Chapter 1123

Chapter 1101 The Fake Forge That Triggers the Wizarding World

One-year-old Probus was diligently learning to walk in his family’s courtyard.

A male elven nobleman, dressed in an exquisite silver-white suit, walked through the courtyard. He paused on the courtyard veranda, watching little Probus for a moment. Beside him was a servant in an even more impeccably tailored red suit and waistcoat, wearing spotless white gloves. The servant addressed the elven nobleman, “Grand Justice, what are you looking at? If you wish to see little Probus—your child—you may go and hold him.”

The Grand Justice of the Elven Capital shook his head.

“There’s no need. I have children at home, and my beloved wife. There are no children here, only an illegitimate child born out of wedlock. Come, I need to preside over the banquet tonight. It’s a grand banquet; all the dignitaries of the capital will be attending. My wife and my five children will be present. My eldest son became a level 15 warrior today, signing a contract with the Ancient Tree of War. He will receive the honor bestowed upon him by the Emperor.”

He looked at little Probus and shook his head again.

“A child born like this—definitely can’t be considered noble. Hurry up and settle this little matter.”

Little Probus watched the two men walk down the corridor and disappear from his sight. He pretended to be nonchalant, strolling slowly through the wildly growing weeds in the courtyard. Soon, he heard a man arguing with his mother coming from inside the house.

The two men stormed out of the house, not stopping at all as they passed Little Probus.

They quickly left.

At this moment, Locke’s form and Probus’s form simultaneously existed within this one body.

This led to a strange phenomenon: neither form could gain a clear advantage, causing the child to grow rapidly, like a completely new person, without his own memories or habits.

In the audience, many wizards were discussing this rare phenomenon; it was the first time they had ever witnessed such a thing.

A Sun Ring Wizard who studies soul science, and who is also the headmaster of the Ghost Dragon Academy, said, “Soul science is not well-developed in the Rain Swamp, but I can still say a few words. Although this situation is very rare, it does sometimes happen in nature. It is equivalent to two souls controlling one body at the same time, but there is still a slight difference. It is actually equivalent to two wizards creating a clone at the same time.”

“This clone possesses two distinct entities, which makes it appear like an independent person. Of course, it’s not truly independent. In short, this clone is still under the control of the two wizards, but I believe that if Probus strengthens his control over this clone, it could cause the clone to exhibit uncontrollable phenomena, potentially leading to paralysis, numbness, or other neurological abnormalities.”

His Moon Ring Wizard instructor at the academy, who was also a soul wizard, said, “In short, it’ll just become stupid.”

“Headmaster, don’t use too much jargon to make things harder for everyone to understand,”

the Sun Ring Headmaster coughed. “If Augustine had strengthened his control over that body, the clone would lean towards a normal person. But now it seems that the two wizards have roughly equal control, creating a clone that blends the traits of both, a special state of regeneration. In our soul studies, this phenomenon is called the ‘Dual Soul in One Piece’ phenomenon.”

“I just didn’t expect this to happen. Logically speaking, ordinary clone magic shouldn’t be able to achieve this level.”

Among the audience, many second-ring wizards were present, so a moon-ring wizard specializing in clone magic suddenly spoke up. “It’s indeed very difficult for this to happen. I estimate that none of the wizards here specialize in ritual magic; it’s a niche field. However, while reading some obscure literature, I did hear about a similar phenomenon: using an extremely powerful ritual magic to summon a person’s soul, and then using clone magic at that moment, one can achieve this dual-soul unity. Augustine’s level of ritual magic is not to be underestimated.”

The wizards in the audience listened attentively to their assessment and immediately understood.

Someone asked, “Could this be Augustine’s real purpose—to use this competition to bring down the avatar of Probus?”

Many wizards who knew a little about the matter secretly glanced at the Frost Witch. Although the Frost Witch wore a wizard’s mask, no one was stupid; some could guess her true identity.

The Frost Witch’s face was extremely grim, and she gripped the other armrest of her chair tightly.

How could this be?

The captain of the Star Ring Witch Hunter team began to panic, fearing that if things continued this way, she might actually reveal that important figure’s name.

She wanted to cause trouble again, but then she suddenly remembered the five Third Ring judges, one of whom was a Throne Wizard, and another Third Ring Witch sitting with the five judges who seemed to strongly support the competition. If she dared to cause trouble again, wouldn’t she be suppressed on the spot?

At this moment, the Star Ring Witch had no choice but to have her hired online army attack Locke Augustine in major newspapers and the Wizarding Council.

“It’s over. It’s over. If things continue like this, my dream of promotion will be ruined. If I offend that big shot, forget about promotion, I might lose everything, even what little I have now.”

“For my promotion, you all better step up your efforts and cancel this competition. “

The

Star Ring Witch gritted her teeth, no longer elegant.

At this time, the wizard audience wondered, “Other wizards are all fighting for resources. Now the Creation Lotus World is officially under medium to large-scale magical pressure. Why isn’t Locke Augustine fighting for resources? Instead, he created this clone.”

“Isn’t he fighting for resources?”

“How can he fake forging if there are no resources? Now that there are more resources, why doesn’t he seize them?”

They all looked at the expressions of the five three-ring wizard judges and the Six-Eyed Raven Witch, trying to guess Locke’s purpose through their attitudes.

At this moment, the six third-ring wizards sat on the judging panel, their expressions varied and silent, exchanging glances as if deep in thought.

Within the Creation Lotus World, ten years had passed. The war between the Elven Empire and the Rain Realm had intensified. The subjects of the Elven Empire called the people of the Rain Realm “Rain Demons,” while the people of the Rain Realm called the subjects   of the Elven Empire ” Spirit Slaves.”

Both sides had demonized the other. Meanwhile, academies and law schools were rising up within the Elven Empire’s territory.   Edgar, whom Probus seemed to regard as a legendary emperor, appeared to be based in the capital, constantly searching for designated locations to establish academies and law schools, sometimes even demolishing existing ones.   Little Probus was ten years old this   year. He stood before his mother, who appeared to be unwell; she was pale and thin. Over the past ten years, their living conditions had deteriorated. The emperor issued hundreds of reform decrees every year, but their debts grew heavier each day. As they sold off their possessions at an increasingly rapid pace, their living conditions worsened.   The mother held little Probus’s hand and said, “Little Probus, I feel a little better today. Can you sing me a song?”   Little Probus obediently began to sing.   The mother looked at little Probus with tender eyes, listening to the elven boy’s gentle singing. She gently stroked little Probus’s head with her palm, struggling to support herself on her elbows.   ”Little Probus, I—I’ve been so foolish all my life.”   ”You must be obedient.”   ”You must make something of yourself in the future, you know?”   Little Probus nodded quickly and said, “Mother, I will definitely—make—make—someone great in the future.”   His mother whispered, “Never mind, don’t worry about making something of yourself. Just be a good—good person.”   When he looked up again, he saw the elven woman, bleeding from all seven orifices, had already died.   *Thump!*   When little Probus let go of his mother, he saw her hand hit the wooden bed, and he took a half step back.   ”Mother—”   Three days later, at a hasty funeral, the priest presiding over the ceremony was praying for his mother, hoping her soul could return to the Sacred Tree and receive the Emperor’s protection.   Little Probus tugged at the priest’s sleeve and asked, “Father, you are the Emperor’s messenger, a branch of the Sacred Tree. I want to ask you, why did my mother die so tragically?”   The priest hesitated for a moment. “It’s alright, little Probus. From now on, you will go to the boarding school built by the Emperor.   There will be better people to take care of you there. As for your mother, she was just old and overworked. As for that black blood, that is original sin, the original sin of our race, a sin bestowed upon us by heaven.”   Little Probus felt a deep malice. He looked at the sky.   ”Father, doesn’t the sky represent the Emperor’s will? Does this mean the Emperor isn’t so benevolent? Otherwise, why would the Emperor punish us?”   ”Father, if my mother’s passing is so heartbreaking, so sleepless, so tormenting, is it because of my love for her? Does that mean if I hadn’t loved her in the first place, I wouldn’t be in so much pain?”   ”Father, why is this world so evil, casting such a deep and malevolent curse upon us?”   The priest was stumped. He hesitated, and then, a sudden clap of thunder sounded, followed by a light drizzle.   A large dark cloud appeared in the sky, and a torrential downpour began.   It was as if the heavens were raging, the Emperor was raging.   The rain fell upon them.   Fear gripped the priest’s heart; his pity for little Probus vanished. Then, fueled by fear and impatience, he erupted in fury, shoving away little Probus who was clutching his robes.   ”Get out of my way!”   ”You’re being naughty. Didn’t your mother tell you to be good? You have to be good, you know that! Okay, you’re probably spoiled. No one will spoil you anymore.” ”   You need to adapt well to boarding school life. If you don’t fit in, you’ll easily be bullied.”   Little Probus was pushed to the ground. He looked at the elf with eyes still full of confusion, grievance, and the pain of losing his mother.   His mother’s words echoed in his ears. Child, you must make something of yourself.   At this moment, in the Wizarding World, in the Wizarding Town of Despair Valley, the sky was overcast, and a storm raged. Wizards and spectators alike used magic to avoid the rain.   The wizards in the competition group also sprang into action, setting up magical arrays to shelter from the rain.   The wizard spectators whispered among themselves. “What’s going on? Is this a coincidence? Why is it raining during the Creation Lotus Puzzle, and now it’s raining in our Wizarding World too?”   ”It’s probably a coincidence. Sometimes these things just happen,” a weatherman said.   At this moment, a Moon Ring wizard, while checking data, exclaimed, “This is bizarre! It seems like the entire Rain Marshland is raining. This is very unusual. The Rain Marshland is the size of a large world; how can a single world experience rain all at once?”   Thomas, the wizard from the competition group, realized something. He used his access to manipulate the illusion screen and check the weather within the Creation Lotus world, discovering that the entire world was raining.   A group of Second Ring wizards were discussing what was happening.   A few Moon Ring wizards who knew some of the details stared in disbelief.   Some Sun Ring wizards remained silent.

Over at the judges’ seats, the academy headmaster of Faust Academy also checked the data and discovered that torrential rain was falling simultaneously in the Rain Marshland and the Creation Lotus World.

“This shouldn’t be some kind of coincidence. What do you think? All forging in this world varies in size and quality, and some exceptionally good fake forgings do indeed trigger a natural response from heaven and earth.” “

After all, that level of fake forging is of great benefit to the world, and also to a civilization. It can even improve the academic level and future potential of those around them.” “

What exactly did that kid Locke Augustine do?”

“What level of fake forging is he trying to forge?”

Dean Gray said, “That doesn’t make sense. If he could forge this level of fake forging on his first attempt, then he should have a lot of ancestral blessings.” “

But I don’t see much ancestral blessing in that kid.”

“Besides, his current accumulation doesn’t seem enough. Could this be a fake forging by the wizard Probus? Isn’t the Garden of Evolution still usable? And it’s already been verified by the Maupassant family that the Garden of Evolution is constantly being forged. Perhaps it was the wizard Probus’s fake forging that attracted the world’s anomalies.”

Dean John nodded and said, “If it’s Probus’s great magic that he’s been forging for sixty years, then there’s a good chance of that.”

“But isn’t that amazing? His reputation isn’t exactly stellar. If he can forge this level of fake forging, then—his name will be etched in the history of the wizarding world, his name will be recorded in the annals. Ordinary fake forging requires a slow, painstaking process to reach true forging, a near-certain death.”

“Even wizards who have been reborn multiple times and have successfully forged true forging will fail during the process, but with this level of fake forging, the probability of success is almost certain.” “It

‘s at least much higher than ordinary fake forging, and once true forging is successful, the probability of becoming a third-ring wizard is much higher. I’ve checked the relevant data; a wizard who succeeds with their highest-level fake forging has a close 70% chance of reaching the Sun Ring.

“

Dean John hesitated. “But such fake forging hasn’t happened in a long time. Could it be happening in this competition?”

The headmaster of the Creeper Garden said, “I’m more inclined to think it’s Probus. Because he defeated the Moon Ring Wizard and killed many Star Ring Wizards. He might indeed possess some extraordinary quality. If he can really forge the highest level of fake forging, then this matter will become truly interesting and complicated.”

The wizard turned to look at the Frost Witch in the audience seats.

“Of course, I slowed down Macedonia’s pseudo-forging process precisely to pursue the highest level of pseudo-forging. If it were her, I believe there’s a slight chance she could achieve it. That’s why, even though she could become a Moon Ring Wizard immediately, I held her back for ten years. It was to allow her to reach a higher potential.”

“I’m more inclined to believe that Probus possesses this talent,”

said Lady Six-Eyed Raven. “That explains why Locke didn’t seize the resources but instead spent his attention and time summoning Probus’s reincarnation.” “

Because he likely knew that Probus Wizard’s pseudo-forging level was extremely high. But there are also things that don’t make sense—”

Lady Six-Eyed Raven looked at the torrential rain. The rain was expressing sorrow, but not resistance to the pseudo-forging itself; rather, it was sorrow that the pseudo-forging had been delayed in its creation.

Heaven and earth awaited the day this pseudo-forging would be completed, yet they also grieved for its arduous journey. Heaven sensed the immense difficulty of its creation, knowing it would leave the creator scarred and wounded—not because the creator had committed any heinous act, but simply because they could endure it.

Heaven and earth grieved even more for the inevitable calamity that had to befall this pseudo-forging.

Heaven and earth resonated, grieving and weeping together.

The highest-level pseudo-forging—

Lady Six-Eyed Raven—looked at Wizard Edgar, “Edgar, speaking of which, do you also possess the potential to pseudo-forge such a powerful spell?”

“Probus could, and you should be able to too. Use this competition to practice.”

Many wizards present suddenly felt a pang of sorrow.

The witch Catherine said, “This is indeed the very beginning of the highest-level pseudo-forging. The evidence is this interaction between heaven and earth, and the weeping of celestial beings. According to historical records, this phenomenon always occurs in the early stages of anyone attempting the highest-level pseudo-forging. However, it is indeed only the very beginning of the beginning, because it hasn’t yet reached the stage of triggering universal wrath.”

“Once this level of pseudo-forging succeeds, it will lead more beings into the apprenticeship stage, even into the first ring. The number of wizards born among mortals will also increase accordingly. Some beings, unwilling to escape their predicament and deeply wicked, are unwilling to improve their substance; they want to reduce their substance. Therefore, they harbor resentment and will inevitably attack the wizard who forged this level of pseudo-forging. Of course, it hasn’t reached that point yet.” “

This proves that this pseudo-forging is still just a phantom. It’s not yet real.”

“Besides, there will likely be a lot of questions. Because questioning allows the creator of this fake forge to improve their wisdom through debate once the creator responds. In other words, attempting to create a fake forge of this level inevitably puts one in danger and difficulty; the future is certainly uncertain and fraught with doubt. Conversely, if it weren’t for this, it couldn’t be considered the highest level of fake forge.” “

As for whether it’s Probus or my student creating this fake forge, we don’t know yet; we can only wait and see how things develop. But none of that matters, does it? This is a great era. Don’t your students also want to create the highest level of fake forge? Macedonia and Edgar, even Ramses and Patrick, who doesn’t want it?”

The Faustian wizard laughed, “Wanting and being able to do are two different things. Let’s forget about Patrick.”

“Look at Macedonia.”

Within the world of the Primordial Lotus, the Macedonian witch once again dispatched her saintly avatar. She seemed intent on returning to the Tree of Perfection to kill Edgar, who, already severely wounded, could only fight the Macedonian witch once more.

The power of the Heavenly Cabbage and Edgar’s Tree of Life intertwined.

The sky was filled with lightning and the power of nothingness.

The Macedonian witch looked at Edgar and said, “Your elven empire has hindered my efforts to unravel the dimensional principles of the earth, sky, and sea. I also desire the dimensional principles of the underworld, but your roots have connected across the earth, creating an obstacle that prevents me from entering. Edgar, I must eliminate you. Your existence has impacted my plan for the unification of the three realms. Your empire’s resource utilization is too low; the native inhabitants are not the strongest, and your treant army is your only reliance. Even if you were to obtain all the resources, you still wouldn’t be able to solve the creation problem.”

Edgar said, “I don’t think so.”

A celestial river appeared above the Macedonian witch’s head, with countless cabbages floating in it. These cabbages absorbed moisture, condensed life force, and transformed into spiritual energy. Then, the cabbage energy gathered together, transforming into a bolt of lightning that shot out from the celestial river, striking Edgar directly.

The perfect treant raised its massive arm, shielding Edgar’s head. With a flash of sparks, the treant’s massive branch arm was severed.

Edgar immediately observed the Macedonian witch’s spell model.

“That’s not just spiritual lightning drawn from the gathering of life force, but also offensive lightning that attacks my life force, gathered together to survive. In short, did I incur divine punishment? Ten years have passed, and this Macedonian guy’s ultimate magic has become increasingly powerful, as if he has gained new abilities through spiritual energy studies. In comparison, Locke’s ultimate magic is lifeless. However, now that all the resources have been divided up, it seems too late for him to make a move. What is he thinking?”

The Macedonian witch watched Locke while fighting Edgar. “I have divided up everything in this world. He should have no chance to obtain resources for forging. How can he forge?”

“Edgar, I will destroy you, and then I will solve the problems of this world.”

The Macedonian witch controlled the Heavenly Cabbage, and a bolt of lightning struck, instantly severing another branch of the Perfect Tree. The broken branch fell and collapsed a large part of the capital.

Edgar was immediately enraged. “You really want me dead?”

Edgar’s perfect treant unleashed a series of life-piercing strikes towards the flowing celestial river. The wooden stakes that fell into the river grew continuously, eventually forming a dam to block the river’s flow and disrupt its cycle.

“Your ultimate magic seems to be based on the water cycle, but to me, it’s also a cycle of spiritual energy. My life-piercing strikes can suppress your ultimate magic.”

Meanwhile, in the capital, young Probus sat in a classroom at a boarding school. He was extremely impatient with his teacher’s self-indulgent narration of the empire’s great history and how to properly treat family. Looking at the rambling old teacher, young Probus suddenly pondered a rather comical question: “Are all the students here orphans like him?” Why was this teacher lecturing so much about listening to parents? Was it because it was textbook material, or was he trying to teach his own children this way when they grew up and started their own families?

Young Probus yawned.

Fortunately, the teachers here are like great theatrical actors, performing their roles perfectly according to certain stereotypes in the classroom. The students are equally talented actors, playing the role of good students. However, the teachers don’t really care whether the students are paying attention; they only care whether they follow the rules. The rules

are strict, but they don’t care whether you’re listening or not. So, little Probus, watching the deafening lightning in the sky, didn’t interrupt him.

The empire seemed to be getting increasingly chaotic. Monsters, said to be insect demons, kept appearing on the border, and rain demons were also causing trouble.

Moreover, people’s lives were getting worse and worse.

Little Probus could sense that the society he lived in when he was five was a much better world than the society he lived in when he was ten. Back then, he lived in a decent house, and his mother was always by his side.

Thinking of this, little Probus’s eyes reddened. He heard his deskmate suddenly cough, and he saw that his deskmate was coughing up black blood, which splattered on the table, containing wriggling red worms.

Little Probus jumped to his feet in fright, and the teachers panicked.

Then, a second person in the classroom began vomiting blood.

Ten days later, Little Probus was told he had been expelled from the capital—a figure he himself had come up with; the official explanation was to isolate a parasitic infection.

In short, a parasitic infection had appeared in the capital, likely contracted through food or water.

Dozens of students in Little Probus’s school had contracted the parasite, so they were expelled from the capital and sent to a large city.

Of course, they were no longer allowed education, so they were given a place to earn a living and some skills training to support themselves.

Little Probus sat on the oxcart carrying them all, watching the capital recede into the distance, feeling no regret whatsoever.

No one in the capital knew him anymore, no one cared about him; the city held no importance for him.

Three days later, inside the workshop, they had clearly been sold into slavery. The so-called skills training was nonexistent; in other words, their vocational education consisted of working in the workshop.

Little Probus, remembering his mother’s constant admonitions to be obedient—to listen to the school, to listen to the workshop owner—worked tirelessly day and night in the workshop.

Each time the owner passed by, he would praise his hard work.

One day, he developed a fever, and the owner had him taken that very night to a stranger on the other side of the city. Little Probus knew he had been abandoned once again.

After leaving his mother, his life deteriorated day by day.

Little Probus remembered his mother’s daily admonitions; he had to be obedient. He dragged his heavy steps behind the shifty-eyed elf, who nudged his shoulder and said in a lewd tone, “Boy, have you ever stolen anything? I bought you with my own money. Now I’m going to teach you some skills to survive. You should thank me.” Little Probus

felt a burning shame from head to toe.

How long ago was it that his mother told him to be a good person, to stay away from stealing, and to live on his own? Had he really fallen so low that he had to become a thief to survive?

Great Emperor, where are you?

Little Probus felt his face burning hot, and he fainted to the ground.

He felt he was doomed.

Treatment was expensive, and he had just been dumped by the workshop owner on a man he had just met, a man without a proper livelihood. He was finished.

Then, Little Probus woke up in a dark room. The word “trash” immediately came to his mind; he had probably been thrown into some room like “trash.”

“Don’t move,”

the lewd-looking man said to him. “You have a high fever. Damn it, I’ve been ripped off. It’s my bad luck, but I can’t bring myself to be like those slave owners in the capital, just letting you die.”

The man walked aside and spoke with a doctor in white.

The man cursed and swore, but he had clearly managed to get some money off the doctor, though the process was obviously unfriendly. Little Probus watched as the lewd man grabbed the doctor by the collar, lifted him up, and threw him against the wall.

Little Probus saw the man approach and laughed.

The man looked at him strangely. “Aren’t you delirious from the fever? You should have seen me hit people, default on medical bills, and even make you steal. I even bought someone your age. If I were so evil, shouldn’t you have cursed at me or yelled at me?”

Little Probus said weakly. “I don’t know why, but I feel like you’re a good person.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Why? This is the first time I’ve heard someone describe me like that.”

Little Probus shook his head weakly. “It’s just a feeling.”

“Oh, you took me to see a doctor. You really are a good person.”

The man sat down in front of him and said, “My name is Yavin. I’ve never heard of a good person who commits arson, theft, robbery, and all sorts of evil.”

“You call me a good person? I feel ashamed myself. Child, you’ve fallen to this state. Looking at your skin, you seem to come from a good family. But I’m sorry. From today onwards, you need to learn to adapt to this world.”

Little Probus nodded weakly.

A year later, Little Probus lived with Yavin and a large group of child pickpockets. He gradually adapted to life there and learned to use his age and his big, bright eyes to feign pitifulness, and when others pitied him, he would quietly steal their wallets.

Sometimes, Little Probus would look at the unclaimed corpses of homeless people on the street and wonder why he had fallen to this point, and think, “This is the lowest rung of society.”

One day, Little Probus knocked on Arvin’s door. Arvin was startled and quickly put all the money he had into a bundle, stuffing it under his bedsheet. Then he glared angrily at Little Probus.

“What are you doing?”

Little Probus asked, somewhat frightened. “Mr. Arvin, I don’t think we can go on like this. There are more and more inspectors on the streets now. And the more money we have, the more attention we attract. We don’t get legal protection doing what we do. Nobody respects us; everyone will try to take a bite out of us. People will think we get money easily and then they’ll demand it from us. They get no respect; we’re the most vulnerable people in the world.”

Arvin the elf nodded. “What do you want to say?”

Little Probus asked. “We have money. Let’s use this money to make a decent living, open a pancake shop, and we can clean up our identities.”

Yavin looked at Little Probus and said, “Do you know you’re only eleven years old?”

“Okay. We’ll open a pancake shop.”

Little Probus’s eyes were full of hope.

“Mr. Yavin, thank you.”

A month later, Yavin and he opened a pancake shop together.

Business was good.

Yavin became very happy; Little Probus had never experienced anything like it before. But six months later, a new judge was appointed, and suddenly one day Yavin’s pancake shop was shut down.

An elven landlord, his eyes gleaming, pointed at Arvin and told the inspectors, “This is the man. Those kids are their pickpockets. They’ve taken over my shop. I told them long ago I wouldn’t rent it anymore, but they still insisted on occupying it.”

A greedy glint flashed in the landlord’s eyes. The shop’s business was unexpectedly good because of its honest ingredients and hardworking employees; he had long wanted to take it over for himself, but had been refused many times.

Fortunately, one day he unexpectedly learned of Arvin’s past identity. It

was truly a stroke of luck.

Soon, Arvin was taken away by the inspectors, while little Probus, being under 12—the age of adulthood for elves—was released.

The other children, being over 12, were also arrested.

Before leaving, Arvin, escorted by the inspectors, looked sadly at little Probus.

“Probus, you are very clever. It’s not your fault, you’re right. I used to be a thief, I did many bad things, so when I wanted to be good, I had to accept my punishment.”

“Little Probus, I have never seen such a clever person.”

“Many of your words have been enlightening to me. You are very clever. You shouldn’t be wandering the streets like us. Little Probus, go find a good job, you must be an honest person.”

“Don’t follow my example. I am grateful when you tell me to be an honest person. Thank you. You are the first elf child to tell me to be an honest person.”

“Probus, believe in yourself.”

Probus said to Arvin, “Mr. Arvin, you are indeed a good person.”

The inspectors took the Arvin elf away.

Little Probus walked the streets, he was penniless again, wandering around, he was alone again.

He was unattended again.

His mother told him to be obedient, and Mr. Arvin told him to believe in himself.

“Mr. Arvin is a good man, but this world forces him to harm others. It’s unfair. Why is this world so unfair? Why did God have to make my mother die in her thirties?”

Probus walked down the street, brushing past someone.

The elf wearing a straw hat suddenly turned to look at him, and the Leaf of Power he wore on his chest suddenly became incredibly hot.

“That child.”

“Wait, don’t worry about him for now. This city may have been completely contaminated by the swarm’s parasite eggs. It must have been through some kind of food that doesn’t need to be cooked often—”

At this moment, Probus walked through the city and suddenly saw that everyone in the city was vomiting blood.

Their blood contained the same kind of parasite eggs he had seen in the blood of his classmate a year ago.

The entire city, all the elves, were infected with that special parasite.

But what young Probus didn’t know was that it wasn’t just this city; one-tenth of the empire’s five hundred million elves had now developed this disease.

This was the swarm’s third attempt to target the Elven Empire and the Star Ring Wizards’ power system.

Little Probus hurriedly ran back in the direction he had come from, for he suddenly remembered Mr. Arvin—

what if Mr. Arvin was also infected?

Why?

Misfortune and injustice always seemed destined to befall him; what way could he possibly stop this downward spiral?

He refused!

Little Probus’s eyes were bloodshot; extreme anger made him feel as if he were running a fever again.

He ran back, only to find Mr. Arvin, who should have collapsed and died, leaning against the wall, panting and giving him a thumbs-up, while the elven inspectors had not escaped this fate.

At that moment, a sentence echoed in the ears of all the elves—it was Edgar’s voice. “

The whole world is guilty, but the guilt lies with me alone. Why should my sins implicate the entire empire?”

At this moment, Edgar, beneath the Tree of Perfection, used a spell he had constructed using a model of four star rings.

“I’ve finally confirmed it. My Unforged Empire, lacking both the theoretical system of illusory forging and the constancy of pseudo-forging, was infiltrated by a group of people while it was learning from others. This was a group of people who couldn’t be chosen.

It’s not that my Great Magic Construction has a problem; it’s that the Unforged Empire itself has this problem.”

“But have I truly been without fault in choosing the Unforged Empire? I must resolve this issue.”

Edgar’s eyes were resolute.

“I must protect the Empire to resolve this. I cannot evade it. I must confront this problem head-on. Let all the sins of the world fall upon me alone. All sins into one.”

He modified the model of the ultimate magic spell, directly transferring all parasites, pain, and disease to him through spiritual energy.

The Mother of Insects, hiding somewhere, never expected Edgar to use this move to dispel its carefully prepared killing blow.

Edgar’s consciousness slowly drifted into slumber.

In this way, I will inevitably fall into slumber. But it doesn’t matter, I feel Locke’s magical pressure entering my ultimate magic system. Locke, I, like you, watched these elves live within my ultimate magic system, and I suddenly realized that they are not my tools, this world is also a real world.

They inherit my path, learn my magic, use my framework, I can no longer regard them as numbers. I know that those beings who cannot be chosen have a great problem; I have spent eleven years unable to find them. This is the flaw of the Unforged Empire, and a subject I will study in the future. But we must first overcome this crisis. Locke, only by falling into slumber will some of the demons and monsters attracted by my ultimate magic manifest. In any case, I have no other way. But I firmly believe that the Return of All Things to the Tree can solve the creation problem. Now that you have entered my ultimate magic, perhaps you agree that everything depends on you.

At this moment, I hope you have found a way to fake forging.

“Be careful of Macedonia—she will take advantage of the situation—

S”