Three weeks passed in a blur, and throughout that entire span of time, Edward did not relent in his cultivation for even a moment.

Still seated cross-legged, his posture unchanged, Edward had advanced to the late stage of the True Mage realm, his mana core now bearing the inscription of his 941st mana circle. The speed of his progress was nothing short of abnormal. Before tempering his body, he had averaged roughly twenty mana circles every three days, a pace already considered impressive by most standards. Now, with his body fully tempered and his foundations reinforced, that speed had doubled, reaching forty mana circles per day with unwavering consistency.

At that rate, over the course of twenty-one days, he had successfully inscribed an average of eight hundred and forty mana circles, each one stable, precise, and perfectly anchored. His growth was steady, relentless, and terrifyingly efficient, as though cultivation itself had bent to accommodate his will.

But even that wasn’t his full potential. In his last life, at the peak of the Mage Emperor stage, when he possessed multiple Primordial bloodlines and constitutions, he had averaged nearly five hundred thousand mana circles per day, a feat that was considered nothing more than routine for a Mage Emperor expert.

While Edward remained in the deep stillness of the abyss, the world above was beginning to fracture.

Midway through the second week of Edward’s confinement, Marquis Vistro finally decided to descend into the hidden monster pits. He went with the confidence of a man inspecting his own creation, already imagining what he would find—Kragthar, his prized work. He expected a fearsome, bloodthirsty horde of monsters and a Warden steadily improving under the influence of his alchemy.

But instead, all he smelled was the nasty stink of rotting flesh.

When the Marquis got to the pit entrance, he paused. It looked normal at first glance – goblins were chattering and moving around in the distance. But as someone at the Peak of the True Mage stage, he could feel a weird, repeating change in the air. He reached out with a hand, tearing through the veil of reality. The image shattered like glass.

An Illusion Rune.

The Marquis turned pale. Such a rune required a refined sea of consciousness, a feat only possible for someone at the Adept stage or above. Since he could see through the perception with his current rank, he calculated the perpetrator was at least at the initial level of the Adept stage. But as he stepped into the cavern, that calculation was immediately challenged by a sight of pure horror.

Thousands of goblin corpses lay in heaps, their bodies dry and withered. At the far end of the cavern, he saw the lifeless, mutilated remains of Kragthar.

’Impossible!’ the Marquis thought, his aura spiking in anger.

Kragthar had possessed the strength of a Peak Adept. To slaughter him and an entire horde with such surgical ease was a feat reserved for those at the Late Stage of the True Mage realm. Yet, the illusion rune was low-level. The contradiction gnawed at him. How could an Adept-rank mage kill an opponent of that caliber? Magic alone would have been insufficient. Martial arts? He scoffed at the thought. No Adept could possess the comprehension required for anything above a 2-Star art. To master a 3 or 4-star art required decades of physical attunement.

He knelt next to a body, his hands shaking as he touched the grey skin. It felt like paper. The life force had been sucked out, taken away after they died.

"The Life Dragon Egg Essence," the Marquis whispered, his eyes widening. The legendary ingredient he used for the evolution of Kragthar.

Were they after the Life Dragon Egg Essence—an essence said to greatly enhance vitality and life force? If someone knew about its existence and value, they had to be deeply knowledgeable with the kingdom’s internal affairs and hidden resources. That alone narrowed the list of suspects. It meant the culprit had to be from a rival noble house, likely a Count or higher, since Barons and Viscounts were rarely granted access to knowledge of such tightly guarded secrets.

He concluded that a rival noble house was striking early, moving in the shadows to sabotage his secret vanguard before the civil war for the crown could even begin in earnest. Such a bold breach of security would not go unnoticed, and the Flame Phoenix Lord, in particular, would be furious at this failure.

The Marquis’ reaction was swift and merciless.

The following morning, the Marquis placed the estate under a state of high alert. He commanded all knights who were at least at the Middle Level of the Apprentice stage to guard the perimeter of the pits. He went further, ordering his top commanders—warriors at the Peak of the Adept stage—to abandon their posts and stand guard over his primary alchemy labs. If the ’thief’ was after rare items, the labs would be the next target.

In all of this, Edward was never even considered a suspect. To the Marquis, the idea was laughable. Edward was unawakened; he had no mana core to fuel a rune and no training to hold a blade. He was simply a useless boy rotting in a cell.

*******

Back in the Abyssal Cell, Edward had registered the change in the mansion’s magical energy. He continued to sense the guards movements, but it was just background noise compared to the powerful energy building inside him.

He continued his cultivation, refining the ambient mana that was coursing through him.

First, the 945th circle appeared, then the 948th. Each new inscription was like a silent explosion within his soul. The pressure was building, the thousand-circle mark of the High Mage level looming like a distant mountain.

With one final, powerful exhale, Edward finished the last line for the evening.

The 950th Circle.

The violet light in the cell became so bright that the stone seemed to turn clear. Edward had reached the Peak of the True Mage stage. In barely a month of being confined, he had matched his father’s lifetime of training.