Wizard Bloodline

"Was it you, Alazan?"

As they made their way into the territory of the Empire of Destiny, Ronan deliberately fell behind Jason and silently asked Alazan in his mind.

"What?"

Alazan's response was filled with confusion. He didn't even know what Ronan had just experienced. His soul was in decline, and for most of the day, he remained in a deep slumber, only awakening when absolutely necessary.

If it wasn't Alazan, then who could it have been?

Ronan glanced at Jason's back, his face showing no emotion.

He was certain that the bell he had heard earlier wasn't an illusion. His body still carried the sensation of his soul being cleansed, and even the aftereffects of his first "Cycle of Dreams" had diminished significantly, putting him in a state where he could enter the second "Dream" at any moment.

"The Pendulum of Destiny..."

Ronan silently repeated the name, took a deep breath, and buried his doubts deep within his heart.

After crossing into the Empire of Destiny, Ronan and Jason traveled for another half a day, arriving at a small town as the sun began to set. It was then that the bell tolled once more.

"Dong—"

"Dong—"

"Dong—"

The deep, resonant sound, reminiscent of an ancient bronze artifact, carried a heavy and sorrowful tone. This time, Ronan didn't feel any particular vibration in his soul, and Jason also heard it.

In this wizard town they had arrived at, every household was ringing bells. A black clock tower at the center of the town continuously emitted the sound.

Countless people gathered in the small square beneath the clock tower. No one spoke, and the entire town was immersed in a solemn and dignified atmosphere.

"What's going on?"

Ronan and Jason, slightly puzzled, slowly entered the town. From their perspective, it seemed as though some mysterious ritual was taking place.

As the most enigmatic of the three great wizard empires in the central region, the Empire of Destiny had many customs and traditions that differed from the usual wizard world.

"I'll go find out."

Jason told Ronan to wait at a street corner and then headed alone toward the clock tower at the center of the town.

After about half an hour, the crowd gathered in the town square gradually dispersed, and Jason returned.

"Their prophet has died."

Jason's face showed a hint of understanding. "A new prophet has ascended. The bells they are ringing are both a farewell and a welcome—a long-standing tradition in the Empire of Destiny. Coincidentally, if you think about the timing, their old prophet died right around the time we crossed the border of the Blue Fungus Kingdom."

Ronan was momentarily stunned, as if he had thought of something.

Jason continued, "I think the bell you heard earlier now has a reasonable explanation. You must have experienced some kind of strange resonance with the bell of the Pendulum of Destiny at that exact moment..."

"Perhaps."

Ronan nodded, watching the solemn expressions of the locals of the Empire of Destiny as they hurried past. He couldn't help but ask, "Do you know what level of wizard their prophet was? Dawn? Or Twilight?"

"There might not even be a Twilight-level wizard in the entire Upper Ring Continent."

Jason shook his head. "The strength of a prophet doesn't lie in their power, but in their ability to accurately foresee events."

The prophecy of the Pendulum of Fate has never been wrong. Before the death of the current old seer, he left behind three final prophecies.

"What prophecies?" Ronan asked curiously.

Jason twitched his lips. "If I knew, I wouldn't still be stuck here. No one knows the true content of the prophecies except the new seer."

Ronan didn't say anything more and instead turned his attention to communicating with Alazan, who had just been awakened by the disturbance.

"Prophecy wizards have always been the most mysterious and rarest group. Their path to seeking truth is vastly different from that of ordinary wizards. I once knew a Twilight Wizard from the 'Altar of Causality,' and his cultivation method was quite peculiar—he drew strength from the feedback of prophecies coming true."

"What do you mean?"

"Every so often, he would make a prophecy. The stronger the subject of the prophecy, the greater the event, and the longer the time span of the prophecy, the more power he could gain. You can think of prophecy wizards as a special kind of fruit farmer. They plant seeds at the right time, and all they need to do afterward is wait for the seeds to sprout, grow into trees, bear fruit, and ripen."

Ronan blinked. This was the first time he had heard of such a miraculous cultivation method. No meditation, no arduous training, no resources—just opening his mouth and casually "spouting a few predictions," and his strength would naturally grow.

"But what if the prophecy fails?" Ronan couldn't help but ask.

"He would suffer backlash, lose power, drop in level, and in severe cases, even his body and soul would rapidly decay."

"Alright," Ronan said. It seemed it wasn't as easy as he had imagined. It was more like a high-stakes gamble with fate. Win, and you gain fame and fortune; lose, and you lose everything, possibly even your life.

"Never provoke a true prophecy wizard lightly," Alazan's tone suddenly turned serious. "They are often more terrifying than curse wizards. They can prophesy a person's death, forcibly bring misfortune upon you, and sometimes, to ensure the accuracy of their prophecies, they might even intervene directly. No matter what kind of prophecy, whether good or bad, it is essentially a form of curse."

Ronan nodded, deeply agreeing with Alazan's final words. He had once pierced through the fog, faced his true self, and all he sought was to break free from the manipulation of fate. The act of forcibly nailing a person's fate through prophecy was what he found most repugnant. In Ronan's eyes, even the most insignificant ant should have the possibility of an infinite future!

Yet, just as he was thinking this, Alazan's next words made him frown.

"The sound of the soul pendulum that only you could hear before, combined with the characteristics of the Pendulum of Fate prophecy school, leads me to guess that among the three prophecies left by the deceased wizard, there might be one related to you."

"Related to me?" Ronan couldn't help but frown, feeling puzzled. "I'm just a small-time third-level wizard who has just set foot in the Empire of Fate. Why would the lofty seer of the Pendulum of Fate bother to prophesy about me?"

"After you inherited the 'Spirit Heart Amber,' the name Ronan Damien was destined to be extraordinary. Don't belittle yourself."

Alazan spoke calmly, "Moreover, I only said it was related to you, not that it was a prophecy specifically about you. Perhaps a significant event is about to occur in this land, or a remarkable figure is about to emerge, and you will inevitably cross paths with them. The moment the bell tolls, it may not be heard by you alone. The study of fate is the most complex; apart from the wizard who made the prophecy, no one can fully interpret a prophecy that has already been cast."

"I hate this feeling of being forcibly assigned," Ronan said coldly, cutting off the conversation with Alazan.

He and Jason didn't stay in the town for long and soon continued on their journey.

The death of the Fate Pendulum Prophet caused the entire empire to toll bells in mourning. For the following period, wherever the two approached gatherings of people, they could almost always hear the continuous tolling of bells.

This forced the two, who had originally planned to rest somewhere, to keep moving without pause. It took them a full two months to reach the central part of the Fate Empire.

In a dim and quiet room, an old brass pendulum ornament hung on the wall, and several clay animal figurines were placed in the corner. A faint glow of runes covered the entire room, like a veil of moonlight, exuding the mysterious aura unique to wizards.

A small crystal fish tank sat on the floor in the center of the room. Inside floated two snow-white scallops, their shells open, with a naked little songstress singing loudly.

The Dust Sprite, Arrietty, ran around the edge of the fish tank, holding a few waterweed flowers in her hands, like the most devoted fan of the two mermaid clams below, her little face flushed with excitement.

Ronan sat beside this lively "crystal tank concert," wearing only simple undergarments, his long, silvery hair casually draped.

His hands formed a complex and strange seal in front of his chest, his lips moving imperceptibly, continuously uttering ancient and obscure syllables.

Suddenly.

"Hum—"

With a strange tremor, the air in the room twisted like a transparent curtain being forcefully shaken, distorting the beautiful song of the mermaid clams, as if something was rapidly spreading out.

Ronan's body remained still, but his naturally hanging hair flew up on its own. A golden humanoid shadow shot out from his body and quickly retracted back into him in less than the blink of an eye.

Immediately after, golden smoke began to rise from his entire body. Although the temperature in the room didn't change, he inexplicably gave off a sense of intense heat, as if he were cast in molten gold.

"Phew—"

Ronan opened his eyes, slowly exhaling a breath of hot, turbid air, a faint look of joy flashing in his eyes.

"Finally broke through."

Pulling up his character panel, he could clearly see that in the skills section, the proficiency of the spell [Spirit Maya Golden Soul] had changed from "Expert (800/800)" to "Master (1/1600)."

The derived supernatural law domain was also [Golden Fire].

But the power of this [Golden Fire] law domain was unusually targeted at the soul.

Internally, it could solidify and strengthen his own soul, while externally, it could "ignite" and harm the souls of his opponents.

"Just as I expected, the Domain Power derived from the [Golden Soul of Lingmoya] has begun to autonomously merge with the Domain Powers of the other two [Golden Flames]."

Ronan's spiritual energy surged, and around him, the colors of black iron, silver, and gold shimmered. An inexplicable and powerful force stirred within his body, as if it were nurturing and paving the way for the emergence of an even more terrifying existence.

Ronan had never neglected his cultivation of the Spell inheritance of the [Golden Flame Lingmoya]. Up to this point, out of the five [Golden Flame] Spell inheritances, including the [Golden Soul], he had successfully elevated the proficiency of three to at least the "Master Level," giving rise to extraordinary law domains.

The only ones that had not yet broken through to the Master Level were the [Brass Head of Lingmoya] and the [Diamond Heart of Lingmoya].

The [Touch of Black Steel], the [Body of Silver], and the recently mastered [Golden Soul]—these three Spells, having reached the Master Level, had each given birth to extraordinary law domains of the [Golden Flame]. Their effects corresponded to attacks and defenses on the physical energy level, as well as attacks and defenses on the soul level.

The three extraordinary law domains of the [Golden Flame], though originating from the same source but differing in nature, began to autonomously merge upon their birth. Naturally, they reached the realm of the fusion of three law domains, transforming into a higher-level [Golden Flame] law domain.