novelraw Chapter 477: Evolution
Chapter 477: Evolution
Chapter 477: Evolution
Thus, across the entire battlefield outside, almost no wizards below sixth ring from Noren Workshop could be seen.
All the mid- and low-tier wizards were hunkered inside the fortresses, serving as rotating power sources to drive the cannons.
And Jie Ming…
“Fire.”
The instant charging completed, he issued the command.
Turret No. 3 shuddered once.
A pure white beam five meters in diameter tore through the air, crossing more than a thousand kilometers at near-light speed, striking precisely into the center of that beetle swarm.
The white light exploded outward, transforming into a purification domain three thousand meters across.
Within the domain, three thousand fourth-ring beetles—along with the several fifth-ring wizards directing them—vaporized in an instant. All that remained on the ground was a perfectly smooth-edged crater of molten lava.
Almost simultaneously with the beam leaving the barrel, Jie Ming let out a muffled grunt. His face turned deathly pale in an instant.
A needle-like stabbing pain lanced through his brain. His consciousness began to scatter, and every ounce of strength seemed to drain from his body in a heartbeat.
This was the sensation of complete mental power exhaustion.
For an ordinary wizard, experiencing it even once would leave them limp and helpless for at least a minute or two before they could move again.
That was why, all around, many wizards on the other turrets were dragged straight off their consoles by waiting colleagues the moment they finished a volley and hauled back to the rest area behind them.
But Jie Ming did not.
His left hand, already prepared, flashed to the side of the console, snatching up a crystal potion vial. His thumb flicked off the stopper, and he downed the viscous deep-blue liquid inside in one gulp.
【Sacred Soul Echo Secret Potion】, a sixth-grade magic potion. It could restore a fifth-ring wizard’s full mental power within thirty seconds. Market price: three thousand low-grade military merits per vial.
The side effect was soul fatigue and dulled consciousness if taken consecutively—typically no more than three vials could be used in a single battle.
The moment the potion entered his throat, the automatic operation of 《Body Forging Method》 within Jie Ming’s body activated.
His digestive system broke down the medicinal power with far greater efficiency than an ordinary person’s, absorbing and converting the internal energy.
Pure medicinal energy surged into his brain, nourishing the parched sea of consciousness.
At the same time, 《Qi Refinement Method》 operated silently.
Essence, Qi, Spirit—the three treasures interlinked.
The “essence” of the flesh transformed into “Qi” to nourish the soul, which in turn became “Spirit” to restore the mind.
Three seconds.
In merely three seconds, Jie Ming opened his eyes.
The weariness deep within his pupils vanished completely, replaced by a renewed, piercing divine light.
Without the slightest hesitation, he once again unleashed his power. Mental tendrils extended outward and reconnected to Turret No. 3.
Five seconds later, charging complete.
“Fire.”
The second beam roared toward another massing cluster of enemy cannon fodder.
And this time, Jie Ming sensed something different.
The cycle of exhaustion and recovery felt like a tempering of the sea of consciousness.
What had previously taken three full seconds to completely restore now took only two point eight seconds.
Moreover, the total volume of mental power after recovery seemed… to have increased, if only by the slightest margin.
The adaptive evolution of 《Body Forging Method》 was taking effect.
It was not merely strengthening the physical body—it was also fortifying the soul, even enhancing Jie Ming’s adaptability to the process of “consumption and recovery,” as well as his resistance to the side effects of potions.
A glint flashed through Jie Ming’s eyes.
He did not pause, continuing to link with the turret.
Fire.
Exhaustion.
Drink potion.
Recover.
Reconnect to turret.
Fire.
The entire sequence flowed like water, without the slightest hitch.
At first, each shot required roughly an eight-second interval.
Five seconds for the turret to charge, three seconds for his own recovery and transition.
But with each cycle, that interval steadily shrank.
Seven seconds.
Six point five seconds.
Six seconds.
By the fifteenth shot, the gap had compressed to 5.2 seconds—nearly matching the turret’s own charging time.
This meant that, so long as energy supply kept pace, Jie Ming alone could keep a super-heavy element decomposition cannon firing at close to its theoretical maximum rate of sustained fire.
Inside the control room, the other wizards rotating on the turrets gradually noticed the anomaly at Console No. 09.
At first they merely thought the firing frequency from No. 09 seemed a little faster than everyone else’s.
But soon they realized it wasn’t just “a little faster.”
It was absurdly fast.
“Hey… how many shots has No. 09 fired now?”
“Twenty-first. And look at the timestamp… only 5.1 seconds between the last one and this one.”
“5.1 seconds?! That’s impossible! Charging alone takes 5 seconds—does he not need to recover mental power?!”
“He’s chugging potions. I saw a whole row of empty ‘Sacred Soul Echo’ bottles on his desk… but even with potions, absorption takes time! A normal fifth-ring wizard needs at least ten seconds just to regain mobility after one ‘Sacred Soul Echo,’ and thirty seconds for full mental recovery!”
“And have you felt it… the mental power fluctuations coming from No. 09 are getting stronger and stronger.”
Whispers spread through the control room.
Wizards of every rank, high or low, couldn’t help stealing glances toward Console No. 09.
Toward the gray-robed wizard seated there, eyes closed, expression calm, only beads of sweat constantly seeping from his temples and evaporating just as quickly.
They saw that after each shot, Jie Ming would experience an extremely brief moment of weakness—face slightly pale, breath momentarily catching.
But in the very next second he would snatch up another potion vial, down it, and reconnect to the next turret with almost no pause at all.
The whole process was so swift it resembled sleight of hand.
“Monster…”
A fourth-ring wizard who had just finished a volley with his partner and was now slumped in his chair gasping, face ashen, couldn’t help muttering.
His companion beside him—an old fifth-ring peak wizard—gave a wry shake of his head.
“Not a monster. A true genius… no, a monster among geniuses. Did you notice how fast he drinks? ‘Sacred Soul Echo’ is a viscous potion—normally takes at least two seconds to swallow. But he pours it in and it’s gone. That means his body has been modified; his physical digestion and absorption speed is terrifyingly high.”
“But my body’s been modified too…”
One wizard muttered reflexively, then shrank under the looks of disbelief from the others.
Of course—who here hadn’t modified their own body?
And energy digestion rate was always a top priority; no one would overlook it.
Yet this monster… or rather, this genius… was still far surpassing everyone else in digestion speed alone!
“And sense his mental power… hasn’t it grown noticeably since the beginning?”
At the old wizard’s reminder, the others focused carefully.
Then every face changed.
It was true.
The mental power fluctuations emanating from Console No. 09 were visibly strengthening at a perceptible rate.
If measured against standard mental power intensity benchmarks, he had started at the early fifth-ring level. Now he had solidly stepped into mid fifth-ring, and was still climbing—slowly but unyieldingly.
“He’s… cultivating this way?”
“Leveling up in the middle of a battle?! You’ve got to be kidding!”
Shock, envy, incredulity.
All sorts of emotions swirled through the control room.
But Jie Ming noticed none of it.
Or rather, he noticed but didn’t care.
His entire mind was immersed in a peculiar “rhythm.”
Fire, exhaust, recover, fire again.
With every cycle, the sea of consciousness expanded a fraction, his control over mental power grew finer, his understanding of the turret system deepened another layer.
By the thirtieth shot, he found he could afford to “multitask” slightly.
While still controlling the turret’s charging, aiming, and firing, he could spare a small portion of attention to observe the overall battlefield situation.
And that let him “see” the current state of the war.
Overall… Noren Workshop was actually… holding a slight advantage?
Up in the high-tier battlefield, even with Mentor Clark’s addition of over a million seventh-ring shadow creatures and more than ten thousand eighth-ring shadow lords, the extra hundred-plus seventh-ring wizards and two thousand-plus sixth-ring wizards from the Chaos Secret Cult and Tower of Annihilation side were no pushovers.
The high-tier cannon fodder creatures they deployed actually outnumbered and slightly out-leveled Clark’s shadow legion on average.
But the quality of Clark’s shadow cannon fodder was simply too high.
At the same seventh ring, shadow wyverns possessed far greater tactical flexibility and survivability than their opponents—their combat power was at least one and a half times greater per individual.
And those ten thousand eighth-ring shadow lords… had become the immovable anchors of the battlefield.
Though facing other high-tier units, wherever they went, vast swathes of enemy cannon fodder were reaped like wheat.
As a result, the Chaos Secret Cult and Tower of Annihilation side had no choice but to continuously redirect other high-tier cannon fodder to concentrate forces and besiege those shadow lords—unintentionally relieving enormous pressure from Noren Workshop’s other cannon fodder legions.
Yet what drew Jie Ming’s gaze most inescapably was the battlefield even higher up—the domain of the “high-tier wizards.”
Roughly a hundred kilometers above the ground.
The combat here was utterly unlike the cannon fodder war below.
With almost no medium to carry sound, there was none of the deafening roar from beneath.
Only silent clashes of elements… and a completely one-sided suppression.
Clark hovered in the void.
Still clad in that plain black robe, hands hanging naturally at his sides, face devoid of any expression.
He hadn’t even drawn his staff.
And all around him—in every direction—were more than one hundred thirty seventh-ring wizards and over two thousand sixth-ring wizards.
They swarmed him like a hive of bees, each radiating heart-palpitating energy fluctuations. The magical implements they wielded were at minimum seventh grade; some even shimmered with the unique law-radiance of eighth-grade artifacts.
In truth, many among them had been specially selected from the Chaos Secret Cult and Tower of Annihilation allied forces to form an elite decapitation squad targeting one of Noren Workshop’s highest combat powers.
Their mission was simple: kill or severely wound Clark at any cost.
After all, they had already gathered complete intelligence on the new generation of geniuses from Noren Workshop—there was no reason they would overlook someone as glaringly prominent as Clark.