Chapter 109: The Forbidden Realm

Grimm sat deep in troubled thought, a growing sense of dread gnawing at him. Vaguely, he felt that he had unwittingly trespassed into a perilous realm meant to be beyond his reach.

A flower spirit, relying solely on its own power, could never possibly devour and assimilate so many bloodline genes. The only plausible explanation was that these genetic fragments originally belonged to the reserves stored within the Wizard Tower. After it had been abandoned by the fallen wizards, the surviving human-faced flower spirit had seized the opportunity to absorb other bloodline genes, thus, by a rare stroke of fortune, evolving into a terrifying wizard-level flower spirit.

It was well known that due to the immense strength of bloodline wizards and the power of their clans, the arbitrary theft of wizard bloodlines was forbidden throughout the Wizard Continent, and related bloodline research was strictly banned. Therefore, the presence of so many bloodline gene fragments within a tower built by fallen wizards hinted at a colossal secret lurking beneath.

Grimm’s first instinctive guess was that Prideka, the second-tier fallen wizard, had secretly conducted experiments related to bloodline synthesis underground. This hypothesis seemed highly plausible; after all, bloodline research was too advanced for a first-tier wizard to undertake.

Yet, the deeper he delved, the more his throat tightened, and his mind became shrouded in a vast shadow.

Could a second-tier fallen wizard really carry out such extensive bloodline research alone?

Consider that bloodline apprentices were prized assets fiercely sought by many factions, receiving privileges surpassing even elemental, body refinement, and arcane apprentices. If dozens of bloodline apprentices in the Dagon region had perished or disappeared, it would have surely sparked a storm of uproar.

But Grimm, having been in this place for some time, had never heard a whisper of such events.

This suggested either that the second-tier fallen wizard was exceedingly discreet, or that a powerful faction was concealing the truth. Yet, no small wizard family—or even the large ones—in the Dagon region could wield such omnipotent cover.

So the only possibility…

Grimm turned his head slightly, gazing distantly toward the Wizard Tower, and a sudden clarity rose within his heart.

Perhaps only the Scattered Tower Forest Wizard Association possessed the ability to orchestrate such an airtight operation.

Extending this line of thought, the design of this dim cavern became all the more intriguing.

On the surface, it seemed as if some fallen wizards had fled underground, waging guerrilla warfare to compete with surface wizards for the scarce, precious resources of the subterranean world. Yet from a higher perspective, it resembled an artificially engineered zone of conflict, a place for battlefield training.

And if the senior wizards overseeing this area harbored selfish motives, conducting clandestine taboo research in the process, it would be easy to cover up. After all, it was a war zone; blood was shed, and the occasional apprentice dying underground would evoke only pity, not suspicion.

If Grimm, as a handler, simply assigned more bloodline apprentices to this area under compulsory missions, manufacturing conflicts deliberately, then the deaths of some bloodline apprentices would appear natural and go unnoticed.

Reflecting carefully, Grimm realized that among their ten-man compulsory mission team, four were bloodline apprentices, including Mary. So far, of the two senior apprentices who had died in battle, Syra was one bloodline apprentice. The vine sorceress he had slain also seemed to be one.

Previously, he had not found this troubling, but now, considering that bloodline apprentices usually had the upper hand among peers, their high mortality here was suspicious. This already suggested something significant.

Then, what fate awaited an outsider like himself who had accidentally uncovered their covert experimental ground? Would they silently assign him to a perilous compulsory mission, letting him die unnoticed underground? Or would the mastermind personally eliminate Grimm to resolve the matter swiftly? After all, a rootless, insignificant mid-level apprentice would not warrant anyone confronting a second-tier wizard over his death.

Grimm quietly took from his pouch the Byron family emblem that the wizard Angus had entrusted to him, carefully pinning it on his chest. For the first time, Grimm realized the immense advantage of having a wizard family backing him.

...

An hour later, as Grimm arrived at the entrance of the Wizard Tower, carrying the unconscious Mary and the goblin Kabbi with a large sack on his back, they were abruptly blocked by a magical puppet.

Without explanation, they were escorted into a vast chamber on the ninth floor of the tower.

Seated within was a young wizard only slightly older than Grimm, with delicate, handsome features and a tall, sturdy frame. He wore an ornate wizard’s robe and a pointed hat, his entire being radiating an eerie youthful vigor.

If not for the overwhelming spiritual pressure emanating subtly from him, Grimm might have mistaken him for a mere apprentice in disguise. But sensing the pure, restrained spiritual waves, Grimm felt as though a blinding sun had risen before him, its dazzling, searing light nearly rendering him blind.

He hastily bowed his head in respect, subtly unleashing some fire-element particles to shield his eyes, easing the stinging sensation. Mary, sensing the threat, shifted uneasily in his arms, burying her delicate face in his armpit.

Behind Grimm, the goblin Kabbi had curled up in terror, flattened against the floor, unable to rise. As a creature of keen instinct, Kabbi’s sensitivity to danger—and thus to spiritual pressure—surpassed that of humans.

The chamber was a simple, roughly furnished reception room, with plain wooden chairs and a table showing no signs of carving, retaining the wood’s natural color.

The young wizard savoring a steaming cup of tea was none other than Lord Andre, the second-tier wizard overseeing this tower.

This world, unlike Earth, bore many resemblances to twentieth-century Europe in appearance, manners, and customs, yet with profound differences. Most notably, the structure of personal names and surnames diverged greatly.

On Earth, European names were often complex, denoting family lineage; here, in a world ruled by strength, clans were diminished in importance, replaced by new family units centered around powerful wizards.

Clan leaders were rarely the strongest; rather, elders adept at managing territory and business. The direction of a clan’s development was usually controlled by hidden, powerful high-tier wizards.

Wizards and clans were like conjoined trees entwined; a strong clan made its wizard a dependent vine, while a strong wizard reduced the clan to mere appendage, subject to his every whim.

Thus, many powerful wizards bore no surnames; instead, their clans proudly took their names, creating a reversed dependency.

Since the day Grimm first arrived at the shadowy cavern’s Wizard Tower, Lord Andre’s name had been etched firmly in his mind. Yet, given his humble status, how could he have the chance to meet such a figure?

Today, however, was evidently an exception.

Grimm bowed low, standing silently, careful not to reveal any hint of disrespect.

After some time, Lord Andre finally finished his tea and looked down at Grimm, his gaze burning with an intense, scorching heat.

Grimm could feel the fierce elemental energy suffusing Andre’s eyes, and though he did not look up, the localized surge of elemental concentration caused him elemental pain, the sensation akin to being scorched.

“Have you been underground again recently?” Andre’s voice finally broke the silence.

Grimm shivered slightly, bowing his head even lower. “Yes, my lord. I have just returned from the depths.”

“Any findings?”

Grimm hesitated briefly, as if to glance upward, but quickly restrained himself.

“Yes, my lord. There were some discoveries.”

A flicker of confusion passed over Grimm’s lowered face — clearly, the concern of a second-tier wizard for a mere mid-level apprentice was puzzling. Yet this expression was deliberate; with Andre’s formidable mental power, the entire tower was undoubtedly under his vigilant surveillance, and Grimm’s subtle facial changes could not escape his notice.

He had to commit fully to the charade.

From the moment he entered the Wizard Tower, Grimm had forced himself to play the part of a reckless, naïve youth ignorant of the deeper secrets.

After all, the intelligence Grimm had gathered was based on the chip’s powerful data collection, intelligence synthesis, and analysis. For ordinary wizard apprentices, uncovering the flower spirit’s deeper mysteries required precision instruments from alchemy labs.

To minimize danger, Grimm had to feign ignorance of the underlying truth.

Moreover, he had discreetly tested the goblin Kabbi, who knew almost nothing about the bloodline experiments, not even understanding the source of its own peculiar powers.

This only strengthened Grimm’s resolve to play dumb.