Ti passed silently during the research.
When it was less than a day before the gathering ti, Jeming lifted his head from the workbench.
The three magic staffs floating in front of him were slowly rotating, the staff bodies shimring with a dark golden tallic luster. Inside the diamond-shaped crystal cores at their tops, compressed light spots could be vaguely seen—these were the sealed state of the Fire Extinction Divine Light.
"It’s almost done."
Jeming reached out and grasped one of the staffs, the touch slightly warm.
The energy circuits inside the staff were stable yet surging, ready to release the destructive beam at any mont.
The production process was smoother than he expected.
As a Logistics Departnt Wizard from the Alchemy Elent who personally established the Talisman Witchcraft System, encapsulating a mature spell model into a traditional witchcraft artifact did not present any essential obstacles.
He was quite satisfied with the final product.
Each staff could store and release the full power of the Fire Extinction Divine Light once, relying on the Fifth Level Large Elental Pool within his Inner Grotto Heaven, with a recharging interval of only three minutes.
Although the number of releases per round was limited, it’s more than sufficient as an "ergency trump card" or "tactical surprise attack."
After all, he himself could cast this spell, and the staffs were more for those "monts too short to gather power."
"Unfortunately... there’s still not enough ti."
Jeming regretfully put away the staff.
If he could have transford a defensive spell, such as the "Qian Yuan Protective Divine Shield" or "Xuan Ming True Water Barrier" docunted in the Great Dao Book Pavilion, he would have a cross-system trump card on both attack and defense fronts.
But after all, this was the first ti he had converted a spell model, and starting right away with a high-level spell of the Divinity Transformation Realm, a hundred years was only enough for him to master the Fire Extinction Divine Light.
The complexity of the defensive spell models was even higher, and they would have to wait for the future.
He turned and walked towards the exterior of the laboratory.
For this expedition, he decided to streamline the forces he would carry.
The reason was simple: Unknown intelligence, so caution was paramount.
The ti reversal chanism of the Reincarnation Plane acted on "all existence within the plane."
So, would his Inner Grotto Heaven—a small world attached to him yet forming its own space—not be affected?
If not affected, what would the state of items taken out from the Grotto Heaven before the reversal be after the reversal?
Would the "taken out" fact remain, or would they be forcibly "stowed back" into the Grotto Heaven?
Nobody could give him an answer.
"I can’t take the risk." Jeming made the judgnt.
Besides, from battlefield intelligence, the individual combat power of the Reaper Race was not outstanding.
The Wizard army had an absolute advantage on the front battlefield, and the real problem was "being reset after winning," rather than "not being able to win."
Thus, Jeming eventually only brought the Black Giant Leader "lt Mountain" and five thousand Fifth Level Elite Black Giants.
These had been refined through continuous energy consumption over hundreds of years, undergoing multiple rounds of natural selection and evolution.
The liquid tal layer on their body surface was denser, their ti manipulation ability reached microsecond levels, and their physical resistance could barely withstand the direct bombardnt of conventional Fifth Level Sorcery.
As for those Black Giant Priests born with a one-in-a-million probability and highly intelligent, Jeming did not bring even one.
After all, they were research units, and though powerful in battle, sending a researcher to the frontline was a considerable waste.
After confirming that all preparation work was correct, Jeming stepped into the Teleportation Array.
The coordinates had already been logged in the Magic Network Terminal—it was the assembly point provided by the military, located in a modified transfer plane.
The dizziness from teleportation lasted only a mont.
When his vision cleared, Jeming found himself standing on a dark grey wasteland.
The sky was an oppressive leaden gray, without clouds, sun, moon, or stars, only uniformly diffused cold light sources—evidently artificial lighting.
Beneath his feet was a hard alloy ground, etched with regular heat dissipation patterns.
The air was dry, with a faint sll of ozone and the scent of tal cooling.
"Ship Plane." Jeming imdiately recognized this environnt.
It looked like a wasteland, but was actually the internal deck of a plane-level battleship.
The common practice within the Star Ring Federation’s wizard influence—transforming an entire small plane into a mobile war fortress, with the internal space multiplied and expanded to accommodate a vast force.
The surface’s natural landscape served as both camouflage and could be unfolded as a combat platform when necessary.
However, judging by the state of this ship plane, the combat power of the Reincarnation Plane, as per intelligence, was indeed not outstanding, as the entire ship plane served only as a transport ship.
Around him, teleportation lights flashed continuously.
One by one, Wizards erged, most wearing either standard or semi-standard battle robes, with different academy or influence emblems on their chests.
Jeming roughly scanned them, judging from their aura that these wizards were generally between First Level to Second Level, with Third Level considered rare.
Occasionally, when a Third Level Wizard appeared, the surrounding First and Second Level Wizards would instinctively make space, showing respect.
When Jeming, clearly exuding Fourth Level Wizard fluctuations, fully unveiled himself, there was a montary silence within a hundred-ter radius.
About a dozen young wizards nearby reflexively stepped back half a step, bowing their heads in salute.
A few sharp-eyed ones seed to recognize the Alchemy Badge of Nolun Academy on him and his understated yet uniquely material black robe, their eyes flashing with surprise and curiosity.
Jeming ignored these gazes and simply stood quietly on the spot, observing the entire assembly area.
"It seems the Federation’s assessnt of this plane’s ’conventional danger level’ isn’t high," he analyzed in his mind, "Most of those sent are newcors or young wizards recently promoted and needing to accumulate military rits."
This made sense.
The peculiarities of the Reincarnation Plane lay in the "chanism," not in "frontline combat power."
As long as they didn’t trigger the conditions for ti reversal, the wizard army could practically steamroll through unscathed.
For newcors, it was an excellent field for real combat training—plenty of low-level enemies for practice, with High Tier Wizards overseeing to ensure safety.
"As for why I received an invitation..." Jeming stroked his chin.
He didn’t consider himself a battlefield rookie, but he indeed seldom participated as an "elite combat unit" in plane wars.
All in all, the only ti he truly participated as an "elite combat unit" was in the war against the Justice Plane.
And it was in that war that he experienced his first "death."
"Perhaps the military values my experience in unconventional battlefields." Jeming mused.
After all, wizards capable of walking out of twisted laws alive and bringing back complete data were rare in the entire Star Ring Federation.
Ti flowed as they waited.
The wizards on the wasteland gathered more and more, eventually stabilizing at around thirty thousand.
The crowd was sowhat noisy.
Newcors who had just been through a few plane wars, or even participating in a plane war formally for the first ti, whispered battlefield rumors, speculating about the mission content.
Veterans mostly remained silent, checking equipnt or resting with their eyes closed.
Jeming noticed that among this group of wizards, only less than ten, including himself, had truly reached Fourth Level.
"As expected, it’s a ’low-risk’ configuration." He confird his judgnt.
At this mont, the ground in the center of the wasteland suddenly split open.
A circular platform over a hundred ters in diater slowly rose, with three wizards standing on it.
In the center was an elder in a deep blue starry magic robe, with a chest adorned with eight encircling silver star badges—the mark of an Eighth Level Grand Mage.
On either side stood a Seventh Level Wizard, one male and one female, their aura as solid as a mountain.
All the noise instantly vanished.
The eyes of thirty thousand wizards focused simultaneously on the platform.
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