Chapter 131: Sorrow and Pain

This Old Wizard Apprentice's spells basically all combine with the methods of the Extraordinary Caster he mastered earliest, the Gem Summoner; one can understand that when he stepped into the Wizard domain, he had already been a proficient Gem Summoner for ten years. Moreover, his Summoning Gem is very special; it should have been modified using the Supernatural Knowledge and spells he grasped after becoming a Wizard Apprentice.

Luge saw Dasuo Ya Fanxing's abnormal state, and the Old Drunkard naturally saw it too.

But this Old Wizard Apprentice did not stop the movements in his hands, so Luge followed suit, continuing to complete his own spell while adding caution.

The fallen Dasuo Ya suddenly flew toward the distance.

She smiled as she downed a bottle of colorful potion, simultaneously beginning to cast; a Spell Empowerment completed and fell on herself.

Even Luge's knowledge could not tell what spell she had buffed herself with; he merely became even more careful, not daring to approach too closely. The Foul Skin's influence on her was not decisive — not just a matter of her malice intensity, but her endurance was also very strong, not comparable to Wild Wizards. She had the same feel as Ba'angte back then, but not as relaxed and at ease as Ba'angte.

The Fireball in Luge's hand whistled out, yet in his heart he felt increasingly that something was wrong.

The brief exchange had already left her covered in wounds, but she only kept protecting her head and other vital points, still looking like she was struggling desperately. The potion she just drank was obviously a recovery type, and high-grade goods at that.

The Old Wizard Apprentice likewise shot out a Fireball, but inside it was a burning Red Rhombus Gem.

Luge secretly glanced at the Old Drunkard; it seemed this Old Wizard Apprentice was also a bit at a loss.

Luge's heart stirred; he recalled a long-unused Suitable spell.

Depilation!

Since malice isn't enough, then try stimulating her!

Truthfully, he hasn't practiced this Suitable spell much; one reason is that with high Spell Compatibility, occasional practice already reaches a decent level; two is that its use isn't that great — Luge doesn't even have a beard to shave.

He raised his hand and shouted, firing two Depilations in succession; since it was to provoke the other party, he naturally had to let her know who did it. Dasuo Ya's head of beautiful hair fell in response.

Using such a useless spell in a critical battle is simply a blatant insult.

Besides that there really is no other explanation.

His outrageous action stunned even the Old Drunkard for a moment.

Dasuo Ya Fanxing clearly also did not expect him to do this; her face, now without hair and eyebrows, immediately glared at him in fury, but then she toppled over again. Yet she only glared for an instant before laughing again.

"Your spell is interesting too — does it need to provoke the enemy's anger to take effect?" She rose levitating; the leg that had been frozen at the knee had already been broken by the Old Drunkard.

After she barely rose levitating, her condition was far worse than before; obviously even if she could suppress her anger, she could not control the inadvertent malice in her heart.

Intangible pain was torturing her.

The two took advantage of her being restrained by Luge's Strange Art; all kinds of spells frantically swept toward her. For a time blood splashed, bone fragments flew, yet they still could not finish her off completely. She seemed to have endless recovery potions, and every one looked far from ordinary. During this she also barely cast several spells, all buffed on herself.

Dasuo Ya was knocked airborne for a time, like a Rag Doll, rolling and dancing in the air as spells struck her.

But she always managed to protect herself at the critical moment, enduring the fatal blows.

Luge's brows furrowed deeper; he really wanted to borrow Dasha's Heavy Hammer and rush over to smash this bizarre torment. He clearly knew the situation was bizarre, yet could not deliver the finishing blow — this was simply torturing both their patience. But seeing the Old Drunkard only pacing nearby, always maintaining a safe distance, he could only hold back.

Pain and a smile bloomed simultaneously on Dasuo Ya's face.

Luge's Spiritual Power consumption had already gradually passed the halfway mark — something that had never happened before. You must know, although his Fourth Magic Mark is not yet formed, his Spiritual Power standard has already reached the qualified line for a Fourth-Rank Wizard Apprentice. At this time he also realized: the Old Drunkard's combined casting method absolutely saves Spiritual Power tremendously.

The Old Wizard Apprentice suddenly turned and rushed toward that glowing Strange Building, as if all his behavior just now was merely to drive Dasuo Ya Fanxing far away.

"You hold her off first; I'll go destroy her Sublimation Ritual. Her True Body is definitely below—"

The Old Drunkard spoke and used a gem to smash open a Dark Door, then jumped down.

This old guy was casting while wandering around there earlier; turns out he was looking for a way in, Luge thought.

But seeing the Old Wizard Apprentice's action, Dasuo Ya did not show the slightest panic.

Luge's heart cried "bad."

Yet this female Wizard Apprentice only single-mindedly protected her vital points; her few counterattacks were perfunctory, slippery like a ghost fish, as if she were an enemy with no fighting spirit. This kind of enemy fundamentally cannot be resolved quickly, unless the strength gap is too large or unconventional means are used.

He drew a Short Sword and rushed over madly; this bizarre feeling made him irritable, as if unknown danger always hung over his head. He had already decided to throw the Dice, to gamble on his luck, only hoping those smart Demons weren't free to pay a Momentary visit.

"I still quite like your performance; didn't expect it would turn out like this—" he said.

"Sign that Contract, and if I have time I can still perform for you."

One-legged and broken-armed, standing by a tractive force, pale-faced Dasuo Ya Fanxing actually still had the mood to laugh, and it was a laugh from the bottom of her heart.

Clatter—

During Luge's charge, the Dice hit the ground, rolling forward along the momentum of the charge.

Stopped at four points.

Dasuo Ya Fanxing's smile froze; her expression changed slightly, but before she could say anything, it turned into uncontrollable wild laughter.

She laughed until her mouth corners, nostrils, and the wounds on her body all spurted blood outward.

Luge had also scooped up the Dice and arrived before her, raising the sharp sword high. Since spells she could always find a way to block, then let's do the simplest, most direct thing — the brute-force work the Old Drunkard despises.

"Don't—"

Bang! A Gray Gem collided with the raised blade.

The Old Wizard Apprentice scrambled out of that Dark Door in a sorry state.

"Can't kill her; she's using our power to complete the ritual. In pain and sorrow she discards her own body," the Old Drunkard panted. "She didn't lie; this really is her True Body."

Luge stared blankly at him, unable for a moment to understand that Wizard Advancement still had this kind of bizarre, unorthodox form.

"Don't look at me like that; I don't know the specific situation of this ritual either — just Experience Judgment," the Old Drunkard said. "I've been watching her; the various spells she cast earlier, the more I think the stranger they are. Despite some concealment, they should contain some that enhance perception, some that cause emotional outbursts — she buffed them all on herself, making herself more pained, making her emotions more prone to violent swings..."

Sorrowful Puppet Sublimation Ritual needs sorrow? Then is she sorrowful? Luge turned his head to look at her wild laughter.

Why is she sorrowful? Where does her sorrow come from? For those dead family members? For this Ground Cave Domain about to disappear? For that child who knocked on the door to give her Candy? Or for Lorigo, the only one who could care for her?

Luge felt perhaps none of those; perhaps from a very, very young age she has always lived in sorrow, until today, until this moment — she fundamentally lacks none of these.

She only needs to be sad for herself, and that's enough.

(Chapter End)