Ancient Wizards: A Little Progress Every Day

By the time Dago arrived at the Wizarding Hall, it was already dark, and a faint glowing protective shield of runes shone around the outer edge of the hall.

The nearby houses are all filled with civilians who have moved from the town area and live there for free. Otherwise, if these surviving residents were turned into blood slaves, the academy would have a huge headache.

The wizarding hall is mostly frequented by academy wizards from the mountaintop academy; the number of hired wizards has already reached a great level.

In addition, the recent rewards from the academy have been so enormous that even the scholarly wizards on the old mountain peak have started to come out and take action.

However, Liandago was quite worried about their fighting strength, wondering if these old scholars could handle the fight.

Upon arriving at the entrance to the Wizarding Hall, I showed the wizard guarding the door the academy badge around my neck and entered the hall.

Nowadays, a large area in the Wizarding Hall has been designated as a treatment area for the wounded. Inside, there are several huge temporary tents where the academy's healing wizards take care of the wounded, and the screams of the wounded can be heard from time to time.

Dargo arrived at the counter in the wizarding hall where quest rewards were redeemed, and there was the same curly-haired youth from last time. It seemed the academy thought he was too idle, so they made him work part-time at this counter.

"Hello, redeem your mission reward," Dago said with a smile.

"Sir, please show me proof that you killed the black-robed wizard," the curly-haired youth replied respectfully to Dago, standing up from his chair in response.

"Wandering wizard Dago, and you?" Dago said to the curly-haired youth as he raised his hand and placed it on the counter.

Instantly, three bone staffs and three Darkblood Council badge pendants appeared on the table.

Upon seeing what was on the table, the curly-haired youth instantly became respectful, looking at Dago, who was only two years older than him, with admiration.

"Joton, a second-level apprentice wizard of the academy, esteemed Lord Dago." Joton picked up the three badges on the table, examined them carefully several times, and then picked up the bone staff to look at them again.

"Lord Dago, the badges are fine. Three badges can be exchanged for nine bottles of spirit potions, and the academy buys each bone staff for one mid-grade magic stone."

Dago nodded. "Okay, Yoton, could you please exchange it for me?"

After listening to Dago's words, Yoton picked up six items and placed them in the cabinet behind him. He then took out three intermediate magic stones and nine light purple spirit potions from the safe and placed them on the table.

Dago put the magic stone and psychic potion on the table into his storage ring, then smiled and said to Yoton, "Thank you, Yoton."

Then he waved to him, got up and left the counter, walked out of the wizard's hall, and had a casual dinner nearby.

I walked to the wizard's inn, greeted the old man at the front desk, and returned to my room.

He'd be busy tonight. There were nine bottles of mental potions in his storage ring. He took one out and shook it. The light purple liquid shimmered faintly under the kerosene lamp.

"Looks like the quality isn't high, typical of the academy," Dago said, somewhat speechless.

He pulled out the stopper of the psychic potion bottle, poured it into his mouth, and began his ascetic practice.

.........

The sunlight was a hazy white, pressing the old trees in the courtyard into a pale ink painting. The snow accumulated on the branches fell silently onto the frozen ground.

Last night, Dago drank nine bottles of low-level psychoactive potions, even though the effects of the later potions were less pronounced.

But the final gains were also unprecedentedly enormous.

His mental strength cultivation has reached one-third of that of a half-step formal wizard.

His greatest trump card, the ultimate technique "Flame Core Air Bomb," greatly enhances his combat power. The power of this move depends on the degree to which his mental energy compresses the air.

Now that his mental strength has surged, if he were to unleash it at full power, the range of compressed air would be greater, the compression force would be stronger, and the compression speed would be faster, thus giving the "Flame Core Air Bomb" a comprehensive enhancement.

The power of the flaming core surged, and the resulting momentum after activation was overwhelming.

Its destructive power is probably no less than the fireball that the airship used to bombard the official wizards of the Darkblood Council that night.

The only difference is that if he were to use the "Flame Core Air Bomb" now, his mental energy would be completely exhausted, while the airship's giant light sphere might still have some energy left after it is launched.

Regardless, Dargo now possesses a trump card comparable to that of a formal wizard-level expert. Even if he can't escape, he can still drag a formal wizard down with him.

"I can only say that he truly lives up to his reputation as a drug-addicted wizard; he's absolutely freakish," Dargo thought to himself.

He stretched and got up to go check out the wizard's hall.

The Wizard's Hall in the town of Aynak.

The energy flow of the rune array on the marble wall inside the hall dispelled the cold air that was blowing in through the door.

Dago went up to the second floor of the hall, where there was a wizard bar for wizards to relax. The bar wasn't crowded; it was mostly filled with academy wizards who were taking a break and killing time.

He ordered a juice at the bar, found a quiet corner, and listened to the wizards chatting in the bar.

Since Serena left, Dago, who has been living alone, often sits here after his ascetic practice.

Firstly, it's a place to relax, and secondly, the tavern has a large number of academy wizards, so you can often hear some useful information.

At a small round table two or three meters away from Dago, three academy wizards were praying in hushed tones, their expressions solemn, with a faint sadness flowing between their brows.

This must be a memorial service for comrades who died in the line of duty. Similar scenes have been common ever since the Academy wizards began to go to the battlefield.

Dargo slowly sipped his juice, observing the wizards in the bar, occasionally going up to ask them questions he didn't understand.

"Bang!"

Suddenly, the sound of a glass slamming heavily onto the table drew the attention of everyone in the bar, who all watched with amusement.

"Don't say that, Mom. I can't give up this opportunity to become a formal wizard's apprentice. I've waited five whole years for this opportunity."

A tall, thin young wizard stood up from a table, angrily roared at the person in front of him, and then stormed out of the bar.

An elderly witch sitting at his table kept calling his name, but she couldn't stop him from walking.

As she watched the other person disappear into the tavern, the old witch covered her face and wept.

The male wizard who appeared to be her husband was constantly comforting her.

"Don't be sad, he has his own choice, and we should respect it."

"Is the task of becoming a formal wizard's disciple really that simple? I'm afraid he'll never come back."

The male wizard sighed and continued, "Well, what can I do? I'm not a formal wizard, just a half-step formal wizard. I can't give him what he wants. Let him be."

The wizards in the bar scoffed and withdrew their eyes from the spectacle, but Dargo watched with great interest.

Then Dago continued drinking juice, chewing dry rations, and eavesdropping on some unimportant information.

"I heard that the Darkblood Council has established many Blood Pool strongholds in the north of the city. The academy will give huge rewards for capturing those strongholds, including Spirit Light Potions, and you can even become a disciple of a formal wizard."

"Really? Such a great reward makes me a little tempted."

"Don't be silly. These strongholds are guarded by at least half-step formal wizard level experts. Going there would be suicide."

"Let me think about it. Could that young man have taken on this kind of mission? What a pity, so young and so arrogant."

Two wizards from the neighboring academy were whispering to each other.

Dago listened intently and, intrigued, interjected, "Brother, does that quest offer any Spirit Potions?"

The two men were startled when they realized it was a strange wizard. Trying to remain calm, they questioned him, "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I'm very interested in the mission you just mentioned. Could you tell me more about it? I'll cover your drinks," Dago said with a smile.

"That's more like it. The Blood Pool is where the Dark Blood Council converts blood slaves, and it's also where their members worship their Lord. It's usually guarded by many black-robed wizards. I advise you not to court death."

"Where do you usually accept these kinds of missions?" Dago asked curiously.

"These kinds of tasks require you to go downstairs to the counter to sign an agreement—a life-or-death agreement."

"Okay, thank you. Have a nice day," Dagger nodded, raised his glass, and took a sip of juice for the two of them.

The two men scoffed and turned to drink.

Dago smiled, asked the bartender how much it cost, received a number, casually tossed a low-grade magic stone to pay, and left the bar.