The leap in life tier from advancing to second-tier wizard brought such an exhilarating sense of power.
Jie Ming couldn’t help but want to spend more time exploring and developing his newfound abilities.
Unfortunately, after his advancement, he barely had time to savor the new powers of a second-tier wizard before the contract’s urgency pulled him into studying new knowledge.
Though he had many plans—like further optimizing his four core magics or processing the spoils from the Frostflame Plane—the heavy contract he’d signed with Master Alvin of the Tower of Annihilation for a one-use spatial jump artifact took precedence.
Strictly speaking, he owed Master Alvin a substantial debt.
As part of the contract, Jie Ming was required to prioritize studying specific knowledge provided by Alvin after advancing to second-tier wizard.
He needed to master this knowledge thoroughly, optimize it, and integrate it into his unique All-Purpose Eye magical model.
Then, he had to provide the optimized All-Purpose Eye model to Master Alvin.
Only then would half of their debt be settled.
The remaining half… would have to wait until he advanced to third-tier wizard.The contract’s binding force acted directly on the soul.
Feeling the constraint, Jie Ming dared not delay. He immediately contacted Master Alvin, still researching in the Frostflame Plane, via the magical network terminal.
As if anticipating Jie Ming’s call, the moment the connection was established, an immense torrent of data flooded through an encrypted channel into his laboratory terminal.
Alvin had sent a mountain of diverse materials.
A cursory glance at the index made Jie Ming’s head throb faintly.
The materials were all highly advanced knowledge on “spatial rifts”!
They primarily detailed the understanding and application of certain unique spatial properties.
Typically, only third-tier wizards began formally studying spatial knowledge.
Second-tier wizards could access it early, but their life tier and cognitive limits made it nearly impossible to apply.
The difficulty of learning was astronomical, akin to a child just learning arithmetic tackling calculus.
Jie Ming roughly estimated that fully mastering and integrating this knowledge—not just memorizing it—would take at least a century or two of relentless study!
Fortunately, advancing to second-tier wizard not only brought a vast leap in strength but also significantly extended a wizard’s lifespan with the life tier jump.
A healthy second-tier wizard could easily live four to five thousand years.
Thus, their perception of time fundamentally shifted.
For first-tier wizards, with a theoretical lifespan of one to one-and-a-half thousand years, their sense of time was roughly ten times that of mortals.
For instance, Jie Ming’s fifty-plus years in the Frostflame Plane war, extended by an unexpected anomaly, felt to a first-tier wizard like a planned one-year trip turning into five due to unforeseen circumstances.
Exaggerated, but still within an acceptable range.
For second-tier wizards, while the lifespan increase wasn’t as drastic as the first-tier jump, living four to five thousand years was no issue.
Thus, dedicating a century or two to mastering critical knowledge was not unacceptable.
For many wizards, it was routine.
…
…
“Spatial knowledge is notoriously difficult…”
As Jie Ming dove into the material, he deeply felt this truth.
Even with his highly activated brain and soul post-advancement, the twisted, abstract, and counterintuitive spatial theories made his head swell.
Beyond conceptual difficulties, the sheer volume of data and comprehension required was immense.
However, this extreme pressure had its benefits.
During study, Jie Ming noticed that under such intense mental strain, the Body Forging Method he’d adapted from the cultivation world was autonomously evolving in a peculiar way!
It seemed to adjust his body and soul’s structure, actively adapting to the external pressure from his soul and mind.
Specifically, his brain’s activity level increased under this high-pressure study!
His understanding of abstract concepts also became smoother.
From initially struggling, his learning pace quickened, and the once-obscure theories grew clearer!
Jie Ming was astonished.
He hadn’t expected the cultivation world’s body forging techniques to adapt even to “mental pressure” from knowledge study, evolving accordingly!
…
…
After another decade immersed in the ocean of knowledge, oblivious to the outside world, Jie Ming was laboriously analyzing a complex model on “spatial curvature folding” in his laboratory when his wrist terminal chimed, signaling a new message.
Pulling himself from the sea of knowledge, he checked the source.
It was David.
He had returned from the front lines.
Jie Ming had a strong impression of David.
This tenth-tier genius from Noren Workshop, after the Elosia Plane trial, seemed deeply affected.
Rumor had it that after arranging all his tasks post-trial, he buried himself in his laboratory for over thirty years, fully digesting his gains.
Then, brimming with confidence, he joined the planar battlefield for military service.
David’s luck was clearly better than Jie Ming’s, avoiding anomalies like living planes.
Assigned to a relatively stable plane, he spent over thirty years there, smoothly completing the academy’s military service contract before returning.
He contacted Jie Ming immediately upon seeing the message Jie Ming had sent after his own return.
After all, Jie Ming had taken in the Elosia Plane’s remnants partly at David’s behest.
Though they rarely met, they were acquaintances.
Through the terminal, they caught up briefly.
Jie Ming outlined the transformation progress of his territory’s remnants, noting that Noren Academy had taken over, and all was proceeding smoothly.
They then discussed their experiences in the planar wars.
At the end, David revealed the true purpose of his return.
“Speaking of which, I came back because I sensed the ‘opportunity’ to advance to second-tier wizard on the battlefield. So, I ended my mission early to prepare for the breakthrough,” David said, his tone brimming with barely concealed excitement and anticipation.
“Is that so? That’s great news,” Jie Ming replied, genuinely happy for him.
“Congratulations in advance, David.”
Despite Noren Academy’s promotional tales of “some senior advancing to third-tier wizard in five years” or “fifth-tier in ten” after planar wars, such cases were exceedingly rare—true “chosen ones” among billions of wizards.
Most were combat wizards.
Jie Ming vividly recalled that, as a freshman, most logistics seniors who had completed a round of planar wars were still first-tier wizards.
Many were still third-tier apprentices, not even formal wizards.
This highlighted the fundamental difference between logistics and combat wizards.
Statistically, logistics wizards advanced at a steady, unremarkable pace in the early stages, relying on gradual accumulation.
Combat wizards, however, showed extreme polarization.
The lucky ones might find rare materials or critical information on the battlefield, earning official rewards and skyrocketing in rank.
The unlucky ones, hampered by injuries or resource scarcity, could languish for centuries without reaching second-tier.
Officially, academy data suggested an even split in advancement rates, with combat wizards sometimes advancing faster.
But Jie Ming and David knew the brutal truth behind the numbers: only the lucky survived the bloody planar battlefields to return!
The unlucky were long dead.