Bloodline of the Wizard
Chapter 188 - 109 Murphys Kiss, March, Cold Ice Veins! (Requesting guaranteed monthly tickets)_2

Chapter 188: Chapter 109 Murphys Kiss, March, Cold Ice Veins! (Requesting guaranteed monthly tickets)_2

This is a Rune Stone used for recording; the young man was reading its contents.

Several Wizards stood a few meters away from him, their demeanor carrying a hint of respectful silence as they waited.

It was unknown how much time had passed when the spiritual power of the young man was retracted from within the Rune Stone, and then he took out a Communication Stone, speaking in a low voice, "Thank you, Lanni. This information is quite useful to me...

Once I settle into the high tower, I will express my gratitude to you."

A hoarse voice carrying a touch of indifference came from the other end of the Communication Stone.

"Don’t blame me for not warning you, Travis.

With your current strength, even if you are aware of these guys’ strengths and weaknesses, to defeat any one of them and secure a spot in the top ten is still a bit beyond your reach..."

"I know."

The expression of the young man remained calm, a strange light flickering in his eyes.

"I know what I am lacking... I know what I need...

And I will make up for it soon."

After finishing his words, he slowly set down the Communication Stone in his hand.

The young man looked up, gazing through the Array outside the Floating Island toward the majestic and imposing silver-white Tower nearby, with ten glowing grey Meditation Towers beneath it. Deep lights kept sliding over the bottom of his eyes, and the shadows around him continued to expand.

For him, those ten Meditation Towers were not only symbols of identity and status,

But also the steps he would climb one by one toward greater heights.

Now, he was about to take the first step.

This step, he would not allow anyone to disrupt...

"Lynch."

The young man suddenly spoke.

Among the few Wizards standing not far behind him, a young wizard with a touch of noble temperament stepped forward briskly.

"Master."

"Help me contact Biondini..."

The young man said softly, "Tell him, no matter what, I must confront that lad in the very first match of the first round...

The Magic Nightmare Tungsten Steel in his possession is very important to me, extremely important..."

"Yes."

Lynch responded respectfully, his eyes seemingly recalling someone or something, turning a bit darker and more vicious.

...

Three months passed like the silver sand in an inverted hourglass, running out grain by grain.

Unknowingly, the hourglass was about to empty, the last grain of silver sand... about to fall.

Mini Secret Realm Space.

In the lush Magic Medicine Garden, a youth’s figure was crouching on the ground.

He seemed to be fiddling with something.

Upon closer inspection, it was a young sapling planted in moist soil.

Barely the height of a finger, the slender stem had two verdant leaves sprouting from the top like an open palm, with bright red veins as if meticulously carved from a gemstone.

The youth stretched out a finger, gently fiddling with the leaves of the young sapling, which seemed to be responding as best it could, swaying its fragile body subtly.

At that moment, a deep voice suddenly rose from outside the Magic Medicine Garden.

"Stop messing with it, the current Holy Blood Tree is probably not as robust as an ordinary First Rank Magic Potion..."

"I know what I am doing; I am just talking to it, and it understands me," the youth replied.

His voice, in stark contrast to the previous warning, was crisp and clear, ringing pleasantly like gently clinking gemstones.

Nevertheless, the youth still stood up from in front of the sapling.

It was not until he completely stood up that one would realize he was actually tall, and his figure was not as thin and frail as it appeared while he was crouched.

Rather, he had a well-proportioned and towering stature, and even with the Magic Robe concealing him, one could still perceive the vigor and harmonious beauty of the physique underneath.

The youth turned around, revealing a white, exquisitely carved face.

No flaw could be found on his face; his skin was smooth, as if it were constantly emitting light, with his most captivating feature being his eyes.

They were clearer and more cerulean than the cleanest skies.

Within the cerulean, it seemed as if countless shimmering points of light were flowing, profound and mysterious, giving the sense of extraordinary wisdom and intelligence.

The youth walked through the garden beds of the Magic Medicine Garden, his fine, sparkling white hair lightly brushed by the leaves of different colors.

He stepped out into the soft light outside the Magic Medicine Garden, looking as if he melded with the light itself.

Indistinguishable from each other.

"When will the Holy Blood Tree grow to the point where it can exert its true effectiveness?"

The youth inquired of the valiant middle-aged man pacing back and forth in front of him.

The middle-aged man shook his head, "I don’t know; I’m more anxious than you are."

However, even if the Holy Blood Tree grows, you won’t be able to directly borrow its power..."

"Why?"

The young boy was puzzled.

The middle-aged man spoke indifferently, "Because our bloodlines are too mixed.

People living on this continent now have who knows how many sorts, what kinds of ancient bloodlines mixed within them.

Noble or base, strong or weak...

The Holy Blood Tree won’t know which bloodline you actually want to sift out and enhance, whether there is a bloodline you wish to strengthen...

If you’re not careful, it’s easy to be purified into a ’monster’."

"Oh."

The boy nodded, indicating that he understood.

He finished his conversation with the heroic middle-aged man and began to walk towards a location within the Secret Realm Space.

There was a rune experiment table there, and various books scattered all over the ground.

Just as the boy was about to reach the experiment table, a voice suddenly called out to him.

"Damien!"

The boy turned around, looking puzzled at the middle-aged man who stood still, watching him intently.

The middle-aged man looked at him, his face showing a deeply complex expression that was difficult to describe in words.

"Do you really... feel okay?"

The middle-aged man’s tone paused, before he spoke softly, "I’ve never seen anyone... who could take six bottles of ’Murphys Kiss’ without dying."

The boy’s face slowly broke into a smile, bright and dazzling like the sun approaching its zenith.

"I’m fine, I’ve never felt this good before."

The boy replied with a smile, "I’ve also finally understood why you, Benny, could once be both a genius in spells and so knowledgeable and all-powerful..."

...

[Name: Ronan Damien]

[Age: 17]

[Talent: No Attribute Affinity, Pure Body (Active)]

[Strength: Level 1 Official Wizard (99%)]

[Skills: Basic Meditation Technique—Clear Sky Realm (Master 465/1600)

Energy Missile - Particle Torrent (Master 440/1600)

Charging Weapon - Power of Break Magic (Master 258/1600)

Ice Ball Skill - Absolute Frost Seal (Master 328/1600)

Frost Ray - Cold Ice Veins (Master 122/1600)

Ascetic Body Forging (Master 450/1600)

...]

Nighttime.

The orange-red campfire burned quietly, with a small pot suspended over the flames, simmering something and bubbling with a rich aroma.

Ronan sat by the campfire, looking at his current character panel.

The changes in the data on the panel’s strength and skill bars represented all the gains from his three months of arduous training.

All those experiences of pain, the torment endured, the blood and sweat paid...

Now they had all turned into vivid, specific numbers, presented right before his eyes.

The most noticeable change was the addition of a new skill that reached Master Level proficiency—Ice type Zero Rank Intermediate Magic: [Frost Ray].

The derived power from the Extraordinary Magic Domain was named—[Frost Veins]!

As for the effects...

The effects were average, merely adding one more method to enhance the coldness of the ice.

"Damien."

Benny came from the distance, carrying two silver bottles with narrow necks and round bellies.

The lids of the bottles had already been opened, and waves of rich wine fragrance continuously wafted from the mouths of the bottles.

Benny handed one of the silver bottles to him, then sat down by the campfire, the black smoking pipe in his hand morphing into the shape of metal chopsticks, slowly stirring in the bubbling pot.

Ronan frowned and couldn’t help speaking, "Benny, you’re always with that broken pipe, now are you planning to have me eat your drool?"

Benny glanced at him, speaking indifferently, "If you dislike it, you don’t have to eat it later."

Ronan pursed his lips and didn’t say anything more.

Three months had passed, and the relationship between the two seemed to have grown somewhat closer.

Though they still didn’t seem quite like friends.