Chapter 2

Although it was summer, the night was still quite cool on this desolate land near the North Sea. The broad-leaved forest was in full bloom, and the forest known as the Lianya Magic Forest was filled with the roars of magical beasts. The moon was not very bright, often obscured by clouds. At the edge of the vast forest stood a castle, with no lights in the night, surrounded by several miles of strange trees, their deformed shapes making it seem like another world, out of place and as if from hell. Inside the castle, a few servants had long closed their doors, straining their ears to listen to the sounds outside, where faint chanting could be heard.

The necromancer Nicholas Andrew was performing a lich transformation ritual. He had no choice; although he had attacked eight churches of the Creator, the Bishop of Mainz's blow had severely injured him, leaving him with no hope of survival. His ability to return at all was a testament to his deep cultivation. He was not willing to die; though nearly forty, he still considered himself young. Driven by his longing for Filomena and his desire for revenge, he did not want to die. Thus, he was forced to perform the lich transformation ritual.

This was a risky move; his strength was not enough to transform into a lich, but his body could no longer support him. Great God of the Underworld, Hadir, your devoted servant Nicholas Andrew prays to you, asking for the success of the transformation ritual. Nicholas Andrew had no choice but to take the risk.

On the altar, a mysterious light emanated from a box made of mithril and obsidian. In front of the statue of the God of the Underworld, offerings were placed. He knelt before it, chanting mysterious incantations. Gray-black mist began to rise around him, gradually enveloping him.

The moonlight outside dimmed as a cloud covered the moon. The wind began to howl, and the roars of the magical beasts suddenly stopped, replaced by a different sound, as if ghosts were wailing.

The chanting grew more urgent, and the black mist began to take shape, forming a figure. The face in the mist was contorted in pain and rage. Nicholas Andrew, kneeling on the ground, was enveloped in black mist, which was continuously being absorbed into the misty figure. Nicholas Andrew, already thin, became even more emaciated as the black mist dissipated.

The chanting grew even more rapid, and the misty figure became clearer, gradually solidifying into a form of light that entered the box, which emitted a deep black glow.

A smile appeared on Nicholas Andrew's face, but it was a terrifying sight on his emaciated face. Suddenly, his smile froze, and he fell silently to the ground. At the same moment, the box shattered into pieces, and the black smoke dissipated.

After a while, he moved again, but his soul was no longer Nicholas Andrew's. A new soul, Wang Qian, had awakened. He had crossed over. He was an eighteen-year-old youth who had spent most of his life in bed due to illness, barely managing to complete his high school education.

His parents were wealthy, and he could have been a spoiled brat, but he was diagnosed with a terminal illness. Despite the best conditions provided by his family, his life could not be saved. He lived in a special care ward, lying in bed, watching a Western fantasy novel on a liquid crystal screen, holding a wireless mouse. He was lamenting that he did not have much time left and wishing that if he died, he could cross over. His name often appeared in different novels, though always as a minor character!

Suddenly, the screen changed to an interactive selection page, asking him to choose a world to cross over to. There were two options: a Western fantasy world and an Eastern immortal world.

Wang Qian was stunned. Out of curiosity, he chose the Western fantasy world. Another selection appeared, offering different professions: mage, warrior, lich, and others. Wang Qian thought, "If I die in this life, I want to be a lich in the next. Liches are said to be immortal." He clicked on lich, and everything went dark. When he woke up, he found himself in a strange place.

Before he could examine his surroundings, a loud buzzing filled his head, and a flood of memories surged into his mind. Some memories flashed by, some were clear, and some were already fading. The most vivid memories were of hatred and the knowledge of his predecessor. Wang Qian was completely immersed in the flood of memories.

After a long time, his eyes moved. This was a world similar to Earth's medieval period but with differences. More accurately, it was on the eve of the Renaissance. However, it had the magical power, and there were many schools of magic, with no unified standard. There was a general classification into harmless white magic and harmful black magic:

White magic, which closely resembled the original form of magic used in religious rituals or healing. It was highly effective in healing injuries and defending against enemies. White magic also included attack spells.

Black magic, which targeted those with powerful magic, primarily for killing. It was developed and popularized during times of war. However, black magic was not inherently evil. In fact, most mages in the world could be considered black mages. This classification was mainly used by major religions, especially by clerics, who were considered white mages.

Another widely accepted classification was based on the elements of magic. From the beginning of creation, the world contained various magical elements: white light, blue wind, red fire, blue water, yellow earth, light blue lightning, black darkness, and the mysterious elements of space and time. All of this information was in Wang Qian's mind, though he was unsure of its accuracy, as this world seemed different from Earth.

The memories also included information about magic arrays and alchemy. Nicholas Andrew was a necromancer, primarily practicing dark magic, and was currently at the level of a 9th-level mage. Mages were divided into several levels: magic apprentice, elemental sensitivity, elemental core, elemental will, and legendary or demigod. Levels 1 to 3 were magic apprentices, who could perform simple spells with the help of a wand or catalyst. Levels 4 to 6 were the elemental sensitivity stage, known as mages, who could cast spells without a wand, using only gestures and incantations. Levels 7 to 9 were the elemental core stage, known as high mages, who had formed an elemental core, a virtual structure within the body, which could form in the brain, heart, abdomen, or any part of the body, usually circular. Once the elemental core was formed, they truly became high mages. Levels 10 to 12 were the elemental will stage, known as archmages, where the elements had their own will. As for the legendary and demigod levels, Nicholas Andrew was not very clear.

After digesting these memories, Wang Qian skimmed through the others. He did not care much about Nicholas Andrew, who was already dead. He knew why Nicholas Andrew had transformed into a lich: he had gone mad and challenged the Creator's Church for a woman, nearly being destroyed. His strength was not enough to transform into a lich, but he had forced the transformation, which gave Wang Qian an advantage.

Wang Qian sighed. He had no interest in avenging Nicholas Andrew. However, his face suddenly changed, even though it was a zombie face, it turned pale. The joy of becoming a lich vanished.

He had not taken the memory of Nicholas Andrew's revenge on the Creator's Church seriously, but as the deep-seated hatred and the suppressed memories of the Creator's Church became clear, he realized the gravity of the situation. The Creator's Church was a religious organization that had dominated Tarensia for 1,800 years, with the protection of a real deity. It had swept away many other religions to become the ruling religion of Tarensia, with unimaginable power.

Wang Qian could not help but imagine himself being captured by the Creator's Church, tied to a stake, surrounded by flames. He almost cursed, wondering who had thrown him into this mess. But since the event had already happened, he was now in Nicholas Andrew's body, and the Inquisition was probably already on its way. Fortunately, this place was far from Sacred Eaton, and even with fast horses, it would take a month to get there, and with the forest as an obstacle, it would take at least two months.

Thinking about this, he breathed a sigh of relief. He had enough time to escape. Tomorrow, he would deal with it. Suddenly, he remembered a unique spell in his mind, different from the others, with no name and not part of Nicholas Andrew's memories. What was this?

Could it be the protagonist's aura, a special benefit for those who cross over? He focused on it and found it to be a unique spell, very different from the magic of this world. It was a diagram showing a flow of water-like lines through the organs, starting from the kidneys, where black mist flowed into the liver, turning into blue mist, which then flowed into the heart, turning red, then into the spleen, turning yellow, then into the lungs, turning white, and finally back to the kidneys, completing a cycle, repeating endlessly.

As soon as he saw the diagram, he felt a cool, comfortable sensation in his organs, and the flow of energy could not be stopped. He was startled but saw no other effects. He shook his head, wondering if this was a benefit, as it seemed useless.

The energy continued to flow uncontrollably, and Wang Qian let it be, not knowing that even the best spells took time to show their effects.

Wang Qian then turned his attention to the altar, which he had not noticed before. His gaze fell on the broken box.

He glanced at it and then looked away, but suddenly remembered something and focused on the broken box again.

He was a lich, but he had no phylactery, which meant he only had one life and could not be resurrected!

Wang Qian was stunned!