Land of Peace

Back in his cabin, Ronan brought up his Character Panel.

Name: Ronan Damien

Age: 16

Talent: Non-attribute Affinity

Strength: Level Two Wizard Apprentice (25%)

Skills: Basic Meditation Technique (Mastery 27/400)

Energy Missile (Expert 72/800)

Charged Weapon (Proficient 23/200)

Rune Inscription—Cleaning (Beginner 87/100)

In just under a month, Ronan's Strength Progress had advanced by eleven percent, and his spiritual power was growing much faster.

The reason was the increase in his Basic Meditation Technique proficiency.

The Mastery-level Basic Meditation Technique was far more effective with every meditation session than before.

It seemed he had entered a deeper state of meditation.

Whenever Ronan meditated now, the speck of light within the voidlike darkness of his mind grew increasingly brilliant, and the traces of its rotation became clearer, as if ripples were spreading across a pitch-black surface of water.

If my Basic Meditation Technique proficiency keeps increasing, could my meditation efficiency eventually rival those wizarding geniuses with exceptional talent? The gap in cultivation aptitude could be narrowed by a great deal.

Ronan quietly looked forward to it.

He had never slackened in practicing Energy Missile, and its proficiency had smoothly broken through to the Expert level.

After reaching Expert, the power of Energy Missile soared again, to the point where it barely seemed like a low-level zero-order spell anymore.

Its casting speed had increased once more as well. Ronan now needed only a little over a second to fire off an Energy Missile.

However, proficiency gains after Expert had become much more difficult. Before, he could gain a point of proficiency after one or two casts. Now, he needed to cast it four or five times before it increased by one point.

To Ronan, it felt as though each casting gave him too few scattered insights. Only after those insights accumulated to a certain extent would his proficiency rise by even a little.

Stronger spell power and faster casting naturally brought a massive increase in combat strength, and Ronan's confidence rose along with it.

Ronan felt that he currently lacked practical combat experience. Aside from the various small animals in the forest, he had never fought another person.

To prepare fully for the day that would inevitably come, Ronan was already considering what he could use for practice to make up for his lack of real combat experience.

There was nothing much to say about Charged Weapon. After casually practicing it to the Proficient level, Ronan had stopped paying attention to it.

The proficiency of the Cleaning Rune had increased considerably.

After reaching Beginner, Ronan discovered that even if his inscription attempts failed... as long as he failed a few more times, he could still gain a point of proficiency.

Without realizing it, his high-intensity rune inscription work had nearly filled the Beginner-stage proficiency bar.

Thinking of this, Ronan subconsciously stood up, walked to an old wooden box in the corner, and opened it.

After pushing aside the pile of miscellaneous junk deliberately placed on top as cover, he found twenty-one Cleaning Runes neatly arranged beneath it.

At seventy-five Magic Stone Grains each, selling all twenty-one would net me a full sixteen Low-Level Magic Stones!

Sixteen Low-Level Magic Stones! It was a number Ronan had once never dared even dream of, yet it was now about to fall into his hands. He only needed to find time to visit the market and exchange the Rune Stones for Magic Stones. If not for the fact that every Rune Stone before him had been painstakingly saved, one by one, over the past month, Ronan would have almost suspected he was dreaming.

Nearly sixteen Low-Level Magic Stones in a month, and that's just from selling the lowest-grade Cleaning Runes... Rune Masters really do make money.

Ronan could not help but sigh.

Looking at the large pile of Rune Stones before him, he silently calculated in his heart.

Once I get the Magic Stones, I'll first rent a place in town with a workroom and move out of the Treehouse Area. Then I'll get a better rune carving knife—the tip of this one is nearly worn flat. I should also buy a magical tool, preferably a staff. What kind of wizard doesn't hold a staff in his hand?

Just as Ronan was imagining all the plans he could make after obtaining Magic Stones—

Cough, cough!

Someone coughed outside.

Ronan instantly became alert. He immediately covered the Rune Stones, put the box away, and then casually grabbed the meat-cutting dagger on the table before walking step by step toward the outside of the treehouse.

Opening the door, Ronan cautiously stepped outside.

It was deep into the night. Specks of fireflies drifted through the forest, and by their glow and the moonlight, Ronan caught sight of a figure standing beneath his treehouse.

"Who is it?!"

Beneath his robe, Ronan slowly raised the hand holding his dagger. His palm had already begun to sweat, and he was somewhat nervous.

But soon, a familiar voice drifted up from below.

"Ronan, it's me."

Old Wells?! Why was he looking for me so late at night? We weren't close enough to visit each other's homes in the middle of the night, were we?

Ronan froze for a moment. His taut nerves relaxed slightly, but he did not lower his guard completely.

Leaning over the edge of a branch, he asked Old Wells below why he had come at night. To his surprise, Old Wells replied in a low voice, "I came to tell you that Potter is dead."

"What?! Potter is dead?!"

Ronan was greatly shocked.

After the shock passed, his face showed a few traces of bewilderment and confusion.

Come to think of it, who was Potter again?

In the quiet forest, a group of robed figures stood in a circle with torches in hand.

Under the flickering firelight tossed by the wind, the corpse of a middle-aged man lay cold on the ground.

He wore a Dark Green robe, and his expression was savage and twisted. It was clear that he had suffered tremendous pain before his death.

A little blonde girl, perhaps five or six years old, lay over the corpse and wept her heart out.

Standing among the crowd, Ronan looked at the sobbing girl with a touch of sympathy and pity. Yet when he looked at the dead man, he felt little emotional fluctuation.

The reactions of those around him were mostly similar to his own—no, they were far colder than he was.

The dead man was named Potter. Ronan barely knew him; they had run into each other a few times in the forest.

The man had lived in the Treehouse Area with his daughter for many years. He usually kept to himself and had few friends.

Now that he had suddenly died, those who had come to mourn were basically all nearby "neighbors."

"...May truth guide you, and may your soul remain forever in the Land of Peace."

Old Wells stood beside the deceased Potter and his daughter, holding an ebony staff as he recited the eulogy in a low voice.

After finishing, Old Wells uttered the syllables of a spell incantation and summoned an orange-red fireball the size of a ping-pong ball. The corpse began to burn fiercely beneath the moonlight.

The little girl cried even louder. All the wizards lowered their heads in silence for several seconds. After the brief funeral, Old Wells began speaking with each person one by one.

Ronan did not know what Old Wells said. He only saw that every wizard Old Wells approached first fell silent, then shook their head and turned to disappear into the darkness.

"Ronan."

At last, Old Wells came to stand before Ronan.

Ronan nodded and waited for Old Wells to speak.

"Potter is dead, and his daughter Sheryl has no one to care for her. Would you be willing to adopt her?"