Vincent looks at putting the two white sheets back in his bag, looking at the small print

overhead, trying to understand the meaning of the runes. Since none of the teleportation

spells work, break the rune on the wall, and then cast a wall-piercing spell that can drill a hole

to reach the fourth level.

The longer Vincent spends deciphering these texts, the more confused he becomes. There

was something really unique about the magic of the dark elves. There were many spells and

magical diagrams that Vincent had never seen before. About half of the incantations are

unique to the Dark Elves. The special format and structure of the spell make it extremely

difficult for the mage to read.

As a last resort, Vincent began to copy the runes and write them down in his notebook. He

slowly descended to the ground, took his question, and went back to the library on the first

floor.

Except for a small part about history, geography, and all kinds of knowledge, most of the

books here were devoted to the study of magic. Vincent selected a few books, sat down at

the wooden table, lit a candle and began to read them slowly.

But the knowledge itself, like the words on the ceiling, only gave Vincent more questions than

answers. The books that can be included in this tower are all the works of famous mages.

They record the experience records of their predecessors on magic, and they study some

relatively advanced things, rather than basic introductory books. It is impossible to use the

books of the heavens to explain the books of the heavens.

Vincent pushed the book away and looked at the candle on the table, holding his chin and

staring at the dancing orange flame.

I still remember that when I was in the Society of Mages, it was in this light that I spent my

study nights. At that time, I had piles of books in front of me, and my tools were a few pens,

bottles of ink, and bundles of white paper behind me. It was in this situation that Vincent

began to learn his own magic.

At that time, he had only one job, which was to copy books. Castle, the master of Prophecy,

Vincent's teacher, threw Vincent into the room with the books, pointed to the piles of books,

and said: "Now you start copying these books, don't come to me with questions, I will not

answer you. When you have finished copying these books, I will begin to teach you how to

do magic."

Vincent copied books for four years from there. He did not dare to slack off at all, and kept

writing with his own pen. On the way, he wanted to give up the hard work several times, but

he thought of his parents and the arduous process he had to go through to gain the

opportunity to enter the association and become a master. Vincent gritted his teeth and went

on working.

In those books, it was not all ordinary books. Special, of course, is not the scarcity of books or

the cost of making them, but the fact that a great many of them have magic attached to them.

In the beginning, Vincent also suffered from a number of page traps. The simpler ones made

him dizzy, nauseous and sleepless, while the worse ones set the mage's clothes on fire,

burning him like black coal. At that time, Vincent only knew a few tricks, and had no systematic

knowledge of magic at all. There was little he could do about the above traps.

Master Castle always said to Vincent, who came for help, "The process of learning is to find

the answer. The answer is in those books."

Vincent had to avoid the trap spells as much as possible, and read the ordinary books first.

Among the ordinary books, there were enchanters' books of magic, but they did not cast any

spells in them, but they presented new challenges. Vincent found it extremely difficult to copy

these books. The words on the books were inherently magical. When Vincent made a mistake

in the process of copying, even if it was just a single word, the whole text would disappear.

This required the poor master's apprentice to spend ten or even a hundred times as much

time copying paragraphs of the same length.

This careful habit, however, enabled him to master the structure and use of spells without

even realizing it. Although his systematic knowledge of magic and his abilities had not

improved at all, he had developed a degree of magical sensitivity that no one else could

match.

Four years later, Vincent's teacher began to teach him magic. After the first four years of his

life, Vincent had become a huge, shriveled sponge. Now, he began to absorb knowledge like

crazy.

Later on in his adventures, Vincent acquires knowledge of the roots of magic. But now he

feels powerless in the knowledge of dark elf magic. To be sure, the core rules of these books

are still part of the Magic Network, but the use of Dark Elvish to write spells has long since

developed its own style and magic script.

"I couldn't figure it out by reading it, so I copied it. Lots of practice always helps me find a use

for them! ' Vincent pulled back the book he had just pushed away, picked up the parchment

he had brought, took the quill pen, which had become brown with age, and began to write.

In a lounge next to the Black Crystal Tower, several dark elves were gathered together.

The room was furnished to the full of comfort, with a stove on a soft velvet blanket smelling

faintly of mint. Wide pillows are readily available, and round wooden tables are fixed

throughout the room, so that wherever you sit in the room, there is a table within reach. Wine

was served in crystal glasses and stood on round tables, accompanied by fruity muffins.

A dark elf mage gently exhaled the rich smoke, watched it drift away through the air, then put

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the pipe back in his mouth, closed his eyes and rediscovered the scent of the earth plant.

"A visiting wizard came today. He's a human. Did you all know that?" Take the pipe away and

tap it in the ashtray on the table, making thumping noises to get the attention of others. He

speaks in the slow, ethereal tone of a freshly exhaled smoke ring.

"That's the First Family's consulting mage, Jaril, and you'd better not hit his attention." "Said

the other Drow, still in the posture of a reader.

"Yo, what's the matter? I'm not gonna hurt him." The mage named Jaril picked up a muffin

between two long, thin fingers and nibbled it to his lips. "I'm just curious about rarely seeing

human mages. Zag, you bookworm, how can you read my mind? Just thinking..."

"Oomph! Who doesn't know about you? ' Oros came in through the door and took a seat in

the most corner. "But that fellow is mine, and I shall see how good he is!"

'How can that work? Jarel looked anxious and said, "If a man is accidentally broken by you,

how can I use it?"

Oros dropped the snack into his mouth and chewed it loudly. Jaril looked at the young mage,

frowning and impatient, and was about to speak when Oros' words shoved him back into his

stomach.

"Yes, this one is well done. It's very resilient. Jaril, if you find the chef who cooked it and ask

him to make you a cake in the shape of an ass, you can 'use' it! Ha ha!"

'Oomph! Laugh all you want, for you will not know the ecstasy. I'm taking this mage."

"Stop arguing, both of you. Master Vizren has said not to mess with the mage. Put that in

your head!"

"Why, even the Archmage Vizren has turned up." Jaril's neutral voice wafted. "I wonder what

his interest is in that human being? But at his age, I wonder if he can still... '

'Bang!' Zag slammed the book out of his hand. 'Jaril, watch your tongue! If you don't want it,

I'll feed it to the dogs!"

'Don't... My dear Zag, even if I have a mean mouth, go on reading as if I don't exist."

'Hum! 'Zag picked up the books he had lying around and left the room.

The curtain of the break room door stopped shaking, and not much was said. It was a long

time before Jaril turned to Oros and said, "I want this one first, since it will not affect his

strength. You won't mind, will you, Oros?"

"Whatever." As Oros gulped down the red wine in front of him, he stood up, leaving a

message of "Looks like someone's come in!" Then he turned and ran away.

"How can people have fun when they have no patience?" There was only one dark elf left in

the room, leaning on a pillow, propping his head in his hand, his eyes closed, chewing on an

empty pipe, as if in a deep sleep.

Three days later, Vincent came out of the Crystal Tower for the first time. He wondered now

if his mother had already realized that dark elf spells were no different from the book of

heaven to the sorcerers on the surface of the earth, and he had willingly agreed to read them.

He rubbed his sore back and his thighs, numb from the long sitting, and walked straight out

of the tower.

Back at the hotel, Hardy and Mark were gone, their belongings and the lizard in the back yard

still undisturbed. Instead of using magic to clean himself, Vincent has actually been in the

water and had a good bath. He needs to relax now.

"Hey! Vincent, are you back? Where have you been hiding? ' Suddenly, Shelley opened the

door and came in.

Although Vincent knew the moment she entered the inn, the drow moved so fast that Vincent

would never have had time to get dressed if he had stepped out of the bucket. So, rather

than be seen through, the Wizard soaked himself in the water tub.

"Sure enough, you are here. It seems that you are still very relaxed!" Shelley moved a chair

across from the Master. Her eyes caught a glimpse of her magic robes and other clothes lying

aside. "Vincent, why are you so clean?" she asked.

As she spoke, Shelley moved her chair closer to him. She sprang to her feet and ran to the

basin.

Vincent had already seen through her thoughts. The character of this drow woman changed

like turning the pages of a book. Suddenly she would turn to the next page, and then she

would change her style. As soon as Shelley entered the house, Vincent used dark techniques

on the bathtub, rendering the water completely opaque, even to the special vision of the dark

elves.

"How can you bathe in black water? TSK TSK." Shelley sat back down somewhat disappointed,

"Vincent, I have come to tell you some news. I will soon be sent to the Temple of the Spider

Goddess to learn the knowledge of sacrifice. What do you think about this?"

'When did this happen?

'Just yesterday. My mother somehow managed to persuade the priests to let me study the

priest's magic. Vincent, you are the counselor. What do you think about this?"

'It doesn't make any difference. Wouldn't it be better for your plan to learn more?'

"Don't you know the ceremonies and rituals of the Spider Temple? Especially the final

graduation ceremony, which, according to your human terms, is obscene and wild. Don't the

humans on Earth care about this?" Shelley looked worried.

"If you wanted to be a genius, you would have ended your studies very quickly and gone to

that graduation ceremony." Vincent smiled and said, "Whether this happens or not is actually

up to you."

"It's not that simple!" The Drow stamped himself to his feet. "In any case, I demand you do

something fast! All right! It's decided!"

Shelley left in the same hurry as she had arrived. Vincent is left alone in the "dark water" to

think about what to do.