Chapter 427: Chapter 370: Anton Buchanan
The next day, Jeming met up on time with Professor Clark, Viola, Anger, and his son Kols.
Without needing many words, everyone tacitly controlled the elements, transforming into several streams of light, flying towards a towering tower deep within the academy.
The territory of Nolun Academy No. 1 is unimaginably vast, more like a complete miniature world than an academy.
Inside, there are not only neatly planned buildings but also rolling hills, deep basins, roaring rivers, and towering, precipitous peaks piercing straight into the clouds.
The goal of Jeming and the others this time, Professor Clark’s mentor, is hidden atop one of the most steep peaks, inside a black tower piercing the clouds like a sharp sword.
Before truly approaching the tower, an ancient aura already assaulted them.
The first thing that caught their eyes were colossal beasts, either lying or standing in the open area outside the tower, so large that they were astonishing.
Their forms varied greatly; some were covered with thick, rocky shells, while others were surrounded by destructive energy lightning. The energy fluctuations emitted by each beast reached the terrifying level of Sixth Level creatures!
These entities, capable of wreaking havoc on any plane and known as "Natural Disasters," were leisurely wandering at the foot of the mountain as if tamed pets, merely lazily lifting their eyelids at Jeming and the others as they passed by.
Passing through the tower base’s door, guarded by an invisible force field, the scene before Jeming made him dazed for a moment, almost thinking he triggered some random teleportation array.
Inside was not the expected tower structure but an endless, vast prairie!
A breeze brushed by, rolling waves of grass, bringing the fragrance of soil and green grass.
In the sky, a real sun that emitted light and heat hung high, illuminating the earth.
"An entire plane embedded within... truly extravagant." Jeming quickly understood, his heart shaken.
The tower itself is an ultra-large space container, containing a complete miniature plane inside!
On the prairie, the giant beasts, larger and more profoundly terrifying in aura than those "pets" outside, abounded.
They strolled leisurely or lay sleeping, as if they were the lords of this realm.
Undoubtedly, this place serves as the backyard for the unseen mentor to nurture his "cannon fodder units" and "research materials."
Following Professor Clark, everyone flew at low altitude within this prairie plane.
They crossed mountains and rivers, eventually reaching a very expansive plain.
In the center of the plain stood a magnificent stone palace.
At the entrance to the palace, two humanoid beings with restrained auras and near-perfect forms awaited.
Upon seeing Clark, they respectfully saluted and then silently guided everyone deep into the palace.
Passing through long colonnades, the group entered an extremely ornate hall with a high dome.
The light inside the hall was soft, and the walls were inlaid with countless runes that turned automatically, illustrating the mysteries of laws.
Jeming’s gaze was immediately drawn to the solitary seat at the highest point of the hall.
A hand, slender in appearance, grasped a simply styled silver magic wand, belonging to a figure dressed in a simple black wizard robe.
The robe closely fitted the short, even somewhat frail body.
When Jeming saw the figure sitting high above, he couldn’t help but widen his eyes.
Before coming, he had already learned the name of this mentor—Anton Buchanan.
Yet now, he couldn’t possibly associate this being, looking like a child of just over ten years, with "Professor Clark’s mentor," "a peak Great Wizard about to be promoted to the Eighth Level."
But the next moment, Jeming realized his own shallowness.
In the silent hall, a deep and rhythmic "thump thump" sound echoed, like the beating of war drums, carrying a strange penetrative power, as if striking directly upon one’s soul.
Jeming instinctively searched for the source of the sound and was shocked to discover that this sound... originated from the heartbeat of the "young child" mentor high above!
What kind of terrifying physique is this?!
The unconscious sound of a heartbeat alone could form such a clear echo in this vast space.
The life energy contained within is unimaginably immense!
Below the high point, there were several rows of seats, already occupied by people with auras of varying strength.
The "young child" seated at the high point—Wizard Anton Buchanan, seeing Clark and his group enter, curled his youthful lips into a satisfied arc completely at odds with his appearance, and let out a deep, sinister laugh: "Kehehehe... It seems everybody’s here."
As his gaze swept over, when his seemingly ordinary look fell upon Jeming, he immediately felt his breath catch.
The moment he was gazed upon by those deep eyes, he felt as if he were being scorched by two invisible suns at close range, his soul quivering slightly.
Fortunately, the other party clearly harbored no ill intent and was well aware of the oppressive feeling brought about by their power disparity. The gaze only swept over Jeming and the other younger third and fourth generations briefly, then retracted immediately.
Under Professor Clark’s lead, Jeming and the others respectfully bowed towards the higher position: "Long time no see, mentor."
Anton Buchanan waved his small hand, his voice youthful yet undeniably authoritative: "It’s been a while, everyone. No need to be so formal, find a place to sit yourselves. There are still a few more people on their way."
Following the instructions, Professor Clark found a seat in the front row, while Jeming, Viola, Anger, and Kolles quietly followed behind, seating themselves in Clark’s designated area.
Jeming took the opportunity to survey the situation inside the hall.
Calculating from Anton Buchanan as the first generation, there were only five second-generation wizards present, including Professor Clark.
Previously encountered Augusta Wizard was notably among them, sitting not far from Clark.
Behind these five second-generation wizards sat several third-generation disciples, and even behind some of these third-generation wizards, there appeared to be young fourth-generation disciples.
As his gaze passed over, Jeming actually recognized another acquaintance among the second-generation seats!
The other seemed to notice Jeming’s gaze, turned his head to reveal a gentle and scholarly face, and nodded with a smile towards Jeming.
Jeming was taken aback, immediately leaning slightly forward in his seat to show respect.
Viola beside him noticed his small gesture and curiously asked in a low voice, "You know him?"
Jeming responded softly, "Met him once before in a plane war, Wizard Dionysius Spencer. Didn’t expect he belonged to our same lineage."
He remembered that Wizard Spencer was skilled in abilities related to fate, with mysterious methods.
Now it seemed the other likely had great proficiency in Alchemy as well.
Jeming pondered this and suddenly fell into thought.
In such a case, perhaps "Alchemy" combined with "fate-related knowledge" was one of the core traits of their lineage.
Jeming recalled that Wizard Dionysius Spencer was a bona fide Seventh Level Wizard, and after glancing at his seat again, Jeming understood.
This Wizard Spencer was probably the senior brother of their lineage, which made him his senior uncle.
Jeming instinctively scanned a few more glances.
Behind this senior uncle sat seven wizards, six of whom seemed to be third-generation disciples based on their seating position, aside from one who seemed to be a newly promoted First Level Wizard, while the rest were all Fifth Level Wizards.
One of the Fifth Level Wizards even had a wizard with Third Level aura behind him, appearing to be a fourth-generation disciple.
While Jeming was assessing the others, these wizards, due to his previous actions, subconsciously assessed him as well.
Except for the third-generation disciple First Level Wizard and the fourth-generation Third Level Wizard, the remaining five wizards’ expressions grew solemn the moment they saw Jeming.
Seeing this, Jeming smiled friendly, knowing they likely sensed the danger he carried—a research team of Black Giant Priests followed him in his personal Grotto Heaven.
If a fight really broke out, a troop of fifteen Black Giant Priests equivalent to strong Sixth Level Creatures could easily defeat any one of them.
After the few sat down, they didn’t have to wait long before a subtle ripple appeared in the space within the hall.
Several immensely powerful presences, none inferior to Anton Buchanan, even one surpassing it, loomed from far to near, quickly descending.
Seated in the high position, Anton Buchanan broke into a genuine smile upon sensing these presences.
He unexpectedly leapt down from the throne symbolizing the highest status, trotting with his small legs towards the palace entrance to greet them.
Witnessing Wizard Anton Buchanan’s actions, all the wizards in the hall, regardless of seniority, stood up in unison, following towards the palace door to show the highest respect to the visitors.
The voice arrived before the person did.
A steady and gentle voice, laden with endless wisdom and the passage of time, came in, bearing a hint of faint gratification: "Hey! Anton, didn’t expect it to be you, lad, to first reach the brink of Eighth Level!"
Right after, Anton Buchanan’s voice rang out: "Mentor... Long time no see."
Hearing the exchange between Anton Buchanan and the visitor’s leader, Jeming couldn’t help but lift his head curiously, eager to see who this venerable figure was that warranted a personal welcome from his master and was addressed as "mentor."
However, when he clearly saw the middle-aged man standing at the forefront of the visiting crowd, whom Anton Buchanan referred to as "mentor," his pupils abruptly contracted, and his heart nearly skipped a beat!
Because that man, Jeming had once encountered twice, and even worked with briefly.
The man was, astonishingly, the creator of Nolun Workshop, a top-level Alchemist, a legendary existence akin to a living fossil, the Eighth Level Wizard—Nolun Wizard!
(Feel like hitting a writer’s block, let me adjust a bit)
