After returning to the dormitory, Ron did not rest immediately. Instead, he began that day's meditation training at once.
Ever since changing classes to become a Potion Apprentice, he had found his perception of spiritual power becoming far sharper.
And the insight into "rhythm" he had gained while tempering his body today seemed to have given him an entirely new line of thought.
"If the Corona Breathing Technique is imitating the laws of the sun..."
Ron opened the tattered Basic Meditation Method. "Then might spiritual power also have its own specific patterns of operation?"
He carefully studied the basic rune in the book, composed of three arcs.
Before, he had merely copied it mechanically. But now he suddenly realized—the arrangement of those three arcs seemed to conceal a certain rhythm as well.
With that thought in mind, he began trying to trace the rune at different tempos.
Basic Meditation begins
When the first arc took shape in his consciousness, he no longer hurried to complete it as he had before. Instead, he carefully sensed the flow of spiritual power.
Strangely enough, whenever a part of the rune Resonated with the fluctuations of his spiritual power, that arc became exceptionally stable.
"So that's how it is." Ron finally understood something.
This rune was not merely a tool for guiding spiritual power. Its very shape imitated the most natural way spiritual power flowed.
Special effect triggered: Mental Rhythm—meditation effectiveness slightly increased this session Basic Meditation experience +1 Basic Meditation experience +1 Basic Meditation experience +1 Today's training time has reached its limit. Rest is recommended.
The much greater increase in experience than usual confirmed that his idea had been correct.
Just as Ron was preparing to continue meditating, a sudden commotion sounded outside the door.
"Someone advanced again?" He got up and opened the door, just in time to see a familiar figure hurrying past.
It was Locke, who had arrived at Black Mist Forest in the same batch as him. His face was full of excitement as he ran toward the testing hall.
"Looks like a Candidate Apprentice has made a breakthrough."
Andre lived not far from him. Having clearly heard the disturbance as well, he came out of his room.
"There have been more and more cases like this lately. The closer it gets to the assessment deadline, the more likely everyone is to make a desperate gamble."
Ron understood what he meant. As time passed, those who saw no hope often chose to take risks.
Either they would recklessly attempt dangerous forbidden spells, or they would buy some "special potions" from unknown sources.
"Come on, let's go take a look. Anyone's successful experience is worth learning from."
Andre waited for Ron to lock his door. "Maybe we'll be able to spot something useful."
The testing hall was located in the center of the dormitory area. There was a specially made Crystal Ball there that could measure the strength of one's spiritual power.
By the time the two arrived, quite a few people had already gathered in the hall.
Locke stood before the Crystal Ball, his face pale but his eyes excited.
"It's starting," someone said quietly.
Locke placed his hand on the Crystal Ball, and dark red mist immediately churned within it.
A moment later, a fairly bright symbol condensed in the mist. Yet it looked extremely unstable, flickering on and off like a broken light bulb.
"He really met the standard!" A wave of exclamations rose from the surrounding crowd.
It truly was surprising. After all, Locke had originally been like Ron, someone barely on the edge of meeting the Sixth-Rank Star standard.
Yet now, nearly three months ahead of schedule, he had already reached the Primary Apprentice spiritual power standard required for the assessment.
"What method did he use?" Discussions erupted all around them.
But Ron noticed that Andre's expression had turned grave. "Something's wrong."
"How so?" Ron asked in a low voice.
"Look at his pupils." Andre's expression was stern. He half-extended an arm to stop the friend beside him and slowly backed away.
"They're too unfocused, and..."
He pointed at Locke's hands touching the Crystal Ball. They were trembling faintly without stopping. "This could be a sign that his spiritual power is about to lose control."
Sure enough, amid everyone's astonishment, Locke suddenly clutched his head and let out a pained groan.
His previously clear eyes became chaotic, and the corners of his mouth began twitching uncontrollably.
"This is bad!" Andre grabbed Ron and retreated rapidly. "Get farther away..."
Before he could finish, Locke suddenly let out a scream.
His eyes became bloodshot, and the fluctuations of his spiritual power turned violent.
The surrounding air seemed to freeze, and everyone felt as though they were suffocating.
"Judging by the symptoms, it should be the aftereffects of a forbidden drug." Andre gritted his teeth and muttered, "This guy actually dared try that kind of thing just to increase his spiritual power."
Ron noticed that the dark red mist within the Crystal Ball had suddenly thickened. The symbol inside began twisting and deforming. This was clearly not a good sign.
Just as everyone who sensed trouble began backing away, a white figure flashed into the center of the hall.
The surrounding Candidate Apprentices immediately scattered like a receding tide, their eyes filled with undisguised fear and reverence.
That instinctive fear was not without reason.
As the apex predators of Black Mist Forest's food chain, Formal Wizards possessed almost completely unrestricted absolute power.
But compared to power itself, even more frightening was the invisible oppressive aura surrounding Formal Wizards.
Ron had heard from Andre that when spiritual power broke through a certain threshold and reached the standard of a Formal Wizard, the magic power within one's body underwent a bizarre Activation transformation, forming a special energy field known as a "Domain."
This Domain continuously radiated highly penetrating energy outward, and even the wizard himself found it difficult to completely restrain it.
Although most wizards used special means to keep this radiation within the smallest possible range.
Even so, approaching within two meters of a Formal Wizard could still cause all kinds of discomfort in people with ordinary constitutions—dizziness, nausea, fever, and even signs of organ failure after prolonged exposure.
It was said that those with especially weak constitutions could die within minutes from excessive radiation exposure.
This was also why wizards always preferred living alone and placed layer upon layer of restrictions around their residences. It was not only to protect their privacy and research results, but also to prevent unnecessary "accidental casualties."
Ron could feel that as the white-robed figure approached, the air seemed to grow viscous, and breathing became increasingly difficult.
A strange stinging sensation began spreading across his skin, as though countless needle tips were lightly pricking him.
The sensation was so obvious even from more than ten meters away, let alone for those apprentices forced to remain closer.
Several Candidate Apprentices near the White-Robed Wizard had already turned pale, and one of them even began bleeding faintly from his nostrils.
But no one dared complain, much less leave without permission—in a wizard's eyes, such actions might be regarded as disrespect, and the consequences were often unbearable.
This was the deterrence brought by an absolute disparity in strength.
The apprentices revered wizards from the bottom of their hearts, not merely because they feared their power, but because each of them desired to become such a powerful being.
"All right. If you can't take it, move farther away."
As the White-Robed Wizard's cold voice rang out, he waved his wand, and a ring of silver light spread outward.
Everyone was directly forced back into the corners, leaving only the out-of-control Locke convulsing in the center.
"Interesting." The wizard guessed, "It seems he took a Mental Catalyst, and the dosage far exceeded his limit."
As he spoke, he took out a crystal vial from his robe. It contained an eerie black liquid.
"Perfect. I can use this opportunity to test this new formula."
Ron noticed Andre's expression turn exceptionally ugly. As someone well-informed, he had clearly seen similar scenes before.
"Don't look, it'll..." Andre shouted in a low voice, but Ron knew that he had to remember this scene.
This was the world of wizards—the strong treated the weak as experimental material, and life or death could be decided with a single thought.
A shrill scream interrupted Ron's thoughts. That vial of black liquid had already been forcibly poured into Locke's mouth by an invisible hand. His body began convulsing violently, and something seemed to writhe beneath his skin.
The White-Robed Wizard raised a hand and clenched it into a fist. A silver halo firmly bound the out-of-control Locke.
By now, Locke had completely lost his sanity. His eyeballs shook constantly, and some ever-changing geometric pattern was reflected within his pupils.
"Ah... classic Nystagmus Syndrome." The White-Robed Wizard's voice remained calm. "When mortals glimpse truths they should not have seen, this is the most common reaction."
He paced slowly around Locke, like a researcher repeatedly observing a white mouse in a cage.
"In that case, the Mental Catalyst he took was probably made with the eyeballs of Aberrant Creatures as its main ingredient."
At that moment, an eerie distortion suddenly stirred beneath Locke's skin, as if something were writhing through his flesh.
His right arm began swelling, its skin splitting apart to expose squirming flesh.
"Flesh Hyperplasia Syndrome." The White-Robed Wizard gave a soft laugh. "That is rather rare. He actually contracted two types of Mutational Contamination at once."
Ron endured his discomfort and continued watching. He noticed that the White-Robed Wizard's eyes were trembling faintly as well, traces left behind by long-term exposure to occult knowledge.
A gradually inhuman tone entered Locke's screams. His flesh continuously reassembled, forming strange mutated limbs and organs, only to collapse again moments later.
"Stop looking. Get back now!" Andre pulled Ron around and left, but those images had already been deeply branded into his mind.
On the way back to the dormitory, Ron remained silent.
Those bizarre scenes kept flashing through his mind—the strange patterns in Locke's eyes, the writhing flesh, the distortion in the air.
What exactly was going on? Why would a potion meant to increase spiritual power lead to such horrifying consequences?
"Andre..." Ron finally could not help asking. "Those symptoms... the nystagmus and flesh hyperplasia... have you seen them before?"
The blond boy's expression instantly became exceptionally ugly. "Ron, this isn't something you should be concerned with right now!"
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