Chapter 81: The Space Notebook

On the third stone pedestal sat a book, roughly ten centimeters thick and rather tattered. With Mischus’s nod of approval, Rollin carefully lifted the hefty, battered tome with both hands. He flipped through a few pages at random and saw that they were densely filled with uneven handwriting; in some places, there were simple sketches. Upon closer inspection, he discovered the contents recorded various issues concerning a mage’s spiritual power and magical force. Further on, it detailed methods for alchemical crafting of instruments and puppets, even including some formulas.

“This is my cultivation journal,” Mischus explained. “It contains the methods and insights I’ve gathered throughout my life regarding mages, artifact alchemy, puppet alchemy, and martial artists. There are also anecdotes and strange occurrences I’ve witnessed. For example, as I told you before, in order to study martial artists, I once investigated ten thousand newly awakened children—both mages and martial artists—and concluded that a person’s combined spiritual and physical potential is essentially a fixed value. All of it is recorded here.

“As for artifact and puppet alchemy, compared to potion alchemy, they’re far less significant, so I simply included them in my journal. If you have spare time, feel free to read through it. Reaching the seventh or eighth star in those areas is sufficient.”

Rollin couldn’t help sticking out his tongue. The seventh or eighth star? I don’t have two souls like you, each fighting to outdo the other in cultivation. Right now, the only thing I’m interested in is potion alchemy—if I can craft a seven-star activation potion to heal my brother’s legs, that would be enough. As for artifact and puppet alchemy, I’ll worry about them later.

Nevertheless, Rollin was deeply interested in the cultivation insights and methods recorded in this journal—these were the life’s wisdom of someone whose power rivaled the gods. With this, who knew how many detours he could avoid on his own path? Reverently, Rollin stored the thick manuscript within his necromancer’s space.

He and Mischus then approached the final stone pedestal, where Mischus picked up a small, exquisite booklet with a black cover. He ran his hand over it a couple of times, as if bidding it farewell, then handed the booklet to Rollin.

Opening the hard, obsidian cover, Rollin was greeted by a few bold and vigorous words written in flamboyant script: Space Notes!

His heart immediately began to race, for over the past two years, he had been desperately searching for a method to cultivate the trace of inky-black spatial energy within his middle dantian—and that method was recorded in this very book. Likewise, it was by relying on spatial energy that Mischus, with his Saint Domain cultivation, could face off against the Martial God Aragon and retreat unscathed, and win a wager against another deity for the Golden Trident. This same method was chronicled in the booklet, and Rollin eagerly began to read.

As Rollin pored over the Space Notes, Mischus’s deep voice sounded, “It took me eight hundred years to master spatial energy. The very first step—condensing a space seed—cost me nearly five hundred years!”

Rollin listened as he read, unable to suppress a sigh. “Five hundred years! Isn’t the first step of cultivating spatial energy—condensing the space seed—a bit too hard? I’m only twelve; compared to five hundred years, that’s nothing.”

“When I finally mastered spatial energy, I spent many more years researching why condensing the space seed took so long. In the end, I discovered the fault was mine,” Mischus said, his tone tinged with regret.

“My own fault? Does that mean it doesn’t usually take so long?” Rollin perked up, ears straining for every word as he continued to study the cultivation method.

Mischus sighed, “Five hundred years? Ha… My research showed that, with the correct method, condensing the space seed should take as little as a year, or at most a few decades at the outside!”

Rollin was stunned. A year—or five hundred years? How could there be such a gap?

“After years of study, I discovered that by the time I tried to condense the space seed, I had already missed the ‘golden period’—it’s like a person’s height, which grows fastest during adolescence. After that, growth slows or stops altogether.

“The same principle applies to condensing the space seed. Its golden period is before reaching the sixth rank as a mage—the lower your rank, the shorter the time required. I was already a Saint Domain mage, so my golden window had long passed. That’s why it took me five hundred years, and seeds condensed after missing the golden period grow poorly. Even though I eventually mastered spatial energy, my achievements were limited.

“But you, as only a third-rank mage, are at the perfect stage. With the right method, you’ll succeed in a year or a few decades at most. Your future accomplishments in spatial energy will be far greater than mine. I wrote all of this in the Space Notes.”

Rollin had already reached this section of the instructions, but as he read, his brow furrowed ever more deeply.

At this point, Mischus fixed him with a shining gaze. “Rollin, before I leave this world, I want you to use my method to begin condensing your space seed—right here, in front of me!”

For ten thousand years, Mischus had lingered in this puppet form, never letting his last intact wisp of consciousness dissipate, solely because of the Dominator’s Blood Potion and the Space Notes. Rollin had already fulfilled one of his wishes by becoming a martial artist after ingesting the potion. Now, the Space Notes represented his final hope. He wanted to witness Rollin begin condensing the space seed with his own eyes.

Rollin put down the Space Notes, having read the entire method. Yet his brow was knotted with worry. After some thought, he asked, “Master Mischus, is there any way you could help me craft a seven-star activation potion?”

Mischus shook his head. “I’m lucky to have survived these ten thousand years in this state. My cultivation and alchemy skills are all sealed away—I can’t help you with that.”

Just as Rollin had suspected, this grandmaster alchemist, dead for millennia, was no longer capable of potion-making. Rollin exhaled heavily and apologized, “Master Mischus, I intend to wait until I’ve reached seventh-rank mage before attempting to condense the space seed.”

At these words, Mischus was first surprised, then a little displeased. “Rollin, didn’t you hear me say the golden period for spatial energy cultivation is before the sixth rank? If you wait until you’re seventh rank, not only will condensing the seed take much longer, its growth will be severely stunted!”

Rollin gave a wry smile. Of course he wanted to condense the space seed as soon as possible, but he couldn’t agree to Mischus’s request. As soon as the process began, his mage cultivation would be entirely sealed; until the space seed formed, he wouldn’t make the slightest progress.

Moreover, crafting seven-star potions required not just seven-star alchemy, but also a mage’s cultivation of at least seventh rank. To heal his brother with a seven-star activation potion, he had to reach seventh rank within nine years—his brother had, at most, nine years left to live.

There was no guarantee that condensing the space seed could be completed in a few years, so he dared not risk it.

Rollin explained all his concerns to Mischus, expecting him to be deeply disappointed and perhaps try to persuade him again. To his surprise, Mischus only gave a strange smile. “Rollin, in that case, you must begin condensing the space seed right now!”