Chapter Thirteen: The Art of Dark Ice and Demonic Flame

As expected, the moment Gene finished speaking, Fitch’s face darkened as if someone had stomped on it with a filthy boot. He glared fiercely at Han Shuo’s simple, foolish expression, but addressed Gene instead, saying, “Professor Gene, this impudent servant dared to trip me—how could I not teach him a lesson!”

As he spoke, Fitch rolled up his sleeves and, gripping his gray magic staff, swung it toward Han Shuo’s forehead. Han Shuo noticed that Fitch wasn’t casting a spell but merely attempting to strike him with the staff, and felt somewhat relieved. Fitch, though tall, lacked real strength, and Han Shuo saw that the blow was not particularly forceful. Ignoring it, he stood his ground, grinning idiotically.

“Crack!”

The magic staff struck Han Shuo’s forehead, and he suddenly felt a sharp pang. He cried out in pain, baring his teeth and staring incredulously at the staff in Fitch’s hand. He had never imagined that the staff, which appeared to be wooden, would be as hard and heavy as iron or stone. His mind buzzed, and when he touched his forehead, he discovered a large, swollen bump.

“Damn it, how could this magic staff be so hard and heavy? I’ve miscalculated!” Han Shuo thought, his head still ringing, when another blow landed on his forehead. His mind went blank, and he collapsed stiffly to the ground, unconscious.

%%%%

When Han Shuo woke, he found himself lying on a spacious, soft bed. The air was tinged with the faint aroma of medicinal potions. He reached up to touch his forehead and discovered the two swollen lumps had subsided, and some cool ointment had been applied, leaving a soothing sensation.

“You’re awake?” Suddenly a beautiful face appeared beside him, with wavy lavender hair, sparkling eyes, gleaming white teeth, and sensual red lips that exhaled a faint fragrance across Han Shuo’s cheek.

“Oh, Vanny… Professor Vanny!” Han Shuo’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the lovely face and called out softly. He straightened himself, sat up from the bed, and glanced around.

The room was about twenty square meters, lined with tall cabinets filled with various potion bottles, and beside them were some magical beast bones. The walls were covered in magical diagrams and runes. At the center stood a round table of black stone, upon which a simple magic array was laid out. With just a glance, Han Shuo knew this was Vanny’s laboratory.

As Han Shuo surveyed his surroundings, Vanny too studied him in astonishment. When Han Shuo’s gaze finally met hers, she extended a slender finger and gently tapped his forehead, exclaiming in surprise, “Oh? The swelling’s gone so quickly! That heavy magic staff didn’t even draw blood—how is that possible?”

Touched by Vanny’s delicate finger, Han Shuo’s heart fluttered, and he greedily inhaled the subtle fragrance lingering from her touch, a satisfied smile curling his lips.

Han Shuo’s behavior startled Vanny a little; his actions carried a hint of teasing, quite unlike the timid, cowardly Brian she knew. For a moment, Vanny was confused, then sighed softly, murmuring, “I used to doubt their words, but now I see Brian really has lost his mind. Who would have thought that a soul-wrenching pain could leave him like this? Ah…”

Though her voice was low, Han Shuo heard her clearly, and could only smile wryly to himself, realizing yet another person believed he had gone mad.

Suddenly, Vanny’s pretty face lit up with interest. She said eagerly, “Brian, your forehead healed so quickly and now there’s not a trace left—could it be the magic from the last soul pain spell? Amazing! I have a new research topic now. Necromancy really is extraordinary!”

Watching Vanny’s excitement as she rummaged through her magical items, Han Shuo could only smile bitterly at her self-assured conclusions. Since she viewed him as a lunatic, it was impossible to explain that his body’s oddities were due to his cultivation of demonic arts.

Vanny wasn’t wearing her glasses today. Her slender hands swiftly sifted through the magical items, and after a moment, she produced a pale green sphere no larger than a palm. Swaying her hips, she approached Han Shuo quickly, recited a spell, and the orb glowed with a gentle green light. She pressed it against Han Shuo’s forehead.

Intense magical energy radiated from the sphere, and as it touched Han Shuo’s forehead, it seemed to draw out a strand of spiritual force from his mind. The green orb flickered like a malfunctioning lamp.

“Oh… Incredible! Brian, you actually have spiritual power in your mind. My word, how could this be? Could the soul pain spell and magical baptism allow an ordinary person to possess spiritual power? Astounding!” Vanny exclaimed, her face filled with shock and wonder. Clearly, the discovery of spiritual power within Han Shuo’s mind was a tremendous surprise.

“I’ve decided—this will be my new research topic. If soul pain doesn’t drive people mad but leaves spiritual power inside, then an ordinary person might become a mage. Oh… this is truly wondrous!”

“Grrr…”

Just then, Han Shuo’s stomach protested with hunger. Vanny, her excitement undiminished, said enthusiastically, “It’s getting late today; you should go rest. I’ll be contacting you often from now on. Later, I’ll discuss with the academy to lighten your workload and improve your meals, until I complete this research.”

Han Shuo was delighted at her words. He looked at the beautiful and alluring Vanny, his mind swirling with mischievous thoughts. Now his workload would decrease, his meals improve, and he’d have opportunities to get close to Vanny. Indeed, fortune had smiled upon him—Fitch’s blow had unwittingly done him a great favor.

Leaving Vanny’s laboratory, Han Shuo glanced at the fading sunset and knew it was already evening. He touched his forehead and found only a slight tenderness remained, nothing serious.

He finished his afternoon chores quickly, panting as he arrived at the bread distribution spot, where he met Jack. Jack was surprised to see Han Shuo, stared oddly at his forehead, and asked, “Brian, I heard Fitch struck you with his magic staff and knocked you out with two bumps. How come there’s no trace now?”

“Professor Vanny applied magical ointment for me—the swelling went away quickly. Haha, she’s so beautiful and gentle!” Han Shuo laughed as he replied.

“Brian, here’s your food for today!” a voice called from the cafeteria window. Han Shuo hurried over and received a piece of white bread, a small cup of milk, and a fried egg.

“Hey, Mr. Godar, aren’t you mistaken? Brian’s meal should be the same as ours, even smaller than mine!” Kerry, who had been beaten by Han Shuo previously, waved a chunk of black bread and protested loudly to the portly Godar, who was in charge of distributing meals to the servants.

Godar shot Kerry a cold look and snorted, “No mistake. Orders from the academy—from now on, Brian’s meals will be like this. If you have complaints, take it up with the academy. Hmph, but as a mere servant, you’re likely just asking for trouble.”

Holding the white bread, milk, and fried egg, Han Shuo looked at Kerry and Borg’s furious faces, laughed heartily, and deliberately chewed loudly on the bread, exclaiming, “Tsk, this white bread tastes nothing like black bread. Oh, there’s milk and an egg too—heavens, what a blissful day!”

“Uh… Brian, let me have a sip of your milk. It looks so tasty!” chubby Jack licked his lips, eyeing Han Shuo with envy.

“There’s still half a cup left—take it!” Han Shuo generously handed it to Jack, then left arm in arm with him, smiling broadly, leaving Kerry and Borg fuming behind.

That night, back at the storeroom, Han Shuo checked on the little skeleton and found it still lying in the small wooden barrel. The seven tiny whirlpools inside the barrel had stopped spinning. Han Shuo understood that the magic essence had been depleted. He concentrated his magic power and reinfused it into the seven fragments of bone, and once the whirlpools formed around them again, he stopped and went to bed.

The Yin Demon Essence Array was merely one method of forging magical treasures. In theory, a single infusion of magic essence should last thirty-six days, but Han Shuo’s magic was weak, and the materials he used were all cobbled together, so the results fell short of expectations.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Han Shuo cultivated his demonic arts for a while, feeling his magical essence grow stronger. At that moment, an idea flashed in his mind—since he possessed magical essence, perhaps he could practice the offensive magic passed down by Chu Canglan.

He pondered the thought, and faintly sensed a multitude of cultivation methods scattered in his memory. Yet most were hazy, as if separated by a thin veil, and he could not access them clearly. Searching his memory with a furrowed brow, Han Shuo realized his recollections were chaotic; only three techniques remained fully clear: the foundational demonic cultivation method, the Yin Demon Essence Array for forging magical treasures, and a secret art called the Profound Ice Demonic Flame Technique.

The Profound Ice Demonic Flame Technique was a method of manipulating magic essence, capable of increasing in power as one’s level advanced. By channeling magic essence along specific meridian routes, one could generate two kinds of demonic flames in the fingers and palms—red flames, blazing hot; purple flames, icy cold. With strong enough magic essence and a high level, one could concentrate two massive balls of red and purple flames in the palms, possessing both burning and bone-chilling attack power.

Having clarified these, Han Shuo felt as though he’d unearthed a treasure. Ignoring the other vague memories, he immediately began to practice according to the Profound Ice Demonic Flame Technique, channeling his magic essence slowly into his right hand. As the energy passed through his hand’s meridians, he felt a fiery ache—his right hand grew numb and stiff, the fine meridians tingling as if electrified.

If magic essence was not guided along the Profound Ice Demonic Flame route, it would reach the palm instantly. But following the technique, it encountered obstacles at every step, each advancement causing pain. By midnight, Han Shuo had only managed to guide the energy from his shoulder to his wrist, leaving his entire arm aching and weak.

Han Shuo understood that only by channeling magic essence fully into his palms and fingers could he properly use the Profound Ice Demonic Flame Technique. The pain was simply the process of clearing those delicate meridians and acclimating them to magic essence. Once fully cleared, the pain would disappear.

Exhausted, Han Shuo’s eyelids drooped. Remembering his duties the next day, he knew that cultivating demonic arts was not something achieved overnight, so he collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep.

That night, Han Shuo dreamt of the little skeleton obeying his command, beating Fitch—the one who had struck his forehead—and avenging him.