Sorcerer’s Handbook

“So, the Gospel was warning me to stay away from Ashe from the very beginning.”

Igor retreated behind the wall of legendary sorcerers. Hearing Annan’s murmurs as she reloaded her clip, he frowned and asked, “How did it warn you?”

“Do you remember my reward from the Art Ranking?”

The shy Second Miss Donna blushed, modestly firing metal bullets that skimmed past the shoulders of the legendary sorcerers like a spring breeze, creating ripples on the Sanctuary barrier of her pursuers.

Annan’s voice mingled with the roaring sound of gunfire, as if she had suddenly realized the correct solution after an exam ended: “One was ‘Calamity Insight,’ and the other was ‘Tongue of Release.’”

“You never seemed to use those rewards much,” Igor remarked as he opened the Gospel Book, rapidly restoring his spellforce using Gospel points. To drive the three wings spirit, he used both silver spellforce and golden spellforce as fuel. However, this desperate gamble only sped up the depletion of his spellforce, making him dizzy and weakening his soul to the point where he longed for a comforting embrace-an absurdly vulnerable thought.

“‘Calamity Insight’ can identify calamities on others, and ‘Tongue of Release’ can terminate any Pact verbally if both parties agree,” Annan explained cheerfully. “Together with my first-place Art Ranking piece, the Gospel’s suggestion was quite clear: this person is trouble, cut ties and leave him.”

“It’s quite obvious indeed. How did you miss that?”

“I didn’t miss it,” Annan replied. “I just didn’t accept the Gospel’s advice. My favorite thing to do is go against the Gospel.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Igor mocked. “In our Blood Moon, dreamers as determined as you would be put on the emergency list and might even get a special session of the Blood Moon Tribunal just for them.”

“However, in this regard, the Gospel is truly more advanced than the Blood Moon. It sent ten Sanctuaries after us, a spectacle that compares to the Blood Moon Tribunal without losing any grandeur.”

Bang!

As they conversed, a bullet blasted Alice’s head apart. An eerie green flame ignited from her severed neck, coalescing into Harvey’s face.

Though this body is frostfire, it still yearns for the moment of complete combustion.

Bones, nerves, muscles, skin… Like a seamstress improvising, Alice was restored in an instant. Her skin was flawless, her eyes sparkled with vitality, her lips were plump and moist, and her hair was silky and vibrant!

But everyone at the Funeral knew the heavy price hidden beneath this beauty: Harvey was using his own living body to repair Alice’s corpse!

He was extracting his own bones, marrow, muscles, nerves, skin, and blood to fill Alice’s void! Although a necromancer certainly has ways to restore his own losses, this was happening in the midst of battle. If Harvey overused “himself,” he would end up relying on Alice to sustain him.

After all, the idea of using a living person to repair the dead was inherently abnormal, grotesque, and terrifying. A normal person wouldn’t have such a thought, just like you wouldn’t feed a doll with your own blood. Sacrifices should be made for something more important.

Just like the pale bones growing from Alice, they could deeply and directly feel Harvey’s thoughts-isn’t that Alice is more valuable than he is. He simply believed that the world itself had no value.

As for the potential self-destruction… it’s like telling someone who lives on instant noodles to pay attention to nutrition, but if they’re already eating instant noodles, why would they care about nutrition?

With a push of her right hand, Alice sent the shadows in the Underground Hall sweeping like a torrent. Silently, Harvey had unlocked the fourth troop type of the Ghost King Shackles-‘Shadow Spirit.’ Even without a related spirit, he could directly manipulate shadow powers to bind the enemy’s shadow and even materialize it to engulf them!

This was the real terror of the first prize from the Family Ranking, the Ghost King Shackles-it allowed a necromancer to ignore the barriers of the Spellcasting Sect, mastering other sects’ powers by converting necromancer troops, all without needing to gather supporting spirits, achieving miraculous effects. It was the pauper’s version of an All Sects sorcerer!

In the Underground Hall, other than the throne, everywhere was dimly dark, filled with shadows Alice could exploit. Moreover, most miracles can’t defend against shadows, making Harvey’s offensive power at this moment unrivaled within the Funeral.

But this geographical advantage meant nothing in the face of absolute power.

The dense gunfire and blinding white flames from the Sanctuary Sorcerers instantly annihilated the torrent of shadows. Even the simplest of attacks, augmented by their spatial sanctuary, possessed miraculous destructive power.

As they retaliated, Alice dove into the shadows to avoid the counterattack. Simultaneously, on the other side, gunshots rang out. A handsome blue-haired youth darted and leaped among the legendary sorcerers, his dual pistols singing like a music box. Even if the frost bullets couldn’t penetrate the Sanctuaries, the blooming white mist obscured their vision.

Banjeet’s self-created Miracle, and his exclusive Miracle-Melt!

The older he appeared, the more frost spellforce he could harness, elevating his combat power to the level of the three wings!

Igor suddenly glanced at a swordsman Sanctuary Sorcerer who was drawing his blade, and then that swordsman slashed towards Annan from a distance. But the Sanctuary behind the swordsman unexpectedly shattered, as though he had killed himself!

“Instantly redirecting a Sanctuary Sorcerer’s attack… That’s a three-wing Mental spirit,” Annan exclaimed. “You’ve only visited the Distant Sky Domain once, and you managed to gain something like this?”

“I was fortunate to receive help from a swordsman and had a fruitful Adventure,” Igor, weak and leaning against the wall, replied. “I didn’t expect there to be kind people among sorcerers.”

“Getting help on your first trip to the Distant Sky Domain? You really are lucky.”

“I didn’t get that help for free. He asked me for advice on how to mend his relationship with his estranged brother, and I provided quite a few useful suggestions,” Igor explained. “And if I were actually lucky, I wouldn’t be down here accompanying you on this descent into hell.”

It might seem like the Funeral party was barely able to resist the attacks from the Sanctuary Sorcerers, but that was because they were using hostages-the sitting, unresponsive legendary sorcerers-as shields.

The legendary sorcerers appeared almost completely unresponsive to the outside world, but everyone could tell they had a close tie to a deity, a connection that was practically transparent-they were the energy vessels for the deity.

Previously, everyone believed that the Gospel was a system directly operated by the Omniscient Weaver. However, upon witnessing the scene in the Underground Hall, the members of Funeral realized that the Gospel Kingdom never relied on some Divine Sovereign Emperor; it was all a Divine Intervention crafted by the laboring masses.

The Gospel, this grand Divine Intervention that enveloped the entire Kingdom and extended to everyone, a cornerstone of civilization, was the collective achievement of all the legendary sorcerers who had served as its fuel throughout the ages! It was through their relentless self-sacrifice, day and night, that the deities could function, allowing the Gospel to traverse the land and illuminate all beings!

As to whether these legendary sorcerers were coerced or brainwashed, there were various speculations, but Igor believed they were voluntary participants.

For these legendary sorcerers, who stood at the pinnacle of mortals, delving into divine knowledge and constructing the celestial ladder of Angels might be the only temptation that could fill the void in their hearts.

To increase what they desire, to gift what they need, this was a win-win exchange. The deities could operate thanks to their contributions, and they, in turn, could glimpse higher realms because of the deities. However, even as energy vessels, they bore immense risks-the deities were so vast that being in close proximity to them meant their wills would inevitably be assimilated and dissolved.

In Igor’s eyes, regardless of their different appearances and ages, there was no distinct ‘individuality’ left in the minds of these legendary sorcerers; only one voice remained: Gospel.

Incidentally, the Sanctuary Sorcerers currently fighting Funeral exhibited similar signs of ‘noise reduction’-their emotional fluctuations were pitifully low, like once-varied stones gradually sculpted into identical artworks. When they eventually become legendary sorcerers, they too were destined to become the next generation of energy vessels.

However, to say they were deceived by the Gospel would be underestimating the sorcerers. Not to mention the assistance they obtained from the Gospel, without which most of them would have no hope of advancing to the legendary level.

Moreover, they had the choice not to come to Nabistin. They likely guessed the truth behind the Gospel, but having come this far, they must bear the consequences of their choices.

At this moment, Igor suddenly recalled Annan’s words: “All the choices you make are paths arranged by the Gospel, and you don’t even realize it… Only those who can choose are considered human; those who blindly follow are nothing more than insects.”

The Con Artist shook his head and turned his gaze back to the battlefield in the Underground Hall.

Regardless, it was precisely because of these legendary sorcerers serving as energy bars that Funeral had been able to hold out until now. The Sanctuary Sorcerers didn’t dare attack the legendary sorcerers, not because they were fragile – in fact, if Annan and her group could have threatened the legendary sorcerers, they would have done so long ago – but the Sanctuaries seemed more unwilling to ‘disturb’ those diligently working legends.

Annan and her group could only use the legendary sorcerers to build a defensive line, unable to further leverage these strategic weapons. Each legendary sorcerer was encased in a Sanctuary layer bound tightly to their bodies; unless the legendary sorcerer’s spellforce was completely exhausted, there was no way to reach their originals.

But they could only go this far.

The Sanctuary Sorcerers blocked the only passage, and the ten Sanctuary Sorcerers were in no hurry, slowly wasting their time away. Banjeet’s Melt had a time limit, Harvey’s “Frostfire” couldn’t be sustained at full force for long, Igor’s spellforce was depleted again after using a three-wing spirit, and Annan herself had the combat power of only a two wings – impressive for her age, actually. If not for the Rainbow Tail Feather, neither Igor nor Harvey could have matched Annan in combat strength!

Their injuries were mounting, and defeat was only a matter of time.

“Come to think of it,” Igor said, “their target is just Annan, right?”

“Correct,” Annan replied calmly. “So you all will die protecting me.”

“If it were Ashe, he wouldn’t be dragging us down.”

“Yes, that’s why I like him,” Annan said. “But if it were Ashe, you wouldn’t abandon him either.”

“Banjeet-“

“If you can persuade Banjeet to live alone, I’ll let you all go,” the Purple Moth laughed. “With only me and Banjeet in hell, it would be a bit lonely. And if it were you, knowing you’re about to die, would you drag others into hell to prolong your life for a little while, or would you choose to die decisively?”

The Con Artist suddenly asked, “What if Ashe were here?”

“I’d choose whatever you’d choose,” Annan retorted.

Igor sighed helplessly and stood up with great effort. “One last question before I die-if you could go back and do it all over again, would you heed the Gospel’s warning?”

“When the surrounding world is an abyss of darkness, how could a moth not fly towards the flame?” Annan said while reloading her magazine. “However, I would at least use the Tongue of Release to spare him some of the pain in advance.”

“That way, he wouldn’t need to face-“

-Separation.

Ashe extended his arms but only managed to hold half of Lise.

A Sanctuary sniper bullet had torn her small body in half.

His heart, too, was ripped apart.

Split into two.

Lise was blown away by the wind. She reached through the Rain Curtain as if she were playfully asking Ashe for a hug.

Ashe abandoned his sword, ignoring the attacks from all directions. His arm stretched almost out of its socket, as if this hand existed solely to prevent her from leaving.

Separation.

Don’t leave.

Don’t leave me.

Hydrotherapy, Rekindle, Reforge, Single-minded Devotion: Joy Sword, Mechanization, Super Regeneration, Centenary Tree Man, Clay Figurine… Dozens of different healing Miracles from various Sects flashed through Ashe’s mind. Each one capable of healing her grievous wounds, each one capable of preserving Lise’s life. In Shattered Lake Prison, he had suffered far worse injuries. As long as treatment was timely, his skin would even heal better than before.

This was a world filled with Miracles. There was always time. The very essence of a Miracle was to remedy regret!

His gaze followed his hand through the Rain Curtain. He saw Lise’s lips move, seemingly whispering, “Don’t be afraid.”

Then he saw the space around Lise collapsing, as though a Whirlpool had formed.

Lise was sucked in.

His hand grasped at nothing. The exaggerated motion caused him to be thrown off his Crow’s Non-Aerial Motorcycle. The motorcycle flew into the final destination, crashing into the hovercar park connecting to Azure Lane, colliding with other hovercars. Ashe remained on the bridge, flung back into the deity’s city, forever halted just before the finish line.

The cold, rain-soaked ground held only 1.5 family members.

Spatial teleportation.

He recognized it.

While Sanctuary Sorcerers could excel at creating spatial domains, performing temporary spatial teleportation of living beings was challenging. It often required other spirit aids, like the cold glint of the Sanctuary spear, or was limited to inanimate objects, such as bullets.

Without a designated target, living beings might be torn apart by spatial turbulence or transported to unpredictable locations-maybe hundreds of meters in the air or soil layers underground.

Spatial teleportation felt more terrifying than being inside a spinning washing machine. Lise would surely find it distressing enough to cry.

For some reason, this inappropriate thought crossed Ashe’s mind.

Struggling to rise, he found Sanctuary Sorcerers silently surrounding him. The half-crippled body on the ground was drenched in rain, looking like a cotton-stuffed doll. A spear handle poked it, scattering the cotton and breaking the doll apart.

“Do not fear; the noise has been silenced,” a Sanctuary Sorcerer said. “It’s time to welcome Ashpel back to the palace.”

“Not afraid.”

Ashe whispered through the rain, “There’s nothing left to fear.”

Suddenly, he slashed at the neck of the Spear Sanctuary, grabbing the spear with his left hand. A Substitute appeared overhead, delivering a powerful kick. Simultaneous rapid attacks from three directions forced the Spear Sanctuary to erect a barrier, which Ashe’s hand knife sliced through, even rupturing his throat with boiling rage!

Fist-Claw Sect.

Rage Sword.

As the Spear Sanctuary retreated for treatment, clutching his neck, others attacked without hesitation. Ashe seized the wrist of the Swordsmanship Sanctuary, using his long sword to sever the earthen mound binding Ashe’s legs. Then, he activated the “sword body barrier” to block several bullets and close combat attacks. As the barrier shattered, he successfully seized a sword, tracing an ink mark through space.

Swordsmanship Sect.

Heart Pen.

Sword body barrier.

The Fist-Claw Sanctuary attacking Ashe suddenly froze for a second, allowing Ashe to deftly maneuver him into the Gunmanship Sanctuary’s line of fire. Six bullets found their mark, fulfilling their potential by embedding in a Sanctuary Sorcerer.

Time Sect.

Second Seizer Spirit.

Ashe’s sword struck the core of the Waterfall Miracle, causing the cascading water to scatter like bullets, disrupting the Sanctuary Sorcerers’ attack formation completely. He redirected the path of the destructive light, obliterating the vine chains that sought to imprison him.

Water Sect.

Light Sect.

After a fierce and electrifying battle, Ashe turned to see the Sanctuary Sorcerers still densely blocking his way. They seemed more numerous than the rain itself, completely obscuring Ashe’s sky.

The streetlamp’s glow was no longer warm, and the drenched ground bore mocking laser-guided texts: [<<< Restroom, Mink Street], [Royal Palace, Central Avenue ↑↑↑], [Nabistin Spirit Museum, Platinum Avenue >>>].

“It’s okay, I’m not afraid at all,” he said.

After he let go of his mental defenses to embrace Ashpel’s presence within him, he finally regained the strength to challenge fate. Yet, the only thing truly his own was rapidly deteriorating.

Within that core lay his past, his self, Sword Princess, Lise, Igor, Annan… Ashpel would extract all the noise, leaving a pristine, six-star shell behind.

If I can protect you, then I will forget you.

If I can hold you, then I will lose you.

Annan, Igor, Harvey, Banjeet-are you also locked in desperate battles? Are you complaining? Are you afraid?

Don’t be afraid.

I’m coming.

The night rain died, the air died, and Ashe was about to die too.

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