Ron nodded with satisfaction, a hint of anticipation flashing in his eyes.
This was the primary goal of his journey—to acquire the complete heritage of the "Crown Breathing Technique," especially the legendary highest realm’s cultivation method of the "Crown Knight."
"There’s one more thing," Andre suddenly said, a trace of hesitation appearing on his face:
"Regarding the kingdom situation... there are some matters I wish to consult you about."
Ron looked at his old friend, waiting for him to continue speaking.
Andre took a deep breath, a rare confusion flashing in his eyes:
"Now I have control over most of the kingdom’s power, but in some places, resistance still exists. Particularly, several border counts in the north refuse to acknowledge my authority, even secretly colluding with neighboring countries to stir up war."
His voice was low and heavy:
"By normal logic, I should concentrate my forces to eliminate them completely, but in doing so, the northern border will be left vulnerable, giving neighboring countries an opportunity. More tricky is that the most formidable military strength in the Northern Lands is the Icefield Orcish Cavalry."
Ron raised an eyebrow: "Orcish Cavalry?"
"Yes," Andre nodded, a shred of apprehension flashing in his eyes:
"This is an elite cavalry composed of several hundred icefield orcs, each possessing several times the stamina and strength of an ordinary human soldier. Almost invincible on the battlefield, they are the trump card force for the northern counts."
An interest flickered in Ron’s eyes: "Several hundred orcs? Sounds intriguing."
His thoughts turned to the energy charging progress of the "Thousand Transformations."
If he could absorb the souls of these orcs, it might provide substantial energy to the "Thousand Transformations," accelerating its advancement speed.
Andre seemed to discern Ron’s thoughts and hesitated to speak:
"But there is a problem... to my understanding, the School Alliance has an agreement that official wizards shall not commit large-scale slaughter of ordinary people, to avoid unnecessary panic."
Ron chuckled lightly; this, of course, he knew:
"Orcs are not ordinary humans; they are extraordinary creatures, and the agreement does not mention dealing with such entities."
A cold glint flashed in his eyes:
"Moreover, if they are the ones who first challenge me, then there is no issue of violating the agreement."
Andre’s eyes lit up: "You mean..."
"I need a deterrence, not a war."
Ron stared directly into Andre’s eyes:
"Lead those orcish cavalry to a place suitable for me to act, and let me handle it. It will settle your problem in the Northern Lands, and provide me with an excellent opportunity for a magic experiment."
His fingers gently tapped on the table, unknown lights flashing in his eyes:
"Moreover, the souls of those orcs should be valuable... very helpful for some of my special research."
A trace of shock and reverence flashed through Andre’s eyes.
Even though he had long known Ron to be someone who would stop at nothing in a quest for power, such candid discussion of harvesting souls still sent a chill through him.
However, he quickly gathered his emotions and regained the calm demeanor of a leader:
"So it’s settled, then. I’ll arrange for someone to guide that orcish cavalry into a suitable encirclement; the rest is up to you."
He paused for a moment, then added:
"However, there is one issue; most of those icefield orcs are skilled in frost magic. Although not exceptionally powerful, they cannot be underestimated."
Ron smiled faintly, a confident gleam in his eyes:
"Frost magic? Just perfect for testing out my newly researched magic applications."
The two exchanged a glance, both seeing the satisfaction with their future plans in each other’s eyes.
"There’s one more thing," Ron suddenly changed the subject:
"The heritage of the ’Crown Breathing Technique’ is just the foundation; I need some other things too..."
Andre was slightly surprised but quickly nodded in agreement: "As long as it’s owned by the royal family, I can prepare it for you."
In that secret chamber, their conversation stretched on for a long time.
Their voices were low and calm, yet capable of changing the destiny of the entire kingdom.
Meanwhile, August stood alone in the corridor, looking at the tightly shut door, filled with mixed emotions.
He suddenly recalled his younger days at the Black Mist School.
How he had once bowed and scraped before those high and mighty official wizards; how he had once tread carefully before that terrifying old witch at the herb store.
And today, even though he was now one of the most respected in the kingdom, wielding significant influence.
Yet, in front of that young wizard, he still felt the same smallness and powerlessness.
"Mortal men remain mere mortals..."
The old prince sighed softly, his voice filled with helplessness and resignation.
At this moment, he seemed to finally recall this eternal truth:
Mortals, even as advanced apprentices, must gaze up to and obey the wizards.
The domination and power of a wizard are absolute, a mere thought capable of shattering any rebel’s skull.
And this is the iron law of this world.
.........
At twilight, the Ralph Clan’s castle appeared with an ancient and solemn beauty under the warm golden sunset glow.
The towering turrets, heavy stone walls, and the family flag fluttering in the wind all spoke of the clan’s long history and noble lineage.
Ron’s carriage slowly entered the castle gate, the wheels making rhythmic sounds against the stone road.
He could sense that from the moment he stepped onto the clan’s land, countless eyes were secretly observing him.
Those gazes, whether curious, reverent, or probing, followed the returning family member closely like shadows.