Chapter 91: Go Back
The gardener once said that the Soul-Devouring Claw was located in an abandoned laboratory, meaning it might be a creature that was once cultivated or modified by past wizards.
Moreover, others had fallen down before Saul. Judging by the gardener’s tone, no one had died down there.
So, this Soul-Devouring Swamp probably wasn’t an extremely aggressive creature.
Saul was willing to try the plan recommended by the Soul-Devouring Claw for two reasons: First, since it was sensitive to souls, it might have an innate instinct for spirit grease materials. Second, he had no other leads anyway.
He rearranged his formulas and adjusted his approach.
Saul took out alternative materials he had found and replaced them with the reagent extracted from the seaweed dumplings.
Of course, before testing, he had the diary verify the reagent.
By now, Saul was quite skilled in adjusting this potion, and soon, he saw an underwater vortex appear.
“It doesn’t seem any different.” Saul held a test tube in one hand and lifted his pen in the other, continuing to record the reaction.
“Now then…” After the reagent had fully reacted, Saul took out a small piece of plastic bone he had refined and slowly poured the new reagent onto it.
The plastic bone softened again. Saul gently prodded it with a glass stirring rod.
“It’s softer.” Saul finally noticed a slight difference in the result. “But its properties don’t seem to have changed much.”
Turning his head, he saw that the black tentacle had once again slithered near the back of his neck, its tip swaying beside his cheek.
It occasionally circled the diary, as if sensing something faintly. Other times, it wove between the materials on Saul’s desk, seemingly about to tie itself into a knot.
“Come back,” Saul commanded in a low voice.
The black tentacle immediately retracted beside his cheek, unexpectedly obedient.
“The diary has no reaction to the softened plastic bone, meaning at this stage, it still can’t be called spirit grease.”
Saul had gained the diary’s recognition for spirit grease—though it wasn’t a pleasant-sounding name—after absorbing fragments of Sid’s soul into his left hand.
“Maybe what’s missing is precisely the catalyst—soul fragments…”
Saul recorded his hypothesis in his notes.
“But where can I get soul fragments? The books mention that ordinary people’s souls dissipate very quickly. Only wizard apprentices, with their strong mental power, can form relatively stable spiritual fragments. Unless an ordinary person undergoes extreme mental fluctuations or pollution, their soul can’t last long, making soul fragments quite rare.”
Even working in the morgue, Saul rarely encountered soul fragments.
Even if they did exist, they would likely be intercepted in the first or second morgue.
But he couldn’t abandon the plastic bone material just for soul fragments.
“Do I have to buy them?”
Lately, his wallet had been emptying faster. Saul was worried. When his war spoils were gone, would he have to rely solely on his monthly academic stipend, saving up bit by bit?
The Tower Master
“Tower Master, Ralph of the Bloodthorn family has come to visit you.”
A blond-haired, blue-eyed male apprentice with an emotionless face stood at the entrance of the lounge, bowing deeply toward the man inside.
This was the 18th floor of the Wizard Tower. Floors 18 to 21 all belonged solely to the Tower Master, Gorsa.
The 18th floor had a grand reception hall, lavishly decorated.
Anything that kings and nobles sought after could be found there.
But that was only for entertaining ordinary guests.
Beside the grand hall was an inconspicuous small lounge.
This was where the Tower Master met with mentors and apprentices in private.
The lounge had no ordinary tables or chairs—only plush, cotton-padded sofas and a thick velvet carpet that sank underfoot.
Along the walls, several flower racks were built, holding the very same companion flowers that Saul had once chosen.
At this moment, these flowers swayed in perfect unison, as if dancing or stretching their necks to sing.
The outer walls had two nearly floor-to-ceiling rectangular windows. The semi-transparent frosted glass allowed in a dim, muted sunlight.
The master of the entire Wizard Tower, Gorsa, sat on the largest sofa in the lounge. His entire body was wrapped in a massive dark red cloak, with only a sliver of pale pink chin visible beneath his hood.
Across from him stood a hunched, elderly man with white hair and deep wrinkles.
He was none other than Saul’s nominal mentor, Kaz.
The two were in conversation when the apprentice interrupted.
Gorsa turned his head toward the apprentice. “The Bloodthorn family?”
The apprentice bowed even lower. “They are the family of Sid, the second-level apprentice from the tower.”
With the reminder, Kaz recalled the situation.
“Ralph of the Bloodthorn family? Didn’t he die? I remember his burial was quite rushed.”
“Oh, now I remember.” Gorsa suddenly became interested and turned to Kaz. “The Bloodthorn family’s flesh magic is quite interesting. It’s a pity their research direction doesn’t align with ours. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be bad to bring him in as a mentor.”
Kaz forced a smile and whispered a reminder. “Tower Master, Sid was the apprentice that Saul killed. Sid was also Ralph’s grandson.”
“Oh? Then what does Ralph want?”
This question was directed at the apprentice.
Still bowing, the apprentice immediately replied, “Ralph wishes to retrieve his grandson’s body.”
“Heh,” Gorsa chuckled. “Ralph is also a wizard specializing in dark attributes. Does he really think there would still be a corpse left? Should we just pick a random bone from the underground storage and hand it to him?”
Kaz: “…”
“I’m joking.” Seeing Kaz’s expression, Gorsa knew what he was thinking. “The man is a proper first-rank wizard, after all. We should at least show some respect.”
Kaz, realizing this matter had caught the Tower Master’s interest, decided to be more mindful. “He’s likely here to find the culprit.”
That was, after all, the apprentice you initially took an interest in!
“Good point.” Gorsa nodded.
Then, suddenly, he vanished.
Kaz inhaled sharply, a cold chill seeping through his teeth and making his gums ache.
He had a bad feeling—Tower Master wouldn’t be up to anything good!
Seeing that the apprentice was still bowing, Kaz waved him away.
He then walked to a frosted window, wiped it lightly, and saw the scene outside.
Up close. Very clearly.
As expected, the Tower Master had already appeared before Ralph, who had been waiting outside.
Ralph had just stepped out of his carriage.
Dressed in a black noble’s suit, he stood solemnly before the entrance of the Wizard Tower.
He expected it wouldn’t be easy to meet Gorsa.
The man was a Rank Two wizard with status and prestige. Making a mere Rank One wizard with no strong background wait for half a day wasn’t unusual.
But to his surprise, less than five minutes after he sent his message, a figure appeared before him in an instant.
Though Ralph had never met Gorsa before, he instantly recognized him.
Instant teleportation!
Gorsa was indeed a top-tier Rank Two wizard, even capable of slightly touching upon the space magic that only Rank Four wizards studied.
Ralph burned with jealousy, his determination to reclaim the Death Wizard’s Diary growing stronger.
He was sure that if he could activate the diary, he could use its knowledge to ascend to Rank Four!
Then, neither Gorsa nor his family would be able to do anything but grovel at his feet!
“I know why you’re here.” Gorsa’s voice was warm and reassuring despite being cloaked from head to toe. “Since he joined the Wizard Tower, his body belongs to me. Go back.”
Ralph knew this wouldn’t go smoothly, but he couldn’t give up so easily. Even if he could just learn the identity of the killer, he could wait nearby for them to appear.
Negotiations required a bit of back-and-forth, so Ralph decided to start with a more extreme demand.
"I understand, my lord. It is an honor for Sid to contribute to your research. But I wish to personally avenge him. For that, I am willing to exchange my family's Bloodthorn hereditary sorcery knowledge with you."
"Hmm..." Gorsa hesitated for a moment.
Was there a chance?
Ralph's slightly downturned lips pressed together tightly.
But the next moment, Gorsa suddenly raised his hand, revealing a pale pink palm.
"Go back. Did you hear me?"
Ralph immediately felt an overwhelming sense of humiliation, but he suppressed his anger, making himself appear even more humble. "Respected Lord Gorsa..."
A blinding white light burst violently from Gorsa’s palm.
"What is that…?"
Ralph barely had time to form the thought before he felt his entire body ignite.
It wasn’t painful, but he was burning.
Behind him, his old butler, Hunt—who had been silently holding the reins of his horse—watched in shock as his master’s body twisted and crumpled in the wake of the white light, like strands of hair touching open flame.
A single aged head thumped onto a pair of straight legs.
Then, finally, the three parts tumbled together into a heap.
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