Chapter 155: Living and Dying

The weight of that Secondary Sharpness Technique spellbook shifted in Luge's mind, seeming to grow lighter, yet one could also say it grew heavier; as the Apprentice Seeker before him kept spilling words, the spellbook's weight rose and fell. For Luge, this was the reward for putting himself on the line, and the risk he bore was the weight of this reward — this guy went off to peek at someone bathing on his own, but to ensure he got thrown into the Black Prison, he dragged Luge along, making perfect use of Luge's handsome mug, making it seem as if they'd both gone peeping at the bathroom window.

The two old men leading the way gradually walked farther off, the fine wine in their hands seemingly making them forget the people behind, or perhaps they simply didn't care whether the two youngsters kept up.

Luge glanced at Green's apologetic face and stepped forward first to follow.

"Lord Green, regarding those ordinary hand-copied spell notes and the spellbooks issued by the Knowledge Sanctuary, between the two, what are your insights?" Luge asked.

Green caught up to Luge's pace and, hearing this, pondered as he walked.

"The difference between the two is great, and also small; it mainly depends on the learner's needs," Green said. "The Knowledge Sanctuary strives to present spells perfectly to every reader of the books, while the spells privately transcribed and circulated by Wizards, even if restrained, are a kind of near-perfection that inevitably carries their own subjective understanding, because that was set when they first observed and mastered the spell. When people master a spell, they actually cannot perfectly observe every facet of it; the same spell in different hands actually all have a slight, hard-to-detect difference."

"Of course, this perfection doesn't mean the spell has reached the optimal solution, but refers to the spell's form when it first met the collection standard. This seems like nothing, but its existence has its own meaning. If the Knowledge Sanctuary didn't establish a standard in the world, then a spell passed down through a hundred people's separate understandings generation after generation would be like a row of people passing a message — what started as wanting a cup of wine might turn into wanting a cup of thick soup boiled with stinky socks in a wine glass by the time it reaches the last person's ears..."

Green smiled and said: "This is unfavorable to the Wizard World's development. Of course, while collecting the first edition, the Knowledge Sanctuary also collects optimized versions of spells, but the Wizards' individual modifications suiting their own personalities are not within the collection scope. No matter how spells in the world change, the Knowledge Sanctuary forever preserves the spell's starting point. This is something only top-tier Wizard Organizations can do, so the world cannot be without the Knowledge Sanctuary."

The four walked unhurriedly, and the surrounding terrain grew increasingly open.

The two old men ahead suddenly halted.

When Luge walked up close, he saw they were standing beside a corpse with sunken eye sockets and a completely withered body.

"Sam is dead..." the old Blood Race member said.

"Ah, I recall he was twenty years younger than me..."

"Nineteen..."

The scale-mottled old man slowly tilted the large wine bottle he'd just obtained; a few drops of brown liquor with a fruity aroma flowed from the mouth and dripped onto the corpse.

The old Blood Race member hurriedly reached out to steady the other's wine bottle.

"He's already dead, don't waste it like this!" the old Blood Race member said.

The scale-mottled old man's eyes widened, about to argue, but he looked at the corpse on the ground and finally put the wine bottle away resentfully.

Two old, two young, continued deeper in.

Forks in the road began to multiply; many places had walls of crystal clarity that still emitted a faint blood-red glow, looking like quite a unique scenery.

"Are those patterns above some kind of writing?" Luge recalled the blood-colored ripples he'd seen in the cave walls during the fall.

Green had just stopped to explore a wall they passed.

"One could say yes, and one could say no," Green raised his head, walked to Luge's side where he stood waiting, the two followed the two old men, and he continued, "That isn't any script currently in circulation, but it indeed records things. If I'm not mistaken, that Blood Fortress Ancestor's life level was extremely high; those residual ripples are the natural manifestation of life reaching a certain level — the mysteries of life, the world's explication of his power. This place truly seems to be his bleeding ground..."

"After life level reaches a certain height... the traces left behind?" Luge said.

"You can understand it that way."

Green spoke and suddenly quickened his pace.

Luge followed as well.

They saw some furtive figures gathered at a crossroads, seemingly quietly waiting for something; Luge's party's arrival didn't disturb their focus.

Luge looked at them with some surprise; just at this crossroads there were a full nine people gathered — either this place was very important, or the number of survivors in the Black Prison might be more than he imagined.

The two guiding old men also stopped.

Luge noticed that several of the people waiting quietly in the distance had their eyes closed, seemingly truly meditating to recover spiritual power.

Green didn't speak to ask; Luge looked around, then quietly sat down beside the old Blood Race member to wait as well.

If not for the many eyes here, he'd really want to take out that newly obtained Secondary Sharpness Technique and flip through it.

Time slowly passed; in the end only Luge and Green remained staring at each other, and the two old men began meditating too.

Suddenly, a resonant roar shook the ground and everyone opened their eyes.

The roar came precisely from that long-awaited crossroads.

"You two want to see that One-ring Wizard, just follow behind these people, but if you accidentally die don't blame us." The old Blood Race member pointed distantly at those who had waited long.

The scale-mottled old man spread his hands at Green.

The nine people in the distance had already set off.

Green glanced over, smiling as he took out a square bottle of wine and handed it over.

"Follow them all the way to the end and you'll see the person you're looking for," the scale-mottled old man took the wine bottle and said in a low voice, "Also, don't walk too far ahead."

The two old men finished speaking and immediately walked off happily with big strides, carrying three bottles of differently flavored wine — two large, one small.

Luge and Green exchanged a glance, and followed the nine people's footsteps into the crossroads.

Just as Luge entered the crossroads, he heard a heavy impact sound from deep in this path, like someone using a giant heavy hammer to strike the cave wall.

Luge glanced at Green, only to see this guy still walking with firm steps.

The two didn't walk fast, yet gradually caught up to those nine guys from before.

The two immediately slowed their pace.

Thud-thud impact sounds came from the road's depths from time to time.

Those nine people were roughly divided into four groups; two were obvious loners, the rest were a pair and a group of five.

The first to stop was the group of five; they halted and started arguing, then began wrestling like ordinary people. Luge had clearly seen them meditating before, yet now they seemed like mere ground thugs who only knew how to swing fists.

Maybe they had a tacit understanding between them, so they could only swing fists to settle right and wrong for satisfaction, Luge thought.

The two passed silently by their side, still able to hear them disputing over who would continue forward next, as if their agreed rotation system had a tiny flaw.

"Another two guys gone, if you don't decide soon it'll be too late, you idiots..."

The two continued forward, still hearing the arguing behind them.

Luge felt that as they got closer, beneath the impact sounds he could hear bursts of roars, and nearly uninterrupted muttering.

(Chapter End)