Cassandra slowly walked towards the podium, each step taken with utmost composure.
The podium, constructed from otherworldly materials, glowed faintly under her feet, as if responding to the terrifying energy contained within her.
The "Time Crystals" embedded along the edge of the podium began to flash rhythmically, perfectly synchronized with her heartbeat.
As she stood still, the entire "Hall of Falling Stars" plunged into a deathly silence.
Thousands of wizards held their breaths, the air thick with a suffocating sense of tension.
Ron activated the "Hermit’s Knowledge," carefully observing the subtle reactions of the crowd below.
In the eyes of the young wizards glimmered an excited light, like hungry beasts scenting blood;
while the seasoned scholars displayed worry, their clenched fists betraying inner unrest.
What caught his attention most was the change in the observation station’s lineup.
The members who had long suffered from abyssal corrosion were, at this moment, exhibiting a certain morbid excitement.
Wayne’s petrified half-face began to glow faintly, Mary’s artificial eye flickered more rapidly, and even the always composed Martin subconsciously tapped the instrument at his waist with his calloused fingers.
"It seems my previous hypothesis was correct." Ron analyzed this abnormal phenomenon in his mind:
"The aftereffects of abyssal corrosion have made them resonate with a specific energy fluctuation from Cassandra?"
"Esteemed colleagues."
Cassandra’s voice echoed in the hall, her gentle tone a stark contrast to the conquering might she displayed moments ago:
Whispers began to rise from below, and an elderly man in a traditional scholar’s robe cleared his throat:
"Great Wizard Cassandra, forgive my bluntness, but our ’defense strategy’ has ensured the continuation of the Wizard Civilization to this day.
Did not those ancient civilizations that opted for aggressive expansion all vanish in the river of history?"
This elder was named Edgar Blake, one of the longest-serving theoretical researchers at the Crystal Tower.
Though his voice trembled, there was an undeniable firmness in his speech.
Cassandra turned to him, a serious glimmer flashing in her violet eyes:
"Professor Edgar raised a very good question. Indeed, our conservative strategy is what kept us alive until now, and that’s an undeniable achievement."
She waved her right hand lightly, and a large multidimensional map projection immediately floated in the air.
"However, Professor Edgar, do you really believe that ’survival’ and ’prosperity’ are the same thing?"
The map began to display the development trajectory of the Wizard Civilization over the past millennium—a slow yet steady upward curve.
Then, the projection showed the growth rates of other known civilizations for comparison.
"Look at this red line, representing the development trajectory of our Wizard Civilization. Stable, predictable, reassuring."
Cassandra’s finger traced the blue line in the air that represented the Wizard Civilization:
"And these, are the growth data of other civilizations I’ve encountered in otherworld conquests."
Several dozen curves of various colors appeared on the projection, most of which showed steep upward trends.
Some civilizations developed at ten times the rate of the Wizard Civilization, others even a hundred times faster.
Professor Edgar’s face turned pale: "But... but rapid development often means instability, and greater risk..."
"You’re right."
Cassandra nodded in agreement, but then shifted the subject:
"But Professor Edgar, have you considered this—when others develop at a hundred times our speed, even if they bear ten times the risk, the final reward is still ten times ours?"
She paused, allowing this notion to ferment in the minds of her audience:
"More importantly, when other civilizations’ strength has far exceeded ours, does our ’stability’ still have any meaning?
A civilization far more powerful than us, if decided to conquer us, might see our millennia of achievements as nothing more than a joke."
Another voice raised its doubts from the crowd, this time from a young female witch:
"But Great Wizard Cassandra, conquest means conflict, means death.
The spoils you’ve displayed are indeed impressive, but at what cost?
How many lives were lost during your conquests?"
Ron carefully observed this questioner’s micro-expressions and flow of magic power.
To his surprise, the emotional state of this witch was unusually calm.
Although her words carried a tone of questioning, her heartbeat, the flow of magic power, and even her pupil reactions showed a nearly transcendent calmness.
"These are not the physiological reactions of someone truly angry or worried..."
Ron noted this abnormality in his mind and began to pay attention to the states of other questioners.
Cassandra faced this pointed question with a solemn expression:
"Master Lianna, your question touches on the core moral dilemma of conquest policy.
I will not evade this issue, for honesty is the foundation of our discussion."
A trace of profound pain flashed in her violet eyes:
"Yes, lives were indeed lost in the process of conquest. On the enemy’s side, and on ours.
Every wizard who fell on the otherworld battlefield is an eternal pain in my heart."
Cassandra’s voice trembled slightly:
"However, Master Lianna, may I ask you to consider another question—during these years of our ’peaceful’ development, how many wizards have died in the Abyss?
How many scholars were lost due to the lack of sufficiently advanced medical technology?"