Sorcerer’s Handbook

Kaimon City, Cathedral District, Number 22 in the Silent Forest villa district.

Knock, knock.

Three seconds after the respectful knock, a cool voice called out, “Come in.”

Orc Gersas pushed open the door, stepping into the study, which could be described as a mini library— with a ceiling height of 7.7 meters and spanning 79 square meters. All walls were fitted with intricately carved bookshelves crafted by Goblin artisans, and even the ceiling was covered with glass curtains, behind which ancient inheritance scrolls crafted by secret methods were placed. The floor was carpeted with a layer of soft, powder-purple Charm Fur.

Although it wasn’t his first visit here, Gersas couldn’t help but bow even lower each time he saw this lavish room.

Setting aside the precious knowledge that would never circulate outside the Curtain, the powder-purple carpet alone was enough to quell any thoughts of rebellion—after all, Bewitcher fur changes colors, and powder-purple is considered the rarest and most beautiful.

How many Bewitchers had to die to weave such a carpet?

Of course, Gersas didn’t believe his master would use any illegal methods for just a carpet. In line with his master’s character, he would never so brazenly display something tainted; hence, this indicated that the carpet was a legally and officially sanctioned work of art.

He speculated it might have been purchased from the Research Institute or a gift from a Scholar of the sacred bloodline—nearly all merchandise related to Corpses typically originated from the Research Institute.

Only the Research Institute, which controlled all Corpse resources, could possibly produce such a dazzling work of art ‘legally and officially.’

Walking across the carpet through the forest of books, Gersas’s eyes caught sight of a desk that resembled a tree trunk. There were no lights on in the room; the pale red moonlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, split in two by the chair, and gently spread over the surrounding Area of the desk.

The person on the chair was bathed in darkness, and when he opened his emerald eyes, Gersas looked down at his toes, not daring to meet the Elf’s gaze.

“You don’t look like you’re bringing me good news, Gersas.”

“We have located Ronald. Two Golden Beaks and seven Silver Beaks were deployed, but due to the ferocity of the Ghouls, they ultimately escaped,” Gersas reported swiftly. “All black market Medics are under Woodpecker surveillance; as soon as they seek treatment they will certainly be captured.”

“Uh-huh, what else?”

“While there are no eyewitness reports, from shopping and garbage collection data, we can confirm that Igor Bukin is hiding in the apartment of the Blood Mad Hunter, Emma Lexus. But Emma Lexus is a Moonshadow, and we cannot proceed with further searches.”

“The Moonshadows are willing to shelter him?” The Elf was somewhat surprised. “He must have deceived them. Most Moonshadows are simple-minded creatures… Anything else?”

“Several Affiliated Hospitals’ ‘Corpse Recovery Departments’ have reported that when they went to retrieve corpses at coordinates provided by the Sin Hunter’s Hall, they found no Corpses; a Sin Hunter Division in the Upper District arrived at the crime scene within ten minutes of receiving the ‘death signal’ and also found no Corpses, nor could they trace any remnants.”

“There have been several sensational murders in the Lower District. Gang leaders under the Eternal Wine Club suddenly went mad and slaughtered their subordinates. The bodies of the perpetrators had clear signs of Necromancy.”

“A former councilor of the Eternal Wine Club died in his sleep, showing no signs of resistance.”

“Such clean and skilled handling of bodies, along with the Controller-style modus operandi, clearly indicates the work of the Necrophiliac, Archibald Harvey,” Gersas stated. “Based on his range of activity, we can essentially determine that his stronghold is inside the Pig District. Give me three more days, and I will certainly find him!”

“I do not doubt your capabilities, but you definitely will not find him.”

The Elf tapped the desk lightly with a finger. “This Necromancer has violated the Taboos of the sacred bloodline. These days, the Sin Hunter’s Hall must be exhausting all efforts to track him down… Perhaps even as we speak, he has already been captured by the Blood Mad Hunter, bled like a pig, his memories extracted and meticulously unraveled, his Corpse disassembled into various materials — when facing an enemy that can touch upon their interests, the sacred bloodline always spares no respect.”

“Although no one was caught, these four pieces of news are somewhat encouraging, right? So, what else is there?”

Gersas trembled, his knees buckling, and he knelt down, his forehead pressing tightly against the carpet. Even as his heart was gripped by boundless fear, his words remained fluid: “I apologize, but the Woodpeckers simply cannot find any trace of Ashe Heath. There’s not a single piece of intelligence.”

A light chuckle came from behind the desk: “Under the glory of the Blood Moon, everyone is equal, and besides, Gersas, you are a Golden Two Wings sorcerer who has bathed in the golden rain. Don’t kneel so easily.”

In the face of what seemed like comforting solace, Gersas dared not make any sudden moves. This pride of the Orcs, still maintained the most humble posture, exposing his defenseless back to his master.

Indeed, he and his master were both Golden Two Wings sorcerers. If this were anywhere else, Gersas might not sit as equals with his master, but he would certainly not be so abject… However, this is the Blood Moon Kingdom.

Law is the will of the gods, and rules are the desires of the gods.

Unless one is willing to defect from society, detach from civilization, become a beast, and refuse to play this rubbish game, even a legendary sorcerer must follow societal rules — and in a game with rules, resources are the ultimate authority.

Power is one kind of resource, an important one, but not the only one. The more stable the society, the less valuable the resource of power becomes. In this Civilized Kingdom with more than a thousand years of Inheritance, power is merely an entrance requirement, much like a degree is a stepping stone.

Non-sorcerers can only honestly become fuel for society. Although sorcerers are qualified to join the game, it’s just that – a qualification, because this is a PVP game that started a millennium ago, and there’s no such thing as a newbie village or low-level area. All new players face enemies that are various guild leaders (entrepreneurs), Liver Emperors

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 (upper class), max-level players (legendary sorcerers), and even cheaters (Blood Saints and Moonshadows).

Interestingly enough, although it’s a PVP game, the society is full of safe zones, theoretically not allowing for attacks on one another.

Therefore, New Players have only two paths—they can either become lapdogs for Veteran Players, earning their keep by currying favor and sharing in the resources trickling down from the Veteran Players’ fingers, or they become fuel, silently ostracized and isolated by the Veteran Players.

Gersas is a New Player who only started playing this game thirty-six years ago. Although he is indeed extraordinarily talented, managing to reach the Two Wings rank at the age of thirty as an Orc, his master has been a Veteran Player in this game for one hundred and eighty years.

Compared to arcane energy, it’s the connections, power, and resources that are the most terrifying strengths of the elves.

The prestigious titles like Chairman of the Elven Rights Association, councilor of the city council, and Professor at schools go without saying. Just the identity of “the hidden owner of Woodpecker” could easily destroy all of Gersas’s efforts over the years—while Gersas is indeed the current Leader of Woodpecker, most of the core members of Woodpecker can be directly controlled by the master.

Ironically, as an organization that does the dirty work, the core members of Woodpecker actually don’t have things like salaries or compensation. Even if their labor rights are violated, labor laws definitely won’t protect them. Perhaps they could seek revenge by turning to the Sin Hunter’s Hall.

For most members of organizations like Woodpecker, their main source of income is—loans.

The compensation everyone receives is considered a ‘temporary loan’ from a Financial Company. Of course, as long as you do your job honestly, they won’t ask you to repay the money, nor will they charge interest. But once the Financial Company decides to collect, all those who cannot pay become ‘Defaulters’.

In the Blood Moon Kingdom, becoming a ‘Defaulter’ is equivalent to only being able to sleep under a bridge in a cardboard box. You can’t use any form of transportation, can’t enter or exit any districts, can’t make any high purchases, can’t rent a house, and can’t even communicate—essentially, you’re kicked out of civilized society with one swift blow.

Perhaps some are curious, with such harsh conditions, why would anyone join Woodpecker? Can’t they just work a regular job, sign a legal and regulated labor Contract where their rights are protected?

The reason is that almost all members of Woodpecker cannot stand a nine-to-five job. Moreover, for a Sorcerer, unless joining a specific institution like a Research Institute, most jobs are considered a waste of their time.

Sorcerer’s studies require full-time dedication, and they are quite costly.

Even if they wanted to take out loans to dedicate themselves to full-time training, no bank would approve such loans. In contrast, Woodpecker’s offer of ‘an open-ended, interest-free loan’ seems very attractive. If one can become a Two Wings Sorcerer, Woodpecker will naturally write off the loan and even put them to good use; and even if they don’t achieve Two Wings status, as long as they remain loyal to the organization, Woodpecker won’t ruin their credit.

Working while training is not impossible, in fact, those who do so are often touted as inspiring examples. But the very notion of ‘inspiration’ implies how difficult this path is—only those with Talent, effort, and luck can break through the barriers of an ordinary life.

Those with such qualities might achieve success faster if they took the less righteous path with Woodpecker earlier on.

Woodpecker’s growth to its current size is no fluke. Even without Woodpecker, these nefarious Sorcerers would still pledge loyalty to other powers in exchange for resources (especially time resources) to continue their studies, even if it means signing even more stringent Contracts and acting subserviently.

Moreover, most Sorcerers don’t even have the opportunity to act subservient—they can only be the lapdogs of lapdogs.

If the income from a regular, legitimate job is 1, then the dog food for someone at Gersas’s level is 15, while for a Silver Beak of Woodpecker, it’s 5, and for a Golden Beak, it’s 10.

Therefore, even if Gersas were to rise up and potentially kill an Elf, he would still have to bow humbly.

What would it matter if he killed his master? He wouldn’t be able to inherit any of the Elf’s assets, Woodpecker, bound by debt, wouldn’t recognize a criminal Leader, everything owned by the Elf would be divided among his peers, and as for Gersas, who broke the game’s rules, he would simply be sent to Shattered Lake Prison, labelled as a ‘heinously wicked criminal leader’ and be stripped of his last shred of dignity on a Blood Moon live broadcast.

The best-case scenario would be if another Veteran Player took a liking to Gersas, saved his life, and took him under their wing… in short, Gersas would simply be switching masters.

This is the Racial equality of Blood Moon, where in the presence of the long-lived races, everyone is equally inferior.

This is the human rights and freedom of Blood Moon, the freedom to choose which Veteran Player one wishes to serve.

Gersas has known for a long time that Blood Moon is a paradise for those of the sacred bloodline. In this game, where there is no inheritance, no accumulation through generations, and where all New Players must ‘start from scratch’, lifespan is the most powerful cheat code.

The longer the lifespan, the more resources one can gather; the longer the lifespan, the sooner one becomes a ‘Veteran Player’; the longer the lifespan, the more likely one is to create an interest group centered around oneself.

This is why the sacred bloodline Moonshadow are the ruling class, and why Elves are known as the ‘Butlers of society’—to the sacred bloodline Moonshadow, Elves are the only Race worthy of sitting at the same table.

As for those short-lived Races that die within a century, they are hardly worth noticing. It’s not about discrimination, or even about interests, because to those with long lives, the short-lived are just another resource.

Lifespan is the ultimate class barrier.

So even if it means groveling, even if it means being as lowly as a maggot, Gersas must earn enough money to afford the life-extending surgery at the Research Institute.

Sometimes Gersas wonders, if he hadn’t been born in the Nursery of the Lower District, if he had decided to go to middle school, to university, and then succeeded in entering the Research Institute to become one of the sacred bloodline, would everything be different?

But there are not so many ‘ifs’ in life. He wasn’t born right, didn’t study well, and now he must walk the hardest path.

Time ticks away second by second, and the study is so quiet it seems to solidify. It’s only when Gersas is soaked in cold sweat that the Elf’s voice finally speaks slowly, “Keep an eye on Gerard.”

After a moment of silence, Gersas speaks, “The Captain of the Blood Mad Hunters, the ‘White-haired Butcher,’ Gerard Wessminster?”

“Since Heath Ashe embarrassed him so greatly, Gerard will surely pursue him personally. If Gerard kills him on the spot, then let it be; if Gerard decides to capture him, to spare his life…”

“Then Woodpecker will have bagged this pest.”

To kill Ashe Heath in front of a Tri-wings Sanctuary Sorcerer?

One would know just by thinking with their guts how difficult this task is, but without hesitation, Gersas responds, “Your command will be executed, but Gerard has been elusive for the past two days. Even the Sin Hunter’s Hall doesn’t know his whereabouts, I wonder…”

“He’s probably at Observation Point 53,” said the Elf. “Go now, may Blood Moon light your path.”

Gersas followed suit in leaving the room, carefully closing the door behind him.

The Elf flipped open a file next to him, which contained the resume of Ashe Heath, detailing his birth record, his upbringing in the Nursery, his middle school awards, and his university activities.

With slender fingers, he tapped on the wooden desk, producing a tap, tap, tap sound…

“Why haven’t you left yet?”

The Elf looked up to see a hooded figure standing in front of the desk.

The figure walked out from the dim corner of the study, stepping into the area illuminated by the blood-red light. Wearing a mask, his eyes filled with surprise.

“Indeed, even among Two Wings Sorcerers, there are levels of proficiency,” he said with a light chuckle. “If a Two Wings Sorcerer can detect me, I guess I can no longer swagger before Gerard…”

“Are you not one of Gersas’s followers?” the Elf frowned. “Who are you?”

He had noticed the person before but assumed he was an attendant of Gersas and didn’t give it much thought.

However, at that moment, he realized something—Gersas never brought anyone with him to meet him, only the leader of Woodpecker had the privilege to see him…

“It’s truly heartbreaking. After all the trouble I went through to escape from Shattered Lake, Professor, you don’t even recognize your own star pupil.”

He pulled down his mask to reveal a clean, smiling face.

“Pleased to meet you for the first time, Sylin Dole. I am Ashe Heath.”

Footnote:

1. Liver Emperor(肝帝):

   This term refers to individuals who invest a significant amount of time grinding in games to level up characters, repeatedly playing certain stages to obtain rare items with low drop rates, and pushing themselves to the limit to complete game event tasks in order to earn event rewards. The expression suggests that these people are working so hard that they are metaphorically “exploding their livers,” a Chinese idiom indicating extreme effort or overworking.

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