Chapter 269: Chapter 268: Night Has Come, Supreme Order Descends! Chapter 269: Chapter 268: Night Has Come, Supreme Order Descends! Under the general conditions of the East Coast, Magic Rune Magic holds a middle ground in terms of entry difficulty and threshold when compared to other types of spells. It is not as easy as Shaping Energy Magic, nor is it as dangerous as Spiritual Magic, and because it lacks distinctive characteristics, it seems somewhat lackluster.
Although, theoretically, Magic Rune Spells can be used to cast all magic spells, covering the widest range, there is an unusual requirement for learning Magic Rune Magic—learners must be sensitive to precision and able to endure tedium, able to persist in tracing magic runes for several hours or even tens of hours.
From this perspective, those who research Magic Rune Magic resemble craftsmen more than wizards. Therefore, wizards have given those who learn Magic Rune Magic a uniform title—Magic Rune Master.
The term “Magic Rune Master” can hardly be considered laudatory; while neutral, it even carries a slight derogatory sense. Only some outstanding individuals among the Magic Rune Masters are sincerely referred to with the addition of “Great”—termed as Great Demon Rune Master or Magic Pattern Master, which is considered an honorific.
In daily life, the primary source of income for Magic Rune Masters is manufacturing and selling Magic Rune Magic Tools. A standard to judge their power is by how many magic runes they possess—the more and more advanced the magic runes they hold, the stronger they are, the more powerful the Magic Rune Magic Tools they make, and the more sought after they become, qualifying them as Magic Pattern Masters.
Therefore, for personal gain, aside from some common, widely-known magic runes, many magic runes are carefully kept secret by numerous Magic Rune Masters, who hesitate to show them openly.
When creating Magic Rune Magic Tools, Magic Rune Masters incorporate numerous deceptive, fake magic runes into the functional magic runes to prevent theft by other Magic Rune Masters. Even when teaching students, they reveal only a little, never passing on their full knowledge.
In a sense, Magic Rune Magic is similar to modern martial arts on Earth; many sects treasure their own skills, entrenched in their ways, preferring to let their techniques languish rather than teach them to others.
Therefore, while it’s not difficult to get started with Magic Rune Magic, achieving significant results is quite challenging.
Either one must have the capability to make oneself the beloved child of all Magic Rune Masters so that they are willing to share their treasured magic runes for study,
or one must use certain methods to reverse-engineer the Magic Rune Masters’ Magic Tools, decoding the true magic runes, and use them for oneself, becoming the “father” of all Magic Rune Masters.
To follow the latter path, one must possess enough Magic Rune Magic Tools.
So… attending the auction is necessary.
Exhaling lightly, Richard made his decision.
After deciding, Richard gently placed the invitation on the table and began cleaning up his laboratory, which had been messed up due to a previous explosion.
He arranged the equipment on the experimental table, replaced the damaged instruments, returned scattered documents to their places, checked the many culture dishes in the cabinet, and replaced the broken culture dish instruments…
After a good while, having finished cleaning, Richard sat down at the experimental table and began to record the methods, results, and some conjectures from earlier tests on the White Jade Plate.
It took another half a day to finish recording. Checking the dense text on the Papyrus Scroll, Richard let out a long sigh and stood up. He slowly walked to the window and relaxed slightly.
Opening the window, the rain continued to fall outside in the night.
The air was very fresh, slowly flowing into the room. Taking a deep breath, one could distinctly feel the moist air filling every alveolus, producing a feeling of exhilaration. The fine drizzle occasionally drifted in, landing on his hands and neck, bringing a refreshing coolness.
Richard felt very peaceful inside and thought the night was peaceful as well.
The calm night was like the surface of the deep sea, seemingly without a ripple. But in the next moment, it could burst into a violent storm, turning into raging waves.
In a place unnoticed by many, in the cool night of White Stone City, darkness, like ink, was rolling up from underneath. And most people living on the surface were still unaware, just like the bustling Golden Boots Tavern.
The Golden Boots Tavern was a mid-tier tavern in White Stone City, its distinct feature being a golden boot imprinted on its sign.
There were many stories about the origin of this golden boot, and if you were to ask the tavern owner, he’d definitely tell you that the boot was connected to many important figures, indirectly suggesting the tavern’s extraordinary past, which was now only shabby due to certain reasons.
No one really believed it.
And once doubted, the owner’s face would turn red, and he’d breath heavily while pulling out a shiny, polished boot from a box to show everyone, declaring that only the most remarkable people could wear such boots. The presence of the boot in the tavern was his best proof.
People would laugh, insisting the boot was a fake—either a copper boot or just painted, unless they examined it up close to see clearly.
Hearing this, the tavern owner would repeatedly shake his head and put the boot back into the box, loudly declaring that he wouldn’t allow anyone to look at it closely—what if it was stolen?
Such dramas would repeat every two or three days at the Golden Boots Tavern. Old customers, new customers, they all enjoyed it repeatedly, and the tavern owner tirelessly tried to prove himself time and again.
This evening, amid the faint drizzle, the tavern owner performed his act once more, and laughter continued to echo through the tavern, the joyful atmosphere lingering for a long time.
In a corner, two people dressed in black robes sat at a table, whispering as if they were averse to the surrounding atmosphere, occasionally frowning.
The pair was a man and a woman. The man looked to be in his thirties with a rather ordinary face, nothing remarkable about him.
The woman, more striking than the man, had a curvaceous body, her bosom nearly bursting through her clothes. Her face, as though meticulously sculpted, was delicate and beautiful, each detail radiating allure. If not for the hood of her robe shielding her, such appearance would surely stir up trouble under the influence of alcohol.
However, oddly enough, the voice that emerged from this beautiful woman was a slightly hoarse, magnetic male voice.
Definitely a male voice, not a falsetto.
The man talking to her seemed quite uncomfortable with this, and, after a conversation, he couldn’t help but ask her in a low voice, “Mu Konni, there’s something I find odd?”
“It’s just… if you want to become a woman, why keep the male voice? Don’t you think that’s a bit weird?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” the woman shook her head, looking at him with a resentful expression, “You just don’t get it, Suo Men!”
Outside the tavern, the night rain suddenly intensified. Amid the “pitter-patter,” the darkness, like a beast fatally stabbed by a longsword, convulsed in wild turmoil.
The dark night had arrived, and Supreme Order descended.