Chapter 527: The Qualification for a True Name

Gao Jie Ming did not interrupt his muttering, nor did he correct him about the gap between "winning and returning" and "merely returning alive."

He didn't even care about the issue of his own title.

After Viola's reminder, Gao Jie Ming figured he could accept any title as long as it wasn't something like "Black Men Carrying Coffins."

Some things are too troublesome to explain.

Besides, he really had only returned alive.

Whether the opponent withdrew willingly or fled in disgrace, the outcome made little difference.

"We'll deal with the title later," Gao Jie Ming cut off Blake's increasingly absurd naming ideas, his tone urgent. "Let's leave now. If that sixth-rank wizard just now recovers his composure or calls for allies to pursue us, we won't get away."

Blake's excitement froze instantly, replaced by a sharp look.

"Yes, yes! If that sixth-rank wizard comes after us again—" he snapped to attention, "we're done for! Run, run!"

Without another word, he immediately activated his Presence Concealment, his form dissolving like ink in water, rapidly fading until only a hurried mental whisper remained: "I think we should return to camp and rest first."

Gao Jie Ming nodded slightly, then paused briefly beneath his feet and activated Grand Void Step, his entire body turning into a faint, elusive streak of light.

He followed Blake's nearly undetectable trail of concealment at full speed toward the camp.

The Annihilation Tower Camp, Core Treatment Zone.

This was a vast underground space, completely isolated from the battlefield by layers of defensive arrays and spatial anchoring formulas.

The ceiling flowed with pale green life energy, like an inverted river of stars, evenly showering down onto hundreds of neatly arranged nutrient capsules below.

One capsule, previously marked "empty," suddenly filled with nutrient fluid.

More precisely, between the states of "completely void" and "fluid-filled, containing a human silhouette,"

—

all intermediate processes were directly erased.

The nutrient fluid churned as a pale hand emerged from beneath the surface, pressing against the inner lid.

Hssss—

The lid slid open silently as the black-robed wizard sat up.

His soaked hood clung to his cheek, thick streams of pale gold nutrient fluid cascading down the edges of his robe, pooling into tiny rivulets on the alloy floor.

His sudden appearance was like a stone dropped into still water.

The chamber's alert arrays flared to life; dozens of detection formulas simultaneously locked onto the capsule's location.

Several nearby construct healers immediately halted their operations, their head scanning arrays spinning rapidly.

Several fifth-rank wizards near the entrance, still recovering, forced themselves to raise shields despite their weakened state, energy fluctuations suddenly chaotic.

Most of those lying here were wizards who had been evacuated after severe frontline injuries.

Most prominent were the rows of specially designed capsules along the wall, their surfaces engraved with multiple layers of law-solidifying patterns.

Through the semi-transparent lids, faint silhouettes floated inside.

That was the recovery zone for several seventh-rank wizards.

Most had sustained heavy injuries at the war's outset and remained in deep stasis, unresponsive to any external changes.

In a corner of the sixth-rank wizard zone, a slightly smaller capsule.

Its lid suddenly opened automatically.

The wizard inside opened his eyes and slowly sat up.

His appearance was horrifying.

His entire left side, including half his head, had vanished; the stump was covered in a slow-growing black fluid resembling living ink.

Yet his expression was calm, as if losing half his body was trivial.

Upon seeing the wet black-robed figure beside the capsule, the sixth-rank wizard's tense expression, previously tightened by alert arrays, smoothed out like ironed fabric.

He raised his single remaining hand and waved it casually.

It was the gesture for "friendly, stand down."

The other wizards nearby, though still wary in their eyes, finally retracted their shields and detection formulas.

The air in the treatment chamber returned to stillness.

The black-robed wizard stepped out from beside the capsule.

The instant his feet touched the ground, every trace of residual nutrient fluid, torn robes, and the pallor of unhealed wounds—

all these "incomplete recovery" states vanished in the same instant, like ink precisely wiped clean.

His black robe became pristine, dry, and neat; his complexion turned ruddy; his breathing steady.

As if the wounded man who had just risen from the capsule had been an illusion.

The sixth-rank wizard beside him glanced at a nearby detection construct and raised his chin with interest.

The construct immediately glided over obediently and projected the capsule's consumption logs into midair.

A row of data flashed rapidly.

"—Damn." The half-bodied sixth-rank wizard whistled, his voice brimming with unhidden astonishment. "Nutrient fluid: 1,700 standard third-rank units. Regeneration catalyst: eighty units. Soul stabilizer—my god, you used three vials of that?"

He turned to the black-robed wizard, his single eye gleaming with curiosity: "Who the hell did you fight, Illusion?"

The black-robed wizard, called Illusion, did not answer immediately.

He first glanced at the other's mangled stump, his brow slightly furrowed: "Raven. You got this bad?"

His tone was calm, but the surprise beneath was unmistakable.

Raven grinned, revealing sharp white teeth.

He spread his single hand and shrugged his one-sided shoulder, speaking as casually as if discussing the weather: "Bad luck. Ran into a seventh-rank old bastard. Just surviving counts as a win."

He paused, studying Illusion with interest: "But you? Your condition—hmm, I've never seen you lie in a capsule before. Did you run into a seventh-rank too?"

Illusion fell silent for a moment.

"—Fifth-rank."

Raven's grin froze on his face.

"Huh?"

"I faced a fifth-rank wizard," Illusion repeated, voice flat, devoid of any emotional inflection. "Not seventh-rank."

Raven's single eye widened so wide that the black fluid covering his stump rippled with subtle waves from his mental shock.

"A fifth-rank wizard did this to you?!" His voice rose involuntarily. "You're joking! You're Illusion! Even against a normal seventh-rank, you shouldn't be this beaten!"

The 【Illusion】Law, while unremarkable among eighth-rank wizards, was devastatingly potent at fifth- and sixth-rank levels.

Given the nature of the 【Illusion】Law, Raven's statement was actually conservative—Illusion could easily escape even multiple seventh-rank wizards.

And in terms of combat prowess, he was among the top of sixth-rank wizards.

More importantly, the 【Illusion】Law's inherent nature meant that against wizards below his rank, Illusion's combat power became grotesquely exaggerated.

Plainly put, a fifth-rank wizard lacking sufficient strength would be instantly slain by Illusion's 【Illusion】Law the moment they met.

Not even a chance to resist!

Illusion did not refute.

He simply stood there, letting Raven's stunned gaze sweep over him; after a few seconds, he spoke softly: "He's the one who killed Annihilation Hand."

Raven's pupils contracted sharply.

"—That legendary fifth-rank," he whispered, voice thick with complex emotion. "So it's true. Annihilation Hand really fell to a fifth-rank wizard."

Illusion nodded.

"Pity," he said, a hint of regret—unnoticed even by himself—lingering in his tone. "I still don't know his name. Next time I meet him, I'll ask."

"Name?" Raven caught the deeper implication in Illusion's words, his single eye flashing with sharp insight. "You mean—you think he deserves a True Name?"

Illusion looked at him.

"He's only fifth-rank," Illusion said calmly, as if stating an obvious fact. "He's already defeated two title wizards, including me."

Title wizards were those like Annihilation Hand or Illusion—those who had completely abandoned their true names, using only aliases; they were the elite among their rank.

True Name, by contrast, was the designation of the "monsters" who retained their real names without needing aliases.

Illusion did not continue.

But Raven understood.

"True Name wizards—" he murmured, his expression deeply complex. "A fifth-rank wizard already has the qualification to pursue a True Name?"

"Isn't that normal?" Illusion said coolly. "Don't forget—he's only fifth-rank."

Raven fell silent.

Yes, he was only fifth-rank.

That word "only"—it was the most terrifying part of the entire sentence.

Fifth-rank, defeated Annihilation Hand, the elite among sixth-rank wizards.

Fifth-rank, forced Illusion, a sixth-rank elite, into a nutrient capsule.

Raven suddenly laughed—a laugh laced with self-mockery and the resignation of one who had seen it all.

"Come to think of it—" his voice grew distant—"I used to hear elders like my master say things like 'the times have changed,' 'today's youth are incredible.' I never thought I'd be the one saying it someday."

He looked down at his own mangled half-body.

"We who climbed to sixth-rank—weren't we all raised as prodigies, geniuses?" His voice was light, yet heavy with weight. "And now, we're the ones left marveling at some kid."

Illusion said nothing.

He simply stood there for a long time, then gave a slight nod: "The age moves forward. If we old relics don't want to be crushed underfoot, we must move forward too."

>

1