila said, taking a deep drag of his tobacco, his face full of delight. “What did the Darkroom say about me?”

“They only have information about you before you left the palace, but it’s already quite interesting,” Kambida said, a keen interest in his eyes.

"Putila Niemann, the weaver of the web within the palace walls, the scheming mastermind."

Wyatt looked at Putila with a surprised expression.

This guy……

“Ha,” Putila turned and smiled, “The Scarlet Witch’s henchmen really think highly of me!”

“No, on the contrary,” Kambida said thoughtfully, “I think their intelligence needs to be updated.”

“Those inside the palace walls may be good at reading people and devising strategies,” Viscount Cambida said, a smile playing on his lips as he put his gloves back on. “But some wisdom must be refined through experience and insight.”

Putila emitted two trilled sounds from her nose and exhaled a puff of smoke.

“By the way, Lord Putila Neman, former Viscount of the Stars,” Cambida stood up, smiling broadly, “that decision to launch a counter-attack on the battlefield was both brave and decisive.”

well.

Putila took a deep look at Thales and Ramon in the distance.

They like me more now than you.

----

“We’ve already entered Exeter’s territory… This isn’t our deal!” Ramon glared angrily at Thales.

“The Exter people won’t let anyone connected to the Star Mission leave,” Thales said, poking at the fire with a branch, gesturing to the Exter soldiers around him. “What can I do? I’m just a powerless Star Prince.”

“You can’t do this,” Ramon gritted his teeth. “I saved your life—find a way to get me out of here right now!”

“You didn’t save my life!” Thales frowned. “Remember, I was just exhausted, while you were just on the battlefield…”

“We all know that’s a lie!” Ramon laughed in anger. “I don’t know what you did, but most of your organs had failed that day. No matter how strong your body was, it wouldn’t have mattered… Even the strongest horse can’t pull a carriage without wheels. I did everything I could to unleash your life potential…”

"Snapped!"

Thales snapped the branch in his hand with force.

“My body is strong, which is a good thing. On the contrary, you’d better keep your voice down; you don’t need to raise your voice when examining a patient,” Thales said coldly, “if you don’t want your pitiful little secret to be known by others… Dr. Ramon.”

He emphasized the word "doctor".

“Speaking of which,” Ramon said, glancing around with an uncertain expression, “well, at least find me a raven…”

Thales snorted through his nose.

“Don’t worry, Doctor,” Thales traced the many memories that had surfaced in his mind over the past few days in the snow, such as those blocky characters that looked like pictures. “The gangsters wouldn’t dare mess with a well-trained army. There’s no need to worry about the Blood Bottle Gang.”

"In the end, a gang is just a gang." "Ha, Your Highness, do you really think so?" Ramon turned and smiled mockingly.

Thales remained expressionless, but his heart sank.

In fact, Ramon's words make sense.

Those two gangs might not be so simple.

Especially the Blood Bottle Gang, which is the power of Ashida and Giza—two madmen…the power of calamity.

It’s weird.

Even if the Blood Bottle Gang often does dirty work for powerful nobles, they can't ignore the threat of magic users, right?

Why would Starfall allow such a gang to entrenched itself in Eternal Star City? Is it because they are confident enough in the legendary anti-magic weapons they possess, believing they can control magic users?

How could that be... Thales recalled Giza's figure and gave a self-deprecating smile.

Although Ashida acted as if he didn't care about the Blood Bottle Gang's life or death, why would someone as powerful as him get involved in a gang's territory grab that was completely insignificant to him? Isn't Red Street just a red-light district?

And then there's the Black Street Brotherhood... They actually dared to harbor members of the "King-Slaying Family" Sarridon in the capital, and still managed to steadily suppress the Blood Bottle Gang—you know, the latter has the dual backing of a magic master and a high-ranking noble.

Those two gangsters—Tales couldn't help but think back to his five years in the fraternity—had too many suspicious points.

And right in front of us is one.

Thales looked at the big-nosed freak doctor, who was staring intently at him in the firelight.

Ramon himself, a doctor carrying a secret, travels between the two countries' borders, caught in the vortex of the struggle between the Blood Bottle Gang and the Brotherhood...

Thales smiled.

“A prince is not someone who can easily grant requests from others,” the second prince of the Stars said, looking at Ramon with interest. “Since you have a request, let’s make a deal and exchange something of value for it.”

Ramon was taken aback.

“For example, I find the origins of your powers quite interesting,” Thales stretched casually. “In exchange, I’ll try to negotiate with them… at least to let you use Ravens to contact your Brotherhood friends? Maybe there are other conveniences…”

Ramon stared blankly at Thales.

Does he still care about that?
A prince?
Wait, if...

After a long pause, Ramon spoke with difficulty:
“You are the prince of the stars, and your relationship with Morat Hansen is unclear,” Ramon said through gritted teeth, carefully choosing his words and tone. “I’m not that stupid to hand over my secrets to you.”

"Besides... didn't you learn that mind-reading ability from the Black Prophet?" Ramon sneered.

“Oh, come on, I don’t want to dig any more secrets out of your head,” Thales shook his head. “That ability is very taxing on the brain… it’s taxing on your brain.”

Ramon stared intently at Thales, a strange light in his eyes: "You're just a kid, but you don't seem to care much about my health."

Thales didn't speak, but simply looked back at Ramon quietly.

“I do have some guesses,” Thales said, emphasizing each word. “I’ve seen divine magic and know what the process is like, but you don’t seem to have taken that step of communicating with the gods…”

"Those powers, the powers you used to heal and save lives..."

Under Ramon's strange gaze, Thales slowly uttered his biggest guess.
"It's magic, isn't it?"

Ramon remained expressionless, neither confirming nor denying.

Thales knew the answer.

magic.

Thales let out a soft sigh of relief.

This is a word he had never heard since he was born into this world.

Until that night on Red Street that changed his fate.

Long, long ago, there was only magic in the world, not magical power.

These are Ashida's original words.

So, you don't even know the connection between magical energy and magic...

These are Giza's words.

It was true that the Exter people wouldn't let anyone from the delegation leave. But Thales was, after all, the Prince of the Stars, and if he insisted, it wasn't impossible for Rumba to relent and let the insignificant Ramon leave.

But Thales did not do that.

Because Ramon might have something he wants.

Thales must figure out everything about himself.

For example, magical energy... and magic closely related to it.

Ramon chuckled.

Until Thales frowned impatiently.

"The Black Prophet isn't familiar with you, and you're not his student, are you?" The strange doctor stopped smiling and slowly asked, "Otherwise, you wouldn't be unaware of these things."

Thales' heart skipped a beat.

He knew the crux of the problem.

“So,” Thales said, glancing at the Exter soldiers around him, then at the bored Ada by the tent entrance, and then at Putila and Wyah in the distance, “then he said indifferently.”
"Magic, is this the secret that even the Black Prophet couldn't sit still?"

Ramon didn't speak, he just stared intently at him.

Thales suddenly laughed.

“I am a prince, and he is my father’s subject,” the second prince began. “He sometimes grants my requests, but that’s all… He doesn’t tell me much more.”

“This is really interesting,” Ramon said, his eyes wide with a strange and fanatical expression, just like when he first met Thales. “The new prince of the stars is actually interested in that kind of thing…it’s really interesting.”

Thales frowned.

What do you mean?
That's something I shouldn't know?
"In exchange, I need to use your ravens to send a message to a secret location... But I'll ask you again, do you really want to know?"

Ramon's eyes widened, and he clicked his tongue: "Morat won't be happy about that."

Thales gently clenched his fist.

“I am the future Supreme King of the Stars,” Thales felt his voice tremble slightly as he uttered the word “King.”
Do you think I would care whether he's happy or not?

“Very good, very good. To teach magic to the prince of the stars, to teach magic to the descendants of the empire,” Ramon said with a strange smile, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “This is a good deal, and I can also get a lot of fun from it.”

Thales squinted.

"Shall we begin?" the prince said slowly.

Ramon suddenly opened his eyes.

"How did your history lessons go, Your Highness?" Ramon asked slowly.

"I mean, how did humanity resist the ancient orcs, defeat them in the war to become saints, negotiate peace with the ancient elves and dwarves in the war for survival, and ultimately rise to prominence in the history of the world?"

Thales blushed.

Well, ever since he was taken to Mindis Hall, he hasn't actually had much time to read history.

“Not so great,” Thales said slowly, “but I know that in the history of the conflict between humans and orcs, we awakened extraordinary power—the power of annihilation we have today, and the first knights have appeared…”

But Ramon interrupted him.

“So, it’s not just magic,” the eccentric doctor looked at Thales with a gleam in his eyes, “you don’t even know the history of mages and magic towers, do you?”

Thales frowned.

“Therefore,” Ramon chuckled, “like most people in the world, you live in a vast web woven from the kingdom of the gods, the seven hells, and the human realm, filled with fear and self-deceptive lies.”

lie?

Fear?

"They—that's what the history books say: the glory of knights and the power of termination brought about the rise of mankind; the longswords of warriors and the neighing of warhorses freed us from the oppression and threat of the ancient orcs?"

Ramon's words were full of profound meaning.

Thales recalled what he had learned from Gilbert in the Mindis Hall.

But before Thales could answer, Ramon, his expression one of disgust, uttered a single word with unwavering certainty:

"lie!"

"A shameless lie."

"A complete and utter lie."

Thales was taken aback.

lie?

"What enabled humans to defeat the orcs wasn't a knight, nor some extraordinary being or annihilating power," Ramon said excitedly, "it was a mage!"

Ramon, his expression feverish, spread his hands and gently clenched them in mid-air:
"It's magic."

Thales frowned slightly.

"You mean, all that supernatural power, all that Northern Army swordsmanship, all that knighthood—it's all fake? They're actually no match for the orcs?" The Second Prince questioned with deep skepticism. "The ones who truly achieve victory on the front lines are the mages and the magic they use?"

"Magic...is it a power even stronger than the power of termination?" Thales pondered, then asked slowly.

“Ha, to actually compare magic to the power of termination, you’re no different from those ignorant fools from a thousand years ago,” Ramon seemed unaccustomed to being interrupted, and he scoffed disdainfully, “Open your narrow mind a little, Your Highness!”

"Magic isn't a power; it's not even on the same level as the power of termination," Ramon shook his head, his eyes filled with longing and reverence.
"It is a higher, deeper, and greater existence."

"Not power?" Thales looked puzzled. "Then what exactly is magic? Spells? Energy? Knowledge? Elements? Molecules? Mental power? Superhuman abilities? Destructive power?"

Ramon looked at him quietly, his eyes filled with a strange and contradictory mix of emotions: respect, admiration, arrogance, humility, and ecstasy.

That look was something Thales had never seen in anyone else's eyes in this world.

No… Thales paused slightly, perhaps he had seen it before.

In that dimly lit card room.

That figure in blue.

“Magic…” Ramon raised his hands, slowly opening them, trembling with excitement like a believer kneeling in prayer before a god:

"Magic is a meaning, an attitude, a belief, a principle of life," the eccentric doctor gazed into the void, as if that were where his destiny and dreams lay.
“A monk is a practitioner of this principle.”

"They believe that everything in the world has meaning, is analyzable, and needs to be understood—in this process of understanding, we, humanity itself, can become more perfect, greater, more progressive, and closer to the truth."

"From the laws governing the sun's operation to the mystery of the origin of life, to human behavior and rules, the evolution and development of history, everything falls within the realm of magic... Magic is the sum of all knowledge, discovery, and truth. The progress of magic will bring us a better future."

Thales frowned deeply, trying to understand Ramon's seemingly insane words.

"To this end, they entered the tents of the Chavengu tribe and designed the first political system in history—the Chavengu Kingdom."
They had stood beside Takmu, the former king of the north, to warn him about his relationship with the orcs;
They once stood behind the Iron King, using their knowledge and experience to design and supervise the construction of the 'last line of defense for mankind';

Through sacrifices and defeats, they continuously improved their weapons and skills, summarized the experiences and techniques spontaneously learned by each soldier, and perfected the first unified set of 'Northern Army Swordsmanship' in history.
They noticed the potential within the human body, studied the birth and development of that power day and night, and named it 'Extraordinary Power';
They fought bravely on the battlefield of blood and fire, striving to research the art of killing and improve the technique of healing;
They tirelessly studied iron and steel, forging stirrups and saddles, establishing the first cavalry, and giving knights the speed and impact that were not inferior to orcs for the first time.

Of course, they have also developed their own power, explored the truth of matter, questioned the truth of the spirit, drawn on the energy of nature for their own use, and transformed external resources to serve mankind. The power in my hands is only the most insignificant part of it.

They once fought alongside knights on the ice of the Quegur Glacier, and in one selfless charge after another, they completely ended the myth of the invincible Orc heavy infantry formation, making the War of the Saints the most magnificent scene in human history.
They even questioned the existence of gods and challenged the emperor's authority;
Once upon a time, the three magic towers represented the most intelligent and progressive beings in the world, standing apart from the rest. Even the supreme emperor and the powerful patriarch of the Church of the Bright God had to show their respect to the three towers.
The existence of monks once led many to believe that what is worth pursuing in this world is not just power and status—but also truth.

Ramon took a deep breath, slowly lowered his hands, and his eyes were already glistening with tears.

“This is what a mage is, this is what magic is.” He clenched his fists, his voice trembling and choked with emotion, “The most important, most magnificent, and most precious chapter in the history of humanity’s rise, a chapter that has been forgotten by everyone.”

"And now,"

Ramon lowered his head and said dejectedly:

"No one in the world remembers magic anymore, and no one knows what a wizard is anymore."

"Only someone like me, both unfortunate and fortunate, is left to eke out a living through books and scrolls, burning the embers of magic."

Thales stared blankly at Ramon.

He didn't even realize the branch in his hand was on fire.

He couldn't believe what he had just heard.

All he could do was widen his eyes and open his mouth as wide as he could.

magic.

Master?

This was unlike any version of magic he had ever heard of in his previous life. It wasn't those fireballs that whizzed by, it wasn't a trade of chanting spells to obtain elemental responses, it wasn't using himself as a sponge of mental energy, it wasn't a ritual to communicate with some being, it wasn't a superpower that could be learned later in life, and it wasn't power for the sake of being powerful.

Magic is a kind of meaning.

A belief.

A principle.

Thales was completely stunned. At this moment, Ashida's words kept echoing in his mind:
The sorcerer seeks the truth of the world, utilizing its resources and energy with ingenious methods and wisdom to serve a better world.

Is it?

Thank you to readers "Black Fish Mango" and "Dai Chengyuan" for their concern and support for Wujian's health! My cold is all better now!
In addition, writing is just a hobby for Wujian. The premise of continuing to write is definitely not to affect my normal life, study and work. Therefore, once something happens, the update speed will slow down, which is unavoidable (let's just forget about subscription results).

But as long as this author account still exists (and hasn't been censored due to its graphic content), and Wujian can still think and type, it won't be abandoned.

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(End of this chapter)