The Most Arbitrary Wizard

Chapter 113: Chapter 75: The Vanished Era of Polymath

"What?"

"Blake’s been resurrected?"

Sabeck, a boss at Grey Bird Logistics, sat in his office as he took a call from one of his subordinates.

A large cigar dangled from his lips as he puffed out clouds of smoke. Thinking he must have misheard, he asked, "Which Blake?"

The voice on the other end answered immediately, "Carl Black."

Sabeck: "?"

"The invincible one from hundreds of years ago?"

"That’s right!" The subordinate’s voice was tinged with anxiety. "Mr. Sabeck, you heard me correctly. I was just in the conference room on the second floor of the Void Technique Space Sanctuary, and I saw Blake’s statue appear out of thin air, and then vanish just as suddenly... As you know, only Blake himself can move his statue."

"Adelf, the Chairman of the Dawn Council, was there too. Judging by his expression, he already knew the news... It must be true, Mr. Sabeck." The subordinate’s tone turned grave. "Carl Black may have actually been resurrected."

’He can come back to life after being dead for hundreds of years?’

"HISS... COUGH! COUGH!" Sabeck took a sharp breath, forgetting about the cigar dangling from his lips. The inhale sucked embers and smoke straight into his lungs, turning him into a human chimney. He couldn’t stop coughing violently, smoke pouring from his nose and mouth.

"Mr. Sabeck, are you alright?" his subordinate asked with concern upon hearing the coughing.

"I’m fine... Let me ask you, did you see Blake himself, or just the statue?" Sabeck asked.

"Just the statue," the subordinate said. "He didn’t show up in person."

Sabeck asked again, "Did he give you any orders?"

"No." The subordinate paused before adding, "From what I gathered from Adelf, it seems Blake only just awakened."

"Then the situation is salvageable." Sabeck breathed a huge sigh of relief. After collecting himself, he commanded, "From this moment on, none of you are to set foot in the Holy Sanctuary again. Pull out anyone who’s still inside. All missions are terminated, effective immediately. Stay as far away from the statues as possible—that includes the one outside the Holy Sanctuary. Understand?"

"Understood." The subordinate hesitated before asking, "But rumor has it that Blake is going to open the upper levels of the Holy Sanctuary."

Those floors stored priceless Magic and High-tier Alchemy Formulas from the Era of Polymath. Memorizing just one of them could fetch a fortune.

Sabeck sneered. "Are you getting stupider with age? Do I really have to tell you which is more important, money or your life?"

"But sir..." his subordinate started.

"No buts!" Sabeck’s voice turned icy. "Have I been too easy on you all? Is that why you dare to question my orders now? If you want to die, be my guest, but don’t you dare drag me down with you! Go to the warehouse, grab a Magic Potion, and poison yourself mute. Then you can go to whatever floor you damn well please."

The subordinate quickly backpedaled. "I wouldn’t dare... Mr. Sabeck, you’ve misunderstood. I was just wondering if there was a way to fish in troubled waters."

Sabeck raised his voice. "Let me tell you in no uncertain terms: there isn’t."

’Just who was Carl Black?’

He was the one and only being in the entire world above Tier Ten during the Era of Polymath. It was no exaggeration to say he wouldn’t even have to lift a finger—a single glance could wipe their entire group out. Trying to take advantage of Blake was just asking to die.

Even if there were a way, Sabeck would never try it.

Only an idiot would take that chance.

Truth be told, Sabeck was skeptical about Carl Black’s resurrection. He didn’t fully believe it. After all, the man had been dead for centuries. How could he just rise from the grave on a whim? No matter how powerful you are, you still have to abide by the fundamental laws of Mysticism, right?

But doubts were just doubts; Sabeck had no intention of "investigating."

Are you kidding? When Blake founded the Era of Polymath, forget Sabeck, Sabeck’s fucking grandmother wasn’t even born. If he investigated and it turned out to be a hoax, fine. A false alarm. But if it was real, and his investigation led him straight to Blake? Not even God could save him then.

Therefore, Sabeck decided to proceed as if Carl Black was, in fact, alive again.

Besides, the Witch Hunt Operation was already in its final stages. They were supposed to be acting with caution anyway.

He’d been a Witch Hunter for so many years and had never once taken a fall. What was the secret to his survival?

Caution. The principle that it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Why did people get into this business anyway? To make money and live the good life, right? If you died doing it, what would happen to your bank balance? Let some other guy spend it on your wife?

"As your boss, let me give you a piece of advice," Sabeck said. "Don’t even think about entertaining ideas you shouldn’t be having. Not for a second."

At the end of the day, they were just a bunch of small fry—at least, in the eyes of someone like Blake.

Figures of that stature usually had their own sense of decorum. As long as you didn’t go out of your way to provoke them, they wouldn’t stoop to your level to deal with you. So, as long as they minded their own business and steered clear of Blake, his resurrection had nothing to do with them.

"Yes, sir." The subordinate, finally seeming to grasp the stakes, was no longer stubborn. He gave his earnest assurance, "I’ll make sure everyone stays far, far away from the statues."

"Good. So the boy can be taught." Sabeck was gratified, but after a moment’s thought, he still felt a bit uneasy. "You know what, forget it. I happen to have a job that needs doing, so you all might as well come back and help me. Never mind the Void Technique Space for now. Just log off, come back, and we’ll get this done. Think of it as a chance to lie low for a bit."

His subordinate’s interest was piqued. He guessed, "A new target?"

"Mhm," Sabeck nodded. "A writer named Sean. You’ve probably heard of him."

"I have," the subordinate replied. "I’ll pass on the order right away."

"Good. Go on."

After hanging up, Sabeck took a puff from his cigar and blew a heart-shaped ring of smoke.

This was his philosophy for survival.

He couldn’t afford to mess with Blake. But a measly, shut-in writer? As if he couldn’t handle that.

Time to get it done.