"A fire-based teleportation magic scroll. It's a pity it was used by a child; the aura left behind is too obvious," the central mage said calmly.
Seeing the three people, Ronnie's handsome face twisted in anger. "You! Ah! You bad people! Give me back my mother! Give me back my father!" Summoning strength from who-knows-where, Ronnie struggled to his feet and charged towards the one in the middle. At that moment, he had forgotten his abilities as a novice mage; in his impulsiveness, only instinct mattered.
"You little bastard, are you looking for death?" The mage on the left waved his right hand, and a three-inch-diameter water bullet instantly shot out, directly hitting the boy's chest. The water bullet was only a basic level one spell, its attack power not strong. Ronnie grunted, staggered back several steps, and landed hard on his backside. His hands, used to steady himself, were scraped and bleeding from the nearby rocks.
The middle mage glared at his companion. "Enough! He's just a child. I don't want him to suffer too much."
"Yes, Your Excellency Ice Priest," the mage who had intervened replied, quickly stepping aside.
The Ice Priest looked at Ronnie and said calmly, "Child, I didn't want to hurt you, but alas, you are their child. For the honor of the Ice God Tower, you cannot continue to exist. Hand over the Ice Goddess Stone, and I will grant you a quick death." Given his status, he naturally wouldn't search by hand, but his commanding tone exuded an invisible authority.
Ronnie slowly stood up. Despite his young age, a cold glint flashed in his eyes, a deep hatred burning within him. "The dignity of the Ice God Tower? Father said the Ice God Tower, with its gleaming exterior, is nothing but a pile of garbage. Want the Ice Goddess Stone back? Don't dream! I'd rather die than give it to you. That was the last thing Mother gave me. You'll all die!" Without warning, he simultaneously threw forward with both fists, one red, one blue, two beams of light carrying different auras, enveloping the three ice mages before him. Those were fireballs and waterballs, two level-one spells, spells that could be used without incantation. The simultaneous appearance of ice and fire was an achievement he hadn't anticipated.
The ice priest's eyes flashed. He quickly chanted a few simple syllables, and a soft wall of water appeared out of thin air. The collision of water and fire created a mist. A sudden thought struck him; he knew something was wrong. But it was too late to react.
The young body plummeted from the peak, without hesitation the moment he leaped off the cliff. With a splash, his figure disappeared into the rushing river, leaving only faint ripples. Ronnie's voice still echoed in the ears of the three ice mages; they finally understood the meaning of "refusing to hand over the Ice Goddess Stone even at the cost of their lives."
The ice priest stepped forward, reaching the edge of the cliff, and sighed softly, "What a resolute child."
"Lord Ice Priest, how is this possible? How can he, so young, instantly cast two spells? And conflicting spells at that!" The ice mage on the left stared in astonishment at the turbulent river below.
The Ice Priestess calmly said, "That's not because of his high magical power, but because he possesses not only Master Ice's Ice Goddess Stone, but also Ragnar's Flame God Stone. While he can't yet utilize the true power of these two top-grade gems, it's not surprising that he can unleash simple, basic magic. However, ice and fire are supposed to be incompatible, yet the two basic spells he uses simultaneously seem to have no conflict. This is truly puzzling. It seems this child has an exceptionally high talent for magic."
The mage on the right said resentfully, "Unfortunately, we don't have enough magic power to freeze the raging river, otherwise we would definitely have obtained these two gems. Ice Priestess, what about our mission? We should have just searched him directly earlier."
The Ice Priestess glanced at him, the coldness in her eyes making the mage shudder, and he dared not say another word.
"Remember, cultivating magic begins with cultivating the mind. Without a calm mind, your magical abilities will never reach the highest level. This mission ended in failure, and I will take full responsibility. Let us return. Great Goddess of Ice and Snow! Lend me your wrath to guide us to the lost shore." Before anyone knew it, a magic staff about a meter long appeared in his hand. The staff was a crystalline blue, its material unknown. Eight elven-like fingers, like stars surrounding the moon, extended from the staff's tip, grasping a transparent gem.
The staff was slowly raised. The ice element in the air gradually became violent, and the sky darkened. What was the wrath of the Goddess of Ice and Snow? It was an ice storm.
Ice Storm, a level six wide-range ice spell, with average attack power but an extremely wide area of effect.
Snowflakes swirled, causing the air temperature to plummet—the perfect environment for ice mages. In the dim sky, a fierce blizzard raged. The ice priest pointed his staff forward. "Let's go."
Two ice mages responded, their bodies enveloped in a soft blue light, rising like snowflakes and drifting with the wind towards the Ice God Tower. The blizzard was ideal for ice mages to fly short distances. While they couldn't fly continuously like wind mages, their speed over short distances was significantly faster.
With his companions gone, Ice Priest Bryn cast one last glance at the wide Azure River, sighing softly, "Let fate decide, Uncle Ice. This is all I can do for you." With his magical skill, he could have easily killed Ronnie as he fled, but his compassion prevented him, leaving the orphaned child a final chance at life.
…
Chambers walked from the Peach Blossom Forest to the banks of the Azure River. He glanced at the fishing net in his hand and muttered to himself, "I need to improve my diet. Eating vegetables every day, no matter how delicious, will always leave my body lacking in nutrition. I'll catch a few bluefish to nourish my aging body."
The fresh air was slightly damp, and breathing it in felt exceptionally comfortable. Chambers, fifty-seven years old this year, had lived here for ten years and knew his surroundings intimately.
His hands trembled as he barely managed to grip the fishing net. Using his arms to pull, he cast the net out. Although it only went four or five meters, for the Azure River, rich in fish, as long as he waited patiently, he was sure to return with a catch. He secured the net to his side, tied one of the fishing lines to his wrist, and sat down against a large tree. In the sweltering summer heat, the shade of a tree was indeed a good choice.