The next day, Jie Ming met up on time with Mentor Clark, Viola, Ang, and his son Coles.

Without needing words, the group tacitly harnessed the elements, transforming into several streams of light as they flew toward a towering spire deep within the academy.

The territory of Noren Academy No. 1 was vast beyond imagination—it was less an academy and more a complete miniature world.

Within it were not only neatly planned clusters of buildings but also rolling hills, deep basins, roaring rivers, and perilous peaks piercing straight into the clouds.

Their destination—the mentor of Mentor Clark—resided atop the steepest of those peaks, inside a black tower that stabbed through the clouds like a sharp sword.

Even before truly approaching the tower, an ancient aura assaulted them.

First to enter their view were the enormous beasts lounging or standing in the open area outside the tower, their sizes staggering to behold.

They varied in form: some covered in thick rocky carapaces, others wreathed in destructive energy lightning. Every one radiated energy fluctuations at the terrifying sixth-level!

These beings, capable of unleashing catastrophe in any plane and known as “natural disasters,” now wandered leisurely at the mountain’s base like domesticated pets, merely lifting their eyelids lazily at Jie Ming and the others’ passage.

Passing through the tower’s base gate, guarded by an invisible force field, the scene before them left Jie Ming momentarily dazed, as if he had accidentally triggered a random teleportation array.

Inside the gate was not the expected interior tower structure but an endless expanse of vast grassland!

A gentle breeze stirred waves in the grass, carrying the fragrance of earth and fresh greenery.

High in the sky hung a true sun, radiating light and heat upon the land.

“An entire plane nested within… What extravagance.” Jie Ming quickly recovered, shock surging in his heart.

This tower itself was a super-massive spatial container, bearing a complete small-scale plane inside!

On the grassland, beasts even larger than those “pets” outside roamed in abundance, their auras far deeper and more terrifying.

Some strolled leisurely, others lay slumbering—clearly the masters of this land.

Undoubtedly, this was the private garden of the yet-unmet Grand-Mentor, where he raised his “cannon fodder units” and “research materials.”

Following Mentor Clark, the group flew low over this grassland plane.

They skimmed mountains and rivers, finally arriving at an extremely open plain.

At the plain’s center stood a majestic palace of massive stone.

At the palace entrance, two humanoid beings with restrained auras and near-perfect forms awaited them.

Upon seeing Clark, they bowed respectfully, then silently led the group deep into the palace.

Passing through long colonnades, they entered an exceedingly luxurious hall with a soaring vaulted ceiling.

The hall’s lighting was soft, its walls embedded with countless self-operating runes that enacted the mysteries of laws.

Jie Ming’s gaze was immediately drawn to the sole seat at the hall’s highest point.

A hand that could be called slender gripped a simply designed silver staff. Its owner wore a plain black wizard robe.

The robe clung to his short, even somewhat frail-looking body.

When Jie Ming clearly saw the being seated in that high position, he couldn’t help widening his eyes.

Before coming, he had already learned this Grand-Mentor’s name—Anton Buchanan.

Yet now, no matter how he tried, he could not reconcile the tender-faced existence before him—who appeared no more than a ten-year-old child—with titles like “Mentor Clark’s mentor” or “peak great wizard on the verge of eighth-level advancement.”

But in the next moment, Jie Ming realized his own shallowness.

In the silent hall echoed a low, rhythmic “thump thump,” like war drums beating with a strange penetrating power, as if striking directly upon the soul.

Jie Ming instinctively sought the source and was horrified to discover that the sound… originated from the heartbeat of the “child” Grand-Mentor in the high seat!

What terrifying physique was this?!

Merely the unconscious beating of his heart could produce such clear echoes in this vast space.

The vital energy contained within his body was simply unimaginably vast!

Below the high seat were rows of chairs, already occupied by a number of people with varying aura strengths.

The “child” atop the seat—Wizard Anton Buchanan—gazed at the entering group led by Clark. His immature lips curved into a satisfied arc utterly at odds with his appearance, and he let out a low, cackling laugh that clashed sharply with his looks: “Heh heh heh heh… It seems everyone’s here.”

His gaze swept over them. When that seemingly ordinary stare landed on him, Jie Ming instantly felt his breath catch.

In the instant those profound pupils fixed upon him, he felt as if two invisible suns were scorching him at close range, his very soul trembling faintly.

Fortunately, the other clearly bore no malice and was well aware of the oppressive pressure from the vast gap in strength. His gaze merely passed over the third- and fourth-generation juniors like Jie Ming before withdrawing immediately.

Under Clark’s lead, Jie Ming and the others bowed respectfully toward the high seat: “It has been a long time, Mentor.”

Anton Buchanan waved his small hand, his voice childish yet carrying undeniable authority: “It has indeed been a while. No need to be so formal—find yourselves seats. A few more will arrive shortly.”

Mentor Clark took an empty seat in the front row as instructed. Jie Ming, Viola, Ang, and Coles quietly followed, settling in the area reserved for Clark’s branch.

Jie Ming took the opportunity to survey the hall.

Taking Grand-Mentor Anton Buchanan as the first generation, there were only five second-generation wizards present, including Mentor Clark.

Wizard Augusta, whom they had met earlier, was among them, seated not far from Clark.

Behind these five second-generation wizards sat varying numbers of third-generation disciples, and behind a few third-generation wizards followed even younger individuals who appeared to be fourth-generation disciples.

As his gaze swept over, Jie Ming spotted another familiar face among the second-generation seats!

The other seemed to notice Jie Ming’s stare and turned, revealing a gentle, scholarly face as he nodded with a slight smile.

Jie Ming’s heart jolted; he immediately leaned forward slightly in his seat out of respect.

Viola, noticing his subtle movement, whispered curiously: “You know him?”

Jie Ming replied softly: “We met during a plane war. Wizard Dionysius Spencer. I never expected he was from our lineage too.”

He remembered this Wizard Spencer excelled in fate-related abilities, his methods mysterious and unfathomable.

Now it seemed he also possessed extremely high attainment in alchemy technique.

At this thought, Jie Ming fell into contemplation.

So, combining “alchemy technique” with “fate-class knowledge” might be one of the core characteristics of their lineage.

Recalling that Wizard Dionysius Spencer was a genuine seventh-level wizard and noting his seating position, Jie Ming understood.

This Wizard Dionysius Spencer was likely the eldest senior brother of their lineage—their grand-uncle master.

Jie Ming instinctively glanced over a few times.

Behind this grand-uncle master followed seven wizards: six seated as third-generation disciples. Aside from one who appeared to have just advanced to first level, the remaining five were all fifth-level wizards.

One of those fifth-level wizards even had a third-level wizard behind him, evidently a fourth-generation disciple.

As Jie Ming observed them, these wizards—prompted by his earlier action—subconsciously turned their attention to him.

Aside from the first-level third-generation disciple and the third-level fourth-generation disciple, the other five wizards grew solemn upon seeing Jie Ming.

Jie Ming smiled amicably in response, knowing they had sensed the danger he carried—his internal world still housed a team of black giant priest researchers.

In a real fight, fifteen black giant priests equivalent to strong sixth-level beings could easily overwhelm and kill any one of them.

Not long after they were seated, faint ripples passed through the hall’s space.

Several overwhelmingly powerful auras—none inferior to Grand-Mentor Anton Buchanan’s, and one even surpassing it—approached swiftly from afar.

Grand-Mentor Anton Buchanan sensed these auras, and a genuine smile appeared on his childish face.

He actually hopped down from the throne symbolizing supreme status and, with short legs pattering, walked toward the palace entrance to greet them.

Seeing Wizard Anton Buchanan act thus, every wizard in the hall—regardless of generation—stood uniformly and followed toward the entrance, showing the highest respect to the arrivals.

Before the people arrived, a voice did: steady and mild, as if containing boundless wisdom and years, carrying a trace of subtle gratification. “Hey! Anton, I never expected you to be the first among us to touch the threshold of eighth level!”

Then came Grand-Mentor Anton Buchanan’s voice: “Mentor… It has been a long time.”

Hearing the exchange between Grand-Mentor Anton Buchanan and the leader of the arrivals, Jie Ming couldn’t help looking up curiously, eager to see just what divine being could make Grand-Mentor personally welcome them and address as “Mentor.”

Yet when he clearly saw the middle-aged man standing at the forefront of the visitors—the one Grand-Mentor Anton Buchanan called “Mentor”—his pupils contracted sharply, his heart nearly skipping a beat!

For this person was someone Jie Ming had met twice before, even collaborated with for a time.

He was none other than the founder of the Noren Workshop, the supreme alchemist, a living fossil of legend, eighth-level wizard—Wizard Noren!