Black Hearted Mage

Chapter 353 Joanna's Visit

The fat dog, now back to its normal size, seemed unable to control the raging fire elemental power within it. The high-level magic patterns covering its body were like an out-of-control volcano, spewing dangerous white flames from time to time. Cecilia was measuring its new size with a tape measure when suddenly, with a "hiss," flames erupted from the magic pattern where the tape measure touched, and the delicate tape measure instantly disintegrated into a wisp of green smoke.

"You damn dog, change back immediately!" Caesar's face suddenly changed. A magician's hand moved the fat dog to the center of the living room. "You don't have a good grasp of the laws of fire. You will turn my castle into ruins!"

The pale flames dancing on the fat dog were only an inch long, yet they caused the air in the entire hall to begin to distort. Caesar's pupils shrank slightly. He had only seen this unique pale flame twice in his life—once at the scene of the collapse of Ludwig Castle, when the flame man's final stage displayed exactly this color, the flames seemed to have no temperature.

Another time was in the magic photo taken in the magic tower. The clone of the Lord of the Abyss in the picture used this seemingly gentle pale fire.

He clearly remembered the devastating scene in the magical image: pale fire snakes erupted from the caverns, and tens of thousands of elite demons were reduced to ash in an instant, without even a scream. Even more terrifying was the nature of this flame—it could be as cold as a ghost, or it could burst into a terrifying heat that could melt through the barriers of space.

The fat dog whimpered deeply from the depths of its throat, and as the high-level magic patterns on its body gradually glowed crimson, its chubby body began to shrink at a visible speed, and even its thick, short fur shortened and thinned, piling up on its shrinking body.

"You stupid dog, how long will it take you to control the white flames?" Caesars scratched his hair in frustration. "If you can't control that power, even the best clothes I make for you will be wasted! Once that flame bursts out, any leather will be reduced to ash!"

The fat dog, now shrunk to the size of a boot, grumbled in frustration and gestured clumsily with its stubby front paws. Although it wasn't sure how long it would take to fully master this power, it knew exactly what it needed most right now—that strange-smelling black liquid.

Watching the fat dog's funny gestures, Caesar suddenly realized, "You want the demon's blood?" His brows immediately furrowed. "You idiot, that's not something you can easily obtain. That necromancer, Sandro, lurks on the other side of the Emerald River. I'm not sure I can defeat that old monster."

Hearing its owner's concerns, the small, nimble, fat dog suddenly stood up, its stubby tail supporting its chubby body like a third leg. It slapped its furry chest with one fleshy paw, while the other paw drew an exaggerated arc in the air. Its confident expression practically said: I'll take care of that necromancer!

"You damn dog, are you sure you can handle Sandro?" Caesars narrowed his eyes doubtfully.

The fat dog immediately opened its mouth wide, revealing a row of small white teeth that gleamed coldly. It suddenly shook its head fiercely, as if it was biting at some invisible enemy. The look was both funny and surprisingly intimidating.

The fat dog was not afraid of the undead spell. When Sandro attacked Caesar, the deadly undead spell was swallowed by it. At that time, Caesar thought the fat dog might feel unwell, but he didn't expect that the guy just burped and nothing happened.

The fat, dark red dog lazily sprawled at Caesar's feet. Its original size of three or four hundred pounds had shrunk to the size of a boot. Caesar bent down and picked up the furry ball, his fingers sinking into its fluffy fur. The fat dog narrowed its blood-red eyes in comfort, purring in its throat.

"Mr. Marquis, can I touch it too?"

The white-robed instructor, Wrathion, had approached without him noticing. A fawning smile plastered his wrinkled face, his bony fingers unconsciously reaching out for the fat dog. Caesars spun abruptly, his black cape slicing a sharp arc through the air. He narrowed his dark eyes, his voice dropping to a freezing point. "Wrathion, tell me again, who are you trying to touch?"

"It's, it's the cute little fat dog in your arms..." Wrathion was frightened by the sudden pressure and took a step back, but he still stared at the yawning monster without giving up.

"Damn old thing!" Kaisas suddenly became furious. The fat dog in his arms instantly had its hair all over its body exploded, and its originally lazy pupils shrank into two scarlet lines. "Are you worthy enough to touch a super monster that is about to be promoted to a legend?" He pinched the fat dog's neck and lifted it up. The fat dog immediately bared two rows of fangs flashing with magic runes, and the low growl rolling in its throat raised the temperature of the entire living room a few degrees.

The old priest Depero's white beard trembled violently. "By the Holy Light! Kaisas, you said this little fellow is... a super monster?"

"It's already a super monster, but its size hasn't kept up with its strength!"

Kaisas sneered and ran his fingertips across the fat dog's back. Flame magic patterns immediately appeared wherever it passed. "It hunted two hundred and seventy-six adult fire lizards alone." The fat dog cooperated by opening its mouth, revealing fangs like sharp knives.

Depero's priest staff slammed to the ground. "Then why does it need demon blood? Such filthy things..."

"Demon blood is also a high-level energy. Humanity has been corrupted and degraded by it because we are too weak. As long as you are strong enough, demon blood is a cultivation resource. It just so happens that Fatty Dog can eat demon blood!"

"Then let it eat!"

Depero's aged voice trembled with urgency, his wrinkled fingers tightly gripping the staff, his knuckles turning bluish-white. His cloudy eyes stared intently at the lazy, fat dog in Caesars's arms, as if the furry creature was the last hope for saving the Church.

Caesars slowly stroked the fat dog's shiny fur, with a meaningful smile on his lips: "Why are you in such a hurry? It won't be too late to wait another two or three years." The fat dog turned over in his arms, revealing its round belly, and its four short legs kicked comfortably in the air, without any trace of the power of a super monster.

"It's only just awakened, and hasn't even adapted to its newfound abilities yet." Caesars pinched the fat dog's soft paw pads, a faint dark red magic flowing between his fingers. Suddenly, the fat dog sneezed, sending out a few sparks.

Depero stamped his feet anxiously, knocking his staff on the floor loudly: "But those heretics of the Saint Laurent Church..."

"Don't worry, they can't run away."

A sinister glint flashed in Caesar's eyes, his slender fingers unconsciously stroking the fat dog's ears as he gazed out the window at the gloomy sky. He was almost done with the mission given to him by the Thorn Flower Trading Company to obtain one thousand Saint Laurent Church gold badges... but he needed more soul energy. If he destroyed the Saint Laurent Church now, where would he find so many high-quality sacrifices in the future?

The fat dog seemed to sense his master's emotions, and his red eyes suddenly lit up with a dangerous light. Caesars looked down at this furry killing machine, his right-hand man.

Rose Castle welcomed the golden harvest season. In the fields, heavy ears of wheat swayed gently in the breeze. Bent at the waist, wielding sickles, the subjects harvested the ripe wheat one by one. In the days that followed, they would repeatedly turn the grains over the threshing floor, threshing them with flails before loading the best harvest onto carts and transporting them to the castle as a tax for the lord. The remaining wheat, their reward for a year's hard work, was enough to fill every household's barn to the brim.

After the wheat harvest, the people busied themselves clearing the ditches in the fields and re-raking the soft soil. Autumn arrives late in the south, and they needed to sow the new wheat seeds into the fertile soil before the incessant rains arrived. In the southern part of the Roland Empire, people only planted one wheat crop—the land here was so fertile, and with the constant flow of the Emerald River, a single crop yielded as much as two in the north. Planting too much wheat would simply pile up in the barn and spoil.

About two weeks later, an intoxicating aroma began to waft from the brewery east of the castle. Huge oak barrels were neatly arranged. Butler Sean spent nearly all day in the brewery, personally overseeing every step of the brewing process. Just as the first batch of newly brewed ale was being cellared, a gentle autumn rain quietly arrived.

On this misty day, a caravan bearing the banners of House Solomon trudged along the muddy road to the castle. These shrewd merchants arrived punctually each year, purchasing barrels of the year-old ale from the cellars. As their carriages entered the castle gates, the sound of resounding hooves echoed through the wind and rain—a luxurious carriage adorned with intricate golden heraldry slowly approached.

The striking emblem of the Northland Tower on the car door gleamed in the rain. Cecilia, who had been waiting at the castle gate, lifted her skirt and hurried forward. Sure enough, it was the great magician Joanna she had long awaited, choosing Rose Castle as her winter retreat.

"Miss!"

Cecilia stepped forward quickly, her slender fingers gently resting on the gilded carriage door handle, her voice tinged with unconcealed joy. Her brown eyes shone slightly, fine lines at the corners faintly visible in the morning light—time seemed to have been especially kind to this head maid. As Joanna's personal maid since childhood, even during the long years she spent in the northern tower, she had always maintained the habit of wiping her master's dressing table daily.

"Cecilia, you haven't changed at all!"

Joanna gracefully stepped from the carriage, her skirt lifted. The sound of her gilded boot heels tapping against the bluestone slabs was crisp and melodious. She tilted her head slightly to examine the old friend before her, from her meticulously styled silver-gray bun to her perfectly starched lace apron, finally pausing on her still rosy face. The cold north wind left a few fine marks on Joanna's fingertips, but the person before her seemed as vivid as if forgotten by time.

"Miss, Caesars will give me alchemy potions regularly." Cecilia subconsciously stroked her smooth cheek, a sly look in her eyes. "They're all Morning Dew series, specially supplied by the Thorn Flower Trading Company. They're said to be mixed with Moonlight Grass from the Elf Forest..." She suddenly lowered her voice. "Gold-label stuff that even the royal butler can't buy."

Joanna raised an eyebrow at this, twirling the gilded fan handle in her palm. As a great magician, she knew all too well the significance of those glass bottles emblazoned with the thorn flower emblem—they were secret treasures of youthful beauty that drove every noblewoman in Roland Continent crazy. It was said that a single potion in the display case on the top floor of the trading house was worth half a year's worth of taxes for a small border lord.

"Take me to the lounge first." Joanna suddenly remembered something and looked around. There were only a few maids in the courtyard pruning roses in the rain. "Where is Caesar? Logically, he should be..."

"He's been meditating on the top floor of the castle for the past two days." Cecilia took the velvet cloak from her master. A dark pattern flashed on the silk lining, the silver-blue luster unique to northern ferrets. "Ever since receiving the letter asking you to come back, he hasn't left the attic!"

"By the way, Miss, Caesar specially prepared a surprise gift for you. He took great pains to snatch it from the fat dog's mouth!"

As soon as she stepped into the castle gate, Cecilia suddenly clapped her hands and remembered this incident. She immediately walked quickly to Joanna with her skirt lifted up and reported it with a beaming face.

"Snatched from a dog?" Joanna frowned and pinched her nose in disgust. "Could it be that smelly monster meat?"

"Oh, miss, you misunderstood!" Cecilia quickly waved her hands to explain, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "It's precious ground dragon meat! Caesars was really impressive this time, hunting down two adult ground dragons in the southern continent. But..." She suddenly lowered her voice and leaned closer mysteriously, "The dragon legs were as hard as rock, the necks were tough, and only the two tender tenderloins on the back were barely edible. According to convention, the fat dog should have been the first to pick the spoils, but Caesars had to persuade him to snatch these two most valuable pieces from his mouth!"

"Can Kaisas hunt the Earth Dragon?!"

Joanna was nearly speechless with shock, her slender fingers unconsciously clenching the hem of her skirt. Earth dragons were supreme beasts. Even the combined might of all the magicians in the North Tower couldn't possibly slay them. Their hides were thick, their scales nearly immune to most fire magic. And now, Caesars had single-handedly killed two?

"Where's the magic core?" She quickly recovered from her shock, a flicker of anxiety in her eyes. The magic core of the Earth Dragon was a rare treasure, containing powerful fire magic. Whether used for magical research or weapon forging, it was priceless.

"One has been eaten by the fat dog, and the other one... should be in Caesar's hands!"

Cecilia spread her hands helplessly, apparently accustomed to the fat dog's behavior of ruining her baby.

When Johanna heard this, she immediately lifted up her skirt and urged, "Take me to see him! Now!"

The head maid didn't hesitate and immediately led Joanna through the hall and down a stone staircase. The smooth marble steps gleamed coldly in the candlelight, and their footsteps echoed throughout the deep castle. After reaching the fifth floor, they turned onto an even narrower, spiral staircase, the wooden steps creaking softly. Finally, they stopped before a heavy oak door—Caesars's attic, his place of meditation.