Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System

More horrifying still, wherever the Black Light spread, even the sound of the foul, warm water seemed to be swallowed and weakened. The stench that had permeated the air was replaced by something colder, an aura of absolute stillness.

Light itself distorted and dimmed upon touching the edges of the Black Light, as if being sucked away.

Ron stared, dumbfounded. A chill shot from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head, and his teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. "Un... Uncle Scar... Wh-what is this? Sir... what’s happening to him!"

Uncle Scar stared intently at the surging Black Light, his murky eyes filled with an unprecedented terror.

He had seen far more of this world’s strangeness and horror than Ron, and the scene before him brought to mind some truly terrible descriptions he had only ever heard in the most frightening of rumors.

"I... I don’t know..." Uncle Scar’s voice was hoarse and trembled uncontrollably. "But this is definitely not a good thing... This Black Light... it’s devouring things. Even light, sound... even the stench seems to be getting swallowed up!"

He subconsciously took half a step back. "Ron... be careful... Don’t get any closer!"

he growled, his voice laced with fear.

Ron’s legs had already gone soft with fright; he wouldn’t have dared to get closer.

He looked at Murphy, shrouded in that eerie Black Light—a figure both utterly alien to the world around him and lethally dangerous. Then he glanced at the equally horrified Uncle Scar beside him, and felt an icy, desperate despair clutch at his heart.

’They had just found a moment’s respite, had just been discussing their future... Is this really how it all ends?’

’Are we to die here, silent sacrifices to whatever sudden, unknown change is happening to him?’

...

Murphy’s second sword strike was far more violent and ferocious than the first. The Crimson sword light roared forth like an enraged dragon, not only engulfing the little girl’s figure but also pulverizing the trees, rocks, and even the solid ground within a nearly hundred-meter radius, turning it all into dust and molten, scorched earth.

The violent Energy shockwave tore through the air, leaving a lingering, heat-warped distortion in its wake.

However, as the last afterglow of the sword’s light faded and the dust settled, what greeted Murphy’s eyes was not a scene of ruin.

It wasn’t that there was no effect.

On the contrary, the devastating impact was terrifyingly real, shocking to behold.

But just as that impact was about to become a permanent reality, a formless power silently swept over the scene.

It was like an invisible hand gently wiping away a fresh splash of rich, heavy paint from a canvas.

The bottomless ravine closed without a sound. The scorched earth returned to a vibrant green. The giant trees that had been pulverized stood tall once more. Even the residual heat and Energy Fluctuations in the air vanished as if they had never existed.

Everything, right before his eyes, had been silently reset.

The moonlight was still cold and clear, the forest still serene.

It was as if his all-out attack—one powerful enough to instantly obliterate an Elementalization Wizard—had been nothing more than a vivid, fleeting illusion.

Then, on the patch of grass that had been restored to its original state, the little girl in the floral dress, with her tender, bare feet, flaxen pigtails, and emerald eyes, appeared once more—at exactly the same spot, three paces away.

It was as if she had never left, as if she had been standing there waiting the whole time.

She tilted her head slightly, her hands behind her back. Her face still wore that intoxicatingly sweet smile. Her large, emerald eyes stared unblinkingly at Murphy as she asked again in that crisp, pleasant, childlike voice:

"Look... my flowers... Aren’t they pretty?"

Murphy stood quietly in place, his long black tunic fluttering gently in the breeze.

A hint of a smile touched his lips.

"I’d love to see your flowers."

Hearing this, the little girl’s emerald eyes lit up, and her smile instantly grew even more radiant.

Murphy continued, "But you don’t have any flowers. Not in your hands, not anywhere around you."

The smile on the little girl’s face didn’t falter in the slightest. In fact, it grew sweeter. She shook her head vigorously, her flaxen pigtails swaying. "I do, I do! Brother, the flowers are at home! Very pretty flowers, at my house!"

She took a small step forward, her bare feet pressing into the soft blades of grass. She brought forward the little hand that had been behind her back, holding it out to Murphy, palm up. Her eyes were full of eager invitation. "Brother, come with me to my house. I’ll take you to see the flowers, okay?"

The little hand was fair and delicate. The fingers were slender, the nails neatly trimmed and rounded, and it shone with a jade-like luster in the moonlight.

Her palm was soft and pink, the lines on it clear. There were no stains or scars. It just hung there in midair, awaiting a response.

Murphy’s gaze fell upon the small hand and lingered for a moment. Then, he raised his eyes to meet the girl’s emerald irises, which were filled with anticipation. He nodded.

"Alright. Let’s go together."

The smile on the little girl’s face instantly bloomed to its fullest, as if she had just received the most precious gift.

She extended her outstretched hand a little further, a hint of intimacy in her voice. "Brother, hold my hand."

Murphy didn’t hesitate.

He reached out and took the delicate, fair little hand offered to him.

It was cool to the touch, smooth and fine, like a piece of high-grade jade.

The grip was not tight; it could even be described as gentle.

However, the instant their hands clasped, Murphy clearly felt an intangible connection form between them.

It was as if, once held, that little hand could not be easily released.

Murphy seemed completely unaware of this.

He simply held the little girl’s hand, as naturally as an older brother leading his younger sister.