Before leaving, he cast a final glance at the candidate apprentices who had been divided into groups; those chosen were both fortunate and unfortunate, while those not selected seemed even more despairing.
"Your Highness, you seem to be heading in the wrong direction." Norris suddenly called out to him:
"As far as I know, the dormitory area where Ron the Alchemist is temporarily staying should be east along the main road. You must be going to find him, right?"
"Thanks for the reminder." He forced a smile, quickly leaving this suffocating place.
Desperate cries echoed in the courtyard behind him, but Andre chose not to look back.
Cynthia’s tower stood in a clearing at the northern corner of the Black Mist Jungle, surrounded by thorny vines that formed a natural barrier.
The walls here were adorned with various peculiar instruments, their shapes and purposes sparking one’s imagination;
The floor was not covered with ordinary carpets but with a type of living tissue that emitted a slight moan with each step.
Today, there were a few unfamiliar faces in the tower, all freshly selected "toys" from the candidate apprentices.
They were shackled in cages, their eyes filled with fear and despair.
"Hmm, the quality of this batch is not bad." Cynthia stretched her body, satisfied as she eyed her spoils: "At least they’ll last for a while."
She casually picked a blond boy from the group, her fingers gently caressing his trembling cheek: "What’s your name, sweetheart?"
"To... Thomas, Mistress." The boy’s voice trembled, yet he tried his best to maintain a posture of submission.
"Thomas, what a sweet name." A dangerous smile curved Cynthia’s lips: "Let’s have you start today, shall we?"
Without waiting for a response, she signaled two maids to drag the boy away, commencing her cruel and bizarre "game."
As the boy’s agonized moans began to resonate, Cynthia’s eyes started to glow with an eerie purple light.
She pressed against the boy’s chest, each movement causing his body to shiver violently, simultaneously generating a barely visible energy fluctuation that she easily absorbed.
"It’s a pity this feeling fades too quickly."
Cynthia softly sighed, collecting the pure magic power transformed from those emotional fluctuations, while grumbling discontentedly:
"The first time is always the most delicious, afterwards it takes stronger stimuli to achieve the same effect."
"That’s why you have to switch batches every few months." Oliver commented without lifting his head:
"Shouldn’t you consider a more sustainable approach? This consumption rate is too fast."
"Easy for you to say." Cynthia continued her actions, her voice laden with evident discontent:
"My talent is , requiring constant collection of fresh emotions. Without sufficient magic power supply, how do you think I maintain my position in the Candidate Wizard sequence?"
Oliver was sitting in an armchair by the window, holding a list he had just taken down from the school notice board—"Candidate Wizard Sequence Points Ranking."
Ron, who had just become a professional alchemist, though not yet in the sequence, was marked as a "prospective candidate."
"Recent ranking developments are a bit troubling." Oliver’s words were tinted with worry.
He neatly placed the list on the table:
"Holt is still far ahead in first place, with Levin, Gardner, and Simmons catching up, especially Levin, whose spiritual power talent is Fourth-class Star, just twenty points behind me."
"You’re always , Oliver." Cynthia said lazily, her fingers toying with the hair of the nearby boy.
"Overthinking can impede action, since we’ve already embarked on this path, why hesitate further?"
"Observation, analysis, execution... these are my guiding principles."
The voice of the black-haired youth was like cold metal: "Our method of enhancement requires precise calculations at every step, I don’t want to be wholly warped and lose myself too quickly."
Thomas had begun to struggle weakly, as if unable to endure that life-draining ability.
Cynthia impatiently frowned, stopping her actions, draping half of her garment over her: "Listen, we all know our situation." Her voice became calm yet sharp:
"We possess special talents, but the power gained from unconventional methods is unstable, and the legitimate spiritual cultivation path is closed to us. Now the only way out is..."
Oliver interjected softly, eyes flashing with concern: "The path of the Black Wizard."
He took out a piece of sinisterly glowing black crystal from inside his robe, placing it carefully on the table.
In the candlelight, the black crystal emitted an ominous glow, its surface seemingly crawling with countless tiny insects, sending chills down one’s spine.
Cynthia’s voice turned gentle, almost reverent: "You acquired it from those people again?"
Oliver nodded: "The cost was significant, but it was worth it; after all, it’s the key material for completing the ritual."
His slender fingers caressed the surface of the black crystal, which seemed to respond to his touch with faint pulsations.
"Interestingly, I noticed that the newly rising potion master Ron, his spiritual talent seems similar to ours."
Oliver’s eyes glimmered with a hint of light: "Sixth-class Star, perhaps even lower, yet his progress is extraordinarily rapid."
Cynthia’s interest was piqued: "What are you suggesting?"
"Like us low-talent folks, achieving such accomplishments in a short time without special methods is impossible."
Oliver’s voice carried precise reasoning: "He must have found some method similar to ours to compensate for innate deficiencies... We might consider bringing him in."
He elegantly returned to the window, gazing at the distant outline of the Black Mist Jungle:
"Shared knowledge doubles strength; you were once my competitor, yet now you’re my staunchest ally, aren’t you?"
Cynthia smiled slightly, recalling the intoxicating power when first tasting the Sin Domain Black Crystal:
"The flavor of the black crystal is indeed irresistible, the feeling of transforming spiritual contamination into pure power is simply bewitching."
"Precisely." Oliver nodded, his perfect expression fixed on his face like a mask:
"He surely won’t refuse such a mad enhancement... In just a few months or even weeks, he can gain an equivalent to decades of accumulated power."
He opened an ancient tome, pointing to a section of explanatory text:
"According to records, those with strong constitutions hold a significant advantage in pollution transformation. A robust body can withstand more mutations, not only with higher efficiency but also maintaining rationality for a longer period."
His eyes showed a hint of regret:
"Unfortunately, we have no talent for knight cultivation. It’s said that the first knights and demon hunters were invented by black wizards proficient in bloodline research to create better ’vessels’."
"Ron might have." Cynthia suddenly said, a sharp glint in her eyes:
"Remember how he disposed of Davod who turned into an aberration? His swordsmanship was quite remarkable."
Oliver pondered briefly, then shook his head:
"Even if he has knight talent, it can only be a subsidiary. With his demonstrated expertise in Magic Potion Making, he can’t fully commit to another cultivation path simultaneously. Everyone’s time and energy are limited."
"So what do you plan to do?" Cynthia inquired, her fingers lightly tracing the trembling throat of the blond boy.
"Approach, probe, evaluate." Oliver smiled perfectly: "If he’s suitable for our path, we’ll gain a powerful ally; if not..."
He didn’t finish, but his cold eyes conveyed enough information.
"Then let’s proceed as planned; I’ll be in charge of research and production, and you’ll handle material collection and testing."
Oliver looked out the window, as if he could see Ron in the distance through the Black Mist Jungle:
"As for that young potion master, I’ll find an opportunity to evaluate him."