Rayder gazed at the panel data, especially the word "Comatose" in the status bar, and a huge weight was finally lifted from his heart.
This indicated that Yigen was not in any life-threatening danger, and the Titan bloodline implantation had been extremely successful, with no system glitches.
Now, he only needed to wait patiently for Yigen to wake up.
Rayder stepped forward, completely disregarding the scorching heat emanating from the surroundings.
He slowly walked around Yigen's massive dragon body, scrutinizing every detail of the giant creature.
He had to admit—those ten thousand energy points were truly well spent!
Not only had Yigen gained the Titan bloodline, but it had also successfully evolved into the form of a four-legged dragon.
Its body was covered in a thick layer of scale armor, like an indestructible city wall.
This layer of scales not only made Yigen's body even larger but also bestowed upon it a majestic and dominant image and aura, as if it were the ruler of the world.
Rayder instinctively reached out and gently touched Yigen's scales.
The scales were hard and smooth to the touch, and the high temperature they emitted was almost unbearable.
Even Rayder, who was not afraid of fire, couldn't help but marvel at the heat.
He curiously tapped on the scales on Yigen's abdomen, producing a crisp metallic sound.
The defensive power of these scales left Rayder secretly amazed.
Compared to the original scales, their current thickness had increased by more than five times!
If the original scales could only provide defense equivalent to a piece of cloth armor, then the current scales were simply an indestructible set of titanium-alloy heavy armor.
Rayder secretly estimated that, given the defensive power Yigen currently displayed, even the bolts fired by powerful weapons such as dragon-slaying ballistas would likely struggle to leave any mark on its body.
Unless some utterly unreasonable magic spells were used—or it was extremely unlucky to be hit directly in the eye by a ballista bolt, or have a projectile pierce its internal organs through its throat—then, with the current technological level of this world, no weapon created by humans could cause any substantial harm to Yigen.
Time passed minute by minute, and night gradually fell, but Yigen still showed no signs of waking up.
Rayder continued to wait quietly until the sky turned completely dark, yet Yigen remained motionless.
It seemed unlikely that it would awaken anytime soon.
However, for Rayder—who no longer had to worry about his lifespan—waiting one or two months, or even half a year, was not difficult.
After all, within his system space, there was a large amount of meat and various foods, enough to keep him from worrying about supplies for a long time.
During this waiting period, Rayder decided to make full use of his time and continue reading books related to magic.
Perhaps it was because he had awakened his magical power, but he felt that his intelligence had significantly improved.
Those abstruse books that were once difficult to understand—and those questions that had long perplexed him—now, after careful consideration and study, began to reveal faint clues.
The more Rayder read these magical texts, the more questions arose in his mind.
These books seemed deliberately designed to be difficult to comprehend, with their descriptions of magic and its methods of use intentionally vague and obscure.
This reminded Rayder of the anti-self-study mechanisms in his previous life; those books, too, had been deliberately filled with obstacles to prevent readers from learning on their own.
Take the most basic meditation practices, for example—the books not only contained excessive nonsense but were also filled with endless flattery toward the gods.
The praises were so overwhelming that they became dizzying.
Even worse, some passages mentioned rituals and incantations, but after Rayder tested them, he discovered that they had no effect whatsoever.
He could clearly see the magic power within his body with his own eyes, yet these so-called rituals and incantations had no influence on it—they were purely deceptive.
Rayder began to doubt these books. He decided not to blindly trust their contents, but to judge the authenticity of their methods based on his own magical reactions.
After multiple experiments, he was surprised to discover that all these magic books shared a common flaw:
Fifty percent of the content was misleading, thirty percent was meaningless nonsense, and of the remaining twenty percent, the truly useful material amounted to less than one and a half percent.
The other half-percent consisted of impractical theories and unfounded speculations—most of them so outrageous that no one dared to test them.
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While Rayder was self-teaching magic, in the distant land of Asshai, amidst a sea of ruins, stood a solitary structure—the Temple of the Faceless God.
The temple might have existed for countless ages; the erosion of time had left its exterior covered in weathered marks, giving it an ancient, desolate aura.
However, anyone who entered the temple would be struck by its inner splendor.
Especially within the grand cathedral at its center—whether it was the floor, the dome, the seats, or the very steps—everything glimmered with golden light.
Clearly, every part of this place, down to the smallest ornament, had been cast from solid gold.
Just then, on the altar at the temple's highest point, a massive golden brazier suddenly ignited, flames roaring to life.
From within those fiercely burning flames, a slender figure slowly emerged—her outline graceful, as if born from the fire itself.
Her steps were deliberate and silent, and her presence exuded both sanctity and dread. The firelight danced across her form, outlining beauty and danger intertwined.
Her copper-red hair cascaded over her shoulders like a river of molten light, and her expression was calm, serene, yet filled with an almost otherworldly power.
As she reached the center of the hall, she raised her right hand. Her pale index finger pressed against her lips, then—without hesitation—she bit down, and a droplet of blood fell from her hand into the brazier below.
The blood hissed as it met the flames, and the fire instantly flared brighter, transforming into a mirror of living flame.
Within that burning reflection, an image appeared—Rayder, seated in his tent upon a snowy mountain peak, quietly reading by the light of a single lamp.
Even the faint sound of turning pages echoed from the fire.
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Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)