Scorching magma flowed silently across the plains, melting vast stretches of fertile soil and turning them into a golden hue.
It was as if a massive, blazing furnace existed between heaven and earth, with heat waves distorting large swathes of space.
Fifteen Mental Power Crystals, combined with the enhancement of [Ethereal Extreme Thought], had unleashed the full power of [Golden Flame], which exceeded Ronan's initial expectations.
The manifestation of the Spirit Moye Dharma Body, one of the Seven Pillar Gods of the Golden Country, descended like an ancient and evil curse, attempting to engulf everything in molten gold.
Perhaps only the [Taboo. Black Hole], amplified by the [Law-Controlling] armlet, could suppress it.
Ronan narrowed his eyes as he observed the "perpetrator" before him.
Late-stage Level Four, likely having just advanced. In terms of pure mental power, he couldn't even match Ronan under the influence of [Ethereal Extreme Thought].
The man was handsome, around thirty, with the elegance and grace unique to wind-element wizards.
Of course, under the oppressive aura of the [True Golden Flame]'s Forbidden Magic Domain, his composure had long vanished. He was now bound by tendrils of golden magma, resembling a tightly wrapped dumpling.
Ronan casually plucked the rings from the man's fingers. The latter let out a muffled groan, his body writhing like a fish.
Ignoring him, Ronan examined each ring one by one.
When he reached a pale green space ring and saw the pattern etched on it, his gaze paused, and he looked up.
"Sky Weaver?"
The man sneered but did not answer. The mental power of a Level Four Dawn was quietly gathering, as if he was preparing some desperate counter-spell.
"Pop—"
Ronan lightly tapped the man's forehead with his finger. The mental power from the fifteen Mental Power Crystals converged into an intricate rune, like an invisible nail, deeply driven into the man's mind.
The spell the man had been preparing immediately dissipated, and he let out a heart-wrenching scream of pain.
Ronan calmly watched as the man's body twisted uncontrollably, veins bulging on his forehead and neck. In just a few breaths, he was drenched in sweat.
This was a minor technique Ronan had acquired from Alazan, specifically designed to torment the soul.
Ronan had tried it himself.
Even though he had practiced [Ascetic Body Forging] since his apprenticeship, and his tolerance for pain far exceeded that of ordinary wizards, under the torture of the "Soul Nail," he could only endure up to the fourth nail before his willpower threatened to collapse.
This was Ronan. For an average wizard, one nail was enough.
Ronan waited quietly for the time it took two hourglasses to empty. Only when the man's body began to convulse uncontrollably from the pain did he gently stroke the man's forehead again, slightly pulling out the "nail."
"Haah— Haah—"
The man briefly escaped the torment, gasping for air like someone rescued from drowning.
"Yes, I'm from the Sky Weavers."
He answered hurriedly, terrified of falling back into Ronan's torture.
Ronan's eyes flickered slightly.
The Sky Weavers were a major wizard faction under the guidance of the Fate Pendulum, also belonging to the Empire of Fate. They were known for their low-profile and mysterious nature, and it was said that most of their wizards specialized in wind-element spells.
"Name?"
Ronan thought for a moment before asking.
The man cooperated this time and immediately spoke up, "Cindison Porzingis."
"I don't know you, and I have no grievances or conflicts with the Sky Weaver," Ronan said calmly. "Why did you come after me?"
The man glanced at him and snorted lightly, "I just happened to be short of a third-level wizard's soul for my experiments. You were unlucky enough to cross my path."
"Pop—"
Ronan's fingertip gently brushed over the man's forehead. In response, the man's eyes and the veins on his face bulged out instantly.
"Buzz—"
A second Soul Nail condensed in Ronan's hand. His gaze swept over the man's body, as if searching for the next spot to drive the nail.
"Stop—"
The man's veins bulged, his face flushed red, and he squeezed out a plea through gritted teeth, "I'll... tell the truth."
"Whoosh—"
Ronan raised his hand and dispersed the phantom of the Spirit Maya. The golden radiance that had filled the heavens and earth flowed back into the distant and unknown Golden Kingdom.
The second, followed by the third Soul Nail, were flicked into the body of this fourth-level wizard named Cindison. Then, Ronan slightly pulled out the Soul Nail embedded in the man's forehead, assuming a listening posture.
"Speak," Ronan said calmly. "I have my own way of discerning the truth in your answers. If you lie again, the pain will triple."
The man gasped for breath, his eyelids twitching violently at Ronan's words. He gave Ronan a deep, demon-like look, then gritted his teeth and whispered, "Because of the contract, I can't reveal that person's name. I can only tell you that they are from your Spirit Lake, and like you, they are a wizard of the Deep Sea faction."
A fellow wizard from the Spirit Lake's Deep Sea faction?
Hearing this, Ronan couldn't help but frown slightly.
He had officially joined Spirit Lake less than a year ago, and apart from Heliodor, he had hardly interacted with anyone else. Out of nowhere, someone had a grudge against him and went so far as to hire a late-stage fourth-level wizard from outside Spirit Lake to take his life?
"That person has a significant reputation within your Deep Sea faction. Once you return, you only need to ask around a bit to find out who it is," the man added hastily, perhaps seeing Ronan's frown and fearing that he might tamper with the Soul Nail again.
"Why did that person send you to hunt me down?" Ronan asked.
"Because of the competition for the Son of the Deep Sea," the man replied. "That person is determined to claim the title of Son of the Deep Sea, and your existence poses a certain threat to them. So, they want to eliminate you before you can grow stronger."
"Son of the Deep Sea?" Ronan was slightly taken aback.
"You don't even know about that?" The man looked at him with a hint of surprise, then explained, "The old Prophet has died, and a new Prophet has ascended. The first thing the new Prophet does after taking control of the empire's fate is to 'bestow blessings.'"
"The three major schools of Spirit Lake—each of their most outstanding wizard prodigies—can receive a prophetic blessing from the Prophet. The Heart Hall of Wizards, the Sky Weaver... all major wizard factions within the Fate Empire can receive this honor."
"The prophetic blessing can 'avoid death,' allowing one to escape a certain fatal disaster. It's like having an extra life. No ambitious wizard with the qualifications would miss this opportunity."
Ronan listened to the man's account, his eyes flickering with thought.
During a pause in the man's narrative, Ronan suddenly spoke up, "How strong is the person you mentioned? What about his talent?"
The man glanced at him, thought for a moment, and replied, "Late-stage Level Four, just one step away from birthing a Primal Spirit and advancing to Level Five. His talent is excellent, with a soul quality rated at seven stars."
"Then why would he think that a mere Level Three wizard like me could pose a threat to him?"
Ronan shook his head.
"Are you an ordinary Level Three wizard?" the man blurted out, then quickly stopped himself.
He glanced at the vast golden expanse behind Ronan, which looked as if it had been scoured by lava, and thought of the powerful spiritual strength that rivaled a late-stage Level Four wizard, as well as the Spell that summoned a terrifying, indescribable golden monster resembling an ancient evil god. He said bitterly, "Did you get a ten-star evaluation in the knowledge test during the entrance trial at Spirit Lake?"
"Yes."
"That explains it.
The Deep Sea faction, the selection of the Child of the Deep Sea, inevitably involves a comparison of wisdom.
Your strength is naturally... insignificant to him.
But in terms of knowledge and wisdom... you pose a significant threat!"
"I've only just started; isn't it a bit too hasty to kill me now?"
"On the contrary."
The man shook his head, "Right now, your potential isn't obvious, and you don't attract much attention. If you were to suddenly perish, it would only create a small ripple in Spirit Lake, and you'd be forgotten soon enough.
But when the selection for the Child of the Deep Sea approaches, all the qualified and powerful wizards from the Deep Sea faction will be shortlisted. If he were to act against you then, as the top contender for the Child of the Deep Sea, he would undoubtedly be the prime suspect."
The man finished his explanation.
Ronan fell into deep thought.
Time passed minute by minute. The man, watching Ronan silently ponder, began to secretly try to manipulate the three Soul Nails within his body.
Just as he was racking his brains to find a way to remove this bizarre technique, Ronan suddenly spoke, startling him.
"You failed this mission; how will you explain it to him when you return?"
The man quickly recovered from his guilty panic and said nonchalantly, "What's there to explain? I'll just tell it like it is.
We have a simple employer-employee relationship; what can he do to me?"
"You're a Level Four Dawn of the Sky Weavers, yet you're secretly involved in such dirty deeds, assassinating formal members of a major faction. Aren't you afraid of being expelled from the Sky Weavers if this gets out?"
Ronan spoke calmly.
The man looked at him and smiled, "You're too young; you think the world is too simple.
Every faction has its bright and dark sides... I can always switch to the Shadow Weavers."
Ronan slightly raised his eyelids but didn't press the issue further. Instead, he asked, "After your failure, what will he do next?"
"He won't give up on eliminating you, because my failure has significantly increased the level of threat you pose in his eyes.
The next person he sends will undoubtedly be far stronger than me."
The man replied leisurely.
Ronan pondered thoughtfully, "So, as long as I remain a threat to him, he will never let it go?"
"Naturally."
The man nodded.
Ronan narrowed his eyes, "You just mentioned, what kind of person is he?"
The man was taken aback and slowly turned to look at Ronan.
"What... what do you want to do?"
A few minutes later.
On the vast field, the man with a gyrfalcon perched on his shoulder listened to Ronan's entire plan and showed an expression that was either strange or peculiar.
"Are you sure you want to do this? Will he believe it?"
"Smart, powerful, a genius, confident to the point of arrogance."
Ronan listed in a low voice, opening his hand as a wisp of intangible soul power burst from his fingertips like fireworks.
"Plus this, he will definitely believe it."
"Do as I say, and after it's done, I will naturally remove the soul restriction for you."
The snow-white gyrfalcon spread its
wings and soared into the sky. The man looked at Ronan, whose face was calm and whose eyes were as deep as an unfathomable blue lake, and for some reason, he felt an inexplicable shiver.
He hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and nodded firmly, "Alright.
I hope... you keep your word."