On the plaza of the newly established Noren Academy branch, David, towering like a steel giant, exchanged a brief greeting with the upright Jie Ming.
No excessive pleasantries, no unnecessary formalities.
At their level, ti and efficiency far outweighed hollow courtesies.
A single glance, a confirmation of their soul auras, was enough to convey all necessary information.
Without further words, they nodded in silent understanding.
Their bodies transford into two streaks of light, soaring into the sky, instantly tearing through the azure canopy of the Elosia plane. Together, they departed the still-under-construction academy.
They sped toward the last known location of the “rogue wizard” from the mission intelligence.
The high-altitude airflow was effortlessly deflected by the energy shields around them, emitting sharp whistles.
The ground below blurred into patches of indistinct color as it receded rapidly.
En route, they compared the intelligence on their terminals, exchanging their findings.
Curiosity stirred in Jie Ming, and he asked, “David, why did you take this mission?”
“Logically, for newly advanced wizards like us, the best choice is to stay at our respective bases, consolidating our realms and accumulating knowledge.”
Jie Ming’s words were not without reason.
This was a consensus among logistics wizards and most others with any ambition.
A stable foundation was far more important than reckless exploration.
Moreover, a wizard’s power stemd from wisdom and knowledge. Advancing in rank didn’t guarantee an increase in strength, and venturing out rashly could lead to disaster.
From Jie Ming’s perspective, if circumstances allowed, a newly promoted second-rank wizard should avoid missions for at least a century.
At Jie Ming’s question, David’s massive fra, clad in dark heavy armor, fell silent.
The surrounding air grew heavy.
After a mont, instead of answering directly, he countered, “Jie Ming, do you know… the origin of ‘rogue wizards’?”
When Jie Ming shook his head, David explained in a deep, weary tone the nature of these so-called “rogue wizards.”
As Jie Ming had suspected, rogue wizards were those who advanced without signing the formal contract with the wizard civilization.
Such cases were rare but not unheard of.
They typically occurred in the early stages of a plane’s conquest, when its transformation was still rudintary, and monitoring arrays were not yet fully deployed.
In that chaotic initial phase, problems were most likely to arise.
Once the transformation was complete, with comprehensive monitoring of the plane’s inhabitants, such issues beca far less common.
Per the iron laws of the wizard civilization, every promising newcor was required to sign a soul contract upon first access to transcendent knowledge.
The contract’s terms were nurous, but stripping away faction-specific clauses, its core boiled down to two points:
First, never betray the wizard civilization in any form.
Second, never disclose any supernatural knowledge of the wizard civilization to uncontracted beings of other races.
“Of course,” David paused, adding, “while these are explicit, there are ways to sidestep them. Theoretical loopholes always exist.”
“Like what I did back then,” he admitted candidly, referencing his past.
“To persuade that sage of the Elosia plane and break his ntal defenses, I revealed so devastating intelligence about the wizard civilization.”
“If that sage hadn’t broken but resisted to the end, leaking that information, I would’ve technically violated the contract.”
“So, the possibility of wizard cultivation thods leaking isn’t zero.”
“But this usually only happens in the early stages of a plane’s transformation. Once the entire plane is covered by omnipresent monitoring arrays, any abnormal energy fluctuations or information transfers are instantly detected, completely preventing rogue wizards from erging.”
Jie Ming, intrigued, asked, “If there are loopholes, why don’t high-ranking wizards revise the contract to make it more airtight?”
David’s massive helt shook slowly, a gesture of negation.
“No,” he replied. “Those high-ranking wizards… especially the nine great ninth-rank beings at the pinnacle of our civilization, could, if they wished, endlessly refine those two core clauses into a theoretically flawless contract.”
“But that would do no good for wizards’ developnt.”
“The more precise and unassailable the rules, the more they restrict wizards’ thinking and actions. A wizard’s greatest asset is unbound wisdom. Overly strict rules hinder growth. Sheep raised in pens can never defeat wolves in the wild.”
Answering Jie Ming’s question, David finally circled back to the original topic.
“I took this mission because… in a way, the rogue wizard we’re about to face was born from my influence.”
Jie Ming’s gaze sharpened, listening intently.
“It stems from that sage,” David said, his voice tinged with complex emotions.
“After learning of the wizard civilization’s overwhelming power, he didn’t succumb like others. In a way I still can’t comprehend, he forcibly split his soul in two.”
“One part remained in his body, signing the contract with and, as a price for ‘surrender,’ personally killed all remaining mortal leaders of the Elosia plane.”
“The other part hid in an unremarkable commoner. He waited, biding his ti until Noren Academy conducted the first round of physical transformations on the plane’s surviving humans.”
“Once that body was modified to suit the wizard world’s human physiology for ditation, he began secretly cultivating with a fragnted ditation thod he acquired from who-knows-where.”
“Normally, this wouldn’t matter. The wizard factions don’t mind an ambitious, intelligent wizard. As long as he later signs the contract to join us, it’s fine.”
Jie Ming nodded in agreent.
The wizard civilization had long moved beyond racial distinctions based on appearance. Frankly, whether many high-ranking wizards could still be called “human” was questionable.
Even transforming natives into human form was rely because it suited initial ditation thods.
If a truly intelligent being wished to join the wizards, they would welco the addition to their ranks.
Jie Ming had studied the sage of the Elosia plane and admired his intellect.
Such a person, if willing to join the wizard civilization, would be a boon. His only loss, in the wizards’ eyes, was using a flawed ditation thod, which could hinder future advancent.
“But the problem is,” David continued, “either the crude soul-splitting or the subsequent physical transformation caused irreversible damage to his remnant soul. His mind beca unhinged. The once calm and wise ‘sage’ turned erratic, cruel, and consud by destructive impulses.”
“With his strong foundation and soul intensity far beyond ordinary, his power grew unnaturally fast after turning to wizardry.”
“It’s a pity, but Noren Academy won’t tolerate an uncontrollable wizard who refuses communication running rampant under their watch…”
David trailed off, but Jie Ming ntally completed the thought:
“So, they issued this kill order.”
David fell silent again.
Jie Ming now understood why David was here.
This wasn’t just a mission—it was to resolve a karmic debt he had set in motion.
During their conversation, they crossed thousands of kiloters, arriving at the target’s last reported location.
It was a scorched, twisted forest.
The air still carried traces of violent negative energy and the stench of blood.
Landing, they each used their detection thods to scour the dozens of kiloters around them.
Jie Ming activated his All-Purpose Eye, analyzing residual energy in every inch of the soil.
David unleashed a vast force field, sensing any abnormal soul fluctuations.
Yet, their search yielded no valuable leads.
The target had clearly covered their tracks ticulously.
Exchanging a glance, they accessed a map via their magic network terminals, locating the nearest city built by transford natives.
“Let’s go,” Jie Ming said. “We’ll check there for clues.”
With no other options, they could only ask around for recent strange occurrences.
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