Chapter Ninety-Two: The Crimson Goblet

The mist thickened, and the cries of the six-hoofed beasts echoed intermittently, yet there was no sign of panic among them. Clearly, they were accustomed to foggy days; their simple minds would not question whether the haze was unusual. As Qi Xiao approached one of the six-hoofed creatures grazing quietly, his figure gradually came into view. Before the beast could raise its head and utter a sound, several strands of pink light swirled in Qi Xiao’s eyes. Instantly, the creature calmed, becoming docile, even attempting to nuzzle him.

“Beast Enchantment.”

It was the first time Qi Xiao had used this spell since acquiring it, and its effect on ordinary, non-supernatural beasts proved remarkable. He suspected that if he commanded the creature to end its own life, it would obey without hesitation.

Qi Xiao closed his eyes tightly, extending his spiritual power to receive fragments of the beast's memories. Images flashed by like frozen tableaux. The beast was young, barely two and a half years old, so its memories were scant. Within a minute, Qi Xiao had gleaned the gist.

A flicker of surprise crossed Qi Xiao’s eyes. He had assumed the ram-headed monster and the six-hoofed beasts were either in a symbiotic relationship or that the monster was revered as a master by its followers. After all, these unintelligent beasts showed such deferential respect toward the ram-headed creature—surely, fear was at play.

Yet, according to the beast’s memories, today was the first time it had ever seen the ram-headed monster...

This was puzzling, especially since the beast had instinctively knelt the moment the monster appeared. If it had never encountered it before, why such a reaction? Could such responses be inherited through bloodline?

Though memory fragments are never complete, they are always the deepest impressions held by their owner. If the beast had seen the ram-headed monster before, it would not have omitted it from its memories.

Interest sparked across Qi Xiao’s face as he gradually faded from sight. The six-hoofed beast slowly regained its senses, glancing around in confusion. Unable to make sense of what had happened, it buried its head and resumed its battle with the alfalfa.

Qi Xiao did not rush to the lake to seek out the ram-headed beast. Firstly, since his senior had mentioned it was a “race,” there was no guarantee they weren’t interconnected. The ram-headed monster was formidable; to enter its territory directly would not only likely alert it, but could also lead to disaster.

Even though his senior had told him that their kind owed his teacher a favor, and that whoever found them would receive a generous reward, Qi Xiao was not overly optimistic. Even if the ram-headed monster was indeed part of the tribe, it might not be the group he was seeking. Too many uncertainties loomed, so caution was paramount.

Most important of all was the one-month deadline his teacher had set. Qi Xiao doubted his teacher would expect him to find a critical clue on the first day, meet the tribe on the second, complete the task on the third, and then spend the rest of the month idly waiting. Surely, the trial would not be so simple.

He marked the spot with magic and had Little Mushroom scatter some spores beneath a tree, then left the small lake for now.

Along the way, he witnessed another grand nuptial flight. Since arriving in the forest, Qi Xiao had been thinking constantly about mating rituals. Upon seeing the spectacle, he suddenly remembered a legendary figure—the Scarlet Chalice.

Qi Xiao could hardly be blamed for forgetting such an exalted being; the Scarlet Chalice was not a legend of the northern wizarding world, but from the west. Even in the broader wizarding realm, the Scarlet Chalice was an extraordinary anomaly.

For reasons unknown, the Scarlet Chalice had not erased traces of their existence after achieving legendary status, unlike most legends—especially those with unsavory histories.

The Scarlet Chalice’s journey was nothing short of fantastical; most notably, their origins were far from noble. It was rumored they once survived by selling their body.

Their first step on the path to legend was, in fact, through exceptional skill in their craft, which won the favor of an alchemist, thus opening the door to a wizard’s life.

Yes, though there is no definitive record, it is highly likely this legend began as an ordinary person whose spiritual power was insufficient for cultivation—the only known mortal to ever ascend to legendary status. Had their life not been so scandalous, their story would have spread far and wide.

Originally, they were a wizard of the bloodline path—still are, in a sense—but they gave rise to a new branch, one closer to the mysteries, far removed from the orthodoxy of the bloodline path.

In short, theirs is a road steeped in desire, pleasure, mating, and flesh. Qi Xiao had not delved deeply into it, nor did many northern wizards pursue this path, but it was clear these concepts resonated with the strange phenomena of the forest.

“It’s unlikely to be the Scarlet Chalice... or rather, certainly not the master themselves. More likely, it’s the traces of a formal wizard who followed this path,” Qi Xiao mused.

He dared not entertain thoughts of the legend; to offend such a being would be catastrophic—not just for a wizard apprentice like himself, but even a second-tier Truth Wizard like his teacher could be reduced in an instant to a grotesque mass of flesh or a puddle of filth.

“Although the Scarlet Chalice favored it, this path is still classified under the bloodline school. Yet wizards who pursue it—and those from other schools—prefer to call themselves Cup Wizards or Wizards of Desire.

The desire school emphasizes mating, but more for pleasure than for procreation. No wonder, despite the constant couplings in the forest, the population of its creatures is not abnormally high.

Qi Xiao gripped his Dragonflame Staff tighter, and his Star-Moon Gauntlet glowed faintly. He was wary of a power he neither understood well nor liked, fearful that contact would ensnare him.

A cluster of giant anacondas blocked his path, forcing Qi Xiao to detour. Ahead lay a patch of rosy miasma, from which seductive moans and playful laughter occasionally drifted.

Qi Xiao’s feelings were conflicted; he dreaded such places most. Across two lifetimes, he had always maintained strict self-discipline, with a strong sense of mental purity. Yet, in the end, he retrieved a mask-like alchemical device from his spatial magic, donned it, and stepped into the rosy haze with a sigh.

The pink miasma saturated the air, carrying an odd sweetness. Qi Xiao’s mask was prepared for such environments, able to filter and purify harmful substances from the air.

Upon entering the miasma, he felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere; his senses seemed heightened, sounds around him more distinct. The seductive moans and laughter echoed in his ears, imbued with a strange magic, seeking to breach his mental defenses.

Qi Xiao guarded his mind carefully, resisting their influence. It was not personal; the voices themselves carried an inherent effect, like bait.

He closed his eyes, shutting off his hearing as well, relying only on the magical senses he projected to probe his surroundings, lest he be deceived by illusions of sight or sound.