Chapter 410: Crimson Forest
"Don't think I'm joking..." Anderson's voice was unusually serious. "You used this drop of Mutant Black Lizard blood to enhance the Arcane Wheel, and while the results are decent, are you really satisfied with just a ten percent boost?"
"Do you have a better idea?"
"Of course. If you're willing to hand me this drop of Mutant Black Lizard blood, I promise that in at most three days, I can double the Arcane Wheel's power—bringing it straight to the level of a mid-tier True Spirit Artifact!"
"Mid-tier!" Leon was startled.
You had to understand, the Arcane Wheel in Leon's hands had cost him countless effort—from the earliest Lathite Mithril, to the later Star Gemstones, and even dismantling the Spirit Staff just to remove the Elemental Amber. He'd spent months working at the Tower of Mercury before finally forging this True Spirit Artifact.
It could be said that this was Leon's greatest masterpiece to date.
The finest magical materials, the most advanced alchemy lab, and Leon's alchemical knowledge thirty thousand years ahead of his peers—all came together to birth the Arcane Wheel.
Yet even so, Leon had only barely pushed the Arcane Wheel past the threshold of True Spirit rank. If not for Anderson's existence, it wouldn't even have manifested as an artifact avatar. But now, Anderson was casually promising to break it through to mid-tier. You had to realize—a mid-tier Arcane Wheel was equivalent to a Title Archmage of the fifth rank unleashing their full power. That was...
Even someone as steady as Leon couldn't help but cry out in shock when he heard this!
"You... you're serious?" Leon stared at Anderson for a long while before finally asking, disbelief in his voice.
"Yes."
"Alright. I'll give you this drop of Mutant Black Lizard blood. I hope I won't be disappointed in three days..."
Leon glanced at Anderson and nodded gently, choosing to trust his words. Increasing the Arcane Wheel's power would benefit Anderson as its artifact avatar, too.
Besides, Anderson was shrouded in mystery—not only did he know many of Vaughn's secrets, he even seemed to possess knowledge of ancient mysteries. The first time he entered the Arcane Wheel, he even sent out a dragon's roar...
The instant the glass vial's stopper was pulled off, a surge of astonishing magical energy radiated from that drop of dark-purple blood. Anderson's avatar, a swirl of black smoke, swept up the Mutant Black Lizard blood and finally vanished into the Arcane Wheel.
After finishing all this, Leon stretched, took out the Death Tome, and began studying its runes.
Ever since the incident in Alaric, Dean's attitude toward the Dragonblood Orc Hubert had changed noticeably. In the past, Dean would visit Hubert's barracks every night for a chat...
Last night, he hadn't dared go...
Only Dean himself knew the real reason. The Dragonblood Orc Hubert might have limitless potential—he could become a Sword Saint in a few years, and recruiting him to the Templar Knights Mercenary Company would be a huge boon. But now, Dean didn't dare try to recruit him anymore...
Only recently did he realize why, back in the Aurich Mountains, when he invited the Dragonblood Orc to join the Templar Knights Mercenary Company in front of Matthew Merlin, the orc's expression was so strange.
That expression was exactly like the one he himself wore yesterday afternoon, when Alaric came looking for Matthew Merlin.
Yes, it was schadenfreude!
Matthew Merlin was far from an ordinary low-tier Archmage...
After witnessing Alaric being sent flying from the barracks in disgrace, and then hearing Dalson reveal last night that it was Matthew Merlin who slew the Wyvern King, Dean wasn't even surprised—he thought it was only natural...
The Wyvern King's sudden death had puzzled Dean for a while, but Dalson had kept the truth hidden...
Last night, Dean ran to Leon's barracks, wanting to apologize and reflect deeply on his own unethical attempt at poaching... but when he reached the door, he didn't have the courage to go in.
He lingered for a while, and through a sliver of light, saw Leon studying the Darkflame Orc's adamantite warhammer. Seeing this, Dean didn't dare disturb him, so he waited anxiously outside for hours. Just as he was about to fall asleep, a surge of powerful energy jolted him awake...
My god, it's a top-tier Spirit Artifact!
With his Sword Saint's eye, he could instantly tell that Slaughter had undergone a transformation—its power had multiplied, leaping from an ordinary Spirit Artifact to the top tier.
This was at least the work of a Grandmaster Alchemist...
Dean's expression grew complicated. With his current status, he'd met a few Grandmasters, but most were arrogant—especially those from Mercury Tower, who barely acknowledged a Sword Saint like him. The only Grandmaster he could actually connect with was Alaric. Just look at Alaric's standing in the Apocalypse Mercenary Company: not the strongest among the vice captains, but with his profound alchemy, his status was nearly equal to Dalson, the First Vice Captain. Even the Company Commander spoke to Alaric with respect...
A Grandmaster this young—Dean had never heard of such a thing...
And Matthew Merlin's future achievements in alchemy couldn't be underestimated. In a few decades, he might even become a Worldshaper. Dean knew just how rare Worldshapers were—he'd lived for decades and never met one. Supposedly, there were only three in the entire Andalusia Kingdom...
Not only was he powerful, he was a future Worldshaper...
Thinking about it, Dean felt a pang of regret. He usually prided himself on his keen judgment, but he'd completely misjudged this young man. If only he hadn't made those foolish mistakes at the start, maybe he could've built a connection with this future Worldshaper.
After a moment's hesitation, Dean shook his head, sighed, and turned back to his own barracks.
The Three Major Mercenary Companies pressed deeper into the Turin Mountains. Magical beasts were everywhere, with high-level monsters of the twentieth rank appearing all over. The companies' coordination grew ever more seamless.
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Of course, Leon hadn't forgotten to send the Dragonblood Orc Hubert along for experience. On the very first day of the push, they ran into a level thirty magical beast—one strong enough to rival a Title Archmage. Its sudden appearance cost the companies over a dozen members, but thankfully, Sword Saint Dean stepped in and killed the monster just in time.
Wielding Slaughter, whose power had just climbed several levels, Hubert was like a killing machine. Wherever he went, magical beasts were smashed into pulp, and his legion of rabid fans grew rapidly...
That same day, Hubert's rampage caught the attention of a magical beast nearly at level twenty-nine. He didn't let Leon down—though the battle was grueling, he still managed to defeat the beast.
Slaughter had changed so much, it was practically a brand-new weapon. Hubert still needed time to fully attune to it. If he were already in sync with this top-tier Soulbound Artifact, he could have crushed that level twenty-nine beast with ease.
On the second day of the Three Major Mercenary Companies’ advance, Leon noticed a subtle shift. The magical beasts weren’t as dense as before—the most he saw at once was just under a hundred. But their ranks had risen noticeably. While setting up camp in the afternoon, a level thirty-two Amethyst Ape King burst out of the woods. It took Dalson and Oraro from the Apocalypse Mercenary Company over ten minutes of teamwork to finally bring the beast down.
By the third day, maybe it was just bad luck for the Three Major Mercenary Companies, but both morning and afternoon they ran into a level thirty magical beast. Fortunately, there were several Sword Saints and Titled Archmages among them, who took down the threats in time and prevented heavy losses...
That night, Leon sat alone in his tent, poring over the Death Tome. Suddenly, a faint, nearly undetectable scent of blood drifted in. He frowned, got up, and pulled aside the tent flap. Outside, everything was silent. Leon strolled out of camp, activating his Arcane Gear to full capacity. It didn’t take long to pinpoint the source: the bloody scent was coming from a forest about a kilometer away.
That bloody smell gave Leon an odd, inexplicable feeling...
Leon crossed several kilometers in no time. The forest ahead was lush and vibrant, full of life—towering trees, emerald grass, fragrant flowers everywhere. But the moment he stepped inside, he sensed something was off. He’d traveled from the Aurich Mountains all the way to the Turin Mountains, passing countless forests, but none were as thriving as this one...
He’d visited the Four Seasons Gorge before, and that place was vibrant, too—just in a strange, unnatural way. This forest, though, felt completely natural to Leon. Clearly, it was different from the Four Seasons Gorge.
But...
Leon walked for over half an hour without encountering a single magical beast. This was deep in the Turin Mountains, where magical beasts were everywhere—maybe a bit scattered, but never so few that you wouldn’t see one for that long. It was downright bizarre.
"Wait..."
He suddenly stopped, frowning as he scanned his surroundings. After more than ten minutes, his brow finally relaxed. His suspicion was almost certainly correct.
This was most likely the Crimson Forest!
He’d read about the Crimson Forest in books—a mysterious place deep in the Turin Mountains, teeming with life. Every creature that entered was doomed to lose its way. That explained why he’d wandered for half an hour without seeing a single magical beast.
Crimson Forest...
Years ago, the King of the Caucasus and the Long-Legged Monarch fought here, and a single drop of blood fell onto this land. It was once a plain, but decades later, it grew thick with trees and became overwhelmingly vibrant. A thousand years after, the Ivory Tower rose to power and sent an elite team into the Crimson Forest—over a dozen Sword Saints and Titled Archmages. But once they entered, they were never seen again...
After that, for a very long time, no one dared set foot in this lost forest again.