William gave a cold smile, "If he dies now, how will I establish my power? Let him be arrogant for a few days. Within a month, I'll break through to tier-bronze. By then, he'll be nothing but a stepping stone, and all the nobles of the Northern District will bow at my feet!"
Hearing this, the seneschal grew excited.
"Tier-bronze! That's a level only the patriarch has reached! For William to achieve tier-bronze at his age would shock the entire Northern District—and even neighboring cities!"
At that point, not just Alan, but the title of the top noble family in the Northern District would be theirs for certain.
"With such strategy and talent, my grandson is truly destined for greatness!" the seneschal said, barely able to contain his excitement. "Don't worry. All of the family's resources will be at your disposal to support your cultivation."
William nodded. "Alan has lost everything, so there's no need to bother with him for now. Focus on helping me improve. Once I reach tier-bronze, I'll crush all enemies of my generation. Alan is nothing more than an ant."
...
Soon after, Alan exited the Virtue Pavilion with a bag of clothes on his back.
Beside him, Isabella carefully held a small box wrapped in cloth, containing the potions she had painstakingly prepared for her brother.
Over the years, Alan had poured his rewards and gold coins into Isabella's potion research, and this little box held everything she'd accumulated.
As they exited the hall, the crowd that had previously gathered had dispersed, allowing them to return smoothly to the small courtyard where their mother once lived.
Isabella, relieved to have retrieved the box, was about to open it when her expression twisted, and she staggered.
A wave of frenzied mental energy emanated from her, accompanied by a screeching sound like nails on a chalkboard, disturbing and grating to the senses.
"Oh no!"
Alan's expression changed instantly.
Dropping his bag, he rushed to Isabella's side, pulling her into his arms.
At that moment, veins pulsed visibly on Isabella's forehead, as if she were enduring some sort of piercing agony.
Despite years of bearing this pain, she was now drenched in sweat, her body convulsing uncontrollably.
She banged her head against nearby objects, trying desperately to ease the overwhelming suffering that immobilized her.
"Sister, I'm here. Your brother is here with you."
Alan held her tightly, comforting her repeatedly.
"Brother, it hurts! My head feels like it's going to explode!" Isabella's voice was hoarse, twisted by the pain, as if she were giving her last words. "Brother, if I don't make it, don't forget to use the potions in this box. They're all I could leave for you…"
Alan's heart twisted in agony at her words, his fingers digging painfully into his palms.
"You'll be fine. I swear it!"
He quickly retrieved a large vial of green potion from his pocket, pried open her clenched teeth, and poured the potion into her mouth.
As the mental potion took effect, Isabella's convulsing body gradually relaxed, and her furrowed brow smoothed out.
Soon, the soft sound of her breathing filled the air.
Relieved, Alan finally exhaled. She'd made it through.
However, his gaze turned grim as he looked at the two remaining vials in his hand.
There wasn't much potion left.
His sister's mental episodes were becoming more frequent and severe. This illness had to be cured soon!
Reaching Lioncrest Academy was now a matter of urgency.
Power. He needed to advance his power as quickly as possible!
Taking a deep breath, Alan glanced at the box Isabella had held tightly.
Breaking through a level using regular methods could take months or even years.
But with the right potions, he could accelerate his progress significantly.
However, potions that enhanced levels were costly and rare, nearly impossible to buy.
Even after his great contributions to the family, he'd only been awarded a single vial.
Now, relying on potions was his only choice to progress quickly.
The entry requirement for Lioncrest Academy was tier-iron level 8.
Reaching that level didn't guarantee admission; he would also face a grueling examination.
The assessment attracted the best talents from across the Plantagenet Kingdom, making higher levels crucial for a better chance of acceptance.
Alan took a deep breath and opened the box.
Inside was a row of neatly arranged vials, each with a colored liquid and labeled meticulously with their ingredients, ratios, and effects.
Seeing the familiar handwriting, Alan's eyes reddened.
Half of the potions were for healing, crafted specifically for his weaker areas—a feat only possible with intimate knowledge of him.
The remaining ones were for leveling up, with mild effects and no major side effects. Isabella had gone to great lengths for him.
"Don't worry, sister. I'll make sure you recover!"
Alan tucked Isabella in and, carrying the box, returned to hell.
There, he picked up a dark potion and drank it down in one go.
It was a Strengthening Potion, designed to enhance the body and facilitate the absorption of magical elements, increasing one's affinity with magic.
After taking it, he felt every cell in his body come alive with excitement as the surrounding elements converged into his cells, tripling his cultivation speed.
The effect was nearly twice as potent as the beast blood potion he'd taken before and much gentler.
The potion's effects lasted for three hours, bringing him as much progress as three full days of regular cultivation.
The difference between training with potions and without was like night and day!
"While potions can help a mage break through, overreliance on them will lead to an unstable foundation, making future progress harder," the woman in black robes remarked, appearing by his side as he finished absorbing the Strengthening Potion.
Alan nodded, then walked directly toward the Soul Grindstone.
A blood-curdling scream echoed through hell as his soul was once again crushed inch by inch, only to mend itself.
This agony was worse than death by fire.
But thoughts of his sister's strange illness kept him grounded even when he was close to breaking.
With the upgraded Soul Grindstone, the grinding was more thorough, lasting longer, and an hour later, Alan's convulsing soul reformed, stronger and with a new liveliness it hadn't possessed before.
After the enhancement, he wasted no time using his soul to manipulate the surrounding elements, concentrating the magical energy stored within his staff's greatsword, multitasking as he cast various spells.
The woman in black robes watched and nodded, understanding his approach.
The potions he consumed were mild and carefully crafted, and he compensated for any residual instability by rigorous training, ensuring his mana stayed controlled.
It was a good method, though extremely grueling.
Ordinary mages wouldn't have the endurance to sustain it.
With a wave of her hand, a line of shadowy figures appeared before Alan.
"These are magical puppets ranging from tier-iron level 5 to tier-bronze. Choose your opponents."
Alan's eyes brightened slightly.
He'd wanted a suitable benchmark and opponent to test his combat strength.
Scanning the row of magical puppets, his gaze settled on a tier-bronze golem.
"That one!" he declared.
Although he knew he wasn't yet a match for a tier-bronze mage, Alan wanted to push his limits. Only under extreme pressure could he achieve rapid growth!