In the days that followed, the gathered wizards settled into the tower palace that housed an entire plane.

More precisely, they mostly remained in the grand hall where they had first assembled.

The hall’s space was extraordinarily vast, with a vaulted ceiling over a hundred meters high, easily accommodating thousands without feeling crowded.

Daily necessities for food and drink were provided by the well-trained servant races under Grand-Mentor Anton Buchanan.

For Jie Ming, aside from being unable to conduct complex experiments requiring specific large-scale instruments, his routine differed little from his usual seclusion in the laboratory—merely shifting his research spot from a private lab to a corner of this public hall.

He remained immersed in the ocean of knowledge, cradling knowledge crystals and sinking his mind into them, deaf to the clamor around him.

It wasn’t just Jie Ming; none of the wizards present, regardless of generation, were the type to idle away time.

This rare grand gathering of the lineage became an ideal platform for exchange and discussion.

The second-generation wizards sought out familiar senior and junior brothers, engaging in hushed conversations or heated debates, all revolving around profound law theories and cutting-edge alchemy and rune techniques.

When inspiration struck, some even pulled out portable experimental devices and conducted verifications right on the hall’s open floor, unconcerned by the minor elemental tides or spatial distortions they triggered—the high-level wizards present could smooth them out effortlessly.

Even the supreme Wizard Noren frequently discussed various knowledge and technical issues with the seventh-level disciples beside him.

At times, he would descend from the main seat to mingle among the second- or even third-generation disciples, offering guidance on promising ideas or difficult problems, leaving the recipients exhilarated.

Unknowingly, the place had transformed into an academic symposium.

Under this rich atmosphere of research and exchange, the younger wizards of the third and even fourth generations began to compete earnestly.

At first, it was merely showing off newly developed witchcraft models or debating optimal solutions for certain theoretical points.

But it soon evolved into various forms of “friendly” contests—from delicate control of mental force, to instantaneous construction speed of miniature runes, to adaptation and utilization of specific energy environments… The variety was endless.

The high-level wizards welcomed this, showing no intent to intervene.

Instead, they occasionally offered commentary or subtly added pressure, fanning the flames.

For them, healthy competition among the juniors was a vital source of vitality for the school.

As time passed, through these open and subtle contests, a generally recognized strength ranking emerged among the youngest two generations.

Everyone had a clear idea of who had the most condensed mental force, the highest knowledge level, or the strongest adaptability.

Only two individuals stood outside this ranking.

The first was Viola.

She had formally advanced to sixth level, stepping across the threshold into high-level wizardry.

By unspoken rule, high-level wizards refrained from “sparring” with mid- or low-level ones—it would be beneath their dignity and risk unnecessary domination.

Though Viola was constantly chided by Mentor Clark for “lacking strength and needing more tempering,” her exceptional talent had, after years of accumulation, elevated her beyond ordinary sixth-level wizards, edging toward elite status. Naturally, no one sought to embarrass themselves.

The second was Jie Ming.

He simply… couldn’t be bothered to compete.

That day, Viola wandered over to Jie Ming’s corner.

Seeing him still buried in his studies, she couldn’t help whispering a complaint: “Junior Brother, haven’t you noticed how strangely the others have been looking at you lately? They’re starting to see you as some hidden master or… a coward afraid to fight. I truly admire you—how can you keep holding back and not join in to stretch your limbs?”

Jie Ming replied without lifting his head, his tone indifferent: “These contests are meaningless, Senior Sister. True killing moves—those involving laws or mutual destruction—how could anyone use them here? It’s unfair to factions focused on practical combat and slaughter.”

“Likewise, for research-oriented wizards skilled in large-scale curses, genetic weapons, or plane environment modification—capable of exterminating entire races—their strengths can’t be displayed at all.”

He paused, silently adding in his mind: “Moreover, in real combat, releasing my team of black giant priests from my internal world would be enough to overwhelm all my peers here—and even some elders. What’s the point of vying for such a childish ranking?”

At that moment, Rex finished a discussion with a peer and approached with a smile, joining their chat.

Inevitably, their conversation turned to the recent buzz of the “ranking matches.”

Viola teased Rex with a laugh, saying he was now publicly acknowledged as the strongest among third-level wizards, unrivaled in prominence.

Rex smiled as usual, humbly claiming everyone was being kind and that he had merely performed adequately in a few areas by luck.

Then, his gaze turned to Jie Ming, eyes filled with genuine battle intent and curiosity: “Jie Ming, seriously, I’ve always wanted a real match with you. Many of your ideas and methods intrigue me greatly.”

Jie Ming rejected without a second thought: “No interest.”

Exposing part of his trump cards and fighting style in public for mere reputation?

In his view, it was utterly foolish and childish.

“I’d rather spend that time analyzing one more rune structure.”

However, just as he prepared to dive back into his spatial folding theory…

Wizard Noren, who had been conversing quietly with Grand-Mentor Anton from the main seat, suddenly looked up. His mild yet penetrating voice instantly overrode all the hall’s noise, clearly reaching every ear:

“It seems you young ones are quite enthusiastic. Since the atmosphere is so lively, we old folks will add a prize.”

His gaze swept over the many young wizards below, a meaningful smile on his face: “Let’s make it a formal internal contest. Use whatever means you have, but stop at the point of serious injury. The ultimate victor…”

As he spoke, a flash of light appeared in Wizard Noren’s hand, revealing a seemingly plain small puppet.

The puppet radiated obscure yet powerful auras of fate and life laws.

“…will receive this. You may not be familiar—it’s called a ‘Substitute Death Doll.'”

Jie Ming’s head snapped up, his gaze locking onto the tiny puppet as if magnetized!

Substitute Death Doll!

He had personally experienced death once in the “Justice” plane, surviving only thanks to this treasure!

It was, without exaggeration, a second life—its value to wizards like them, constantly dancing on the edge of death, was incalculable!

“But then again…”

Jie Ming slowly set aside his crystal, unprecedented battle intent blazing in his eyes.

The previous meditative monk demeanor vanished utterly, replaced by a sharp, determined edge—completely different from moments ago.

“I suppose I’ve been feeling a bit bored these past few days. Some exercise wouldn’t hurt.”

Viola and Rex exchanged subtle expressions: “Is… that so?”