It was impossible to tell how much time had passed.
Suddenly, his feet touched solid ground.
Ethan’s body swayed slightly before he quickly stabilized his center of gravity and opened his eyes.
What met his gaze was an unfamiliar woodland shrouded in thick mist.
Ancient trees reached for the sky, their branches twisted and tangled into a massive canopy that blocked out the sun, slicing the light into fragmented spots that scattered across the rotting leaves on the ground.
The air was thick with the smell of damp humus and the strange fragrance of unknown flowers. The faint chirping of insects reached his ears, yet not a single living creature could be seen.
Even more bizarrely, the surrounding scenery seemed to be silently warping.
An ancient tree that had been on his left just a moment ago appeared behind him in the blink of an eye. The path beneath his feet clearly extended forward, yet after a few steps, he found himself back at the starting point. Even the direction of the light was constantly shifting—sometimes falling from above, sometimes piercing through from the side—making it impossible to determine his orientation.
"The Chaotic Labyrinth?" Ethan raised an eyebrow and muttered under his breath. "The directions are scrambled? Heh, a normal person would really have a hard time dealing with this. Good thing I have a cheat."
Without needing to think or look for a reference, the four cardinal directions—North, South, East, and West—presented themselves as clearly as instinct.
A slight curve touched the corners of Ethan’s mouth.
Without hesitation, he lifted his foot and walked in a specific direction.
The mist along the way grew thicker, and the branches of the ancient trees twisted even more grotesquely. Faint outlines of human faces even appeared on the trunks of several trees, their mouths opening and closing as they emitted faint, incoherent whispers.
Ethan didn't give them a single glance.
Before long, the mist in front of him suddenly dissipated.
The distorted woodland vanished, the towering ancient trees disappeared, and the eerie faces and whispers were all gone.
The light faded, and his sense of touch returned.
Ethan’s feet were planted on a cold, black stone floor engraved with dim runes. The scene before him became clear.
Beneath a massive dome lay a vast space.
In the center stood a large ritual base constructed of pure crystal.
At the core of the formation, a mass of swirling mist floated slowly, emitting a mysterious halo that was neither blue nor purple.
When Ethan’s feet landed on that cold, runic floor, the hot tea in the hands of the robed figure who had spoken earlier—a tea that radiated a crisp plant aroma—was floating steadily between several flexible tentacles.
The moment Ethan’s figure became fully clear, the tentacle holding the cup suddenly stiffened!
Splash!
The hot tea in the cup sloshed out, spilled by the master of the tentacles in an unimaginable tremor.
The scalding, pale green liquid poured onto the robe, making a faint sizzling sound and sending up a small puff of white steam. It flowed down the dark green fabric and dripped onto the ground, shattering into tiny droplets.
The tentacle that had lost its composure retracted deep into the robe like it had been burned.
Ethan stood where he was, his gaze fixed on the figure.
The hooded silhouette shook violently with small tremors, as if something inside was vibrating at high speed.
A few seconds later, a voice as raspy as if it had been smoked by low-quality tobacco for hundreds of years forced its way out from the shadows of the hood, carrying a sharp, startled tremor that was being suppressed with great effort:
"...How are you so fast?"
Ethan lowered his head slightly, his tone respectful yet neither humble nor arrogant. "I don't know. I just walked in one direction. As I walked, the mist dissipated, and this place appeared before me."
The green-robed man fell silent for a moment.
One tentacle stuffed a soft cloth back into the robe, while another reached out from a nearby stone platform to pick up a fresh tea cup.
Only then did Ethan notice that an entire set of tea utensils sat on that stone platform. They were exquisite and delicate, completely out of place within the cold, solemn interior of the Wizard Tower.
"The Chaotic Labyrinth," the green-robed man’s voice regained its cold quality, though a lingering ripple could still be detected if one listened closely. "Since its establishment two hundred and seventy years ago, the record for the fastest exit was one hundred and fifty-seven breaths. That was the test taken by the Third-Tier Wizard Apprentice Merlin Kane before his official promotion to Wizard."
He paused, the shadow of the hood directed at Ethan.
"How long did you take? Only seventy-seven breaths. I, Gal, have never seen such a thing in my life. No, I’ve never even imagined it."
Gal fell silent again after speaking.
"Are you Wizard Gal?"
"I am Gal."
There was a hint of complexity in the green-robed man’s voice. "The only Third-Tier Wizard Apprentice in the empire, and the master of this tower."
Ethan bowed slightly, maintaining proper etiquette. "It is an honor to meet you, Master Gal."
"An honor?" Gal let out an ambiguous chuckle. Several tentacles poked out from the hem of his robe, flexibly curling around a soft cloth to wipe away the previously spilled tea stains. "For someone who walked out of the Chaotic Labyrinth in seventy-some breaths to tell me it’s an honor... I feel like those words should be reversed."
Ethan did not respond.
Gal remained silent for a few seconds. His dark green robe billowed without any wind, and several dark brown tentacles reached out from his sleeves, their ends wrapping around a crystal ball the size of a fist.
Inside the crystal ball, silken mist swirled, with starlight faintly appearing within.
"Put your hand on it!"
Ethan stepped forward as instructed and pressed his right hand onto the surface of the crystal ball.
The moment his palm touched the surface, the slowly swirling starlight mist suddenly froze.
In the next second,
A blinding light erupted from within the crystal ball!
The light was a pure silver-white, as brilliant as a condensed star, instantly dispelling all shadows around the ritual base.
The dense mist surged violently, and dense numerical patterns began to surface across the entire crystal ball.
The numbers skipped rapidly.
10, 20, 30, 40...
The speed of the climb showed no signs of slowing down.
50, 60, 70...
Gal’s tentacles, which had retracted into his robe, suddenly snapped out like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, freezing mid-air.
80, 90...
The numbers were still rising.
95, 96, 97...
Finally, the display froze at the number "98."
The silver-white light slowly receded, transforming back into the swirling starlight mist inside the ball. Only the number "98" remained clearly branded on the surface, emitting a faint glow that lingered for a long time.
The entire domed space fell into a deathly silence.
Gal’s tentacles remained frozen in mid-air; even the smallest particles at their tips had stopped trembling. From deep within the shadow of the hood came an extremely faint sound, like an old set of bellows being pulled violently yet struggling to remain quiet.
Ethan withdrew his hand. His gaze fell on the number "98," then he looked at the frozen Gal and slightly raised an eyebrow.
"Master Gal?"
No response.
"Master Gal?"
"Quiet!"
Gal’s voice was so raspy it was almost broken. The tentacle that had retracted earlier suddenly shot out, waving wildly in the air a few times before drooping powerlessly.
He lifted a tentacle and slowly pulled back a corner of his hood.
It revealed an extremely aged face.
The skin was dark brown and leathery, covered in folds of varying depths. His two clouded eyes were currently wide and round, staring straight at the "98" on the crystal ball. His lips trembled violently, but he couldn't squeeze out a single word.
After a long while, he finally swallowed with difficulty, his voice as dry as sandpaper rubbing together.
"Do you... do you know what this number represents?"
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