"Ascend to the Astral Realm and claim the Divine Throne?!" Jakun was shaken to his core.
What an outrageous ambition!
The Faceless Ones only dared to deliver "gifts" under the guise of the God of Death. But this old scholar? He outright wanted to become the supreme overlord of the Faceless Ones?
"It may not succeed. But even if I die, dying on the path to godhood is a million times more glorious than clinging to life as I am now. Don't you agree?"
"You're right," Jakun nodded slowly.
To become a God of Death—even if there was only a one-in-a-billion chance—Jakun was willing to try.
Suddenly, his expression changed. He looked up abruptly and stared at the jar-bound spirit. "Scholar Hades, how are you able to attempt ascending to the seat of the God of Death?"
"That's a strange question," the spirit replied with a quirky tone. "I'm a demigod, and I hold the divine authority of Death. If I don't aim for the death god's throne, am I supposed to become the God of Light instead?"
"No. I mean, how did you become a demigod in the first place? How did you obtain the divine authority of Death?"
Jakun's voice trembled, his eyes shining brightly.
The jar spirit replied impatiently, "That question's even weirder. I'm a mage. I studied death forbidden arts, practiced diligently, and naturally became a demigod with the death attribute.
Didn't I already say?
Back then, I sealed myself away precisely because I didn't want to become an evil god like the Black Goat.
You don't know about the Black Goat's death attribute? I heard there's even a statue of it in the Black and White Academy."
"Ah!"
His speculation confirmed, Jakun couldn't help but cry out in delight.
Many people in the world had been deceived—intellectuals included.
But they weren't stupid. So why did the con artists succeed?
Because humans aren't gods. Human nature has weaknesses.
Especially greed—it is the root cause of being deceived.
Faceless Ones don't crave wealth, power, food, or lust.
Faceless Ones are nearly desireless and almost never fall victim to deception.
They deceive others. No one deceives them. Not after their rigorous training.
But even Faceless Ones are still human. They're also devoted believers.
Their detachment from worldly desires makes them all the more susceptible to madness when faith manifests before them.
Jakun hadn't lost his mind yet—that already made him impressively disciplined and advanced in his cultivation.
Still, under the guidance of Granny Dany, he was on the verge of losing it from excitement.
"Hades the Fire Demon has trained in portions of the Grand Sorcerer's meditation technique and the forbidden arts of Death. He became a death-aligned demigod and even has a shot at the divine throne.
Then, if the Black and White Academy masters Hades' meditation method and death forbidden arts…
Oh, my Thousand-Faced God! Who needs dragons anymore?
If we can become death gods, what use are worldly dragons?"
Well… they could serve as mounts for a death god.
"Scholar Hades, how likely are you to succeed in seizing the divine throne?" Jakun asked, both eager and nervous.
"Not even half a chance," the spirit said casually.
"Half a chance... that's 0.5%," Jakun murmured, then suddenly raised his voice, exclaiming in disbelief, "Thousand-Faced God! Even a 0.5% chance isn't that small.
Theoretically, if 200 people attempt to claim the death god's throne, one true god could emerge?"
"Were you not listening? I said not even half a chance. Less than that!" the spirit snapped.
"That's enough—it's more than enough," Jakun replied with a satisfied expression.
"Enough? How many people do you even have at your Black and White Academy?" the spirit asked with disdain.
"A lot. More than enough."
But how many is "a lot"?
Dany was both anxious and calm.
"Do you have even ten? Hmph. Our Scholarly City has over a thousand scholars, yet barely a dozen have magical talent." The spirit raised an eyebrow with a sneer.
Jakun's excitement gradually faded. He shook his head and sighed. "You're right. I was too optimistic. The Black and White Academy has fewer than a hundred qualified Faceless Ones. I suppose we'll have to expand our apprenticeship recruitment."
Fewer than a hundred?
Damn it, could you give an exact number?
Ninety-nine is still fewer than a hundred. Even nine is technically fewer than a hundred, but it's definitely not single digits.
Let's assume a median—say, fifty.
Even fifty Faceless Ones is terrifying enough!
Maybe we should just arrest Jakun and let "Lonely Whip" Hatal try out his lash?
"Scholar, you once said that as long as I left Westeros and promised not to use Death forbidden arts within the Seven Kingdoms, you'd teach me the arts."
Jakun's eyes burned with desire, nearly overflowing with longing.
"I did say that. But after spending some time with you, I realize you're a decent young man. Now I'm not so keen on letting you walk down the wrong path," the spirit hesitated.
Jakun shook his head resolutely. "No, this isn't the wrong path. I truly wish to master the power of Death."
"Do you know the side effects of cultivating death forbidden arts?"
The spirit pointed at his unnaturally pale face—like it had been coated with thick powder.
"See this? Neither alive nor dead—more like a demon."
"Scholar, that doesn't scare me at all. Look at the thousands of death god statues in the Black and White Academy. Do any of them look like normal living people? That's exactly how a death god is supposed to look!"
Jakun's expression grew ever more resolute.
Well, that's true.
Even in the Celestial Empire, figures like Ox-Head and Horse-Face or the Ten Kings of Hell all look inhuman.
Grotesque, terrifying—these are the universal features of death gods in cultures around the world.
"Beyond the appearance, even your nature changes..."
The jar spirit smiled bitterly and sighed. "I always thought I had a strong will, yet even I began to lose my humanity after training in the death forbidden arts.
I lost all interest in human food, no longer felt anything toward women, but instead developed a deep craving for living blood and souls.
Jakun, becoming a death god means becoming something inhuman."
"Of course a death god should be different from normal people!" Jakun said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
He knew full well that death gods like the Black Goat thrived on blood sacrifices.
"Are you sure you want to learn?"
"I'm sure," Jakun affirmed.
"You won't regret it?"
"Never."
"Alright, I'll teach you next time."
"...What???" Jakun froze, baffled.
"Look," the jar spirit pointed to the moon moving westward in the sky, "Midnight has passed. I've talked to you for so long that I've used up all my divine power. I'm about to fall asleep."
"Gah..." Jaqen was stunned.
He looked up. Sure enough, it was just as he feared.
They'd been rambling nonsense for a good hour or two. No wonder the Magic Jar Spirit couldn't hold on any longer.
But—but this was beyond ridiculous.
There was no time for disappointment. Jaqen quickly said, "Scholar, while we still have a bit of time, teach me the forbidden arts. As much as you can, as fast as you can."
"Fine. But first, you need to learn the art of meditation."
"Then teach me. I'm listening." Jaqen sat upright, serious and attentive.
"There's not much time. If I just explain it verbally, I won't be able to pass on much knowledge."
The Magic Jar Spirit hesitated. "There is one method—extremely dangerous—but it can teach you magical knowledge in the shortest time possible."
"What method?" Jaqen asked.
"Mental Transmission." The Magic Jar Spirit raised its staff and pointed to the center of Jaqen's forehead. "I'll use divine power to forcefully break into your sea of consciousness, convert the information into runes, and implant them into your spiritual space."
"I don't quite get it, but it sounds dangerous," Jaqen said, frowning.
The spirit explained quickly, "Everyone's soul is like a mysterious and private fortress, naturally resistant to outside invasion.
The stronger the will, the harder it is for external mental forces to affect you.
Right now, I need you to willingly open the gates of that fortress and let me send in a fragment of my will."
"The danger lies in this—once your consciousness detects the intrusion of my mental power, it may instinctively fight back. Then our spiritual forces will clash, injuring us both."
"If I don't resist, will your Mental Transmission still harm me?" Jaqen asked, face tense.
"That depends on whether I mean you harm or not," the Magic Jar Spirit said, its tone deep with meaning.
Jaqen's eyes flashed with understanding. The fire demon's words were clear: the fortress has been opened; the soldiers have entered. Whether they are friend or foe depends on the soldiers themselves.
"It's extremely dangerous," Jaqen said with a sigh.
"Extremely," the spirit admitted.
"When will you appear again?" Jaqen asked.
The spirit was uncertain. "Well… maybe in three or four months, like this time. Or maybe a few years. No one can say for sure when it comes to magical tides."
"Do it!" Jaqen said firmly.
"What?" The spirit was surprised.
"Transmit your will to me," Jaqen replied with a faint smile.
"You're not afraid I'll do something malicious?"
This time, the shock in the spirit's voice was genuine.
"All mortals must die. All mortals must serve. The worst that could happen is death. To die on the path of worshiping the Many-Faced God—that is the greatest honor for any Faceless One. The nameless fear not death," Jaqen said calmly.
No, child. You should be afraid. There are things more terrifying than death.
"Shall I begin, then?" The Magic Jar Spirit raised its staff and tapped it directly against Jaqen's brow.
"Go ahead."
"Relax. It'll hurt at first. Don't resist. Once you're in, it'll get better," the spirit warned.
"Mm."
——The second soul of the Green Prophet's Circlet entered Dragon Spirit mode. Dahei absorbed the power of faith and transformed into a holy dragon. The dragon soul became sacred light. The second soul merged with that light and entered the state of the Song of Wind.
All these operations combined—
"I'm coming!"
Jaqen suddenly felt his vision go dark and was plunged into a strange, grayish void.
Then, a majestic, divine red meteor streaked down from the heavens, aiming straight for his head.
"It's me. Don't be afraid!"
The voice sounded somewhat familiar, but the pressure within it—like the sky itself collapsing—was suffocating.
It was like a lowly beggar on the street being personally scolded by a king who commanded a million soldiers.
Fear and panic surged in Jaqen's heart, and he instinctively wanted to shrink into a turtle shell and hide.
But Jaqen was no ordinary man. In the blink of an eye, he suppressed that humiliating emotion.
He understood now—The Magic Jar Spirit hadn't lied. It really was a god.
This soul-deep suppression was proof of its vastly superior level.
This is how mortals should react in the presence of a god.
So Jaqen did not shut out the red meteor. Instead, he fought to contain his fear, opened his heart, and embraced it.
Boom—
In an instant, he felt like a donkey had kicked him in the head. The pain was stunning.
So painful!
But it lasted only a moment. The tearing agony vanished, replaced by warmth—cozy and soothing. Surprisingly… it even began to feel good.
It wasn't an illusion.
Right now, it truly felt so good that he nearly moaned aloud.
Of course it felt good.
Jaqen had opened the gates and welcomed the thief in—he had let the Dragon Queen's second soul enter his spiritual space, and at this moment, she was gathering spiritual energy.
That's right. The Dragon Queen was using a spirit-gathering technique, collecting the sparse ambient energy to heal Jaqen's mental wounds and slowly enhance the quality of his soul.
Just like she had done for that barbarian woman from the Hardfoot tribe.
(End of Chapter)
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