Chapter 173 – The Powerful Magic Box

After taking out Haitzita’s Magic Box, Punk immediately activated “Haitzita’s Soul Nurturing Wave” without hesitation.

With a soft hum from the Magic Box, a pale blue halo centered on it slowly expanded outward. Naturally, Punk, being the closest to the Magic Box, was enveloped within the halo in the first instant.

As expected of a Legendary-level spell, its potency was absolutely incomparable to Formal-Level spells, let alone Master-Level ones. The moment the pale blue halo made contact with his body, Punk clearly felt a refreshing energy permeate his mind and entire soul.

His head, which had been dizzy from the side effects of the “Superior Focus Potion,” instantly became clear. The persistent buzzing and auditory hallucinations in his ears vanished without a trace. At that moment, Punk felt as if his brain were soaking in a cool spring, and the flow of his mental energy and mana became as smooth as a well-oiled bearing.

Punk did not waste this spell’s effect. He quickly calmed his mind, immersed his entire consciousness into his soul, and immediately began operating the Mage Meditation Technique at full capacity.

It must be said, operating the meditation technique under the influence of the “Soul Nurturing Wave” was exceptionally effortless. Punk even had the illusion that mana no longer needed to be consciously controlled—every drop of mana seemed to flow on its own like blood. The efficiency of his meditation increased by more than tenfold in one go. Such high efficiency left Punk utterly amazed.

“Indeed, ‘Haitzita’s Soul Nurturing Wave’ is the greatest reward. With ten times the meditation efficiency of others, even if I only use it for three hours a day, combined with the lifespan bonus from my half-Ancient Elf bloodline, advancing to Master-Level is practically a certainty.”

Punk excitedly clenched his fist. Now, with the help of this Legendary Equipment, advancing to Master-Level was merely a matter of time. Even reaching the Legendary realm was no longer a pipe dream. How could such a tremendous surprise not thrill him beyond measure?

Time flew by during meditation. He barely noticed its passage, and the one-hour duration of the spell’s effect had already ended.

Puck reluctantly withdrew from his meditative state. At this moment, he could clearly feel that his soul had improved significantly, and the side effects of the “Superior Focus Potion” had completely disappeared.

Smiling, Punk picked up Haitzita’s Magic Box and examined it carefully. The small Wooden Box still looked plain and ordinary, appearing not only unadorned but even a bit grimy.

Who would have thought that this seemingly dusty little Wooden Box possessed such powerful functions without having tried it firsthand?

“Since the effect of ‘Haitzita’s Soul Nurturing Wave’ far exceeds expectations, I don’t need to worry too much about training with the ‘Superior Focus Potion.’ Perhaps for others, the side effects of continuously taking the ‘Superior Focus Potion’ would severely damage their souls or even cause irreparable harm. But for me, with Haitzita’s Magic Box, the concerns about using the potion are entirely nonexistent.”Punk thought excitedly.

He carefully tucked Haitzita’s Magic Box close to his body while secretly planning his next moves in his mind.

“Now that the side effects of the Superior Focus Potion have been indirectly resolved, the next step is steady development. Continuing to breed Wraith Moths for potion brewing and practicing the metamagic technique—Mana Compression—will be the main focus for the next ten years.”

Punk quickly formulated his plan. After all, as a mage who needed to keep a low profile, improving his strength was his top priority. According to his original plan, by this stage, his mage class level should have reached at least level thirteen. But now, to obtain Haitzita’s Magic Box, he had no choice but to break with the good-aligned factions at level twelve.

“Still, it’s not too bad. My class level has reached twelve now, and level thirteen isn’t too far off. So, let’s set a small goal: advance one level within five years!”

Punk muttered softly to himself, then casually summoned a flame to incinerate the remains of Test Subject One on the ground and the lingering negative energy in the air.

He turned and walked toward the experimental cell in the basement, where over a dozen unconscious test subjects were still imprisoned. Over the next month, Punk would assign a “lovely” little Shadow Maggot to each of these “hosts.”

Of course, aside from Punk himself, neither the Shadow Maggots nor the test subjects had any expectations about this.

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Practitioners are beings with long lifespans, especially for high-level practitioners. Excessive life can even drive those with weak mental fortitude to madness.

However, once you adapt to this prolonged life process, your perception of time will differ greatly from that of ordinary people.

This is particularly true for mages who are deeply engrossed in their research; even five or ten years do not feel particularly long.

Five years had passed in the blink of an eye since the destruction of Doleiz City. Although Punk’s bounty was still prominently listed on the Dillon Kingdom’s wanted list, aside from the tireless and relentless believers of the Benevolent God Church, the Dillon Kingdom’s officials had largely given up hope of finding this “terrorist.”

Most people speculated that the terrifying mage named Punk had fled the Dillon Kingdom on the very day Doleiz City was destroyed. Others firmly believed he was hiding deep within the Lush Forest, studying a dreadful plague and plotting to return one day to destroy the Dillon Kingdom.

But likely, no one would ever suspect a rundown slum in Sunset City—not even the residents of that slum.

In an old bar next to a garbage dump, a group of ragged drifters clutched large mugs of “water mixed with ale” as they boasted wildly. They were typical vagrants: during the day, they begged for a few copper coins, and at night, they gathered in this bar, where even the stools were made of stone, to brag and pass the time.

It was the middle of the cold winter, and the “ale” in the drifters’ mugs had a layer of ice chips floating on top. They kept tightening their patched-together burlap coats, their teeth chattering from the cold.But even the cold weather couldn’t dampen their enthusiasm for boasting—after all, these tall tales might be the only entertainment left in the vagrants’ lives.

“Hey, Old John, did you know the Boss of the iron barrels at Garbage Mountain to the east just took on a new ‘chief’? I’m telling you the truth, that fellow is actually my distant nephew. In a few days, once that kid settles in, I’ll be rolling in riches.”

A middle-aged man rubbing his hands constantly wore an expression that seemed to say “believe it or not” as he spoke loudly to the vagrants beside him. Anyone unaware would have thought he was telling the truth.

“Stop joking, Jack. Last month you claimed a baron who died in the city was your uncle. Where’s your inheritance now? Where’s your title?”

“Don’t mess around, this time it’s real! When I’m following the Boss of the iron barrels around, don’t come crying with envy.”

The middle-aged man called Jack flushed red down to his neck as he refuted the teasing from those around him.

But the vagrants had lost patience listening to this full-of-hot-air fellow’s nonsense. Watching the deepening night, they began discussing other topics, leaving the boastful Jack out in the cold.

The vagrants shifted their attention to the oldest among them, an old vagrant. At this moment, the usually somewhat senile old man widened his murky eyes and asked everyone:

“Have you… heard of the Black Siren?”

Thank you Danqing for the recommendation opportunity.

Finally… please subscribe and add to collections! My initial subscription results were so poor I’ve already been labeled a failure. If this recommendation performs badly too, it’ll be disastrous!

(End of Chapter)