A Life of Bad Luck for One Perfect Pull!

After reviewing the Grand Monthly Card's mechanics and contents, Tylen understood everything at once.

Back when he played games with his professor's child, he had spent quite a bit of money too.

As a hardcore stats player, he had not only bought monthly cards but could even recite Higher Elemental Theory by heart for the professor's child.

Tylen then turned his attention to the gacha interface.

"Ancient Gacha Pool... Can it draw Epic-grade items?"

In this world, knowledge and power were strictly graded.

Although Spell Models themselves had no inherent hierarchy and depended entirely on how a Wizard developed them,

magical artifacts, materials, consumables, runes, and the like had rigid ranks: Common, Fine, Masterwork, Epic, Legendary.

As for the mythical and immortal grades said to surpass Legendary,

those were products of the Ancient Magic Tide era.

As Mana receded, the current concentration of Mana could no longer activate such terrifying magical artifacts.

Yet now, the current rate-up item in this pool was gleaming with a dark golden radiance representing the highest rank.

[Limited Rate-Up Talent: Slacker Saint Body]

"Slacker... Saint Body?"

Tylen nearly laughed in anger.

As the king of overachievers who had clawed his way out of the countryside in his previous life, the word "slacking" did not exist in his dictionary.

At work, he had been a ruthless KPI machine. In games, he had been a hardcore stats player.

No matter what he did, he had to take it seriously and give it everything he had.

"A trait that sounds like it belongs exclusively to losers deserves to be in the Legendary pool?"

With thirty percent mockery and seventy percent curiosity, he opened the details page.

The next second, his sturdy scientific worldview cracked apart.

[Name: Slacker Saint Body]

[Category: Passive Talent]

[Quality: Legendary]

[Effect: Passively activates when alone in an enclosed space, with no one monitoring or watching. Efficiency increases to 3000%.]

Tylen stared fixedly at that number, even forgetting to breathe.

"3000%..."

He swallowed dryly as his mind raced through the calculation.

"Thirty times."

"That means one day of mine equals one month for others."

"One year of mine equals thirty years for others."

"With this, I can become a true master of time management!"

In this Wizard world where knowledge was power, time was the greatest cost.

The two greatest factors limiting a Wizard's growth were resources and lifespan.

Countless Wizards spent their entire lives balancing when to cultivate, when to earn money, and when to socialize and maintain relationships in order to maximize their cultivation speed.

But this talent directly erased, on a physical level, the gulf between him and those geniuses and rich heirs.

No talent, no connections, but I have thirty times as much time as you!

Looking at the mere six pulls he had, Tylen took a deep breath.

"In my previous life, I spent over three hundred thousand on games, and eight out of ten times I had to hit hard pity."

"Even in life's genetic lottery, I pulled an SSR like pancreatic cancer."

"According to the law of conservation of luck..."

Tylen pressed the [Draw] button, a trace of prayer in his voice.

"Heaven owes me. It's time to pay it back."

Buzz!

The giant tree in the void suddenly trembled, and a fruit fell from it, transforming into a shooting star as it plummeted down.

There was no blue light, no purple light.

Instead, there was golden light—like molten gold, stabbing painfully into his retinas!

"One pull, one perfect hit."

Tylen calmly watched the golden light explode across his retinas. He did not scream like some country bumpkin who had never seen the world, though his heartbeat instantly shot past 180.

As the golden light faded, an icon with an utterly bizarre art style emerged: a Panda Head clutching a blue dried fish appeared before him.

[Hehe, another day of slacking off]

[Talent obtained: Slacker Saint Body]

Without hesitation, Tylen willed it to merge directly with him.

In an instant, a cool, mint-like current of energy washed through every limb and bone before finally gathering in his cerebral cortex.

There was no exhilarating sensation of swelling muscles, nor the fullness of rapidly surging Mana.

The world changed.

The once-noisy basement became quiet enough to hear a pin drop, while the paths of dust drifting through the air became clearly visible.

Tylen casually picked up the Meditation Atlas and opened it to page fifty-seven.

At that moment, reading was no longer the dull recognition of characters, but a nearly violent infusion of data.

With a sweep of his gaze, the content was instantly broken down, analyzed, and archived.

The previously obscure logic of the runes automatically formed three-dimensional models in his mind.

Two minutes.

In just two minutes, he had not only memorized the two pages that would have taken an hour to chew through.

"This feeling..." Tylen closed his eyes, sensing the turbocharged high-speed operation at the core of his mind.

"It's like jumping straight from dial-up internet to a dedicated fiber-optic line."

That was the terror of thirtyfold efficiency.

Flap flap!

A sudden burst of beating wings shattered the silence.

The exhilaration of his overclocked mind instantly vanished, and his thoughts became heavy and sluggish again, as though he had fallen from the clouds into a mire.

Tylen's heart tightened. The sensation of "being watched" made him instantly exit the talent's state.

He swiftly adjusted his expression, putting on a humble, dull-witted look as he turned toward the entrance.

A black crow with ghostly green flames burning in its eyes stood by the Morgue's Ironwood Window, clutching a piece of parchment.

In this strictly hierarchical Wizard Tower, noble Official Wizards would never personally set foot in a basement reeking of corpses like this.

Using possessed pets to deliver messages was one of their customary methods.

This crow represented his mentor, Makley Cain.

A Level Seven Official Wizard, the forty-six-year-old was a relatively ordinary member of the Cain Wizard Tower's twelfth generation of bloodline descendants.

He lacked the qualifications to compete for the Tower Master's position, yet he was not close to being struck from the family rolls either.

Ordinary, neither high nor low.

Aside from the arrogance typical of the upper class, he was generally a rather normal and dutiful Wizard.

"Magnus."

The crow opened its beak, speaking in Makley's calm and steady voice.

"Prepare three corpses. One must be fresh, dead for no more than ten hours. I will conduct a Soul Returning Ritual tomorrow."

"Strip the second of all flesh. I only want an intact skeleton. Remember to clean it with acid. I do not want to smell even the faintest trace of rot!"

"The third... must be a young woman, with intact skin."

"Deliver them to my laboratory before eight tomorrow morning."

The order was brief, cold, and carried absolute authority that allowed no question.

In a Wizard's eyes, corpses were not their kind. They were merely consumable materials.

Tylen immediately bowed deeply, bending at a ninety-degree angle, his voice so respectful that not a single flaw could be found in it:

"Understood. This has always been my supreme honor, esteemed mentor. Your will shall be carried out most thoroughly."

The crow's burning ghostly eyes narrowed slightly as it cocked its head and looked Tylen over.

For some reason, this apprentice, who was usually timid and submissive like a block of wood, felt somewhat different today.

"Has this blockhead finally gotten a clue?" After pondering it briefly, Makley left directly.

Over half a year, the two had met only four times.

Makley had a rather poor impression of Tylen: timid, insecure, dull, with almost no emotional intelligence and no value in cultivating.

The only reason Makley remembered Tylen was that he had been the first person that year to voluntarily become a Corpse Collector Apprentice.