Chapter Five: The Three Major Frameworks

The sandstorm gradually subsided, but none of them seemed eager to get up. Laura smoothed her hair and was the first to speak:

“There’s no sign of the boundaries shrinking, and today is already the penultimate day. This place is likely to be one of the final safe zones. Instead of wandering around, we might as well wait here for the others to come to us.”

Qi Xiao and Bai both said they didn’t mind, so Feng agreed to Laura’s suggestion as well.

Closing his eyes to rest, Qi Xiao slowly recited several basic alchemy manuals in his mind. With the system’s help, he could already recall them by heart, but he knew he still lacked the ability to immediately think of the most suitable inscription or tool in the face of unexpected situations. Achieving that level would require him to read and practice much more, gradually integrating theory and action.

After a while, a few youths entered the quarry through the tunnel. When they saw the four people on the car, they turned and fled without a moment’s hesitation. Feng’s arrow was already in flight before they had even turned around. Feeling the wind element surging along the bow, Qi Xiao could only marvel—so this was the future “Wind Ranger.” Even if Feng had yet to fully come into his own, his affinity for the wind element was already unmistakable.

After loosing his arrow, Feng jumped off the car and gave chase. The last youth lagging behind was felled by the arrow, while the others ran even faster, as if a burden had been lifted.

About ten minutes later, Feng returned to the car with his arrows, shrugged, and said, “This guy didn’t have a penny on him—not even a crust of bread. He said they’d all been robbed once, and couldn’t accept being knocked out so easily, so they banded together for one last stand. No wonder a few of them looked familiar.”

Bai, whose eyes were wrapped in bandages, gradually brightened. After a few seconds, he said weakly, “They ran into the rainforest next door. Looks like they’re arguing, but I doubt they’ll get anything out of it.”

Qi Xiao asked with interest, “Is that a trick? Or a talent?”

Bai replied coolly, “A talent.”

Since Bai clearly didn’t want to elaborate, Qi Xiao let the matter drop and turned to Laura.

“Miss Laura, did your family use to trade in spices?”

Laura looked at him in surprise. “How did you know? By Lady Mary above, do you have the gift of prophecy? That would be far too unfair.”

Qi Xiao waved his hand. “Of course not. I just noticed a variety of fragrances on you. Ordinarily, if someone simply liked spices or perfume, their scent wouldn’t be so complex. Only someone who spent a long time surrounded by such aromas would carry it so distinctly.”

Laura’s face clouded over, and she shifted uncomfortably. Qi Xiao reassured her, “Don’t worry. The scent is already very faint. Unless someone works in the field, they wouldn’t notice it. Even someone with a keen nose would just think it unusual, not unpleasant. If it really bothers you, once you become a wizard apprentice, you’ll be able to cleanse it with magic.”

Laura’s expression eased a little, though she still seemed eager for all this to end—so she could take a good bath once outside.

“Was your family in the spice trade too, Mr. Qi Xiao?”

“No. In fact, aromatics are a minor branch of alchemy. Many witches are very skilled in this art. I just have some knowledge of it.”

“Mr. Qi Xiao, you truly are learned,” Laura said with genuine admiration.

Feng, meanwhile, was watching Qi Xiao furtively. Qi Xiao’s looks were uncommon for the Terran Kingdom. His features were more gentle and refined than those of most locals, whose faces tended to be rugged and sharp. But more than that, Qi Xiao seemed to possess a kind of duality—not just a formidable alchemical talent and reservoir of knowledge. Feng had seen him carve inscriptions himself; his fluid technique exceeded even that of the senior alchemy apprentice in the workshop, who had always seemed so lofty and out of reach. Such skill could only come from painstaking practice, no matter how great his innate talent.

Now, to think he also knew something about the niche field of alchemical aromatics—it was almost unbelievable. Alchemical knowledge was precious; for wizards, knowledge had always been the most valuable thing. Great talent, daily diligence, a wealth of alchemical knowledge—this young man lacked nothing. Even if someone claimed he was the son of a great wizard, Feng would believe it. Yet here he was, cast into this brutal blood arena…

Feng sighed, unable to make sense of it, and decided to let it be. A wizard’s curiosity for the unknown should be directed toward the pursuit of knowledge, not someone else’s privacy. Gripping his wooden bow, Feng resolved never to pry into these secrets. If he was found out, this friendship would surely end. He might one day need to ask Qi Xiao to craft him an alchemical longbow, and his little brother’s illness might have another hope for a cure.

There probably wasn’t a wizard alive who wouldn’t want such a prodigious alchemist as a friend.

Turning to Qi Xiao, Feng smiled and asked, “Have you decided which magical discipline you’ll pursue?”

Qi Xiao answered without hesitation, “I don’t have a particular preference. I’ll wait for the talent test and see which path suits me best.”

Wizard disciplines could be broadly divided into three: Bloodline, Elemental, and Arcane, each with numerous schools beneath them.

From what he recalled from the film, bloodline wizards usually focused on the body, organs, or blood, and tended towards close combat. Elemental wizards matched the traditional image—commanding wind and rain, calling down lightning. The rest were mostly arcane, a category with vast extremes and no single defining trait. In short, if a wizard’s powers were flashy but seemed to lack substance, they were probably arcane.

Of course, choosing a discipline simply meant picking a main focus; it didn’t preclude learning spells from other branches. Many elemental and arcane wizards still learned some bloodline spells for defense or physical enhancement, to boost their survival.

It was worth noting that alchemy was considered a secondary pursuit, not a magical school in itself, though many alchemists chose to specialize in it as their main discipline.

As for Qi Xiao, he preferred the latter two branches—combat with them was much more elegant, and fit more closely with his ideals of what a wizard should be. Still, if he turned out to be most gifted in the bloodline branch, he wouldn’t refuse it either. After all, he didn’t plan to devote himself too deeply to any combat path; alchemy would always be his main occupation.

Feng grinned and said, “You really do just let fate decide, don’t you?”

They waited contentedly for most of the day. It seemed this place had become a forbidden zone for the newcomers—several hours passed without a single soul showing up.

After dinner, Feng glanced at the sky and said, “It’s late. Tomorrow is the last day. Let’s get some good rest tonight. The watch order will be me, Bai, Laura, and Qi Xiao. Any objections?”

Seeing none, Feng said softly, “Then let’s rest. If anything happens, I’ll wake you.”

Qi Xiao didn’t fully trust the other three, but couldn’t think of any reason they would harm him either. So he closed his eyes and dozed off in his seat.

Tomorrow it would finally be over… Though this round had been far more peaceful than the main character’s in the film, Qi Xiao still felt drained—thrust from an ordinary college student into a life-and-death contest. All he wanted was to get out and have a good sleep.

Of course, judging by his performance in this recruitment tournament, there’d be no peace for him anytime soon once he got out.

But this was the path he’d chosen. He needed to stand out, find a powerful mentor, and use their resources and connections to grow quickly.

With a sigh, Qi Xiao drifted into a light slumber, lost in thought.