Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System

Murphy slowly turned around.

Less than three steps behind him stood a little girl, about seven or eight years old.

She wore a small floral dress, washed until it was slightly faded but impeccably clean. Her small, fair feet were bare, her toes as round and lovely as pearls as they rested on the cool grass.

Her soft, flaxen hair was meticulously combed into two neat braids that hung over her shoulders, with small, faded bows tied at the ends.

Her face was small and delicate, her skin a fine, porcelain white in the faint moonlight. A pair of large, emerald-green eyes stared unblinkingly at Murphy. Her pupils were as clear as the purest forest spring, reflecting his black-clad figure and the deep night beyond as her long eyelashes fluttered.

"Look..." The little girl’s voice was clear and sweet. "My flower... isn’t it pretty?"

She tilted her head slightly, her hands behind her back as if hiding some precious treasure.

Murphy’s Spiritual Power calmly swept over her empty hands and the equally empty grass around her.

Then, his gaze returned to the little girl’s expectant face.

"Your flower," Murphy said, his voice startlingly clear in the dead of night, betraying no emotion. "Where is it?"

Hearing this, the little girl’s large, green eyes curved into crescents, and the smile on her face grew even sweeter and more brilliant.

She brought a small hand out from behind her back, extending it toward Murphy in an inviting gesture.

"Brother," she said, her voice sweet with an easy intimacy. "It’s at home."

She took a small step forward, her bare feet pressing onto the blades of grass. She tilted her little face up, her large eyes shining with excitement:

"Let me take you to see it, Brother. Okay? My flower is so pretty, it’s the prettiest flower in the whole world!"

Murphy watched her quietly for two seconds.

The dark, surrounding forest crouched like a silent beast. All that stood out were the little girl’s emerald eyes, which seemed to glow faintly in the dark, and her small, outstretched hand, waiting for a response.

"That won’t be necessary."

Murphy’s voice sounded, just as calm and unrippled as before, perhaps even more detached.

The instant he finished speaking, an intensely searing Crimson sword light erupted from thin air by his side without any warning!

It tore a Crimson trail through the pitch-black night!

Its target was the girl.

BOOM!

The next instant, a deafening explosion ripped through the air!

Starting from where the little girl had stood, a charred, bottomless trench several meters wide was gouged out of the earth as if by a giant, invisible plow. It tore madly into the depths of the forest, accompanied by acrid white smoke as dirt, grass roots, and gravel were instantly vaporized by the terrifying heat.

The earth trembled violently. A ferocious shockwave fanned out to either side, and wherever it passed, ancient trees thick enough to require several people to encircle them were uprooted like straw. They were tossed into the air, only to be instantly pulverized by the heat and force of the blast!

Farther away, trees that had escaped direct destruction were set ablaze. Roaring flames leaped into the air, painting half the sky crimson!

The scorching heatwave rolled and roared, instantly sweeping across the entire clearing, carrying with it the acrid smell of burnt earth and the crackling of burning wood.

Murphy stood his ground, his black robes unmoving amidst the raging hot wind and flying dust and debris. Not even the hem of his clothes stirred.

All the smoke, flames, and shockwaves, upon approaching him, seemed to hit an invisible barrier, automatically parting and flowing around him, unable to touch him in the slightest.

His calm gaze pierced the churning flames and thick smoke, settling on the starting point of the terrifying trench that now tore through the earth.

The spot was now completely empty.

No blood, no remains, not even a single shred of clothing or a strand of hair was left behind.

This was normal. After all, given the power of Murphy’s last strike, even an Official Wizard hit head-on would likely not have left a complete trace.

But it was also abnormal. The little girl’s existence itself was strange, so such complete annihilation was, in fact, exceptionally odd.

Murphy’s Spiritual Power meticulously scanned the edges of the scorched earth and the trench, not missing a single trace.

However, all that returned to him was the crackling of the burning flames, the dead silence of the superheated soil, and the scorching, burnt smell gradually dissipating in the air.

It was as if his sword had struck nothing but an illusory projection, leaving behind not even the most basic residue of Energy.

Just then—

"Look... my flower... isn’t it pretty?"

A crisp voice, tinged with childish innocence, sounded behind him without any warning.

The same question as before, in the same tone, with the same sense of distance.

Murphy slowly turned around.

Three steps away stood a little girl, about seven or eight years old.

A slightly faded floral dress, small and fair bare feet, round toes, meticulously combed flaxen braids, faded bows, a small porcelain-white face, large and clear emerald-green eyes...

Every detail was exactly the same.

She tilted her head slightly, her hands still behind her back. Her emerald eyes gazed at Murphy with the same expectation as before, as if time had rewound and the scene had reset.

Murphy looked at her, his dark eyes still calm and unrippled. "Do you remember what just happened?"

Upon hearing him, the little girl blinked her large, clear eyes, a perfectly crafted look of confusion appearing on her face.

She tilted her head slightly. "Brother, just now... what happened?"