When the ancient and profound figure of Wizard Noren appeared at the palace entrance, without any prompting, every wizard in the hall—regardless of generation, seniority, or strength—bowed in unison, expressing the utmost respect for this eighth-level wizard.

Jie Ming bowed with the crowd, but his gaze lingered a moment longer on Wizard Noren.

At first, he truly hadn’t expected Wizard Noren to appear here, and from the sound of it, he was even Grand-Mentor Anton Buchanan’s mentor.

Jie Ming’s mind raced, instantly piecing together the connections.

The Noren Workshop was founded upon and thrived through support-type witchcraft as its orthodox path.

Its three pillar disciplines—alchemy technique, runes, and potions—were renowned far and wide.

As the workshop’s founder, Wizard Noren himself was undoubtedly a being who had delved support-type witchcraft to the extreme.

His mastery of alchemy technique and personally teaching a peak great wizard in the field like Anton Buchanan was entirely logical.

“Hiss!!!”

A thought flashed through Jie Ming’s mind like lightning, nearly causing him to lose his composure:

“If that’s the case… by the standards of those popular novels, I, Jie Ming, study under Clark; Clark studies under Anton Buchanan; Anton Buchanan studies under Noren… Doesn’t that make me part of the direct lineage of the Noren Workshop’s founder—the core of the core? The legendary ‘sect leader’s direct disciple’? The kind of background where offending the junior brings out a string of old monsters?”

This realization filled Jie Ming with a myriad of emotions, a strange sense of absurdity washing over him.

However, this sentiment lasted only a few breaths before dissipating.

He quickly sobered: background was background, but in the vast multiverse, dangers lurked everywhere.

The number of support-type wizards in the Noren Workshop was immense—all theoretically “orthodox”—yet those who fell when they were supposed to had never been few.

Strength was the eternal foundation.

Wizard Noren entered with a mild smile, accompanied by several seventh-level wizards behind him, each with varied forms but radiating auras as vast as starry seas.

Grand-Mentor Anton Buchanan first greeted Wizard Noren respectfully, then warmly exchanged words with the other seventh-level wizards, their familiarity evident—they were clearly fellow disciples from the same master.

One wizard in particular seemed especially close to Anton Buchanan.

His entire body had fully energized, formed from pure blue arcane energy, surrounded by constantly manifesting and vanishing rune shadows.

This wizard’s voice carried an energy tremor as he couldn’t help sighing: “I truly never expected that among us, it would be you, little Anton, who first touched the boundary of eighth-level wizard.”

At this, Grand-Mentor Anton Buchanan immediately placed his hands on his hips, puffing out his small chest and letting out a triumphant laugh: “Heh heh heh heh… Of course! I’m a genuine genius! Far more reliable than you old fogeys!”

Hearing their Grand-Mentor’s utterly immodest, almost “childish” declaration, Jie Ming instinctively glanced sideways at Viola beside him.

Viola seemed to sense it and turned her head.

She looked at Jie Ming in confusion. Though the solemn occasion kept her silent, her eyes clearly asked: “What?”

Jie Ming shook his head regretfully. He always felt that neither Mentor Clark nor himself shared much personality with Grand-Mentor… whereas Senior Sister Viola’s occasional playfulness and love of showing off bore a striking resemblance to Grand-Mentor’s true style.

He couldn’t help muttering inwardly: “Could this be the legendary ‘skipping a generation’? No, they aren’t even blood-related…”

Over there, Grand-Mentor Anton Buchanan chatted and laughed with his senior brothers while respectfully guiding Wizard Noren to the main seat he had occupied earlier.

Then, with a wave of his small hand, alchemical light flowed across the ground. The earth beside the main seat rose like a living thing, rapidly forming several ornate rock thrones inscribed with profound patterns.

Grand-Mentor then sat with the other seventh-level wizards on either side of Wizard Noren.

After taking his seat, Wizard Noren casually waved a hand. A gentle yet irresistible force swept through the hall, his voice calm yet clearly reaching every ear: “All family here—no need for excessive formality. Sit as you please.”

“Thank you, Lord Noren / Ancestor!” The crowd bowed in thanks once more before reseating themselves as instructed, though their postures grew even more upright.

Wizard Noren’s gaze slowly swept the hall—not sharp, yet as if penetrating all facades to see essence.

When his eyes passed over Jie Ming, a pressure far surpassing Grand-Mentor Anton Buchanan’s bore down—like the entire cosmic starry sky pressing upon him—causing Jie Ming’s breath to hitch slightly.

Fortunately, his body tempered thousands of times by the Body Forging Method provided solid support, and the mental resilience honed from long-term study of profound knowledge held firm.

Outwardly, Jie Ming showed no abnormality, only his hands on his knees tightening faintly.

Wizard Noren’s gaze lingered on him for less than half a second, a trace of imperceptible surprise flashing before moving on.

He glanced at Viola and Clark, finally turning to Anton Buchanan beside him, his tone carrying approval:

“Anton, I originally thought producing a disciple like Clark was already impressive. I never expected even your grand-disciples to bring surprises. Very good.”

Hearing Wizard Noren’s personal praise, not only did Grand-Mentor Anton Buchanan grin from ear to ear, but even the ever-steady Mentor Clark couldn’t suppress a clear curve at his lips, pride shining in his eyes.

The conversation between the two great figures above was not deliberately hushed; those below heard it clearly.

In an instant, countless gazes—curious, envious, probing—swept uniformly toward Mentor Clark’s section, focusing on Jie Ming, Viola, Ang, and the others.

Faced with this sudden attention, Viola maintained her deliberately cultivated elegant poise.

Her lips curved slightly, revealing a perfectly measured smile laced with mystery and confidence.

Those unfamiliar with her true nature might truly be fooled by the facade.

Jie Ming and Ang, however, remained much calmer.

Ang, true to his temperament, sat upright with slight restraint.

Jie Ming kept his eyes downcast, observing nose and heart like a monk in meditation, seemingly oblivious to the external stares.

Ang’s child, however, grew visibly tense—the wizards present far outstripped him in strength, and now under collective scrutiny, the pressure was even greater.

Glancing at the nervous “little one,” Jie Ming, Viola, and Clark simultaneously released their auras to envelop him, easing his burden considerably.

Wizard Noren paid no mind to the minor stir below, his attention returning to Anton Buchanan as his tone grew more formal: “Anton, how do you feel now? How is your state adjustment?”

Anton Buchanan restrained his smile, his childish face taking on the seriousness and confidence of a peak wizard: “I feel excellent, Mentor. All preparations are complete, and law resonance has reached expectations. However, I sense my mental force has not yet reached absolute perfection—perhaps it can accumulate a bit more. I estimate that within a month, I will formally begin assaulting the eighth-level barrier.”

Wizard Noren nodded slowly, gratification and anticipation in his eyes: “Very good. Since you have decided, we shall wait here this month—to witness with our own eyes the Noren Workshop gain another eighth-level wizard.”

The other accompanying seventh-level wizards nodded in agreement.

For formal wizards with lifespans often spanning thousands of years or more, a single month was but the snap of a finger.

The chance to observe a peak seventh-level wizard’s assault on eighth level up close held inestimable value for their own future paths.