Whizz!

With a sharp whistle, an arrow whizzed over the heads of the two wizards, striking heavily before the ogre tribe’s campfire, splattering a cloud of black soil.

A dull sound of hooves came from all around, and Gan Ning felt as if the entire forest was trembling.

One after another, centaur knights in leather armor appeared in the night, seeming not to notice the two wizards close at hand as they silently whistled past them, forming a strict yet seemingly loose formation as they gradually surrounded the small ogre camp. The sound of bowstrings sang unceasingly, yet not a single ogre was struck.

This is expulsion, not war.

An abrupt realization arose in the young wizard’s heart — most likely, this wandering ogre tribe had infringed upon the centaurs’ territory, inciting this disaster. At the same time, arrows fell from the sky with precision around the ogre priest, as the ogre warriors roared, brandishing immense wooden clubs, bravely encircling the priest.

However, compared to nearly a hundred centaur knights, the ogre tribe, with only a little more than ten warriors, appeared particularly frail. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

...

...

"... But even as steadfast as Walter, becoming a top wizard, possessing vast magic power, still cannot resist the distortion originating from deep within demon flesh, losing oneself under the instinctual pursuit of power."

Professor Montreya seemed blind to the impending tribal conflict, clasping his hands, his arms vanishing once more into the wide sleeves of his robe, his voice as calm as an ancient well without waves: "Given its contrast, how precious our second-year young teaching assistant is, can you understand now?"

Gan Ning was silent.

During the battle between Walter and the school’s wizards, he was high up, seated on the back of a giant raven, witnessing the entire process alongside Professor Montreya, even why the Black Wizard’s true form ultimately collapsed wholly, due to his interference.

Though he mocked Walter before the professor as ’a foolish black wizard lacking self-control,’ he knew clearly that Walter was already the finest experimental subject devised by the ravens.

"Because I can understand, I cannot comprehend your choice."

Gan Ning lowered his head, recalling that momentary, seemingly illusory scene, his gaze somewhat dark: "You clearly know the horrors of that twisted power, and that our experiment hasn’t been entirely successful... A hair’s breadth is as vast as heaven and earth, why did you choose such a perilous time to advance?"

"Because we have no more time."

Professor Montreya did not conceal but rather directly told the young assistant the real answer: "After the Battle of the Black Prison, the school’s attention returned more to the island, we are out of time... Moreover, the experiment has reached this stage, I must personally experience its transformation process to provide you with the most reliable guidance. From another perspective, Walter’s result proves that our previous experiments have been pushed to the extreme, there is no further progress, only by placing oneself in a deathtrap might one find a slim chance of survival."

Suddenly, the professor chuckled lightly: "And then fate played a little joke on us. As I was advancing, you accidentally found a test subject that could truly resist distortion... It’s my misfortune but your luck."

Gan Ning’s head lowered further, as though a pair of invisible giant hands pressed down on his shoulders, leaving him breathless.

"Feeling pressured?" The professor seemed to perceive the young wizard’s state of mind.

Gan Ning whimpered, as if saying ’yes,’ yet also seemed to deny it.

The professor chuckled, using an analogy: "Feeling pressured, struggling to breathe, is precisely right. During the last half-hour of the hunting competition, every hunter’s body is at its limit. Your magic power nearly depleted, lungs screaming, heart shrieking, muscles tired as if roasted in fire, your entire body demands you give up, to end such suffering swiftly. But the whistle that can truly end it all remains half an hour away... So at this point, you should take deeper breaths, squeezing out the last drops of magic power, turning pages of the law book with fingers, without any tremble."

"Never give up," the young wizard mumbled, speaking his thoughts.

But the professor flatly denied: "No, never giving up is just the most basic, but to claim the prey you seek in the hunt, just refusing to give up is far from enough... You should never let anything interfere with your most pure and independent will. Don’t you remember the words I often said to you?"

Gan Ning replied almost reflexively, blurting out: "Only by gazing at the purest darkness can you perceive that faintest glimmer of hope to the extreme."

The professor raised his hand, patting his shoulder: "I have now descended into darkness, if I have the chance to see that glimmer, you must seize it."

...

...

After Gan Ning left.

Professor Montreya still stood in place, motionless, silently observing the negotiation fraught with tension between the centaur tribe and the ogre tribe not far away.

For a long time.

His silhouette seemed to meld with the moonlight, the edges turning vague, and broad black raven feathers protruded from the ample cloak draped over him. A faint black mist gushed from the hem of his robe, swirling, roiling, as if it were an unfolding forest fire, or a flood breaching a dam, sweeping with his form as its center, left and right, into the forest depths.

Moonlight wove through the treetops, struggling to fall upon Professor Montreya’s face.

In the mist, the professor’s gaze remained calm, yet his pale face suddenly twisted, sharp fleshy buds uncontrollably sprang from his face like flesh-colored worms, falling eagerly to merge into the shadow beneath his feet, rendering the shadow even more profound.

The thick blackness, like a giant’s outstretched arms, enveloped the negotiating centaurs and ogres at the center. If viewed from above, one could see in the Silent Forest a sudden, jet-black ink circle, with a point of fire in the center radiating its last bit of light stubbornly and defiantly.

The abruptly dimmed sky and the dense mist rising around made the old ogre priest deeply uneasy.

"Silence!"

His aged visage swept left and right, his gaze majestic and sincere, his voice imbued with a gripping magic, instantaneously quieting both the ogre and centaur warriors alike.

Immediately, he firmly tapped his magic wand in hand, and the young head beneath his chin and the old head above both lowly uttered an ancient shaman spell:

"circle-of-life!"

At the same time, he unhesitatingly cut open his wrist, crimson purple blood spurted into the fire pit before him, the firelight suddenly surged, rising from the firelight cascaded light green rings, scattering in all directions.