"...Ancient wizards attempted to fuse the souls of other powerful beings with their own, in order to acquire innate abilities."
"Didn't they worry about their own souls being tainted? Or perhaps more serious consequences..."
Ronan couldn't help but interrupt.
He still carried the lingering presence of the ancient frost hydra Hekalto's will in his consciousness, and he understood well the dangers of devouring and fusing different souls.
"Mm."
Orrion nodded, "They quickly realized that this approach was fundamentally flawed. Later, ancient wizards came up with a better solution."
"What solution?"
"Summoning, possession."
"Summoning... possession?"
"Yes."
Orrion spoke slowly, "The Spirit Witches created a place called the Hall of Souls, specifically to house the souls of powerful life forms. When needed, they could summon them through a mark, gaining tremendous power."
"This method perfectly solved the problems of foreign soul contamination and the conflict between one's own soul and the foreign soul."
"They only needed a simple rune mark, and they could summon powerful soul entities from the Hall of Souls to assist in battle. Not only did this save a lot of time spent studying spells, but their combat power could even surpass that of regular wizards. The Spirit Witch path thrived during this period, and many wizards flocked to them. When their lifespan ended, they would voluntarily enter the Hall of Souls to be used by future generations."
"At its peak, it is said that the Hall of Souls contained more than tens of thousands of powerful souls, and the entire wizarding world underwent a tremendous transformation."
"However..." Orrion paused for a moment, "The Spirit Witches faced a catastrophic revolt within their ranks."
"The powerful souls within the Hall of Souls began to grow discontent with being treated as mere tools. They longed to return to the world of the living. After being summoned, they forcefully possessed the bodies of the Spirit Witches."
"The rebellion in the Hall of Souls was a disaster for both the Spirit Witches and the entire wizarding world. After the rebellion was quelled, wizards began to reconsider the viability of the Spirit Witch path."
"They realized they could never fundamentally resolve this issue. No matter how glorious their lives had been, the final fate of every Spirit Witch was to end up in the Hall of Souls. And no one could guarantee that, once transformed into a soul, they could endure the long fate of being used by others and resist the temptation to return to the world of the living."
"Meanwhile, the drawbacks of the Spirit Witch path became evident once more. After all, it involved the manipulation of the soul. Even with the most careful considerations, many dangers remained. Wizards died from soul backlash during their cultivation, and even those at the forefront of the Spirit Witch path began to feel that, if they continued, they would ultimately face soul corruption."
"Thus, the Spirit Witch path was abandoned, and the Hall of Souls was sealed and exiled. The Spirit Witch path, like a fleeting dream, completely disappeared."
"Later on, wizards began to turn their focus to the study of bloodlines."
Orrion finished his story, but Ronan's thoughts remained unsettled.
He had always been intrigued by these ancient secrets, and each time he heard them, he marveled at the wisdom of the ancient wizards.
Back then, the continent was unified, and all wizards lived on the same land, with countless factions flourishing through the clash of ideas.
Ronan was fascinated by the ancient world, and he wasn't alone—many wizards felt the same way.
Of course, this didn't mean that modern wizards were less intelligent than their ancient counterparts. Various disciplines and spells were still developing and progressing, but many things had become out of reach for lower-level wizards.
Powerful wizards had moved to the lower levels, and the broken, floating continent became a natural barrier, isolating communication between different levels of wizards.
"I guess Ewaque might have accidentally obtained part of the ancient Spirit Witch method. From what he's shown so far, his ability to summon soul entities is not as powerful as the legends suggest, so he likely hasn't communicated with the Hall of Souls yet. But at the Mist Wizard level, it's still formidable. Ewaque's strength might rival that of the strongest geniuses from the three major wizard factions like Andariel."
"Of course, we'll know for sure when they fight."
Orrion took a sip of his tea and spoke indifferently.
Ronan gently stirred the reddish-brown tea in his cup with a silver spoon, creating a small vortex, and then spoke, "You didn't come just to chat, did you?"
This meeting between them seemed to have truly gotten to the point now.
At Ronan's question, Orrion nodded and replied directly, "I mainly came to see if you've already been promoted to level three."
"You'll be disappointed."
"Not at all."
Orrion said, "If you had really reached level three, I would actually be surprised... After all, three years ago, you had just formed your second mental power crystal."
Ronan remained silent, waiting for Orrion to continue.
Orrion hesitated for a moment before speaking again, "After that battle with Andariel, those of us who survived, along with some other talented wizards from the mid-sized wizard factions of the South, formed a small private alliance."
Ronan blinked, "To seek revenge on 'Poison Mask' Andariel?"
"Of course, if the opportunity arises."
Orrion said calmly, "But the main goal is for this Helaams Seat competition."
At this moment, Orrion suddenly stopped speaking. He took out a glowing communication stone from his space ring, checked it, pondered for a moment, then said to Ronan, "There's a gathering coming up. Let's go, and I'll tell you more along the way."
Ronan didn't object, and the two left the space tent, walking and talking as Orrion led the way.
"This Helaams Seat competition is far more intense than the previous ones. Some even predict that this year's genius seat may go to the true inheritor of the legacy of Helaams left in the South."
"Hasn't the inheritor's legacy left in the South been claimed?"
"Some of it hasn't, and that's the most crucial part."
"Nobody has been able to meet Helaams' standards for the inheritor, though no one knows exactly what those standards are."
Ahead, Ronan saw two wizards approaching. Orrion raised his hand, and a magical artifact on his wrist glowed, enveloping both him and Ronan in a shield, blocking any external prying eyes or mental probes.
"Back to our alliance."
Orrion continued, "There are only thirty-two seats in total, but at least three hundred wizards are eligible to compete for the seats..."
"That many?"
Ronan was surprised, as the number Orrion had mentioned was far beyond what he had observed.
"It could even be more..."
Orrion shook his head, "Aside from the first-tier wizards who are guaranteed a seat, the top contenders for the genius seat—there might not be even twenty seats left. To stand out among three hundred third-level wizards and secure one of those twenty seats, relying on just one person's strength is too thin."
"So you plan to collaborate and ensure that a few of you can secure seats in the top thirty-two?"
Ronan finally understood Orrion's intent.
"Yes."
Orrion said calmly, "By combining the strength of dozens of third-level wizards, the chances of successfully securing a few seats are much higher. No matter who eventually gets a seat, the others will receive appropriate compensation."
Ronan's expression grew somewhat intrigued.
He was both surprised and impressed by the second-tier geniuses' approach. This fallback strategy ensured the maximization of everyone's interests.
With the backing of their respective factions, there was no fear of anyone betraying the alliance.
The key was that once this alliance succeeded in cooperating, their relationships would become stronger and more reliable. As Orrion's generation grew, it would bring many benefits to their respective factions.
"The vision and wisdom of the second-generation..."
Ronan couldn't help but think.
"...Now our alliance is still growing in strength. The larger the alliance, the greater the benefits once the competition begins."
"So you want me to join your organization?"
Ronan pondered and said, "Even though I haven't reached level three, you still haven't changed your mind. It looks like you have a way for second-level wizards to join the competition."
Orrion thought for a moment before replying, "Sort of."
"In fact, the threshold for the Helaams Seat competition isn't based on being a third-level wizard, but rather on third-level combat power... There have been instances where second-level wizards entered the competition before, but this doesn't have much significance, because even second-level wizards with third-level combat power still struggle to match the third-level genius wizards with cross-tier challenge abilities. In the end, they would still miss out on the top thirty-two spots."
"Just tell me what the method is."
Ronan spoke in a low voice, though his tone, even though controlled, betrayed a hint of urgency.
The time for the competition was drawing closer every day. The top geniuses from the South had been making their appearances one after another, while Ronan was still stuck at the second-level, slowly inching toward the third-level.
It was hard not to feel anxious, though some things just couldn't be rushed.
Ronan was eager to personally participate in this grand event, so hearing that Orrion had a way for him to enter without breaking through to the third-level was a pleasant surprise.
Orrion, knowing Ronan's current situation, looked at him and said, "It's actually quite simple... You just need to steal someone else's ticket."
"Steal someone else's ticket?!"
Ronan froze for a moment, and a strange light flashed in his eyes. A split second later, all the light vanished.
"Go on."
Ronan composed himself, and his face showed no further reaction.
"I've said everything I need to say."
Orrion stopped walking. Ahead of them, a rather beautiful and luxurious space tent was set up under the shadow of a hill.
Orrion led Ronan towards the tent. As they approached, Ronan's gaze flickered, and he suddenly spoke.
"Almost forgot—what's the name of your alliance?"
"Blue Mist."
Orrion replied, "Blue Mist Society."
"The last mist before dawn?"
Ronan murmured, then followed Orrion's footsteps.
They entered the tent after lifting the door curtain.
The space inside was much larger and more luxurious than the space tent Ronan had bought.
There was even a fairly long carpet laid out in front of the entrance. Bright light from the ceiling fell directly onto a small water pool.
A circular long table was set up by the pool. Some people were sitting at the table, while others were standing, whispering to each other.
Everyone looked young, with mental power fluctuations and soul energy above the third level. They all exuded an extraordinary air, like promising geniuses full of vitality.
"Orrion's here."
As soon as the two entered, everyone in the room turned their attention to them. It was clear that Orrion held a position of some authority among this group.
After seeing Orrion, everyone's gaze naturally shifted to Ronan, followed by murmurs.
Someone shouted loudly at Orrion, "Orrion, what's the meaning of this? Why did you bring a second-level wizard here?"
The person pushed through the crowd, directly pointing at Ronan and questioning Orrion, "Do you expect us to fight for a ticket for him?"
Orrion shook his head, "He will handle the ticket issue himself."
"Even if he can obtain a ticket on his own, his contribution in the competition will be limited. Joining will dilute the benefits of all members in the society."
The person speaking didn't show any courtesy to Orrion. He was a young man with blue hair, dressed in a fine, bright silver robe embroidered with a peculiar hand-shaped design.
"Perhaps you can fight him and see for yourself."
Orrion looked at the blue-haired youth and calmly said, "I don't think your strength is stronger than his."
"Orrion, are you insulting me?"
The blue-haired youth's face darkened immediately.
"I'm just stating what I believe is the truth."
The two of them were at odds, and the atmosphere in the room grew tense.
"Enough."
At this moment, a deep, steady voice echoed.
The owner of the voice was a composed young man with black hair, exuding a leadership aura. His strength was the greatest in the room, reaching mid-third level. He had refined seven mental power crystals, far surpassing Orrion and the blue-haired youth, who were both at early third-level
, with five crystals and on the verge of breaking through to the sixth.
"I trust Orrion's judgment. Clair, please trust your teammate as well."
The black-haired youth spoke to mediate the situation. He seemed to have a great deal of influence in the Blue Mist Society. Both Orrion and the blue-haired youth backed off, the latter snorting and sitting back down at the circular table.
"Welcome to Blue Mist Society. What should I call you, my friend?"
The black-haired youth smiled and extended a hand to Ronan. "You can call me Havide. I belong to the 'Morning Wind' faction."
"Ronan Damien, from the Silver Circle, just like Orrion."
Ronan introduced himself briefly. After that, the black-haired youth, Havide, introduced all the Blue Mist Society members to Ronan, showing him full respect. Everything was flawless.
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