Chapter 209 Even the window opened by God is not easy to get through
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Aaron hammered a glowing red iron block in front of the forging table, completely engrossed, oblivious to the sweat trickling down his cheeks. He instinctively used every ounce of his strength to expel impurities from the iron block.
Abel was also assigned to a treadmill by Gaines, forced to burn off his fat at the fastest possible speed.
"Not bad at all," Alger said with a hint of pride, his gaze full of appreciation for Aaron. "If he could focus his energy on forging, he would definitely become a blacksmith who surpasses me."
"But that's impossible," Gaines glanced at his watch. "Besides, in ten minutes, it will be the young master's next class. What do you think..."
"You're such a spoilsport!" Alger pouted, then snapped his fingers.
Clap!
With a crisp sound, everything in the Chamber of Secretsfell silent.
"What's wrong?"
Aaron came back to his senses, turning around blankly to look at the two.
"The hour is almost up. It's time for your next class."
Aaron placed the hammer on the forging table and rubbed his sore arm. "What about my sword then?"
"You don't need to worry about that. This Chamber of Secrets is connected to my memories, so everything within it is naturally under my control. You can continue with the impurity removal in the next class."
"I see." Aaron suddenly understood, then looked at his half-forged sword blankly, frowning. "So… is the sword I'm forging real?"
"Of course not. Those ores were all constructed from my memories," Alger said, noticing Aaron's darkening expression, and immediately added, "I did hoard a batch of rare ores in my lifetime, but I wouldn't waste them on a novice for leveling up. That would be a shameful waste."
"But what you just threw into the furnace was just ordinary iron ore!
I didn't see any of those so-called precious materials."
"Did I not put Mithril in just now?" Alger turned to Gaines and asked.
"I don't think so."
"What about Profound Iron, meteorites, and fire crystals?"
"I think…" Gaines was about to shake his head when he saw Alger's warning look, and immediately changed his tune, "I've been busy urging Abel to run, so I didn't pay much attention."
"Don't be so serious!" Alger said somewhat awkwardly. "This is just a simple simulation, but it can give you a very realistic experience."
"Heh heh! Whatever.
Anyway, you old man left behind a lot of wealth in your lifetime, and they are all waiting for me to inherit!"
Alger froze for a moment, his mouth twitching uncontrollably.
Although it was true, why did it sound so hurtful!
"Just kidding, don't mind it.
But you also need to be a bit more magnanimous. Since it's a memory simulation, don't be so reluctant to use those precious materials." Aaron said, lifting Abel off the treadmill and following Gaines to the next classroom.
Alger watched Aaron's retreating figure, shaking his head with a wry smile.
This junior spoke lightly, but he was someone who regarded forging as his life. Seeing those rare materials go to waste was more painful than seeing his own son die.
Since Aaron had successfully graduated from some specialized subjects last year, Gaines had cut down some courses based on the actual situation. When they entered the second classroom, they saw the white-haired Wiechert.
Aaron was about to greet him when Wiechert teleported in front of him.
Their eyes met, and the old man showed a playful smile. "Your strength has improved quite a bit."
Aaron's heart skipped a beat. Could he tell that his current magic power was incomplete?
It shouldn't be! If it were a thought-form, it might be understandable, but he was the main body. Logically, it shouldn't be exposed.
"An Intermediate Archmage. It's clear you haven't wasted this past year."
Hoo!
Aaron breathed a sigh of relief. It was good that he hadn't noticed.
"Young master, you're an Intermediate Archmage?" Gaines said, astonished. "No wonder Lord Alger said you could surpass me within two years."
"Act, keep acting." Aaron sneered. "The ancestors could tell because I was in their memory space, but how could you, a dignified Archmage, not tell?"
"He really can't tell," Wiechert explained. "Archmage just sounds more advanced, but in reality, it's all the same."
Gaines's face flushed slightly, but he didn't dare to retort.
Putting aside their statuses, this Lord could suppress him with one hand, whether alive or dead.
Seeing this, Aaron was momentarily speechless. You shouldn't act so awkward, alright? What does that make me, an Intermediate Archmage—no, Archmage—feel?
"But Dumbledore is also an Archmage…" Aaron paused slightly, then chuckled, "Alright! He's an Archmage who can break through to the Saint Realm at any time, not on the same level as the butler at all."
"Young master." Gaines felt a pang in his heart and said helplessly, "Please spare me some face."
"Next time, for sure."
"It's time for class." Wiechert looked at Aaron. "Let me see the results of your past year."
"I definitely won't disappoint you," Aaron said proudly. He was very confident in his magic array skills.
"But before that, I have a small question that I hope you can answer for me."
Wiechert grew a little interested. "Speak. It's rare for a question to trouble you."
"What is the method for an Archmage to break through to the Saint Realm?"
"State of mind," Wiechert said directly. "It has different difficulties for different people. For some, their state of mind is transcendent, and once their magic power accumulation is sufficient, it happens naturally. For others, their minds are complex, and even if their magic power exceeds that bottleneck, they can only be bound in place.
The former can witness entirely new scenery and step onto a higher ladder, while the latter can only sigh in admiration. But this doesn't prevent them from improving their foundation. If their talent is high enough, fighting above their rank isn't impossible."
Aaron nodded slowly, finally completely understanding why Dumbledore had always hovered at the edge of the Saint Realm.
That old man had eight hundred schemes and had always focused his energy on fighting the Dark Lord. It would be a miracle if he succeeded.
"Besides meeting the state of mind requirement, is there any other way?" Aaron asked.
"Of course. When God closes a door, he opens a window," Wiechert said lightly, then looked at Aaron. "But you don't need to worry; your door is open."
Aaron rolled his eyes speechlessly. "You and Ancestor Alger are both fond of keeping people in suspense. What I want to ask is, what's the deal with that window?"
Wiechert raised an eyebrow. "You don't need to know this."
"What if I insist on knowing?" Aaron said solemnly. "This isn't about curiosity. It's just that my main opponent right now might be at this level.
He's a madman, and I need to know if he has the possibility of taking that step."
Hearing this, Wiechert looked at Gaines, and a fierce aura instantly erupted. "Is this how you take care of him? At such a young age, you let him provoke a quasi-Saint Realm Wizard."
Gaines was forced back several steps, his face pale, and he knelt on the ground.
"It has nothing to do with him; I was careless," Aaron stood in front of Gaines, blocking most of the pressure for him. "Being too outstanding isn't always a good thing. Both the dark and light sides are trying every means to win me over."
"The contemporary Dark Lord and White Lord?" Wiechert mused, a playful smile appearing on his lips. "I can imagine your life at Hogwarts. It must be particularly interesting."
"It's particularly thrilling," Aaron corrected. "Times are tough now; it's hard to get by anywhere!"
"Look on the bright side. Every era is like this.
You don't look for trouble, but trouble finds you." Wiechert said, then waved his hand. Gaines stood up directly, and the pressure on him suddenly dissipated.
Gulp!
Aaron couldn't help but swallow. He knew this ancestor was strong, but he hadn't expected him to be this strong, able to easily control an Archmage.
"Ancestor, how strong were you in your lifetime?!"
"Me?" A hint of regret and a touch of pride flashed in Wiechert's eyes. "If you want to know, wait until Vico returns and ask him yourself. There's a record of this in the family history."
"Couldn't you just tell me directly?"
"Young master." Gaines kept shaking his head at Aaron, signaling him not to ask further.
"Alright! I was being rash." Aaron suppressed his curiosity. Anyway, Vico and the others would be back in a month, and he would know sooner or later.
"Then, Ancestor, can you tell me now what that window is?"
"I'm really impressed with you," Wiechert said with a wry smile. "If your state of mind isn't up to par, but you still want to go to the outside world through the window, then you can only squeeze through desperately.
This process is agonizing. If you don't have enough strength, you can't squeeze out, but even if you do, you'll have to pay a price. Excess magic power will involuntarily dissipate, and there will be a relatively long period of weakness."
"I think I understand," Aaron mused, stroking his chin. "To pass through that window, one's magic power must greatly exceed that of a Saint Archmage.
And once that threshold is crossed, regardless of the initial accumulation of magic power, it will revert to the standard of just entering the Saint Realm, and one's condition will decline for a period of time."
"You could say that," Wiechert said with satisfaction.
Receiving an affirmative answer, Aaron breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
This was definitely the best news he had heard all year. Neither Dumbledore nor Lord Voldemort would cross that bottleneck before completely eliminating the other.
Everyone wants to see a higher view, but before eliminating hidden dangers, one must restrain their desires.
It would be too unfair to finally break through only to be hunted down by a sworn enemy.
"I've answered your question. Now, it's time for me to see the results of your past year, isn't it?"
"No problem, but…" Aaron glanced in Gaines's direction. Most of his strength had already been exposed, but he was still hiding a small portion.
"You go out first," Wiechert said. "When the time comes, I'll send him to the next classroom."
"Yes."
Gaines said respectfully, then opened the door to another Chamber of Secrets.
However, as he stepped in with one foot, he remembered something and awkwardly retreated. "Young master, can Abel come with me? You know him; if no one supervises him, he'll definitely slack off on his diet."
Hearing this, Aaron looked at the white dragon cub hiding in the corner.
Abel, covering his shriveled pockets, put on a wronged, almost tearful expression.
Aaron's heart twitched slightly, knowing that Abel was bringing up the mountain of snacks stolen by the thought-form. He then shook his head helplessly. "Forget it! It's fine to let him rest for one class."