Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

The scholar spent nearly twenty minutes calming down Ms. Murray, who was acting like an angry fighting rooster, enduring her vicious curses, and finally escorted her out of his room.

Take Murray out and close the door.

Upon opening the door, the dragon and the plague doctor were standing in front of it.

Before the dragon could even speak...

“My old friend, meeting you is always a good thing for me. Come in quickly. Whatever you ask for next, as your best friend, I will definitely grant it.”

……

The scholar's mask was quite old, with a very thin, chiseled facial contour. The eyes and mouth were simply represented by a single line, resembling a priestly mask from a primitive sect, both majestic and eerie.

But the scholar was much easier to get along with than he seemed. He warmly pulled the two of them into his room and even held hands with the dragon, asking him about his well-being. Although Lyle thought he was being overly enthusiastic and a bit too greasy, it was still a good thing.

As expected, birds of a feather flock together; Mr. Dragon's friends are all warm-hearted elders.

"Here's the thing, this is our newcomer, the Plague Doctor. He participated in an awakening ceremony a few days ago, but his talent is extraordinary. I know that talents are always extraordinary. What I mean is that some of his are not in accordance with common sense, and even mysticism cannot explain them."

The dragon gestured for Lyle to show his egg.

"Hmm, the talent has left the body; it's an illegal awakening."

It was immediately apparent that Mr. Miracle was unconventional.

The scholar examined it for a moment, then stretched out his palm. From between his fingers, blue magic threads wrapped around the egg, which began to shimmer with light, just like a bioluminescent jellyfish living in the air.

The analysis ended quickly.

"Dragon, what is your judgment?"

"Not a living organism, but a device with a special reflex arc."

"You're half right. The caster seems to be trying to separate his talent and make it independent, forming a new entity from the separated part."

"But it failed. Perhaps it was due to the limitations of the talent itself, or perhaps it was due to an error in the ritual incantation. The experiment only achieved half of its goal. The talent was stripped away, but it did not develop into a new individual. It became an external accessory, unable to perform its original function."

"There are two solutions: one is to reintegrate the stripped talents back to their original form, and the other is to go all the way down the path, make up for the deficiencies of the external talents, and complete its individuality."

Chapter Fifty-Six: The Scholar Who Reborn from the Ashes

The scholar paused for a moment, his thin arms crossed, his fingers tapping lightly on his elbows.

"My personal suggestion is that reintegration is a shortcut. Sticking to old ways is not being old-fashioned. The thorns on the road have already been cleared for you by your predecessors. Your own safety is always the top priority, although many of our companions have overlooked this point."

"In fact, the advantages of innovation are indeed obvious, but Mr. Epidemic Doctor, exploring the mysterious is not a competition that cannot be lost. Caution is a good quality, and I hope you can assess the risks well."

"If you successfully embark on another path, I will sincerely congratulate you."

Lyle looked at the egg in his hand. He had one more path than most people: one was a broad highway, and the other was an invisible, winding path, with both unfounded dangers and unfounded excitement.

"So, sir, what do I need to do if I want to reintegrate?"

"You don't need to do anything. You and it are originally a separate whole. Whether it is the law of nature or fate, the fusion of the two is destined. If you appropriately improve your spellcasting level, it will definitely play a good role in promoting it."

Mr. Dragon patted the scholar on the shoulder. "I thought you would be happier, since the Plague Doctor accepted your advice."

The scholar turned around, returned to his seat, and casually pulled out a scroll to start taking notes. "I am simply conveying my experience to the epidemic doctor in the way I believe is correct. It is enough to provide assistance. Moreover, things are up to us, and we must also leave the rest to fate. I will always reserve my opinion until the very end."

"Old friend, you are truly a complete old mage."

"Yes, cowardly, inflexible, and an old geezer."

"You resent them?"

"No, their success proves the correctness of these insights, but what is correct is not necessarily what I need."

"What an old fogey."

"I hate rude young people, and I hate rude old men too."

"Hahaha, about that thing we talked about last time, could you give me a hint? Can I join, literally, join you guys?" Mr. Dragon rubbed his hands together, his two-meter-tall body bending down as he looked directly at the scholar with difficulty.

"They will only be more stubborn than I am. Without meeting the hard requirements, your wish will be in vain, dragon. You are trying to do what you cannot do."

"I will do it, one day..."

“In some ways, you are more deserving of the word ‘old-fashioned’ than I am.”

That's why we became friends.

A muffled laugh came from behind the scholar's mask. He stepped off the fur-covered chair and prepared to pick up his pen to begin his work.

"By the way, dragon, before you arrived, I used a little trick to get rid of a very energetic young lady, so you might be cursed by the witches recently, of course, this is the worst-case scenario."

"Really?" Mr. Dragon didn't seem to mind the dire consequences the scholar mentioned. Dragons were experts at manipulating attacks on the soul. "You have some connection with the new member?"

"Yes, when I was young, I interfered with a few witch trials outside. You know, I have a talent for that. Maybe a few of those new members survived, and now they're pestering me to give me the title of honorary witch mother. I..."

“Scholar, you already have enough titles, but I think this one will be the strangest: a male witch mother.”

“You can remove the title you think they are giving them. They feel that giving them such a title is a way of repaying a debt of gratitude. I am willing to fund their education if they are willing.”

"They might turn their teacher into a goat halfway through their learning."

Lyle and the dragon left the scholar's room, watching the door melt into the wall.

"It seems he doesn't want to see guests anytime soon. Let's go back. Doctor, I'm glad you accepted the scholar's advice."

"Because the scholar really helped me, I want to know who those who disagree with the scholar are, I'm just curious."

"The Advanced Magic Research Society. Mr. Apocalypse once had a big argument with the Scholar because of their differing philosophies, so he withdrew and founded the Advanced Magic Research Society. The Scholar is an authority on traditional magic, and his way of thinking is similar to that of a traditional mage, unlike Apocalypse, who is more unconventional and leaps in his thinking. I originally thought it was just a farce, but Apocalypse proved himself by mocking his mentor. Perhaps that really hurt him, because the Scholar resigned from his position in the Magic Research Society and chose this small room to provide some simple answering services and teach classes while studying magic."

"The Plague Doctor, the scholar, is not pedantic. Perhaps the Advanced Magic Research Institute has proven them right with its achievements, but that does not mean the scholar has failed. He has educated the most groundbreaking mages of this century, and even changed the concept of the word 'mage.' The scholar is not bound by convention; he is the creator of many new spells. He is indeed an inventor, but Apocalypse has raised the upper limit of the word 'inventor.' The difference between the two is that the scholar tends to make steady progress, while Apocalypse prefers technological explosions and large-scale technological advancements."

"I understand. The scholar is a remarkable person."

"It would be an honor to befriend him. But the thought that he would become the new witch mother is always interesting."

"The scholar said it was their way of expressing gratitude."

"Yes, he once talked to me about his past, especially about how he pretended to be a witch and was burned at the stake."

"You know, dragon. It's simple. All you need is a head of messy long hair and a tattered robe. Stuff your clothes with cotton wool, smear some mud on your face, and those blind knights will give you a so-called witch trial. You'll see the folly of this era from the top of the woodpile, the sinful offspring of Adam and Eve gathered together, as if tasting the forbidden fruit called wisdom was a deception. Their minds are filled with straw, but they can't even shoo away a few ravens, they're not even as good as scarecrows. When my clothes were set ablaze, I saw their cheers. They thought it would please their god, but the god wasn't on their side. When I emerged unscathed from the flames, they stood there like statues, like third-rate actors who had lost their script, as if my burning was the only right thing to do. I lit a few small flames on their clothes, watched these idiots run around madly, setting more things ablaze, and finally extinguished the flames. Looking at them covered in ashes, I walked away with my head held high."

"The Scholar's talent is fire immunity. Everyone has a youthful time, when they are reckless and wanton, and quick to take revenge. It is said that in the towns he has passed through, witch hunts have decreased significantly because people know that rashly participating will come at a price. The Scholar has indirectly saved many innocent women, and the honorary witch mother is well-deserved. Although I prefer his other title."

"what is that?"

"Dragon Priest".

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Anomaly

He slammed the white ball onto the table, the impact causing it to bounce like jelly. The prolonged contact made Lyle realize that his cheat-like talent was more robust than he had imagined.

Lyle lay down on his wooden bed, the once rough edges now worn smooth. Though not as soft as the cushions of the luxurious cup, this familiar discomfort allowed Lyle to truly relax.

As the first rays of sunlight touched the floor, Lyle greeted Grape, who was about to set off, with a "Good morning." He was surprised to learn that the light bat was diurnal. Lyle closed his eyes.

As the hustle and bustle of the street gradually subsided, Lyle felt a sense of tranquility.

I can't sleep!

Having experienced the appearance of the talent ball and spent the entire night in Andre, Lyle found himself not sleepy at all, with no aches or pains, and his eyelids were not drooping. Based on a doctor's self-discipline, Lyle judged that there was nothing wrong with his body and that he was still a great young man.

But this is not normal.

Twenty years of malnutrition, coupled with past hard work and staying up late, and the frequent complaints about the tragedy of this era, life has crushed my health, but now I feel more energetic than ever before.

I gripped my wrist with my right hand, felt my pulse, and found my heart rate to be normal. It wasn't an over-excitement from a surge of adrenaline. I washed my face with water, and apart from the water droplets clinging to my hair, my overall appearance remained unchanged.

It's like being reborn.

If I had to pinpoint the difference between myself yesterday and the day before, it would be the only difference: I'm now a deformable slime ball.

There's also the mucus that I ingested.

Standing in front of the table, I looked at the light blue sphere that shimmered with a faint light, its surface covered with a thin membrane of mucus.

So this thing also has the effect of a stimulant?

The external ball began to change; the slime on its surface turned the same bright yellow as last night, making it look like a large, deep-fried bun.

Lyle understood what it meant: the yellow slime was the energizer.

So, can mucus change its properties depending on the changes?

It seemed to have triggered a reaction mechanism; the mucus layer turned blackish-gray, a hissing sound came from the bottom of the ball, and an unpleasant sour smell assaulted the nose and mouth.

"My table! Stop right now!"

It turned back into transparent slime, but a shallow circular pit was corroded into the bottom of the table. The dark brown liquid spread around the template along its texture before finally evaporating and dissipating.

Lyle opened the window to let the pungent air out.

As a gentle breeze carrying the scents of earth, milk, and grass wafted in, Lyle leaned against the windowsill, gazing at the ball in his arms.

"You were more than just an ornament after all."

Discovering yet another advantage of the Talent Ball, Lyle happily started cooking and casually added a few drops of yellow slime to the soup.

As a reward, a carrot was placed on the ball's head. Lyle nodded as he watched the carrot tip slowly disappear.

Lyle plans to begin activating the staff today; the Holy Spirit Wood Dragon Staff happens to be in his leather pouch, but not now.

He planned to begin the ritual during the Blood Moon, because his first resurrection of a corpse happened at that time, and he felt that this moment was the most appropriate.

The main task now is preparation, which involves repeatedly practicing the incantation.

Dark whispers echoed through the dilapidated alleyways of Cassandra. The shadows of the stone houses were stretched long, the sunlight dimmed, and a chill spread. The cats and dogs had all left, and only the occasional black crow came and cawed.

No one frequents this place often; even idlers who are just passing through will avoid it because of the atmosphere.

Lost in thought, Lyle didn't notice the tranquility outside, nor did he notice the sphere he had placed on the table trembling, rippling with the rise and fall of Emor's incantation.

Night falls.

Lyle closed the doors and windows, and the grapes hung upside down from the beams, emitting a faint light.

The table was moved to the center of the house, and the original books and documents were piled up in the corner. Only the chimera bag, the dragon staff, and the talent ball were placed on the table.