Translator: AnubisTL
The light of teleportation faded within the grand hall, and Jieming's figure reappeared.
The moment his feet touched the solid ground, he felt countless gazes, like invisible probes, converge upon him all at once.
The emotions contained within these looks were complex.
There was scrutiny, inquiry, disbelief, profound curiosity, and even a hint of... indescribable regret?
What was missing was the congratulations or admiration that should have been shown to a victor who had just emerged triumphant from a fierce melee.
Jieming was well aware of this, yet his face remained calm.
He knew that the "methods" he had employed on the tournament grounds must have been seen clearly by the sharp-eyed high-rank wizards in the hall.
Though their gazes varied, out of wizardly etiquette and respect for Wizard Noren, no one dared to rashly approach and disturb Jieming.
Only Viola did.
Like a thieving crab, she scuttled sideways, inching closer to Jieming's side.
Then, she gently nudged him with her elbow and asked in a low voice, her tone laced with disbelief:
"Hey, Jieming... Is your Law really related to the 'Imaginary Element'?"
Jieming looked at Viola, who was acting all furtive and eager to know, then glanced at the surrounding wizards—seemingly chatting but actually straining their ears—and couldn't help but laugh.
He didn't lower his voice. Instead, he nodded openly and admitted it candidly:
"Yes, that's right."
He didn't feel he was lying.
In this wizarding universe, the energy form known as "spiritual energy" simply didn't exist within their cognitive framework.
From their perspective, it was perfectly reasonable to classify it as a product of the "Imaginary Element" or the "Law of Fiction."
Although everyone had already guessed as much from the observations on the light screen and Jieming's own earlier admission of the term "Imaginary Element," his direct confirmation still caused a wave of suppressed gasps and whispers to ripple through the hall.
Viola's eyes widened even further as she pressed him bluntly, "What on earth were you thinking?! Why would you choose this path?!"
Jieming had long expected this reaction.
In the mainstream understanding of the wizard world, choosing the "Imaginary Element" or its related "Law of Fiction" as a core research direction was considered highly "unconventional," if not outright "irrational."
This perception stemmed from the contradictory and treacherous nature of the Law of Fiction itself.
When Jieming first decided to establish "Spiritual Energy" as the core law of his wizardly path, his primary concern was not how to construct the Incense Divine Path, but a more fundamental question: Could a wizard in this universe—one governed by materialism and the exploration of rules—advance using a law that did not "exist" within it?
To find the answer, he devoted a vast amount of time and effort to scouring the immense knowledge base of the Noren Workshop.
Ultimately, he found information regarding the Law of Fiction.
The conclusion was simple: Yes, it was possible.
The wizard civilization had a long history, and throughout its ages, countless brilliant and daringly imaginative wizards had pondered similar questions. Long ago, many top-rank wizards had concluded that a "law," in essence, was merely a summary of patterns and an exploration of the truth behind some objective phenomenon or principle. The law itself was nothing more than "knowledge."
So, if a wizard could "define" a thing, "define" a set of laws governing its operation, and then study and master it just as they would a real law, wouldn't they theoretically be able to approach "omnipotence"?
This path was called the Law of Fiction by the wizards.
And "Imaginary Elements" were things created by or associated with such "false," subjectively "defined" laws.
The term "Imaginary" itself revealed their essence—they originated from imagination, not from objective existence.
Theoretically, this path was viable, and indeed, some wizards had succeeded in the past.
But ultimately, the Law of Fiction was almost completely abandoned by the mainstream of wizard civilization.
There were many reasons for this.
First, although it was theoretically possible to achieve the Law of Fiction, the number of people who actually could was vanishingly small.
Because to construct a "Law of Fiction" that could generate "Imaginary Elements" and be recognized by the wizard system, the researcher first had to define the law they wanted to establish with sufficient rigor and self-consistency.
After all, apart from the legendary ninth-tier existences, the wizard world was still quite "materialistic," and its various objective laws were indestructible.
Creating a law system from scratch that the Endless Chaotic Void's fundamental rules would "nod in approval" to is far more difficult than delving into an existing law.
For example, to study the "Fire Element Law," a researcher only needs to focus on the properties of the fire element itself, its transformations, and its interactions with other elements.
But if you want to "design" a similar but entirely new "X Element Law," you not only need to understand fire but also gain a profound understanding of other fundamental elements like water, earth, and wind. You must even grasp related laws such as energy conservation and spatial structure to ensure your "design" doesn't fundamentally conflict with these cornerstones while still demonstrating sufficient "originality."
In simple terms, studying a normal law might only require comprehending and absorbing a wisp of the relevant plane origin to successfully enter the threshold.
In contrast, fabricating a new law yourself requires absorbing plane origins from multiple different domains, causing the resource consumption and knowledge threshold to skyrocket exponentially.
This single requirement alone is enough to weed out 99% of all would-be challengers.
Yet, this alone was still no match for the truly peerless geniuses of the wizard civilization.
After all, resources can be accumulated, and knowledge can be learned.
The key lay in the second requirement: the Law of Fiction must not be too rigorous.
This seemed to completely contradict the first requirement.
But according to the information Jieming had uncovered, if a Law of Fiction were too rigorous and perfect, with an airtight logical loop, there was a high probability that it wasn't "fictional" at all. Instead, it would be a "real" law that simply hadn't been discovered or recorded by the wizard civilization yet!
Such a law would correspond to some substance, energy, or rule of nature that the wizards had yet to uncover.
Ironically, the era when research into "Imaginary Elements" was at its peak became one of the fastest periods for the wizard civilization to discover new elements and laws.
Many geniuses poured their blood, sweat, and tears into "fictionalizing" perfect laws, only to have them later proven to be obscure, niche, but very real rules.
For those arrogant, genius wizards who had expended vast resources, such an outcome was a devastating blow.
After all, it meant that all their "creation" and "design" was nothing more than a lucky "discovery."
For those who sought the peak of knowledge and truth, this kind of "unwittingly paving the way for others" was far more unacceptable than failure itself.
After another culling, a tiny number of lucky survivors—or rather, wise individuals who had grasped that delicate balance—finally succeeded in "fictionalizing" their own laws and achieved advancement through them.
Then, a third problem emerged: the individual combat power of those with the Law of Fiction was generally weak.
According to statistical data, regardless of their level, wizards who mastered the Law of Fiction typically only just reached the average line for that level.
Sounds okay?
But the problem was that the wizards who passed the first two brutal screenings and finally succeeded in mastering the Law of Fiction were all geniuses among geniuses, monsters among monsters.
For them, "reaching the average line" was itself a failure!
They should have been far superior to their peers.
There were many reasons why their individual combat power was weak.
For example, the law each person fictionalized was unique, with no experience from predecessors to draw upon. Every path had to be blazed by themselves, and the cost of trial and error was extremely high.
At the same time, because the fictionalized law had to conform to some of the world's underlying laws to some extent—otherwise, it could not be recognized by the system—it could not achieve the all-powerful effect of "doing whatever one pleases" and "overturning common sense" as originally envisioned. It was subject to many restrictions.
Of course, the Law of Fiction was not completely useless.
Its greatest advantage was the ability to produce "Imaginary Elements."
These substances, which theoretically should not exist, could be conjured from thin air by wizards who had mastered the corresponding Law of Fiction.
Furthermore, depending on the creator's depth of understanding and their specific perspective on their own Law at the time of creation, the resulting Imaginary Elements would possess a variety of peculiar attributes or effects that conventional elements could hardly achieve.
Simply put, while they might not be much for combat, they were exceptionally skilled at "producing special materials" and "making money."
The Imaginary Elements they created were often rare catalysts or core materials used in high-end alchemy or the crafting of special spell artifacts.
But that was where the benefits ended.
For the geniuses capable of mastering the Law of Fiction, "making money" was truly no difficult feat; they had countless avenues to acquire resources.
To trade such a high barrier to entry and a steep price for the role of a "high-grade material supplier" was, in the eyes of most top-rank wizards, undoubtedly a choice with an extremely low cost-performance ratio.
Precisely for this reason, when Jieming personally admitted that his Law was related to "Imaginary Elements," it sparked so much astonishment and bewilderment.
In everyone's eyes, given the potential and intelligence Jieming had displayed, choosing any of the existing Laws with a bright future would have guaranteed him a limitless future. Why would he tread this seemingly arduous and "bleak" path?
But for Jieming, using the "Law of Fiction" and "Imaginary Element" as a cover was the perfect way to launder and justify his true foundation—"spiritual energy."
At least, when his Purgatory Sulfur Plane was eventually discovered to be abnormal, it wouldn't cause excessive panic or scrutiny; it would simply be regarded as some kind of special "Imaginary Element" environment.
Just as he was calculating this in his mind, Wizard Noren, who had been seated in the main seat, stood up with a smile.
The moment he moved, the entire hall fell silent, and all the whispers ceased abruptly.
Wizard Noren walked slowly to Jieming, his eyes, which seemed to contain endless wisdom, carefully sizing him up. A satisfied expression appeared on his face.
"Well done, kid," Wizard Noren's voice was gentle yet powerful. "Very resourceful, and very promising. Since you won, this reward is yours."
With that, he reached out and handed the seemingly plain "Substitute Death Puppet," which represented a second life, to Jieming.
Jieming took a deep breath, suppressing the excitement in his heart, and respectfully accepted it with both hands: "Thank you, Lord Noren!"
(End of the Chapter)
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