Chapter 289: The Red Robe Mage's Conspiracy

"Guest, please put away your pet." The Red Robe Mage's sidelong glance swept over Naimi Xisi's silver‑patterned flowing cloak, his pupils narrowing slightly.

The runes embroidered with starlight silver thread were reconfiguring themselves, their complexity so great that even he, a 19th‑level necromancy master, could not discern their grade. He pressed his tongue against the palate, quietly activated True Sight, only to find that even the opponent's cloak appeared as a dazzling sheet of silver in True Sight.

"Bring two inferior creatures to the Crimson Spire." Ba Su's second mouth on his abdomen opened silently, tasting the lingering magical fluctuations in the air.

The old guide reeked of cheap tobacco and camel dung, while the restless energy fluctuations around the young Zhou clearly had not yet been tamed—an ideal combination of slave and test subject. His black nails traced the merchant's secret hand sign inside his sleeve, speculating that the mysterious visitor might be a fellow practitioner.

Naimi Xisi tossed a spatial pouch filled with gold coins: "We need a curse‑removal service."

The Red Robe Mage's thoughts whirled; as the highest commander of this outpost, a mere outsider's arrival would never have prompted him to appear in person.

But

He covertly glanced with the corner of his eye at the decommissioned stitched beast lying on the ground; just moments ago, the necromancy seal he had etched into that beast's soul had been instantly erased by some force.

Together with the stitched beast's power core, it was completely drained by an unknown force.

None of the spells he knew could produce such an effect.

Logically, he should suspect that the man before him—who showed no discernible magical aura yet was dressed from head to toe in elaborate attire—was responsible.

But the energy fluctuations emanating from the little boy behind that man constantly reminded Ba Su of his intuition.

It was the child who did it.

He didn't know how, but the barbarian child, the moment he saw it, immediately decommissioned the 16th‑level undead stitched beast that Ba Su had spent 5,300,000 gold coins to create.

What a delightful surprise.

The Red Robe Mage's pupils contracted to needle‑point size, he licked his lips, and the soul‑stone necklace around his neck emitted a greedy hum. "Of course, of course."

Ba Su's black nails lightly brushed Wu Ermu's chin. "However, this little guest must first undergo a small test."

He led the three of them into the High Tower, arriving at a laboratory filled with instruments.

Alaser's pallid fingers brushed the crystal tabletop, and thirty‑seven soul‑binding threads hung from the ceiling, their ends attached to the hyoid bones of various races.

"Let's see the quality of this 'curse'." He snapped his fingers, igniting a pale‑green Candlestick; the flame reflected a flickering ghostly silhouette in Wu Ermu's eyes.

The siphon prism at the center of the testing chamber suddenly buzzed; this Naser relic, capable of decomposing any Nine‑Circle or lower spell, began to frost over as the boy stepped into the formation. "Interesting." The Red Robe Mage's second mouth on his abdomen secreted acid, corroding the silk lining.

He pretended to adjust the Arcane Power kaleidoscope, but actually used a peering magical eye to scan Wu Ermu—inside the lens, the boy was not humanoid at all, but a swirling blue‑white nebula of stars.

Juan Ce Long leaned against the obsidian pillar, watching the Red Robe Mage's veins turn from violet to black, his heart beating faster with excitement, yet he remained unmoved.

By contrast, he was more interested in the peculiar prism the other side was using; it appeared merely as an auxiliary spell‑research device, yet it seemed unlike the style contemporary Frelen mages were accustomed to.

It looked rather ancient. "Is this... Cursed Fire?!" Alaser finally lost his composure, ripping open his collar to expose the spell‑eating insect nest set into his chest. "Come with me, child, deep inspection requires..."

The sound of him swallowing was startlingly loud: "We need more precise instruments."

Lao Akbar suddenly seized Wu Ermu's torn cloak, revealing dark‑brown blood‑written characters on the lining—'Do not trust the Red Robe', etched in blood.

The old guide pointed at the half‑melted Sandfolk corpse in the iron cage of the dark room, emitting a beast‑like whimper from his throat.

But the boy shrugged off his hand, and the memory of his adoptive parents and shaman dying gruesomely flashed: "Better than being burned to ash!"

Naimi Xisi remained silent.

"You just watch him die?" Lao Akbar gestured with tribal sign language, old tears pooling in the creases of his skin.

Juan Ce Long finally spoke, but his voice resonated only in the guide's mind: "Wisdom is born of scorching pain, like a desert rose blooming upon a corpse."

Alaser's spine suddenly emitted seven crisp sounds—the characteristic noise of activating the parasitic spell‑eating insect nest in his chest.

His left hand, hidden in his sleeve, was forming a seal; a triple protective barrier silently unfurled along the tattooed spine, while greenish light seeped from his right fingertip—he had spent an Eight-Circle Spell Slot to prepare a Silent Release Technique, all concealed by his voluminous crimson robe.

"Rest assured," the Red Robe Mage turned to Naimi Xisi, flashing a blackened, decayed‑tooth smile; a tattoo of lie‑detection immunity appeared at his Adam's apple: "The treatment room has the most comprehensive safeguards."

!

He deliberately gave the sentence a tremor, feigning concern, yet the blood‑veined corners of his eyes locked onto Naimi Xisi's temples—the vulnerable spot for most humans.

Juan Ce Long tapped the obsidian pillar with his fingernail; none of the Red Robe Mage's subtle movements escaped his sight, and even without verbal spells, he could still sense the flow of magic. He then nodded, playing along: "Professional matters are, of course, left to the experts."

The remark nearly caused Alaser to chip his molar. He hadn't expected such compliance and grew suspicious of deceit, so he covertly activated the communication crystal embedded in his molar—thirty flesh‑and‑blood golems hidden in the walls simultaneously opened their compound eyes. Yet the Red Robe Mage maintained a benevolent demeanor, even conjuring a few crystalline drops of "worry sweat" on his forehead through illusion.

When the hidden door completely engulfed Wu Ermu, a flash of white light flickered deep within Naimi Xisi's pupils; his divination detected all twenty‑seven lethal traps Alaser had set. Juan Ce Long gracefully folded his hands, the motion causing his cuff to brush Lao Akbar's tribal amulet—suddenly the old guide could see through the walls into the laboratory's true interior.

"What is this..." the old guide looked uncertainly at Naimi Xisi, who merely made a 'quiet' gesture.

Realizing the other party didn't seem entirely unwilling to look after the boy, Lao Akbar breathed a sigh of relief, his mood calming slightly.

Alaser's laboratory was suffused with the smell of moldy parchment, and erroneous translations of Naser Scrolls floated on the walls. When Wu Ermu was led into the central formation, those projections flickered violently—fragmented passages about the 'Mana Devourer' in the ancient texts were automatically completing themselves.

"Let us test the ancients' wisdom, the legendary 【Cursed Fire】." The Red Robe Mage, eyes greedy, activated a transmutation device covered in verdigris, an original apparatus excavated from the ruins of the ancient Arcane Empire. Thirty‑six Magic Creature hearts beat in glass jars, serving as energy buffers for stripping the Cursed Fire.

Alaser, following the Scroll's instructions, sliced his palm and used his blood to draw the error‑riddled control Runes—he had no idea the book's author was merely speculating and had never truly tested the possibility.

When the first transmutation beam enveloped Wu Ermu, the laboratory suddenly plunged into absolute darkness. Not the disappearance of light, but all magical light sources were devoured by the Cursed Fire. Alaser was horrified to see the meticulously prepared Magic Creature hearts turning blue‑white, like the star‑flame surging around the boy flowing backward through the conduit, contaminating the energy source.

"Impossible! The Cursed Fire Codex clearly states..." the Red Robe Mage frantically flipped through the hovering ancient tome projection, trying to halt everything.

(End of Chapter)