Chapter 178: The First Step to Gaining Recognition

“That book has a problem?” Saul asked in surprise.

“No,” Gorsa’s voice remained gentle. “It’s just that this book is useless to you.”

Saul tightened his grip on the only book left in his hands.

Logically, he should have handed the second book over to the Tower Master at this moment, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

That loud sound just now felt like it had struck his heart.

With the Tower Master’s arrival, the faint conversations outside the library also disappeared.

“Don’t be afraid.” The Tower Master winked at Saul. His hand emerged from beneath his cloak again, revealing a partially burned red candle standing upright in his palm.

“Did you make this?”

Saul was stunned. Wasn’t this the red candle that had been swallowed by the bronze door?

Could it be that behind the bronze door was the place where the Tower Master resided?

“Yes, I used a bit of wax from the storeroom, about the size of a fingernail. The rest of the materials were my own.”

Since he had been discovered, there was no point in lying.

He decided to be honest and hope for leniency.

Gorsa did not seem angry—at least, he didn’t show it.

“Hm. In the past, Katz often assigned talented apprentices to guard the storeroom. But we found that the more gifted the apprentice, the faster the storeroom’s materials were consumed. They were often too confident and many died in experiments that exceeded their control. So, I suggested to Katz that he replace them with an ordinary apprentice to guard the storeroom. For the first few years after you took over, the rate of material consumption did slow down. The apprentice guarding the storeroom also lived to this day. But now that you’ve been assigned, it’s only been a few days and you already dared to take my candle. Looks like the storeroom’s materials are doomed.”

Saul couldn’t tell whether the Tower Master was praising or scolding him.

“Apologies, Tower Master.”

Gorsa narrowed his eyes slightly, pulling his hand back without returning the red candle to Saul.

“No need to apologize. Giving apprentices access to the storeroom is an implicit permission for them to use its materials. The reason I assigned ordinary apprentices was because past geniuses, though passionate about experimentation, either lacked creativity or pursued directions that didn’t interest me. That, of course, was a waste. But you’re different. I really like the first magical artifact you created. It seems I’ve underestimated your talent and ability. Only by giving you a bigger platform can I reap greater rewards.”

“Now, I’m giving you a choice.”

Gorsa walked deeper into the library, his figure gradually obscured by white mist, though his voice remained as clear as if he were standing beside Saul.

“If you’re willing to accept this gift of knowledge, follow me inside. If you fear the risks of the unknown, then leave the library.”

Saul was already burdened with plenty of troubles:

The nightmare butterfly, which might not stay sealed for long.

The secret of his body’s melting transformation.

His still-unresolved electric shock problem, leaving his arm a skeletal hand.

And Vinnie’s warning about some resurrection conspiracy...

Saul let out a long sigh—then grinned excitedly and followed.

“The more debts, the less you feel! This is a gift of knowledge! Just hearing the name makes my spirit boil! If I miss this opportunity, I’d regret it for the rest of my life!”

Clutching the book tightly to his chest, his skin tingling with excitement and his heart pounding with anticipation, Saul stepped firmly into the white mist where Gorsa had disappeared.

As the mist enveloped his entire body, he lost all sense of direction and could no longer recall the way he had come.

There were no bookshelves around him, no walls in sight, and even the light was nothing more than a hazy glow.

Just as he paused, unsure of what to do, a voice called out.

“Follow me.”

Gorsa’s silver eyes appeared in the distance, like searchlights piercing through an endless night.

Saul quickly followed.

He vaguely felt as though he were ascending.

Looking down, his feet were obscured by the mist—only the book in his arms remained visible.

After walking briskly for nearly five minutes, the white mist suddenly cleared, and his vision opened up.

What lay before him was a long, curved corridor lined with towering wooden bookshelves.

The bookshelves appeared quite ordinary, adorned with floral and leafy carvings.

Each shelf contained numerous books, though they weren’t crammed full. Their careful arrangement exuded a sense of leisure and appreciation for life.

The books were displayed openly, seemingly free of danger.

Gorsa stood at the far end of the corridor. Saul didn’t dare waste time and hurried to catch up.

“These books in the corridor are miscellaneous works I collected during my travels. They’re mostly useless, but occasionally, I find them quite amusing.”

Gorsa stood before a grand white door, adorned with golden magical runes as intricate as noble embellishments.

“Inside this room are records of nearly every research project on the soul. Once you enter, you must carefully distinguish which knowledge is safe for you to read and which is not. I will give you a key—only you can enter. Anyone else who tries will be devoured by the door…”

Gorsa turned to look at Saul, his gaze sharp.

“Just like that apprentice who was devoured yesterday.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Since the Tower Master had retrieved the red candle, he must also know that Ferguson was trapped behind the bronze door.

But he had taken the candle without bringing Ferguson out, which could only mean that Ferguson was already dead.

“Which hand do you favor?”

The sudden change in topic caught Saul off guard, but he immediately answered, “My dominant hand is my right.”

“Hmm. Then extend your left hand.”

Saul raised his left hand—still a skeletal one.

“Still no progress on modifying the soul grease?” Gorsa asked casually as he suddenly reached out and—snapped off a piece of Saul’s left pinky finger.

Saul: ?!

Holding the fingertip, Gorsa turned and inserted it into the keyhole of the white door.

After about five seconds, he withdrew his hand and pressed the now-misshapen bone back onto Saul’s left hand.

Saul stared blankly at his finger—the tip had become elongated, resembling a beast’s claw.

He reached out with his right hand and tugged at it twice. The pinky was firmly attached and showed no signs of falling off.

“Remember to use your key before entering from now on.

Oh, and prepare yourself—you’ll be going on a trip at the end of May.”

It was early May now, meaning he had just over twenty days.

“Yes, Tower Master. Where am I going?”

“I don’t know. The coachman will take you there. You’ll be resolving an issue that’s been left hanging for two years. It could be dangerous—I suggest bringing plenty of survival tools.”

Saul thought for a moment. “Tower Master, may I bring companions with me?”

Gorsa looked at Saul and suddenly smiled.

“Some things are best not shared.”

“This task won’t be simple. If you’re afraid, you can refuse.”

“I accept.” Saul didn’t hesitate. He accepted the mission calmly.

Though the Tower Master didn’t say it outright, Saul understood—this was another test.

If he refused, he might also be rejecting all future opportunities.

Sure enough, upon hearing Saul’s response, the Tower Master’s eyes curved in satisfaction.

Having given his instructions, Gorsa left Saul to his own devices and entered a brown door next to the white one.

That door likely led to the Tower Master’s private chambers. Saul caught a glimpse of a cozy sofa and a small table with food before the door shut.

Clearly, Gorsa had no intention of inviting Saul in.

The scene of the living quarters flickered past, quickly sealed away behind the closed door.

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