Chapter 178: The First Step Toward Recognition

“That book is a problem?” Saul asked in surprise.

“No,” Gorsa replied, his voice still gentle. “It’s just that you have no use for it.”

Saul tightened his grip on the one remaining book in his hands.

By all rights, he should’ve handed over the second book to the Tower Master at this point, but for some reason, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

That earlier crash had felt like a strike to his heart.

With the Tower Master’s arrival, even the faint murmurs from outside the library had faded into silence.

“There’s no need to be afraid.” The Tower Master gave Saul a playful wink. His hand emerged once more from under the cloak, and in his palm stood a red candle—half-burned.

“Did you make this yourself?”

Saul was stunned. Wasn’t that the red candle swallowed by the bronze door?

Could it be that what lay behind that bronze door was actually the place where the Tower Master resided?

“Yes. I used a bit of wax from the storeroom, about the size of a fingernail. The rest of the materials were mine.”

Since he had been found out, Saul saw no point in lying.

He might as well come clean and hope for leniency.

Gorsa didn’t seem angry—or at least he didn’t show it.

“Hm, Kaz used to assign the most gifted apprentices to guard the storeroom. But we noticed that the more talented they were, the faster the materials vanished. Overconfident, many ended up dying in experiments they couldn’t control. So I suggested to Kaz that we switch to a more mediocre apprentice. Sure enough, in the first few years after the change, material consumption slowed, and the apprentice guarding the storeroom managed to survive. But now you’ve taken over, and it’s only been a few days before you dared lay hands on my candles~ The storeroom’s supplies are doomed again.”

Saul wasn’t sure if the Tower Master was praising or scolding him.

“I’m sorry, Tower Master.”

Gorsa narrowed his eyes and withdrew his hand without returning the candle.

“No need to apologize. Letting you all guard the storeroom is tacit permission to use the materials. The reason I wanted a mediocre apprentice was because the previous geniuses, while passionate about experiments, either lacked creativity or pursued directions I didn’t care for. That was a waste.”

“But you’re different. I really liked the first magical item you crafted. It seems I underestimated your talent and ability. Only by giving you a bigger platform can I expect greater rewards.”

“Now I’m offering you a choice.”

Gorsa walked slowly into the depths of the library. His figure became obscured by the mist, but his voice remained crisp and clear.

“If you’re willing to accept this gift of knowledge, then come with me. If you fear the risks of the unknown, then leave the library.”

Saul was already burdened with a mountain of troubles.

The nightmare butterfly whose seal might not last; The secret of his body melting and mutating; His still-skeletal arm, the electric problem unresolved; And the conspiracy around resurrection that Vini had mentioned…

Saul let out a long sigh, then… followed with an excited grin!

“One more debt won’t make a difference! This is a gift of knowledge! Just the name alone gets my mental body boiling! If I miss this chance, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life!”

Clutching the book to his chest, Saul stepped forward with tingling excitement and a wildly beating heart, walking firmly into the white mist where the Tower Master had vanished.

Once Saul was completely engulfed in the mist, he lost all sense of direction—even the path he had come from was gone from memory.

There were no bookshelves around, no walls in sight, not even a defined light source—just a hazy glow.

Just as Saul stood there, paralyzed by uncertainty, a voice called out.

“Follow me.”

Gorsa’s silver eyes appeared in the distance, shining through the white fog.

Like twin searchlights piercing endless night.

Saul immediately followed.

He had the vague sense that he was climbing.

Looking down, even his feet were swallowed by the mist. Only the book in his arms remained clearly visible.

After about five minutes of brisk walking, the white mist suddenly cleared, and his view opened up.

What appeared before Saul was a long, curved corridor, lined on both sides with tall wooden bookshelves reaching the ceiling.

The shelves looked quite ordinary, decorated with patterns of flowers and leaves.

Each shelf held quite a few books, though not crammed full—deliberately arranged, giving off a peaceful, leisurely vibe.

The books were placed openly, without any attempt at concealment, and didn’t seem particularly dangerous.

Gorsa stood at the far end of the corridor, and Saul hurried to catch up.

“These are just miscellaneous books I collected during my travels. Most aren’t very useful. But every now and then, I’ll flip through one—they’re quite amusing.”

Gorsa stood before a white door, adorned with a golden magical sigil, ornate as a noble’s gilded accessory.

“This room contains nearly all the records related to soul research. Once you enter, you’ll have to carefully judge what knowledge you can read and what you can’t. I’ll give you a key. Only you can enter—anyone else will be swallowed by the door…”

Gorsa turned back and looked down at Saul. “Just like that apprentice who got swallowed yesterday.”

“Yes, sir.”

Since the Tower Master had the red candle, he clearly knew Ferguson had also been in the bronze chamber. But he brought out the candle and not Ferguson, which must mean Ferguson was already dead?

“Left hand or right hand?”

The question came out of nowhere, but Saul answered immediately. “I’m right-handed.”

“Good. Then give me your left hand.”

Saul raised his left hand, still a skeletal one.

“Still no progress on modifying the Soul Resin?” Gorsa asked casually. Then, suddenly, he reached out and snapped off the tip of Saul’s pinky finger.

Saul: ?!

Gorsa took the fingertip and inserted it directly into the white door’s keyhole.

After about five seconds, he pulled it back out and pressed the now-transformed bone back onto Saul’s hand.

Saul stared dumbfounded at his hand. The tip of his left pinky had become elongated, like a beast’s claw.

He reached with his right hand and tugged on it twice. It was firmly attached, not falling off at all.

“Remember to use the key before opening the door. Oh, and start preparing. You’ll be heading out at the end of May.”

It was early May now, so over twenty days remained.

“Yes, Tower Master. Where will I be going?”

“I don’t know. The driver will take you. You’ll be handling a mess left over from two years ago. It might be dangerous—bring plenty of things to help you stay alive.”

Saul thought for a moment. “Tower Master, may I bring some companions with me?”

Gorsa looked at Saul, then gave a faint smile. “Some things are better not shared.”

“This task isn’t simple. If you’re afraid, you can refuse.”

“I accept.” Saul answered without hesitation, calm and steady.

Though Gorsa hadn’t said so outright, Saul understood—this too was a test.

If he refused, he might also be refusing all future opportunities.

Sure enough, after Saul gave his reply, Gorsa’s silver eyes curved into a smile.

Having finished giving instructions, Gorsa told Saul to act on his own, then entered a brown door beside the white one.

That door must lead to the Tower Master’s living quarters. Saul caught a glimpse—a cozy sofa and a small table with food.

But clearly, Gorsa had no intention of inviting Saul in. The view of the living quarters vanished in an instant as the door shut behind him.

(End of Chapter)

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