Nascent Soul Rebirth: Starting as a Wizard

He sensed that something invisible, like a lock or a warning mechanism, had been triggered deep within the other person's mental world.

A faint yet exceptionally resilient force, imbued with a cold sense of order, rebounded.

It preserves the core memories of the specific content of the meditation method.

It also exhibited a strong rejection reaction to the foreign "induced extraction".

It acted directly on the hypnotized person's mental body, causing severe headaches and mental confusion.

"A restriction? Or some kind of protective contract at the soul level?" Solo's mind raced as he quickly began asking questions, striving to resolve the issue in the shortest possible time.

He tried a gentler, more peripheral approach to asking questions, and even stopped directly asking about the content of the meditation method.

Instead, ask the other person about their general feelings during cultivation, where they studied, and who their instructor was, etc.

However, as soon as the question gets even slightly closer to a specific cultivation method, that intense headache reaction will reappear.

The hypnotized person suffers greatly, their mental state becomes extremely unstable, and they are at risk of collapse.

Solo stopped trying, his expression darkening slightly.

Solo stopped pressuring him.

He quickly removed the silver needles from their bodies and then took out some calming and refreshing powder, waving it around their noses.

Ensure that they simply fall into a more natural, prolonged slumber caused by "separation" without leaving any obvious traces of hypnosis or psychological trauma.

He threw the two of them side by side onto the not-so-spacious bed, posing them as if they were fast asleep from being drunk.

Carefully clean up any traces you may have left in the room.

This includes traces of silver needles, residue of medicinal powder, and even footprints on the ground.

Then, he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.

Like a drop of water flowing into the ocean, it disappeared into the still noisy crowds of the tavern and the shadows of the corridor.

Before long, he returned to his single tent outside Wolf City. He had moved out of the Viscount’s mansion not long after he began operating outside the city.

He closed the door, lit the oil lamp, and took out the outline of the "Limestone Breathing Method" from his pocket, which he had quickly copied from memory onto several sheets of rough paper.

The ink on the paper was still wet, recording the breathing rhythm, the route of qi and blood circulation, and the stimulation methods of several key acupoints.

And some cultivation tips about the concepts of "condensation", "depth" and "stability".

The text is concise, yet the structure is clear.

However, Solo's brow did not relax; instead, it furrowed even more.

Unconsciously, his fingertips rubbed the rough paper surface.

The acquisition of breathing techniques has been a start; although the details still need to be filled in, the path is clear.

The meditation method... that invisible restriction is like a cold, high wall.

This blocked his path in his attempt to understand the core application of this world's extraordinary energy.

He was not unaware of the art of soul searching, but as he knew, soul searching required the practitioner's spiritual strength to be far superior to that of the other party.

The process is brutal and can easily cause irreversible damage to the soul of the person being searched, ranging from mild dementia to complete annihilation of the soul.

Moreover, when faced with a target that is clearly protected by a protective restriction, forcibly searching the soul is likely to trigger a more violent counterattack from the restriction.

This could result in mutual destruction and might even attract the attention of the one who set up the restriction.

The two Farrans were weak, while Solo's spiritual awareness far surpassed theirs, thus meeting the first condition for a forced soul search.

However, the restrictions in the other party's memory became an insurmountable barrier.

This restriction seems to have a very strong defense against "actively revealing the core cultivation method," whether it is induced by external forces or forcibly broken through.

These methods are unlikely to be very effective and may even endanger the lives of the target.

It seems that the core tradition of wizards—meditation—is kept far more secret than the breathing techniques of knights.

This may be related to the fact that meditation directly involves the more essential and dangerous realm of the mind and soul.

"It seems that we need to find another way to approach meditation and proceed gradually."

He gazed at the flickering lights, his eyes deep, his thoughts drifting into the depths of a more distant and dangerous plan.

A cold wind swept across the huge bluestone training ground on the side of Wolfsburg, kicking up scattered ice shards and withered grass.

It was deep winter, and breath turned to frost. The vast arena was empty and desolate, except for one figure who was still stubbornly wielding his sword.

El, seventeen years old, with a mediocre third-class aptitude.

As a newcomer who was selected from the "House of Dawn" orphanage three months ago and entered the Fran family along with many companions, and obtained the identity of "Franel".

His diligence is evident to all, but his interpersonal relationships are quite unusual.

Unlike his companions who quickly joined the ranks of the young masters of Fran through cleverness, flattery, or force, forming small cliques, El remained alone.

He has an indelible sense of aloofness in his bones.

To be honest, among the hundreds of young people of similar age in the Fran family, there was one he truly felt was worth following.

Perhaps only Karl, the eldest son who had already shown his talent and was preparing to study at the Emerald Academy.

As for the others?

Many people are not even as talented as him, who came from an orphanage.

Although the Fran family has a wide bloodline, only five or six people in this generation possess cultivation aptitude of level three or above.

However, among the orphans who came out of "Dawn House" this batch, there were more than a dozen with third-class qualifications!

This stark contrast was like a thorn stuck in El's heart.

Why? Why was I, El Franl, personally chosen by the Viscount and selected from among hundreds of orphans?

Does that mean we have to be inferior to others and follow those who may be even less capable than ourselves?

In his young and skewed understanding, the Fran family was nothing more than another, larger "House of Dawn".

There are also hundreds of young people here, and they also need to compete. He may very well be able to forge his own path.

This undisguised, almost childlike pride inadvertently offended many small group leaders who could have accepted him.

Three months have passed, and all the newly promoted Franz players from the same cohort have found their places.

Al became the only lone wolf who didn't have a "gang" and trained and ate alone.

"Hoo! Ha!"

The wooden sword, accompanied by the whooshing sound of wind, slashed fiercely at the leather-covered training doll, the dull thud echoing across the open space.

El pursed his lips, his eyes focused yet tinged with resentment.

It was as if the dolls in front of him were the realities he looked down on but had to face.

Just then, another wooden sword silently emerged and precisely blocked the blade that was about to fall on the puppet.

"What, are you practicing alone, reinventing the wheel?"

A calm voice sounded from the side.

El paused, the force from the sword causing his arm to tremble slightly.

He glanced sideways and saw a rare head of black hair and a slightly aloof but well-defined face.

The only one with black hair in the Viscount's mansion is said to be the neglected legitimate illegitimate son, Solo Fran.

El frowned involuntarily, a mixture of wariness and habitual arrogance welling up inside him.

He wanted to say: What are you doing here? Trying to recruit me? I don't follow just anyone.

But before he could speak, Solo's dark eyes seemed to have already seen through his thoughts.