Chapter 167: Evil Thoughts

Saul suddenly stood up, the chair behind him crashing to the ground with a loud "clang."

Angela, who had already been distracted, was startled. A pair of clear, watery eyes peeked out from above the book pages, flickering like a frightened fawn.

She was fifteen years old, just beginning to show the grace of a young woman, and stood out among the group of wizard apprentices due to her striking appearance.

Unfortunately, beauty had no value in the world of wizards, and weakness only served as an invitation for others to attack.

Watching Saul step around the experiment table and approach her one step at a time, Angela’s expression shifted from confusion to wariness.

She stood up, gripping a black short wand in her hand. "Saul, what do you want?"

Saul’s face was dark and sullen as he stared at Angela’s exposed, fair neck without responding.

Angela grew even more nervous. Saul’s expression was completely different from before—it was as if he had become a different person.

Lowering her gaze swiftly, she looked at her left hand, and her face instantly paled. In a panic, she stumbled backward, knocking over the chair behind her.

Angela raised her short wand, gripping it tightly with both hands. The tip trembled as she spoke, "Saul, I think something is wrong with you. Are you still conscious? I’m going to inform—ah!"

Before she could finish her sentence, Saul suddenly lunged at her.

Without hesitation, she activated her short wand, and a black beam of light shot toward Saul’s face. Midair, the dark energy transformed into an octopus, its eight tentacles spreading out to block all of Saul’s possible escape routes.

But Saul didn’t even try to dodge. With a flick of his hand, a translucent worm flew out, colliding with the black octopus.

Despite its phantom-like form, the worm knocked the octopus aside with ease.

The octopus began to disintegrate in midair, as if it were a tender leaf being devoured by insects.

Seeing her magic so easily broken, Angela immediately realized that Saul had just used a First-Tier Spell—but how had he cast it so quickly?

Her eyes widened in shock. She knew that her enchanted tool couldn’t rival a First-Tier Spell, and her own First-Tier magic was only supportive in nature. She had no other powerful means of defense.

Angela hurriedly turned around, reaching for a crystal ball at her side.

But just as she took a step forward, a transparent hand grabbed her left foot and yanked her backward. She crashed onto the ground with a loud thud.

"Mage Hand? Continuous spellcasting? He doesn’t even need to stabilize his mental state?!"

Ignoring the pain, Angela rolled over immediately.

A conjured arrow materialized in front of her forehead and shot out in an instant.

By this time, Saul was already lunging toward her.

Seeing him mid-air, Angela felt a surge of relief—he had no way to dodge now. He had already used a First-Tier Spell, and now she had a chance to turn the tables.

But to her horror, the next second, a thick black tentacle emerged from behind Saul’s neck, wrapping around the incoming arrow and crushing it effortlessly.

Saul then landed on Angela, pinning her to the ground. His skeletal hand pressed against her face without the slightest hint of mercy.

With his other hand, he took the arrow from Little Algae and drove it straight toward Angela’s eye.

"Mm-mm-mm!"

The black arrowhead enlarged rapidly before Angela’s eyes. She was frozen in terror, unable to scream—only whimper.

But at the last moment, the arrow stopped just a hair’s breadth from her pupil.

Saul dropped the arrow.

Because of the force he had just used, the arrow had shattered into several pieces, scattering onto the floor.

Saul slowly stood up, releasing Angela. His skeletal hand left a frightening imprint on her pale face.

His gaze flickered to Angela’s left hand. Moments ago, it had been pitch black, but as soon as Saul let go, it returned to normal.

Had he not been paying close attention, he might not have noticed the change.

"Angela."

"Hmm?" Angela trembled as she got up, too afraid not to respond.

"For some reason, I’m suddenly very hungry. Do you have any food?"

"I-I don’t…"

"Then forget it."

Saul returned to the experiment table, picked up the two books he had brought, and left as if nothing had happened.

Before closing the door, he glanced back at Angela. She visibly shuddered.

The door slammed shut with a bang.

Angela sat up in a hurry, her face filled with grief and fury. She frantically searched the experiment table and found a short dagger. Raising it high with her right hand, she prepared to stab her left arm.

But her left hand suddenly turned black and grew larger, dodging the attack as if it had a will of its own. The black tentacle twisted and coiled, avoiding the dagger before swiftly wrapping around Angela’s right hand.

It squeezed tightly. Angela’s muscles and bones groaned under the pressure.

She could no longer hold onto the dagger. Her fingers contorted, and the dagger clattered onto the floor.

Her desperate resistance was easily crushed. Angela slumped to the ground in defeat.

After a while, she began to cry and laugh at the same time.

"You dare try to influence him? Do you think he’s just an ordinary apprentice? You don’t need me to kill you—someone else will handle that. Hahaha…"

Her left hand loosened its grip on her right hand and returned to normal.

Angela leaned back, staring at the ceiling, muttering, "Your scapegoat has already been caught. If you show yourself again, they won’t fall for it next time…"

At that moment, the laboratory door suddenly opened again.

Half of Saul’s face peeked inside.

The sight of him made Angela instinctively scramble backward. But she quickly realized something was off. She grabbed the shattered pieces of her short wand and hurled them at the door.

"Get lost! If you stare at me any longer, I’ll rip your face off!"

The half-face of Saul blurred like a watercolor painting, its lines rapidly distorting until it lost all color and transformed into a white mask. Then, it retreated behind the door.

—

Saul clutched his two books and hurried toward the East Tower.

Just after reading about the Nightmare Butterfly, Saul had suddenly felt an overwhelming hunger, just like in his dream.

At first, he thought the book had triggered some lingering influence from his nightmares.

But then he realized something was wrong.

If this book truly had such a powerful effect, it wouldn’t be sitting on the fourteenth shelf—it would be locked deep within the archives.

If someone with Saul’s mental strength was affected this much, then an ordinary apprentice would go insane the moment they read it.

Resisting the maddening hunger, Saul entered a semi-meditative state to track the source of the anomaly.

Soon, he saw it—a thin black thread connecting him to Angela’s left hand.

Angela dared to attack him?

Saul smirked coldly. He pretended to succumb to madness, acting as if he wanted to devour Angela.

During their battle, the black thread continued feeding fear and confusion into Saul’s mind.

But once he endured the initial wave of insanity, his mental strength kicked into overdrive, and he was no longer affected.

Angela fell back in defeat. The black thread withdrew.

Saul had been on the verge of killing her, but then the diary appeared and stopped him.

The diary's ominous entry made it clear—Angela couldn't be killed.

This wasn’t just a case of schizophrenia.

Saul knew something far worse was at play.

He temporarily let Angela go, but this matter wouldn't end so easily.

Saul quickly arrived at the second floor of the East Tower, outside the second morgue.

He raised his hand and knocked on the door with a “knock knock knock.”

It was quiet inside.

The diary’s warning also indicated that the Nightmare Butterfly was about to hatch.

Perhaps just a bit more energy, and the cocoon would grow into a butterfly.

The Death Wizard’s Diary only alerts him to things of value. For it to take notice of the Nightmare Butterfly’s cocoon meant it was no ordinary thing. If it really transformed into a butterfly, Saul wasn't sure if his willpower alone would be enough to suppress it.

“Senior Hayden, are you in there?” There was no response from the morgue. Saul knocked again.

The door was locked—maybe Hayden hadn’t arrived yet.

Hayden usually didn’t attend public classes, wasn’t in the lab, and if he wasn’t here, he was probably holed up in his dorm room.

Just as Saul was thinking about whether he should go to Hayden’s dorm to catch him, the sound of a lock turning suddenly rang out.

The crimson door opened just a crack, and half of Hayden’s eye peeked out.

Saul smiled warmly. “Senior Hayden, I’d like to ask you to help with a small surgery.”

Hayden’s gaze shifted to Saul’s name tag on his chest. He immediately opened the door wider and poked his head out. “Senior Saul, what do you need me to do?”

Calling someone who entered the tower later than him “senior” felt a bit awkward, but Hayden—nearly thirty years old and still just a Level 1 apprentice—had long since gotten used to it.

In the world of wizards, strength is everything.

“I’d like you to remove something from my left eye. Of the people I know, you're the most skilled in this kind of procedure.”

Hayden’s face changed instantly. He shook his head repeatedly. “No, no, no—I can’t! Saul, I’ve only ever removed things from corpses. I’ve never worked on a living person!”

“No worries. I promise to stay as still as a corpse,” Saul said sincerely.

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