“This…”
Jie Ming’s heart jolted at his mentor’s words.
Clark, unfazed, nudged the spatial expansion bag closer to Jie Ming. “It’s not as grand as you think—just some surface-level research. It should help you cross this hurdle.”
“And it’s not free. Wizards value equivalent exchange—you’ll need to pay points for this!”
Jie Ming instinctively took the bag and opened it, revealing stacks of papers and crystal tablets.
They were densely inscribed with runes, formulas, analytical diagrams, and handwritten notes.
These manuscripts, the fruit of a sixth-rank wizard’s centuries of research, were invaluable.
Holding this weighty gift, Jie Ming felt a surge of gratitude.
He understood the worth of such core research materials.
Normally, knowledge involving plane-level or higher laws was never sold—it was a wizard’s most vital asset, their foundation.Though Clark named a steep “price,” insisting the manuscripts weren’t free, Jie Ming knew that for other wizards, even second- or third-rank ones, this cost would bankrupt them.
For him, Clark’s price was merely the value of two Mortal Dust Potions.
Clark knew Jie Ming’s potion production efficiency and his current wealth.
This was essentially gifting him core knowledge.
The favor was immense.
“Mentor…”
“What?” Clark sliced a piece of glowing blue flesh and put it in his mouth, glancing at Jie Ming expressionlessly.
Jie Ming’s lips moved, unsure what to say. “Thank you so much…”
“You’re my student. If your skills are lacking, they’ll question my standards, which isn’t good for my future sales.” Clark wiped his mouth with a napkin, his face impassive.
“Being tsundere isn’t trendy anymore, Mentor…” Jie Ming’s mouth twitched, but he held back the retort.
“But thank you for your guidance. With this knowledge, I can continue my research.”
Clark nodded slightly. “Just equivalent exchange. It’s outdated research—I’m not losing anything.”
“If it’s not enough, I can speak to my mentor,” Clark added. “In the Elosia Plane trial, the alchemy branch likely captured a few deities. I could ask my mentor to act as an intermediary to purchase knowledge derived from deities, or even deity samples.”
Jie Ming’s heart skipped. Deity samples—remnants or soul fragments—contained core law information, a dream for researching the Divine Faith Network.
But after careful thought, he declined. “Mentor, I appreciate your generosity,” he said sincerely, “but I’ve decided not to pursue deeper involvement for now.”
Looking at Clark, his eyes held a clarity born of reflection. “Early on, I thought I could quickly master the Divine Faith Network. But the more I’ve learned, the more I realize how shallow that assumption was.”
“It’s truly a top-tier core knowledge that a wizard could study for a lifetime,” Jie Ming said with a sigh. “Fully understanding it would take an incalculable amount of time. My priority now is to enhance my own strength.”
Clark’s eyes flickered with approval.
Jie Ming’s choice, forgoing the tempting opportunity, showed a clear understanding of his path and the essence of power.
It was a sign of maturity.
“You’re responsible for your decisions. That’s the wizard’s way.”
Clark nodded lightly, then shifted tone. “But if you’d recklessly asked me to make those arrangements, a fool like that wouldn’t deserve to remain my student.”
Jie Ming’s eyelids twitched, knowing his mentor wasn’t joking.
Had he chosen wrongly, Clark might have made the arrangements, but it would likely be Jie Ming’s last visit to his mentor’s wizard tower.
“I was concerned your insistence on a seventh-rank large-scale energy pool showed arrogance, but now I see you’ve thought it through. That puts me at ease.”
Jie Ming was startled. “The seventh-rank energy pool…”
“Relax, I’m not so petty as to renege. I’ve already made arrangements,” Clark said, glancing at his apprentice.
Seeing Jie Ming relax, Clark shook his head. “But frankly, even with arrangements, you won’t get it soon. A seventh-rank energy pool, even for my mentor, takes over a century to craft.”
Jie Ming fell silent, grasping Clark’s meaning.
If he were as arrogant as Clark feared, he might not live long enough to receive the energy pool.
Wizards’ conquests of planes seemed glorious, but the risks were immense.
Many profited from plane wars, but just as many wizards perished.
A wizard’s greatest strength was wisdom, but their most dangerous flaw was arrogance.
The infinite planes held endless possibilities—arrogance invited swift retribution.
High-tier wizards like Clark, with long-lived mindsets, possessed extraordinary foresight.
They disdained deceiving apprentices, but if an apprentice faltered, they wouldn’t hesitate to profit from it.
“Well… looks like I passed this test,” Jie Ming thought, satisfied, as he sipped a drink that seemed to wail with resentful spirits.
After the meaningful banquet, Jie Ming took the weighty spatial expansion bag, bid farewell to his mentor, and returned to Golden Garden via teleportation.
As night fell, he sat in his laboratory, poring over the manuscripts, diving into a new round of research.
…
Since Clark generously provided the Divine Faith Network manuscripts, Jie Ming’s interactions with his mentor grew frequent.
Their conversations evolved from simple question-and-answer sessions to profound academic discussions.
Clark occasionally posed thought-provoking questions or shared peripheral insights from his past research, while Jie Ming offered his latest experimental data and thoughts.
This mentor-friend dynamic made Jie Ming’s pursuit of knowledge feel unprecedentedly fulfilling.
A year passed.
Jie Ming’s life remained steady.
His main focus was studying Clark’s manuscripts.
The runes and theoretical data on another plane’s Divine Faith Network opened new perspectives.
He began integrating this knowledge into his understanding of the Elosia Plane’s faith network, dissecting, analyzing, and reconstructing obscure concepts bit by bit.
Day after day, Jie Ming explored the ocean of knowledge and power like an tireless seeker.
His mental energy grew purer, his insights into laws deepening.
Then, one day, a sudden change occurred.
Jie Ming was in his laboratory, meticulously analyzing a complex divine rune from Clark’s manuscript.
Suddenly, a faint tremor stirred deep in his mental sea.
It wasn’t external energy or an instability in his mental energy.
It came from within, from the core of his mental sea—the Ring of Truth.
At first, it was a subtle ripple, like a wave on a calm lake, nearly imperceptible.
But soon, the ripples spread, growing more frequent and vivid.
Hum…
A low hum resonated in his mental sea.
The sound didn’t reach his ears but vibrated in his soul, carrying a peculiar rhythm, as if a grand entity was awakening.
Looking inward, Jie Ming saw his Ring of Truth radiating brighter than ever.
Within the light, something seemed to be brewing, sprouting.
With the hum, every sorcery model in his mental sea trembled slightly.
They didn’t collapse but quivered under an invisible force, resonating as if cheering, preparing to welcome something new.
It was an unprecedented sensation—both unfamiliar and instinctively familiar.
Jie Ming halted his data analysis and stopped all research.
This anomaly was too significant; caution was paramount.
His first thought was to seek his mentor.
He activated the teleportation array and arrived at Clark’s private plane.
Stepping into Clark’s laboratory, he found his mentor immersed in a complex alchemy experiment, surrounded by dense elemental fluctuations.
Jie Ming’s arrival didn’t disturb him. Clark glanced up, instantly sensing the anomaly in Jie Ming’s mental sea.
“Mentor, my sorcery models in my mental sea are acting strangely…” Jie Ming said directly.
He described the Ring of Truth’s tremors and the sorcery models’ resonance in detail.
Clark paused his work.
Turning, his deep gaze settled on Jie Ming with a knowing look, a rare smile crossing his face.
“Well done. You’ve been diligent, never slacking,” Clark said with a hint of pride. “Jie Ming, the anomaly in your mental sea is the precursor to a new sorcery’s birth!”
Jie Ming’s heart jolted.
A new sorcery!
“How… how is that possible?” he said, incredulous. “I haven’t deliberately studied advanced knowledge or built new sorcery models…”
Clark brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, explaining, “Your case is rare among modern wizards but was common long ago.”
“Since knowledge-sharing began, most wizards consciously choose advanced knowledge after building foundational sorcery, following established systems to quickly construct new sorcery.”
“They follow paths paved by predecessors—efficient, but bound by their thoughts.”
“Your case, however, stems purely from your own research and understanding, incrementally increasing your knowledge and reaching a critical point in comprehending the world’s essence. This triggered your Ring of Truth, enabling it to autonomously form new core runes, meeting the standard for creating new sorcery.”
Clark walked to a massive elemental sand table in the laboratory’s center, his fingertip summoning complex runic images.
“Both methods of forming sorcery have pros and cons,” he continued. “The first, through learning and imitation, lets wizards quickly gain new sorcery, boosting combat power. It’s like using tools crafted by predecessors, ready for immediate use.”
“Your method births sorcery from your deepest understanding. This sorcery perfectly aligns with your mental traits, knowledge system, and unique insights into laws. It’s not someone else’s tool but an extension of your soul, a crystallization of your wisdom.”
“While its power may not vastly exceed other sorcery, it’s the most suitable for you.”
Jie Ming relaxed.
Though he’d sensed the anomaly wasn’t harmful, confirmation eased his mind.
“How do I proceed with the construction?” he asked eagerly.
“It’s not complex, especially for someone with your knowledge reserves,” Clark explained. “Once your knowledge reaches a certain level, your Ring of Truth automatically forms corresponding core runes.”