Chapter 502: Meddling in Others' Affairs
Of course, Thorne Merlin was right. A young mage leading five hundred Great Mages to make a move on Specter Valley was nothing but a fool’s errand. If they ended up clashing with the Forgefire Clan, few of those five hundred Great Mages would survive. That would be a tremendous loss for the Merlin Family.
“Gentlemen, you should already know that two months ago, I sent a report on Matthew Merlin to the Ancestral Grounds...” Thorne Merlin crossed his hands and tapped the table lightly, a playful smile on his lips as he glanced at Edgar Merlin and Uriel Merlin. Then he continued, “If nothing goes wrong, Matthew Merlin’s position as commander will soon be revoked by the Ancestral Grounds. That’s for the best—saves us from his nonsense.”
Ever since the Ancestral Grounds received that report, there had been no response, but Thorne Merlin wasn’t worried. In fact, he saw it as a good sign. The Ancestral Grounds were clearly deliberating how to deal with Matthew Merlin. The longer it took, the more serious Matthew Merlin’s problems must be. In the end, he was sure they’d hand down a severe punishment.
Thorne Merlin wasn’t the least bit concerned...
In his eyes, that damned Matthew Merlin wouldn’t be jumping around for much longer.
But just then, a faint magical ripple rose in the council hall. Thorne Merlin’s face lit up instantly—he knew the Ancestral Grounds had sent a message. A surge of battle energy erupted, weaving countless golden runes in the air, flashing violently.
“Heh, gentlemen, what luck—the Ancestral Grounds have sent word. Why don’t we see together how they plan to punish Matthew Merlin...”
A broad, unrestrained smile spread across Thorne Merlin’s face.
"Fine... fine."
At that moment, Edgar Merlin and Uriel Merlin sensed the familiar magical ripple. Their faces turned pale. They couldn’t be sure whether the young mage would actually be punished by the Ancestral Grounds. After all, only the two of them knew the truth about that battle when they first arrived at Inferno Fortress. If needed, they were willing to testify and defend the young mage.
But the young mage’s trip to the Black Tower’s Darkmoon Fortress was much harder to explain. As commander of Inferno Fortress, his position was special, yet he went alone to Darkmoon Fortress. With Thorne Merlin’s embellishments, the Ancestral Grounds were bound to overthink it.
What now...
Huge beads of cold sweat rolled down their foreheads, soaking their mage robes and sticking to their backs. Still, the two raised their heads, anxiously staring at the cluster of golden runes.
A few seconds later, the golden runes began to shift, wriggling like tadpoles and forming clear words. There was no doubt—they were from the Ancestral Grounds. The two, weighed down by worry, stared blankly for a moment after seeing the message, then burst out laughing.
To be precise, the message from the Ancestral Grounds was just four short words: "Meddling in others' affairs!"
Meddling in others' affairs!
Edgar Merlin and Uriel Merlin’s faces flushed red as they struggled to hold back their laughter, but inside, they were already cracking up. They’d imagined a thousand possibilities, but never expected the Ancestral Grounds’ reply to be just those four words. Clearly, those words were aimed at Thorne Merlin, who’d sent the report.
Just thinking about it was hilarious...
Thorne Merlin had just sworn that the Ancestral Grounds would strip Matthew Merlin of his command, but the Ancestral Grounds didn’t even mention the young mage—no punishment at all. Instead, they seemed annoyed at Thorne Merlin. Otherwise, why else would they call him a meddler...
At that moment, Edgar Merlin and Uriel Merlin both gave Thorne Merlin a very peculiar look.
This was a blatant slap in the face—loud enough to echo. It could leave Thorne Merlin so frustrated he'd cough up blood.
In fact, Thorne Merlin really did feel like coughing up blood. What was this mess? He’d reported Matthew Merlin’s crimes to the Ancestral Grounds, but they didn’t react at all. Instead, they scolded him for meddling.
Damn it...
At the critical moment, he’d left Inferno Fortress without permission—almost causing it to fall. Then, the next day, he secretly went to the Black Tower’s Darkmoon Fortress and stayed there the whole morning.
If he had the chance, Thorne Merlin wanted to ask the Ancestral Grounds himself—which one of these was considered meddling?
His face was ashen, heart pounding wildly. It was too much to take. Stripping the young mage of his command had seemed a sure thing, but he never expected this outcome.
Thorne Merlin’s eyes were bloodshot as he stared at the golden runes flickering in the air, those four words burning in his mind. He couldn’t suppress his rage and let out a beast-like roar. He’d waited two months, full of anticipation, only to get ‘meddling in others’ affairs.’ How could he not be furious?
But anger was useless...
The Ancestral Grounds were clearly showing favoritism toward the young mage—blatant, shameless favoritism.
Thorne Merlin was on the verge of losing his mind...
Just then, soft footsteps echoed. Leon, clad in mage robes, strode steadily into the council hall. As soon as he entered, he sensed the strange atmosphere.
Edgar Merlin and Uriel Merlin’s faces were flushed, heads bowed slightly, while Thorne Merlin was ashen-faced, his gaze sharp and piercing.
Leon shook his head subtly, not giving it much thought, and walked straight up to Thorne Merlin: “Lord Thorne, I need some troops for support...”
"Oh?"
Still seething, Thorne Merlin radiated a chilling aura. Seeing Leon only made it harder to control his rage. But as he listened to Leon’s request, he gradually calmed down, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Leon as a twisted smile crept onto his lips.
Now, the entire Planar Legion was firmly in his grasp. The young mage—this so-called commander—was nothing but an outsider. Even if the Ancestral Grounds hadn’t stripped him of his title, so what?
In the Blazeforge Realm, without his support, the young mage couldn’t do anything.
The young mage was leading over five hundred Great Mages to prepare for battle in Specter Valley, but Thorne Merlin had no intention of helping. He’d just watch from the sidelines. Even if the young mage got everyone killed, it wasn’t his problem.
Thinking this, Thorne Merlin shot the young mage a cold look and said icily, “Matthew Merlin, I’m sorry, but my men have other orders. They can’t leave Inferno Fortress without permission...”
"Those are your men? As far as I remember, that's the Merlin Family's Planar Legion. When did they become Lord Thorne's men? As commander, I have the authority to deploy that legion. Surely you won’t deny that, Lord Thorne..."
"Hmph!"
"Of course I know you're the commander, but if you can mobilize the Planar Legion, go ahead—I won't stop you..." Thorne Merlin snorted, his gaze toward Leon full of disdain. Unless he gave the orders himself, no one could move that legion.
"Heh..."
Leon remained calm, clearly having expected this outcome. He said nothing more, just smiled faintly, left the council hall, glanced lightly at Thorne Merlin, and returned to his own quarters, passing through layers of guards.
Honestly, he hadn’t held out much hope for that Planar Legion anyway.
Back in his quarters, he took out the Book of Death. Dark, cryptic words spilled from his lips, and in an instant, a powerful surge of energy rose. At the same time, his figure vanished without a trace.
Leon appeared in the natural demi-plane, his feet sinking into the rich earth. Everywhere he looked, the demi-plane was flourishing—lush grass, dense shade, surging rivers. Every corner overflowed with vibrant life.
After two months, the demi-plane had changed dramatically. The concentration of mana had risen again, largely thanks to the mana vines. Normally, a mana vine seedling would take two or three years to mature enough to draw mana from the void.
But in the unique environment of the natural demi-plane, the mana vines grew more than ten times faster. In just over two months, they were already extracting mana from the void, speeding up the demi-plane’s growth.
The rich mana in the air made Leon take a deep breath, instantly clearing his mind and easing the exhaustion of months of running around. Strolling across the emerald grass, he saw scattered figures lost in meditation. Wisps of visible, mist-like mana, drawn by some unseen force, streamed into their bodies. Every moment, their auras subtly changed.
After mastering the Swift Star Mark meditation technique, their efficiency was enough to drive anyone mad with envy. Fifty mages had spent over two months in the natural demi-plane, constantly meditating. When Leon pushed the magic array to its limit, covering the whole area, he found that even the least talented—Tagi—had reached Ninth-level Great Mage. Most of the others were at the peak of Ninth-level, trying to break through to Magus.
Their progress shocked Leon. Two months ago, most of them were just First-level Great Mages, and the strongest hadn’t reached Fifth-level. Now, every single one had become a Ninth-level Great Mage.
This terrifying rate of progress—no one would believe it if word got out.
The natural demi-plane’s exceptional meditation environment, the fourteen-formula Swift Star Mark, and the influence of ancient god-demon auras had all transformed their magical talent. With all these factors, it was only natural that fifty mages advanced so quickly. If they hadn’t become Ninth-level Great Mages in two months, Leon would’ve suspected they’d been slacking off while he was away...