Whispering Forest

The ice ball, radiating a chilling aura, smashed into the ground with a muffled boom, leaving another shallow, frost-covered crater in the already uneven road outside his door.

"Don't you know magic is forbidden within the city? Do you have no public decency?!"

An old wizard passing by with a bucket was startled by the sudden commotion. He pulled a long face and was about to step forward to reprimand Ronan.

But the moment he sensed the Spiritual Power fluctuations emanating from Ronan, those belonging to a Level Five Apprentice, his expression changed. He quickly shut his mouth and hurried away.

"Oh, right. I'm not in the forest anymore."

Ronan had only just remembered. He smacked his forehead, then walked over with a look of annoyance and self-reproach, dug out several chunks of ice from the crater blasted by the Ice Ball spell, and used them to wash his face and freshen up.

It was mainly because he had grown lazy while living in the Treehouse Area. Whenever he needed water, he simply cast an Ice Ball. Why would he need to carry a bucket to the water station and queue up for water? Ronan chewed ice cubes as he brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth, lamenting how troublesome city life was while recalling what he had gained over the previous night.

Three Storage Waist Pouches. He had already worn away nearly a third of one.

At this rate, he would be able to open it successfully by the day after tomorrow at the latest.

This promising Storage Waist Pouch was the one he had obtained when he first rescued Old Wells and the other two.

Its original owner had been the weakest of the three black-robed men Ronan killed. One Energy Missile from Ronan had been enough to finish him off.

It was precisely because its original owner had been the weakest that the Storage Waist Pouch he left behind was the lowest grade. The Spiritual Power imprint on it was also the weakest, making it the easiest to crack. As Ronan was thinking this, he suddenly spotted a small figure walking toward him.

Sheryl, still bleary-eyed, looked as if she had just been dragged out of bed. Her hair was a mess, and as she rubbed her eyes and yawned, she mumbled to Ronan, "Lo-Lord Ronan, Sister Vinnie asked you to come over for breakfast..."

Ronan immediately perked up at that. He had just moved in and had nothing at all; he had been worrying about how to deal with breakfast.

"Got it."

Ronan promptly spat out the ice chips in his mouth and strode toward Venecia and the others' residence.

As he passed the listless, constantly yawning Sheryl, he quietly placed the hand that had just touched the ice against the back of her neck. Watching Sheryl instantly lose all sleepiness and shriek as she ran off, Ronan basked in the morning light, feeling refreshed.

"Another brand-new and wonderful day."

Everyone ate breakfast together. Qiao Lin's Wife and Venecia had made fragrant egg pancakes and creamy mushroom soup.

After breakfast, Ronan quietly left behind some Magic Stones as payment for future meals, then plunged straight back into his own house.

Three days later.

Ronan's cottage.

With a crisp sound in his mind, like a clasp coming undone, the opening of the black pouch in Ronan's hand slowly opened.

A broad smile appeared on Ronan's face.

"Finally got it done."

Not rushing to inspect it immediately, Ronan first washed his face with cold water to ease the exhaustion of nearly three sleepless days.

Then he carefully drew the curtains and picked up the pouch again beneath the dim yellow glow of an oil lamp.

His Spiritual Power slowly seeped inside, and a marvelous sensation immediately rose within him.

Ronan "saw" a black space about one cubic meter in size appear before him, crammed messily with all sorts of items.

He took the contents out of the Storage Waist Pouch one by one.

A short while later, Ronan had roughly separated the pouch's contents into three piles before him.

One pile consisted of worthless daily necessities: dirty clothes, smelly socks, unfinished food, fresh water, nail clippers, and a silver ear pick. Well, that black-robed man seemed to have been rather particular about personal hygiene.

The second pile contained valuable items.

It included three Mid-Level Magic Stones, forty-two Low-Level Magic Stones, a bone magic-tool ring, a black badge, several wizard books, and several bottles of magic potions whose effects he could not determine.

As Ronan's gaze fell upon that pile, his heart trembled slightly despite itself.

He was rich!

Before opening the Storage Waist Pouch, he had imagined countless times how much wealth he might find inside. But even when it truly turned out as he had hoped, he could not help feeling excited.

This was Ronan's first time owning Mid-Level Magic Stones.

They were slightly larger than Low-Level Magic Stones and were black as well, but deeper in color. The energy particles settled within them far surpassed those in the low-level kind, like gems of finer quality.

"Three mid-level and forty-two low-level Magic Stones. No matter how much the price of potions that directly increase Spiritual Power rises, I can afford them now."

Ronan held the three Mid-Level Magic Stones beneath the lamp and examined them again and again before carefully putting them away.

As for the rest, the magic-tool ring was mid-level. It bore only one enchanted rune that Ronan did not recognize. Beyond that, Ronan could vaguely sense a cluster of condensed, unscattered negative energy particles lurking within the ring.

That was rather unbelievable for a magic tool that had yet to be activated.

Ronan touched the ring curiously and uncertainly. The next moment—"Valensuna! You bitch!"

A pale-faced woman in a long dress, her figure translucent, suddenly screamed as she burst from the ring. Ronan's body jolted, and every hair on him stood on end.

A gust of sinister wind rose out of nowhere in the room and blew out the oil lamp. The woman in the long dress slammed into the wall and vanished.

A few seconds later, a woman's scream came from the neighboring house, followed by the clattering sounds of things being smashed.

Ronan hurriedly poured all his effort into activating the magic ring. The enchanted rune on it lit up, releasing an inexplicable pulling force.

A moment later, the ghostly woman in white emerged from the wall again, as though something were dragging her, and was sucked back into the ring. Before disappearing, she was still incessantly cursing the name "Valensuna," as if she bore an irreconcilable blood feud against its owner.

"A ghost?!"

Ronan relit the oil lamp, shocked and alarmed.

Ghosts were actually a kind of combination formed from lingering souls and energy particles after death. They generally possessed little intelligence and were sustained only by a single obsession.

Who could have imagined that this seemingly ordinary mid-level magic-tool ring was actually keeping a ghost? Ronan subconsciously picked up the black badge beside the ring and examined it closely.

Such badges generally represented their original owner's identity and background.

On one side of the badge was engraved a black forest. Every tree in the forest resembled twisted, entwined limbs and bones, while countless growing skeletons worshipped the blood moon above.

On the other side, Ronan read aloud the line of hidden, strange little words.

"Whispering... Forest!"

No wonder. Ronan immediately understood.

Thinking carefully, the spells used by the three black-robed men he had encountered had indeed all been from the Undead Arts.

"So the Black Wizard Land force invading Hoddam is called Whispering Forest..."

Ronan no longer dared touch the ring. Afraid that the unlucky wizard next door, who had just been frightened, might summon the academy's enforcement squad, he simply put everything away and prepared to leave the city.

But the moment he opened the door, he saw a figure from next door hurrying out with large and small bags slung over their back.

Seeing how flustered they looked, how hurriedly they were traveling, and how they ran toward the city outskirts without looking back, they apparently intended to flee on the spot.

"..."