Wharton knew something would happen today.
He couldn't remember exactly when, but sometime that autumn, Wushan Town would receive two uninvited guests-a seventh-level magical beast, a Velocidragon, and a mage who was at least seventh level. He remembered this part of the original novel vividly, because it was the first time Linley witnessed high-level power with his own eyes, and the turning point that made him determined to become a mage.
Wharton ate breakfast especially slowly, listening intently for any sounds outside.
Linley had already gone to train. Hogg was checking the accounts in his study, while Hiri was tidying up in the kitchen. Everything was as peaceful as ever.
Wharton swallowed his last bite of bread and hopped down from his chair. "Grandpa Hiri, I'm going to play in the courtyard."
"Don't wander too far," Hiri said without looking up.
Wharton didn't go to the back courtyard. He climbed onto the low cabinet by the living room window and lay there looking outside. The street was empty except for the occasional passing towns-person. The sunlight was bright, bleaching the stone-paved road white.
He waited for about an hour.
Then the ground began to shake.
It was faint at first, like someone beating a muffled drum in the distance. Then it grew more pronounced, and the window frame began to rattle. Dishes clattered in the kitchen, and Hiri called out, "What's going on?"
Wharton slid off the cabinet and ran to the door.
The townspeople in the street had all stopped and were looking at one another. Someone crouched down and put a hand to the ground, and his expression changed.
The shaking grew stronger. Now it was clearly the sound of footsteps, heavy and slow, each step making the house tremble. Children were crying in the distance, and dogs were barking wildly.
Hiri rushed out and scooped Wharton up. "An earthquake? No, that sound-"
Before he could finish, a shadow appeared at the eastern end of the street.
First came the head, then the neck, and then the entire body. It was two stories tall and twenty to thirty meters long, its fiery red scales dazzling in the sunlight. The ground shook with every step it took, and when its tail swept past, a row of clothes-drying poles by the roadside came crashing down.
A Velocidragon.
Wharton had seen pictures in books, but seeing one in person was another matter entirely. Its oppressive presence was all around him-not just the sight of it, but the sound, the vibrations, and even the faint smell of sulfur in the air. A person sat on the dragon's back, shrouded in a purple robe, their face hidden.
The street erupted into chaos. Some people screamed and ran indoors, while others froze where they stood, unable to move. Hiri carried Wharton back across the threshold, his hands shaking. "A seventh-level magical beast... What's it doing here..."
The Velocidragon didn't stop, heading straight for the center of town. Chaos broke out everywhere it went.
Hogg rushed out of his study, still holding a pen. "What's going on?"
"Master, it's a Velocidragon, and there's a mage on its back." Hiri's voice was tight.
Hogg's expression changed. He hurried to the door, took one look, and turned back. "Hiri, take Wharton to the cellar. I'll go find Linley."
"Master, it's too dangerous-"
"Go!" Hogg had already rushed out.
Hiri gritted his teeth and carried Wharton to the back courtyard. The cellar entrance was behind the kitchen, and the cellar usually held vegetables stored for winter. He lifted the wooden cover and put Wharton down inside. "Young master, stay here. Don't come out, no matter what you hear."
"Where are you going, Grandpa Hiri?" Wharton grabbed his sleeve.
"I'm going to help." Hiri forced a smile. "Be good."
The wooden cover closed. The cellar was pitch-black, with only a few slivers of light filtering through the cracks. Wharton sat on a sack of potatoes, listening to the chaotic footsteps and shouts outside, along with the heavy tread drawing closer and closer.
He knew what would happen next. The mage would encounter a small band of mercenaries in the center of town, and they would fight over something called the De Perlo Shadow Diamond. The battle would engulf the entire town, killing many people.
Should he do something?
In his two-and-a-half-year-old body, he couldn't even push open the cellar cover. Even if he got out, what could he do? Tell the adults to run? Who would believe a child?
Wharton clenched his fists. His nails dug into his palms, hurting a little.
Explosions sounded outside. Not just one, but a whole series of them, muffled booms mingling with the crash of collapsing masonry. Dust sifted down from the cellar ceiling.
Then came the screams.
Short and shrill, like the sound of a chicken having its neck wrung.
Wharton closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In his previous life, he had been a programmer, and the bloodiest scenes he'd seen had been movie special effects. Now those sounds were real, and those people were dying.
Another tremendous bang rang out, close by this time, shaking the entire cellar. The light through the cracks in the wooden cover dimmed for a moment as a shadow flashed past.
Wharton stood and rose on tiptoe to push at the cellar cover. It wouldn't budge; something was weighing it down. He pounded on the wood. "Is anyone there? Grandpa Hiri?"
There was no answer. Only the rumbling in the distance and the clatter of bricks and roof tiles falling nearby.
He didn't know how long he stayed in the cellar. His sense of time blurred amid the darkness and noise. Eventually, the sounds outside gradually died down, leaving only the occasional crackle of fire and faint weeping.
Wharton pounded on the cover again. "Is anyone there?"
This time, something moved. The wooden cover was shifted aside, and dazzling light poured in. Hiri's face appeared at the opening, one side smeared with dust and his clothes torn.
"Young Master Wharton!" He reached in and lifted Wharton out. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." Wharton shook his head, squinting against the light. "Outside..."
The words caught in his throat.
The back courtyard had been destroyed. Most of one wall had collapsed, leaving bricks and stones scattered everywhere. Black smoke rose from the old houses in the distance, staining the sky a dirty grayish yellow. The air smelled of burning and something else, something even more pungent-like meat burned too long.
Hiri carried him forward, stepping around a pile of broken roof tiles. The front courtyard was even worse: the main gate was gone, its frame hanging crookedly, and every living room window had been shattered, shards of glass glittering on the ground. Stones littered the street, the largest half as tall as a person, the smallest the size of a fist. Several houses were burning, but no one was putting out the fires. The townspeople had gathered in an open space, some crying, others staring blankly.
Hogg stood at the entrance with his back to them, his shoulders rigid.
"Father," Wharton called.
Hogg turned around. There was little expression on his face, but his eyes were bloodshot. He came over, took Wharton from Hiri, and held him tightly.
"Where's Linley?" Wharton asked.
"Over by the training grounds, with Hillman." Hogg's voice was hoarse. "They're all right."
Wharton breathed a sigh of relief. In the original novel, Linley had indeed been unhurt, though badly shaken.
"How many died?" Hiri asked quietly.
Hogg shook his head. "We haven't counted yet. At least several dozen."
Hoofbeats sounded in the distance. The town mayor had brought several people to survey the situation. Some people were carrying a door on a makeshift stretcher; a cloth covered it, with the shape of a human body beneath.
Wharton buried his face against Hogg's shoulder. From this angle, he could see the veins bulging on the side of his father's neck.
At the training grounds, Linley was in worse shape than Wharton had expected.
When Hogg carried Wharton over, he saw Linley sitting on a rock, his face pale and his eyes fixed on the ground. Hillman was crouching beside him, a hand on his shoulder, speaking to him in a low voice.
"Linley." Hogg put Wharton down and walked over.
Linley raised his head. His eyes were a little unfocused, and it took several seconds for them to clear. "Father."
"Are you hurt?"
"No." Linley shook his head, his voice very soft. "I just... saw..."
He couldn't go on.
Hillman spoke for him. "Linley was watching nearby when the mage and the mercenaries started fighting. What happened..." He paused. "It was too much for a child."
Hogg frowned. "Why did you let him watch?"
"I tried to stop him, but I couldn't." Hillman gave a bitter smile. "He ran over there on his own."
Hogg was silent for a while. Then he crouched down to meet Linley's eyes. "Tell me what you saw."
Linley opened his mouth, then closed it again. After a long while, he said haltingly, "Fire... a huge fire, like a snake... It wrapped around people, and in an instant... And that warrior, the dragon's tail wrapped around him and shoved him into its mouth... It bit him to pieces..."
His account was fragmented, but enough to piece together a picture. Hogg's expression darkened as he listened.
"That was the eighth-level spell, Dance of the Fire Serpent," Hogg said. "That mage was at least eighth level."
"Eighth level?" Linley repeated under his breath. "More powerful than Uncle Hillman?"
"Much more powerful." Hogg stood up. "A sixth-level warrior is no different from an infant before an eighth-level mage."
Linley fell silent, lowering his head to look at his hands. His fingers were trembling slightly.
Wharton went over and sat down beside him. Linley didn't react, still staring at the ground.
"Big brother," Wharton called softly.
Linley turned toward him, his eyes still vacant. Wharton reached out and took his hand-it was ice-cold and covered in sweat.
"Are you scared?" Wharton asked.
Linley nodded, then shook his head. "I'm scared... but also... I can't explain it."
Hogg glanced at them and said to Hillman, "Take some people to help clear things up and count the casualties. I'll take the children home."
The route home was a mess. Rubble, broken wood, scorched scraps of cloth, and several pools of dark red stains lay everywhere. The townspeople were cleaning up the aftermath in silence; the only sounds were things scraping as they were moved and the occasional muffled sob.
Linley remained silent the whole way. Once they were home, Hogg told him to wash his face, and he did so mechanically.
Dinner was simple, and no one had an appetite. Hogg took a couple of bites, then put down his knife and fork and looked at Linley. "What do you think about what happened today?"
Linley looked up. "That mage... was very powerful."
"What else?"
"I was thinking..." Linley hesitated. "If I could become that powerful, could I protect Wushan Town?"
Hogg didn't answer immediately. He looked at Linley for a while, then at Wharton, before speaking. "Do you know the difference between a mage and a warrior?"
Linley shook his head.
"Mages absorb the elements of heaven and earth and refine them into magical power. Warriors also absorb the elements, but refine them into battle-qi. At their core, they come from the same source; only the way they're used is different," Hogg said. "But because mages have a greater attack range and more destructive power, their status is higher than that of warriors at the same level. Even a king would treat an eighth-level mage with courtesy."
Linley's eyes brightened a little. "Then are mages' bodies very weak? I saw that man jump down from the dragon's back, and he did it easily."
"Not weak, relatively weak," Hogg explained. "An eighth-level mage's body might be comparable to a third-level warrior's. But compared to an eighth-level warrior's, it's a weakness. So they either use magic shields for defense or tame magical beasts to protect themselves."
"Tame magical beasts?" Linley sat up straight. "How?"
"Two conditions." Hogg held up two fingers. "First, you have to get the magical beast to submit willingly-usually by defeating it. Second, you have to bind it with a Soul Contract Magic Array. Either you're a mage above the seventh level and can set up the array yourself, or you spend money on a Soul Contract Scroll-ten thousand gold coins each."
Linley stared. "Ten thousand gold coins?"
"And even at that price, you might not find one for sale," Hogg said. "So those who can tame high-level magical beasts are either powerful mages or immensely wealthy."
Linley fell silent, evidently digesting the information.
Wharton listened quietly. He knew this conversation-in the original novel, it was after this incident that Hogg had explained how mages worked to Linley and suggested he take a magic aptitude test. But this time, some details were different.
"Father," Wharton suddenly said. "Our clan are Dragonblood Warriors, right?"
Hogg and Hogg both looked at him. Linley was a little surprised. "Wharton, you know about Dragonblood Warriors?"
"Grandpa Hiri mentioned them in a story." Wharton lied without a change of expression. "He said our clan was very powerful a long time ago, and could turn into warriors like dragons."
Hogg's expression was complicated. "That's right. But that was a long time ago. Now... the bloodline has grown thin."
"What about me?" Wharton asked. "Do I have that bloodline too?"
"You do." Hogg nodded. "Everyone in the Baruch Clan does, but the concentration varies. Only those with a high concentration have a chance of awakening as Dragonblood Warriors."
"How do you know if the concentration is high enough?"
"After the age of six, you're tested with the Dragonblood Needle," Hogg said. "Your brother was tested, and his concentration wasn't high enough."
Linley lowered his head, his fingers tightening around the hem of his shirt.
"Will I be tested too when I'm six?" Wharton continued.
"Yes." Hogg looked at him. "But don't get your hopes too high. The clan hasn't produced a Dragonblood Warrior in over a thousand years."
Wharton nodded and asked no more.
He knew his own concentration met the requirement. In the original novel, Wharton was the Dragonblood Warrior who awakened in this generation. Although he awakened later than Linley, his potential was considerable. Since he had transmigrated into Wharton, this was the path he had to take.
But the path of a mage... he was considering that too.
Cultivating both wasn't impossible, but his time and energy were limited. Besides, cultivating as a Dragonblood Warrior already required a great deal of time. If he added magic, he was afraid he'd end up with nothing to show for either.
After dinner, Hogg went to his study to deal with the remaining matters. Linley and Wharton sat before the living room fireplace, the firelight flickering over their faces.
"Wharton," Linley said suddenly, "do you think I should be a warrior or a mage?"
Wharton thought for a moment. "Can't you be both?"
Linley smiled bitterly. "Father said our clan's bloodline rejects other battle-qi codices, so we can only cultivate the Dragonblood Secret Codex. But that requires a high enough bloodline concentration... and mine isn't high enough."
"What if it was?"
"If it was..." Linley's gaze drifted into the distance. "I'd probably be very powerful. Father said Great-grandfather reached the seventh level as a warrior through physical training alone. If he'd had battle-qi, he might have been even stronger."
"What about magic?"
"Magic..." Linley took a deep breath. "Did you see that Dance of the Fire Serpent today? No, not see it-you felt it, right? That kind of power... it could burn everything to ashes."
There was fear in his voice, but longing too.
"I want to learn," Linley said softly. "I want to try. Father said there's a magic aptitude test in Fenlai City in late autumn. I want to go."
Wharton looked at him. "What if the test says you don't have any talent?"
"Then I'll come back and keep training my body," Linley said. "But I have to try."
A log crackled in the fireplace.
Wharton leaned closer to his brother. Linley smelled of sweat and dust, but he felt reassuring.
"I'll go with you," Wharton said.
Linley smiled and ruffled his hair. "You're still little. When you grow up, maybe you can take the test too."
"Mm." Wharton nodded.
He knew he most likely had a talent for magic-the Baruch Clan had produced mages in its history, proving that the bloodline didn't reject it. And as a transmigrator, his soul's spiritual power should be stronger than that of his peers.
But he had to wait until he was six to take the test. Another three and a half years.
During those three and a half years, Linley would go to the Ernst Institute and begin his path as a mage. As for himself... he had to stay in Wushan Town and lay a solid foundation as a Dragonblood Warrior.
"Big brother," Wharton said again, "whether you become a warrior or a mage, you'll be amazing."
Linley looked at him, his gaze softening. "You too, Wharton. You'll be the strongest warrior in the Baruch family."
"Mm."
The brothers said nothing more, quietly watching the fire.
Outside the window, Wushan Town's night was not brightly lit for the first time. Embers still glowed red in several ruins, like stars on the ground. The place in the center of town where the battle had taken place had already been cordoned off with hemp rope; it would be cleared tomorrow.
When Hogg came out of his study, he found the two children asleep, leaning against each other. He gently picked up Wharton, then patted Linley. "Go to your room and sleep."
Linley got up in a daze and followed him upstairs.
Wharton woke for a moment as he was laid in bed. In the darkness, he saw Hogg standing beside the bed, looking at him for quite a while before quietly closing the door and leaving.
He closed his eyes again, and his consciousness sank into that familiar space.
The panel was still there. The day had been too chaotic for him to check it, but now that things were quiet, he noticed several new entries:
[Psychological impact: witnessed large-scale battle and death for the first time] [Effect: heightened awareness of danger, desire for power +7%] [Note: moderate pressure can be converted into motivation for growth] [Environmental observation: high-level spell "Dance of the Fire Serpent" (sensed from a distance)] [Proficiency: 0.003%] [Effect: preliminary perception of the fire element's violent form] [Note: insufficient elemental affinity; unable to analyze further] [Bloodline response: Dragonblood Warrior Bloodline slightly agitated] [Effect: Metabolic rate increased by 12%, recovery enhanced] [Notice: Intense emotional stimuli may awaken latent traits]
The last line made Wharton's heart skip a beat.
Bloodline agitation? Was it because of the sense of danger today? Or was it because seeing high-level power with my own eyes gave me a subconscious desire to fight back?
He carefully felt his body. Sure enough, the soreness in his muscles was fading faster than usual, and the small bruises he had gotten while fleeing during the day were barely visible. The changes were subtle, but the panel didn't lie.
If intense emotions can awaken bloodline traits... does that mean I could deliberately create that kind of stimulus in the future?
No, too dangerous. A two-and-a-half-year-old body could collapse outright under a stimulus that strong.
I need to take it gradually.
Wharton rolled over, burying his face in the pillow.
A lot of people had died today. Those mercenaries, and the townspeople caught up in it. He knew this was part of the original story, knew these people were fated to die, but "experiencing" it firsthand was different.
In his previous life, he had lived in a peaceful era, and the closest he had come to witnessing life and death was at his grandparents' funerals. Now death had crashed down right before his eyes, with the smell of blood and scorching.
I have to get stronger.