I Arrived At Wizard World While Cultivating Immortality

At that moment, Rex also pushed his way over. The once taciturn wizard had become noticeably steadier and more composed after the experience in the Justice Plane.

He stared at the fifth-ring mental fluctuations radiating from Jie Ming, brows tightly furrowed, his tone filled with confusion and concern:

“Your situation… isn’t this just a bit too exaggerated? Last time we met, hadn’t you only recently advanced to third ring? How much time has passed since then? This advancement speed is simply… unimaginable.”

Seraphina patted her chest, looking as though she had just survived a great scare:

“Exactly! It hasn’t even been a full millennium since we last parted ways, right? You jumped straight from second ring to fifth ring—are you insane?!”

Faced with the undisguised shock and genuine concern from his old classmates, Jie Ming felt a slight warmth in his heart. He could only give a wry smile and explain:

“No choice… something unexpected happened on my side. My mental strength encountered some special circumstances and grew far too rapidly. Meanwhile, my mastery of laws has always been… relatively solid. So once my mental strength met the threshold, advancement came naturally. You could say it was… a forced promotion.”

This explanation concealed part of the truth.

At the very beginning, Jie Ming had only intended to advance to third ring. He never expected the Justice Plane would kill him once; the terror of death had stimulated his mental strength to surge uncontrollably.

Thus, advancing from third to fourth ring had indeed been something Jie Ming was forced into against his will.

But advancing from fourth to fifth ring—that had been his own mistake.

The reason was that, in the Reincarnation Plane, he had discovered the time afterimage as an exceptionally effective method for tempering the body. In his excessive excitement, he momentarily forgot to consider the issue of mental strength.

As a result, his physical constitution grew too powerful too quickly. Relying on the instinctive connection of the Qi Refinement method among essence, qi, and spirit, it drove his mental strength to increase at an alarming rate.

And between third ring and sixth ring, a wizard’s advancement required only two criteria: sufficient mental strength and adequate law mastery.

Jie Ming’s mastery of the Spiritual Qi Law had long since exceeded the requirement, thanks to independently establishing the Incense Fire Divine Dao system.

Combined together, the advancement truly felt like “being pushed forward” rather than something he deliberately chased after with great speed.

Anya crossed her arms, her brows still furrowed.

Among the group, she was the last to have seen Jie Ming and also the one who knew the rough timeline of each of his advancements:

“When we last met, you had only just advanced to fourth ring, correct? By my calculations, from the time you became a fourth-ring wizard until now, it probably hasn’t even been five hundred years. In such a short period—even if your talent is extraordinary—can your knowledge reserves, especially the advanced theoretical knowledge required of fifth-ring wizards, possibly keep up?”

This was precisely what David, Rex, and Seraphina were most worried about.

A wizard’s ring level merely expanded the “container,” determining the upper limit of power one could wield. But the actual lower limit of that power depended entirely on the depth and breadth of the wizard’s own knowledge.

Advancing too quickly often meant insufficient knowledge accumulation—resulting in empty rank with no matching combat power.

Of course, for ordinary knowledge-based transcendents, even if their logical thinking patterns remained unchanged, they could rely on vastly improved “hardware” performance after advancement to acquire required knowledge far faster than at lower levels.

But… this did not apply to wizards.

It wasn’t that wizards were incapable of doing so; rather, the precondition for using that method was remaining in a state of “stability”—at least until the necessary knowledge had been fully supplemented.

And wizards… were subject to mandatory warfare requirements.

Although Jie Ming always referred to the interval between his two plane wars as a “mandatory rest period,” in truth, for mid- and low-ring wizards below sixth ring, rest periods were not mandatory at all. What they faced was compulsory conscription into plane wars.

Wizard society, as a social model highly aligned with warfare, treated ring rank not only as a symbol of glory and power, but also as a symbol of responsibility.

Simply put: whatever ring level a wizard held, the battlefield commander would assign them tasks corresponding to that level.

For a fifth-ring wizard, typical battlefield duties involved—withstanding attacks from several or even a dozen sixth-ring creatures of the enemy before the expeditionary force reduced the enemy race’s numbers and plane control to a certain degree. When necessary, they might even be required to endure and stall a seventh-ring being outright.

For an ordinary fifth-ring wizard, such tasks were difficult but not impossible.

But for a “fraudulent” wizard whose actual combat power was only at fourth ring, it was simply suicide.

And before a war began, commanders would not casually inquire into a wizard’s specific combat style or true power level—doing so carried the suspicion of prying into another’s knowledge.

Of course, wizards who became commanders were no fools. When time and resources permitted, they would assign tasks based on the conventional lower limit of combat power for wizards of the same ring.

In such cases, even if a fraudulent wizard truly could not hold, there would at least be additional combat power to fill the gap.

But in the majority of plane wars, the commander was often the discoverer of the plane itself—and the initiator of that war.

Many sixth-ring wizards, constrained by limited funds, assembled legions whose overall combat strength was not particularly high. When issuing tasks, they could only assign them according to the conventional impression of combat power at the same level.

If a fraudulent wizard dared to fully disclose their true situation in such circumstances, they would most likely be deliberately sent to their death by a resource-wasting commander in a fit of rage.

And if they concealed the truth and got unlucky, not only would one fraudulent wizard die—the entire plane expedition might collapse.

Therefore, pursuing rapid advancement without accumulating sufficient knowledge was, in the wizarding world, truly something that harmed both others and oneself.

Aside from complete novices experiencing their first plane war, even combat-oriented wizards would not be foolish enough to do such a thing.

Conversely, sufficient knowledge could bring overwhelmingly strong combat power. Even with a lower ring level, the gains obtained in subsequent plane wars would not be few.

After all, wizards faced no pressure from limited lifespan. For many wizards, remaining at their current realm and continuously accumulating knowledge until reaching the upper limit of their research capability was the optimal path.

Of course, for someone like Viola—who jumped directly from third ring to sixth ring—there was no need to worry about this issue.

High-ring wizards not only had no mandatory conscription, but also genuine mandatory rest periods, allowing them ample time to leisurely supplement their knowledge.

Hearing Anya’s question, the bitterness on Jie Ming’s face deepened. He answered candidly:

“In terms of knowledge accumulation… indeed, I’m falling behind. Many of the profound fields a fifth-ring wizard needs to be versed in, I’ve only superficially touched—or haven’t even properly entered. However…”

His tone shifted, carrying a trace of relief:

“Fortunately, the foundation I laid earlier remains relatively solid. Mm… for the time being, there has not yet been any serious disconnect in immediate combat power.”

But David’s expression remained grave. He asked the more critical question:

“What about law mastery then? Jie Ming, don’t tell me you forcibly piled it up by swallowing massive amounts of plane origin!”

This question struck straight at the core, instantly making Rex and Anya tense as well.

In the wizarding world, this was an open secret—and a trap that many who were impatient for quick success easily fell into.

Plane origin did indeed contain “knowledge fragments” of corresponding laws. Absorbing it could rapidly increase the numerical value of “law mastery.”

But such knowledge was fragmented and one-sided, lacking internal logical connections.

It was like someone memorizing every word definition in a dictionary yet understanding neither grammar, rhetoric, nor context—still unable to write beautiful prose or even express themselves fluently.

Only the systematic knowledge one built step by step through personal research, experimentation, and insight could be flexibly applied and innovated upon.

“Mastery” piled up through plane origin was more like a rigid database—knowing what but not why.

Its application would be stiff and inefficient, and it would almost completely cut off any possibility of further progress.

After all, so-called “100% law mastery” merely referred to reaching the minimum theoretical threshold required to perform “law solidification.”

It absolutely did not mean one had fully comprehended every mystery of that law.

The depth and breadth of any law were near-infinite; 100% was merely a beginning, a qualification certificate.

A wizard who reached 100% through plane origin would, in front of one who reached 100% through their own research, be little more than a lamb waiting for slaughter—even if the latter had only accumulated 80% in “quantity.” The difference in “quality” was absolute.

Although what Jie Ming had mastered was Phantasmal Element—which theoretically had no matching plane origin—plane origins containing similar knowledge could still be used, much like how absorbing water-element origin could, to a certain extent, improve mastery related to the time law.

Jie Ming naturally understood the stakes. He solemnly shook his head:

“You can rest assured on this point. My mastery of the Spiritual Qi Law—including my insights into various other laws—has been built up bit by bit through my own research and verification. I never took shortcuts using plane origin. Although the process… did benefit from some special conditions and resources to accelerate it, the foundation was laid by myself.”

Hearing Jie Ming’s firm and affirmative answer, David, Rex, Seraphina, and Anya simultaneously let out breaths of relief. Most of the worry on their faces dissipated.

As long as the foundation of the laws was solidly built by oneself, even if the breadth of knowledge was temporarily narrow, there would be plenty of time later to slowly make up for it.

The greatest fear was ruining one’s own future for the sake of rank.

“That’s good…” David clapped Jie Ming on the shoulder—quite forcefully. “You brat, always managing to pull off something that shocks everyone. In this war, don’t drop the ball!”

“Be extremely careful,” Anya added.

Rex said nothing, merely nodding firmly.

David was about to say more when, all around them—and across the vast assembly area of the entire ship-plane—large swathes of teleportation light flared up once again.

This was the start of finer grouping teleportation, sending wizards to their predetermined positions according to assigned formations and missions.

“Looks like it’s time to part ways.” Jie Ming glanced down at the teleportation runes beneath his feet—slightly different from those under David and the others—and spoke with regret.

“Take care!”

“Come back alive!”

“After the war, let’s do research together!”

The farewells were quick and simple.

Just before the teleportation light completely engulfed his vision, Jie Ming saw David raise his hand in a forceful wave, his lips forming the words:

“Don’t die—we’re still waiting to see just how far you can go!”

The light flashed. Figures vanished.

……

……

When the teleportation light finally dissipated completely, Jie Ming’s feet landed steadily on firm, slightly cool alloy flooring.

He quickly scanned his surroundings and, without surprise, saw two familiar figures—Instructor Clark and Senior Sister Viola.

Clearly, in the final combat grouping, the upper echelons of Noren Workshop had indeed taken into account existing rapport and coordination among wizards.

Grouping master-disciple pairs, close friends, and long-term collaborators into the same combat unit allowed faster formation of combat power and reduced the risks of an adjustment period.

Their current location appeared to be in the mid-to-rear section of the enormous ship-plane.

Through the sparse crowd ahead and the relatively open area, one could see a dense concentration of powerfully surging figures farther forward.

Most wore combat-optimized wizard robes or light armor, their undisguised battle intent and energy fluctuations rolling outward as they performed final equipment checks, pre-loaded spells, or exchanged quiet tactical words.

Clearly, these were one of the main forces of this war—the combat-oriented wizards of Noren Workshop.

Although, below the high rings, logistics-oriented wizards generally held significantly higher status and combat power than combat-oriented ones, once both sides reached sixth ring, the gap in status and combat power narrowed considerably.

After all, reaching sixth ring meant that choosing combat path versus logistics path was merely a difference in road, not in individual capability.

This could be seen from the distribution among high-ring wizards: the number of combat wizards in front and logistics wizards in the rear was roughly equal at the high-ring level.

The reason Jie Ming could distinguish the “front” and “rear” of the ship-plane was because, at the very front of the plane—in the vast cleared space that stretched to the horizon—there hung an astonishing sight.

A colossal spatial rift, impossible to fully describe, floated in the firmament like a wound brutally torn open by an invisible giant blade.

It was not an unstable black chaotic flow; its edges shimmered with stable, intricate silver runes—clearly reinforced by advanced spatial techniques.

The interior was not absolute darkness or chaos, but rather a continuously twisting and shifting scene like turbid water waves, through which the desolate, dead contours of a landscape could faintly be glimpsed beyond.

Without a doubt, this “carefully processed” spatial rift was the stabilized passage leading to the “battlefield”—the ultra-large decisive battleground designated by the Star Ring Federation, stitched together from multiple abandoned planes.

Jie Ming withdrew his gaze and turned respectfully toward Instructor Clark.

“Mentor.”

Clark gave a slight nod in acknowledgment.

Jie Ming immediately noticed that his mentor’s attire today was completely different from usual.

The familiar, slightly worn, plain gray robe he always wore was gone. In its place was a well-tailored, sharp-lined deep gray form-fitting robe.

The material appeared ordinary, yet under the ship-plane’s constant light source, extremely faint defensive rune flows occasionally flashed past.

Even more eye-catching were the many “accessories” his mentor now wore—items never seen on him before: an antique-styled brooch, several rings set in different positions, a thin chain wrapped around his wrist, even a few seemingly inconspicuous pendants hanging from his belt…

When observed with mental power, each of these understated items erupted with blinding elemental spiritual light comparable to miniature suns—yet each light was of a distinctly different nature!

They intertwined to form a powerful yet restrained protective and amplification force field that enveloped Instructor Clark completely.

The eyes that usually carried a calm, slightly weary detachment now gleamed like an unsheathed sword—sharp and piercing.

Jie Ming then looked toward Senior Sister Viola.

At some point she too had changed out of her usual elegant long dress and now wore a dark crimson combat robe covered in fine runes and designed for ease of movement.

She too wore several pieces of radiant jewelry, and her long hair had been tied up neatly and practically.

Sensing Jie Ming’s gaze, she raised an eyebrow. The habitual, slightly teasing curve remained at the corner of her mouth, yet deep in her eyes lay an icy calm.

In fact, it wasn’t just the two of them.

Looking around, Jie Ming saw that—whether among the main combat wizards in front, the support personnel in the middle and rear, or special combat units like himself—almost everyone was “armed to the teeth.”

Precious wizard artifacts, life-saving items, and enhancement equipment that were usually kept carefully hidden were now worn openly and without reservation.

The entire assembly area resembled a mobile exhibition of top-tier wizard artifacts. Elemental lights of every attribute interwove and reflected off one another, yet were tightly restrained around their owners by masterful control—forming a silent yet intensely oppressive ocean of energy.

Clearly, facing this war that would decide their fate, the wizards of Noren Workshop had gone all out, bringing forth everything they had kept in reserve.

Jie Ming looked around once more. Suddenly, his brows furrowed slightly—he felt as though something was missing.

“Mentor…” He turned to Clark, somewhat uncertain. “Where is Junior Brother Ang? Wasn’t he grouped with us?”

Hearing this, Viola also paused the small rune-array inspection she had been performing.

She raised her head and curiously scanned the surroundings, likewise failing to spot the always-quiet-yet-determined young wizard who usually followed behind Clark.

“Strange… he shouldn’t have been excluded, right? Could he have happened to hit the mandatory rotation conscription period and been temporarily assigned to another plane war?” Viola guessed.

When Instructor Clark heard Jie Ming’s question, his perpetually calm expression gave the faintest perceptible pause.

He slowly turned his head. His gaze first fell on Jie Ming’s face, then shifted to Viola, who looked equally puzzled.

Seeing this subtle reaction from his mentor, a sudden ominous premonition flashed through Jie Ming’s heart.

Sure enough, after a brief silence, Clark spoke in his characteristic tone—flat to the point of near-indifference, yet carrying an unquestionable certainty:

“Ang…”

“He’s already dead.”

The expression on Viola’s face froze instantly. The habitual smile stiffened at the corner of her mouth.

Clark paused for a moment—uncharacteristically adding an explanation, though his tone remained even:

“In the previous routine plane pioneering war, his luck was poor. The squad he was in encountered… a hidden seventh-ring native creature within the target plane.”

Concise and to the point—no description of the process, no dramatization of the tragedy. But the four words “seventh-ring native creature” were enough to explain everything.

For Ang, whose strength was only at second or third ring, that was an irresistible catastrophe.

Jie Ming suddenly fell silent.

He looked at the calm, undisturbed profile of Instructor Clark, then at the fleeting complex emotion that passed through Viola’s eyes. For a moment, he truly did not know what to say.

Junior Brother Ang… that young wizard who had once briefly crossed paths with him under Instructor Clark’s tutelage—somewhat introverted yet diligent and earnest.

He had actually… died quietly in some distant plane war that Jie Ming himself had not participated in.

The path of a wizard had never been smooth.

Exploring the unknown, plundering resources, making enemies of the myriad worlds—death was simply the norm.

Jie Ming had long understood this.

He himself had personally experienced the death of friends.

Yet even after all this time, he still could not handle it ascalmly as other wizards.

When death once again truly descended upon someone he knew, the feeling remained… somewhat subtle.

On the contrary, after a brief silence, Instructor Clark spoke again, his voice as steady as ever:

“Enough. The dead are gone. After a few more rounds, you’ll get used to it. Right now, you need to focus all your attention on the war that is about to begin.”

His gray eyes swept across Jie Ming and Viola. His tone was calm, yet carried a certain weight:

“I have no intention… of being the only one left standing after the battle ends.”

Viola was the first to recover.

She took a deep breath. The curve at the corner of her mouth gradually became lively again—even rising slightly higher than usual.

Hearing Instructor Clark’s words, she hooked her lips in a smile that carried a hint of provocation:

“Oh? Mentor… that’s quite the confident statement. Are you so certain you’ll definitely survive?”

Clark glanced at her, then casually flicked her forehead.

Under Viola’s resentful glare as she clutched her head, Clark’s face showed no expression—as though he were merely stating an objective fact:

“It is not confidence. It is merely a reasonable inference based on currently available data, comparative strength, battlefield environment, and the countermeasures I personally possess.”

Their interaction finally brought Jie Ming back to himself.

He had just taken a moment to sense himself and realized that while his mental fluctuations had risen and fallen considerably, what he felt most was surprise and feeling at the fact of “an acquaintance passing away”—not grief.

Though it might sound somewhat cold, strictly speaking, his interactions with Junior Brother Ang had not been deep, and their relationship had never reached the level of close friendship.

He turned his gaze once more toward the immense spatial rift that spanned the horizon in the distance, feeling the vast, mixed aura of tension, resolve, and killing intent radiating from the countless wizards around him.

He exhaled deeply.

The war was about to begin.

And death might descend upon anyone in the very next moment.

Including himself.

“I understand, Mentor,” Jie Ming replied in a low voice. His gaze once again sharpened.