Cultivating in the Wizard World

City center, rooftop of a certain tall building.

The short black-robed figure, who once conversed with Professor Vito in an alternate space, stood at the edge of the rooftop, his hood blown back by the wind, revealing a face of indeterminate age.

His hands rested on the railing, body slightly leaning forward, his gaze passing through the gradually regrouping mist over Wudu, landing on that giant circular cloud hole.

The edge of the cloud hole was smooth as a mirror, the azure sky laying bare within it, like a perfect blue circle cut out with a compass on a gray canvas.

He looked at it for a long time.

Suddenly, he laughed, a deep admiration reflecting in his eyes.

His eyes narrowed into two arcs, with even two shallow dimples appearing on his round face.

"Truly a marvelous control of power," he said softly, most of his voice scattered by the rooftop wind, "To perfectly reach the power deployment limit permitted by that Eighth Level Wizard, and ensure that all the power does not affect the surroundings."

He looked quietly at that cloud hole, as if admiring a piece of art.

His admiration was justified.

As the total amount of power increases, it becomes increasingly difficult to control it within a certain threshold.

If it were merely about releasing a smattering of power, any casual wizard could manage precise control.

But to achieve precision like this, stabilizing power enough to blow away an entire building and disperse the dense fog covering an entire city within a certain level's limit, ensuring it doesn't exceed that threshold even by a fraction...

The required calculation power and energy might even surpass that of releasing the power itself.

"Not to be underestimated, a wizard who can obtain the admission ticket at just Fifth Level."

The short black-robed man withdrew his gaze, turned around, leaned his back against the railing, and inserted his hands into his pockets, looking up at the gray sky.

No doubt, this short black-robed man was the wizard always hidden beside Professor Vito.

Looking toward the empty mental hospital beneath the cloud hole, his expression turned somewhat wistful, as if recalling some unpleasant memories.

"Speaking of which, I got along quite well with that professor," he murmured to himself, "Technical level was not bad, just a bit of support in technology could lead to so many changes."

"Though he rushed things, his direction was correct. What a pity."

He looked down at the extinguished coal lamp by his feet.

It was his medium to enter the alternate space, and now that the alternate space had collapsed, the lamp had lost its purpose.

He gently kicked it, and the coal lamp fell from the rooftop, shattering with a crisp sound on the street below.

"This round, I admit defeat." He turned to face north.

The clouds were thicker there, the mist denser.

His gaze lingered in that direction for a few seconds, seemingly checking something, then regretfully shook his head.

"Forget it, let that young one have this city."

Saying this, he took a step forward.

His foot stepped into the void, and the air rippled with transparent waves, as if an invisible staircase unfurled beneath his feet.

He ascended step by step, his stride leisurely, his demeanor relaxed, like an old man strolling in his backyard.

"What a shame, the newly established power is gone just like that." He muttered as he walked, his tone not much regretful, more like tallying up a settled account, "If I go to other cities, should I also find a way to join the official like that young one?"

He paused, tilted his head in thought.

"Seems like a good idea, from this kid's situation the effect is better..."

His silhouette grew smaller in the sky, eventually merging with the clouds, disappearing without a trace.

The lingering ripples in the air expanded, gradually fading away, leaving nothing behind.

Jeming stood at the old bookstore's entrance, one hand just pushing open the wooden door, the other still holding the door handle.

Suddenly, his body paused slightly, his head turned north, his gaze passing over the street, fixing on the direction of the city center's high-rise buildings.

A dark golden glow flashed in the depths of his pupils, various active augmented detection methods activated and shut off in an instant.

But Jeming saw nothing.

The sky in that area was no different from anywhere else, everything appeared normal, with no noteworthy anomalies.

Yet Jeming was keenly aware that he had sensed something.

It was a "disturbance" from the level of fate.

Like someone had lightly plucked a string in the web of fate lines, then released it.

The string still vibrated, but the one who plucked it was gone.

"Hmm... it seems that wizard senior has quite the spirit for play."

Jeming nodded slightly at the entrance, and stepped inside.

The wooden door closed behind him with a familiar creak of the hinges.

He adeptly walked to the rocking chair and sat down.

The wooden boards creaked slightly under the weight, and the rocking chair swayed back and forth twice before steadying.

Jeming first retrieved various previously obtained supernatural anomalies from the space expansion bag he carried, allowing the test tubes sealing the anomalies to sprout limbs on their own, and find their designated spots in the underground laboratory.

Having completed all that, he took out the black-covered notebook from his inner grotto heaven and opened it, starting from the first page.

Jeming had already glanced over the substantive content of the notebook with spiritual power.

However, the notebook also held the spiritual will of Professor Vito, and the information contained in that will could not be deciphered by simply scanning with spiritual power.

Only by reading carefully and following the professor's thoughts could the hidden internal information be obtained.

The professor's handwriting was neat, the strokes clear, with almost no signs of erasure.

Each page of records was arranged in a fixed format: date, experiment number, purpose, method, result, analysis, next steps.

It was like writing a diary, yet also resembled drafting a technical manual.

Jeming flipped past records analyzing strange fragments, skipped over data and conclusions he had already verified in his research, and went straight to the last third of the notebook.

There, the professor ceased recording experimental data and began writing more personal content.

[...what is the supernatural?]

[This is a seemingly simple question that has never been truly answered.

The Spirit Communicator Association's definition is "a supernatural phenomenon posing a threat to human survival."

This definition is practical, but it is from the "human perspective," not from the "essence of the supernatural."

If the perspective were reversed? Looking at humans from the supernatural's point of view, what are humans?]