Chapter Seventy-Five: It’s Him!

Faced with two formidable spirit masters at once, Weir had no choice but to act with utmost caution. As soon as he saw Provis charging at him, he unleashed a vast flurry of wind blades without hesitation, spending his magic power freely. The storm of wind blades, dense as rain, transformed into countless green beams in the air, swallowing up the ground within ten meters around Provis in an instant.

A deafening explosion resounded as the wind blades struck the earth, sending sand and gravel flying. Amid the billowing smoke, a black shadow flickered—so swift that Weir could barely register it. In just a few blinks, that shadow had already appeared right before him!

“Not a bad attack, but it lacks force!” Provis glanced disdainfully at his robe, now shredded to tatters by the wind blades, and sneered coldly at Weir. The energy blades on his fingers burst forth, and with a leap, his whole body shot through the air like an arrow loosed from its string, aiming straight for Weir’s heart!

“Ice Shield!”

With a low shout, Weir conjured a massive ice shield before him, blocking Provis’s deadly strike just in time.

A sharp crack rang out as the energy blades pierced the shield, spiderweb cracks spreading rapidly from the point of impact. Provis twisted his fingers, and with a crisp snap, the ice shield shattered completely, scattering shards across the ground.

Weir had not expected his Ice Shield to withstand Provis’s attack. Yet, seeing the outcome, a sudden realization struck him! For spirit masters of this level, to only be able to gather so little energy at this point—and to be unable even to cloak themselves in energy for defense—meant their strength and power had been greatly suppressed. Previously, Provis could have easily pierced the ice shield and delivered a fatal blow, but now he could barely shatter it at all. This meant both their powers were restrained—perhaps, he actually stood a chance against them!

Likewise, Provis was dissatisfied with his own attack. With a furious roar, he rushed at Weir like a gale.

“Forest of Thorns!”

Weir’s wand swept through the air with a low chant, and dozens of massive, pitch-black spikes erupted from the ground. Each was a meter long and as thick as a barrel. Yet such a barrage only slowed Provis for a heartbeat. He darted among the spikes like a wild beast, eyes locked on Weir, a savage killing intent flickering across his face.

The gap between them closed rapidly. Though Weir’s heart sank, he showed no panic. Retreating step by step, he kept the “Forest of Thorns” pressing the attack while casting a freezing spell at Provis.

Within the fog, a faint figure flashed swiftly amid the onslaught. Enormous black spikes sprang up all around, and a thick sheet of ice began to spread across the ground. Perhaps Provis did not yet notice, but he was already encircled by a perfect ring of ice.

“Water Blades!”

Weir’s low voice rang out, and suddenly the air filled with swirling water magic. Provis looked up to see countless razor-sharp blades of water forming overhead, whistling as they hurtled down at him. At the same time, the thorny spikes grew fiercer—within moments, the ground around Provis was nearly blanketed with them.

“Oh? You thought of attacking from both sides at once…”

Both spells overlapped with seamless fluidity—a perfect harmony. The youth split his focus but left not a single opening. More impressive still, he seemed to have predicted Provis’s movements and set his attacks accordingly. Such battle experience at his age genuinely surprised Provis.

“Heh…”

From the sidelines, Gus watched as Weir drove Provis into a frantic dance, a faint trace of a smile curling his lips. He called out loudly, “Vis! At a time like this, you’re still playing with the boy? All this commotion is bound to attract those people!”

“Shut up! If you’re so capable, why don’t you come and try yourself?”

With a burst of energy, Provis shattered all the water blades in midair into harmless spray, letting the droplets splash over him. He then nimbly dodged a dozen black spikes erupting from the ground. Landing, he crouched low and exploded forward like a beast, charging straight at Weir. Now, only two meters separated them. Yet at that moment, Provis caught a glimpse of satisfaction flicker across Weir’s weary face.

“Something’s wrong!”

A warning rang in Provis’s mind as he tried to halt his advance. But just then, azure ripples spread out from the ground beneath him, converging around him. The scattered water droplets from earlier abruptly solidified, merging with the blue ripples into a single sheet of ice.

“Ice?!”

Provis almost screamed. His entire body was now fused to the frozen ground, thick crystals coating him, especially over his joints, locking him motionless in an icy embrace.

Previously, not even iron shackles could have restrained Provis, let alone ice. But in this strange foggy region, his strength was so suppressed that his spirit master’s power now barely matched that of an ordinary adept. He roared desperately, trying to shatter the ice with brute force, but Weir would not let his painstaking efforts go to waste. Drawing a deep breath, disregarding his own near-exhaustion, Weir raised his wand and poured his last ounce of magic into forming a slender, lethal ice spear in the air. It shot forward, a silver-white beam, aimed straight at Provis’s heart.

With a metallic clang, just as the ice spear was about to strike, a black shadow flashed across and caught it.

“Heh, Vis, you certainly look like you’re enjoying yourself…”

Gus cackled at Provis, casually crushing the ice spear in his grip.

Seeing this, Weir’s heart sank. His magic was now utterly depleted; his body weak and limp, he nearly collapsed, saved only by Buck, who rushed in to steady him.

Watching Weir gasping weakly for breath, a strange smile crept across Gus’s face. He turned to Provis and laughed, “Ha! Would you believe it, I thought today was some special day—every mage we meet is formidable. That woman earlier single-handedly took down seven of our spirit adepts, and this boy here nearly finished you off, Vis…”

“Damn it! Stop your bloody babbling and get me out of here!” Gus’s words struck Provis’s sore spot; his face darkened as he cursed at Gus. But Weir, hearing Gus mention the woman, was stunned.

A female mage? Could it be Triss Procis?

Mouth agape, Weir was about to ask the pair about Procis when a sudden, inexplicable chill swept through the area, sending a shiver through everyone’s hearts.

“Who’s there?!”

Sensing the strange cold, a flicker of fear rose in Gus’s heart. He shouted, energy flaring to its limit, eyes wary as he scanned the fog. A bead of sweat trickled down his cheek.

“Over there!”

Weir’s perception was keener than most. Though the thick mists obscured everything, he quickly sensed a powerful presence approaching from afar.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

At last, from the north, a towering black silhouette slowly emerged from the fog. The moment Provis glimpsed it, he froze, as if turned to stone, his face drained of blood, teeth chattering uncontrollably.

“It’s him!”

With those words, the spirit master rolled his eyes back and collapsed, unconscious.