SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS

The enormous golden gates of the Heavenly Wizard Academy opened with a low groan, and Kent with his companions stepped inside.

The lavish hall beyond was not bustling as they had expected. No scholars hurrying with scrolls, no elders delivering lectures. Instead, an eerie hush reigned in the extraordinary chamber. Its ceilings stretched into the heavens, painted with constellations that seemed to breathe, its pillars carved with living dragons that slithered in and out of stone. But all this grandeur only made the silence more profound.

At the far end of the long, narrow hall sat a single old man at a wooden desk, hunched over a scroll, his brush scratching across paper.

Fatty Ben whispered, “Eh? This… this is it? No cheering crowds? Not even a tea stall? Brother Kent, this feels like a ghost hall!”

Tata Lan snorted. “Shut up, fatty uncle. Maybe this is a test.”

Kent ignored them, his gaze fixed on the old man. As he stepped forward, he placed the Golden Heir Token upon the desk. The token glowed faintly.

The old man paused, lifted his head, and peered at Kent. His eyes flicked past him, taking in the wives, companions, beasts, and attendants trailing behind. For the first time in the long silence, his lips curved into a dry smirk.

“You bring an army, boy?” His voice was gravelly, like parchment torn.

Kent’s expression didn’t change. “I bring my household.”

The old man chuckled, then picked up the token. It pulsed once in his hand before dimming again. He tapped it twice on the desk and nodded. “It is genuine.”

He squinted at Kent. “Name?”

“Kent Hall.”

“Where from?”

Kent’s gaze sharpened, but his voice remained calm. “Red Silk City.”

The old man arched a brow. “Age?”

Kent’s lips curved slightly. “I do not know my age.”

The brush froze in the elder’s hand. His smirk widened. “A mysterious one, eh? Hmph. Cultivation level?”

“Peak, Immortal Earth Magus.”

The elder’s smirk grew into a grin. He tapped the desk with his knuckles. “Good. Good. Very well.” He lifted a thin wooden bill and rapped it lightly.

From the shadows at the side of the hall, a familiar presence approached.

Fatty Ben’s jaw dropped. “Her again! The slab-thief!”

It was indeed the same servant lady who had sold them the flying slabs for three hundred thousand mana crystals. She bowed low before the old man, then turned her gaze to Kent and his entourage.

“Young man,” the elder said lazily, “you have three days to choose which mountain you will go to. This servant will guide you.”

Kent frowned slightly, but said nothing. His companions exchanged puzzled glances, murmuring.

Amelia whispered, “So soon? Without instruction?”

Sophia frowned. “What does choosing a mountain mean?”

Lucy muttered, “This feels like business… seven mountains, seven shops, choose your master carefully.”

The servant lady gestured silently for them to follow.

They left the grand hall, their footsteps echoing, and as they reached the outer walkway overlooking the endless valley, the lady finally spoke.

“You are all confused,” she said, her tone cool but clear. “Let me explain. The Heavenly Wizard Academy is not ruled by one master, but seven. Each mountain holds one legacy, one supreme path. You must choose wisely which peak to ascend, for your cultivation, your future, and even your survival will depend upon it.”

Fatty Ben groaned. “Seven? We must pick? What if I pick the one with better kitchens?”

Tata Lan slapped his belly. “Idiot!”

The lady ignored them. She pointed to the leftmost peak, shrouded in misty flames. “That is Blazing Flame Mountain. Its master is Elder Huo, an immortal who commands fire itself. His disciples are known for destruction—flame sorcerers, lava warriors, phoenix riders. Their numbers are vast, but so are their rivalries. If you want raw power and the path of war, that is where you go.”

Lana whispered, eyes bright, “Phoenix riders…”

Then the servant pointed to a mountain glowing with crystalline rivers that flowed upward. “That is Glacial River Mountain. Its mistress is Lady Xue. Healing, ice, and water cultivation flourish there. They produce healers who can mend even broken lifelines, and their alchemists are unmatched in medicine.”

Bai Qi’s eyes widened. She turned to Kent. “That is… where alchemy belongs.”

Lin Lin’s gaze softened, her heart tugged by the same thought.

Next, the servant gestured toward a peak blanketed in bamboo groves. The golden stalks hummed with the wind, whispering faint melodies. “Golden Bamboo Mountain. Elder Yue rules there. Music, illusions, spirit-binding, and charm techniques are taught. Few warriors, but many who control minds and hearts. Dangerous in silence.”

Lucy muttered, “Sounds like a merchant’s paradise.”

The servant’s finger shifted to a mountain wreathed in thunderclouds. Lightning split its peak every few breaths. “Storm Howl Mountain. Its master is Lord Lei. The path of thunder, storm, and sheer speed. His disciples are lightning incarnate, feared for unmatched combat movement.”

The Dragon Twin Sisters exchanged fierce grins, their scales humming. “That one,” they said in unison.

The servant continued, pointing now to the mountain carved with runes on every stone. The entire slope glowed with scripture. “Runic Stone Mountain. Elder Wen rules it. The mountain is itself a scripture. Those who cultivate there walk the path of symbols, arrays, formations, and sealing arts. Fewer fighters, but many controllers.”

Amelia’s sharp eyes gleamed. “Strategies… formations… hm.”

Next, the mountain that burned not with fire but with eternal golden light. Pillars of radiance circled its peak, and divine figures seemed to march upon its slopes. “Celestial Light Mountain. Elder Sheng rules there. Her disciples practice divine light, purification, sacred arts, and righteous combat. The largest number of disciples flock there.” Latest content published on novel-fire.net

Sophia whispered softly, “Sacred arts… I feel drawn to it.”

Finally, the servant pointed to the last mountain—covered entirely in a suffocating mist. Even their spiritual sense faltered as they gazed at it. Strange beast roars echoed from within. “Beast Dominion Mountain. Elder Hu rules it. Beast tamers, summoners, and those who command spirit animals belong there. Its halls are dangerous—disciples die every year taming monsters, but those who succeed become kings of battlefields.”

Fatty Ben squeaked. “D-did you hear that roar? What if I get eaten on the first day?!” His wife smacked him.

The servant folded her hands. “That is the truth. Each mountain offers opportunity and peril. Even with your Golden Heir token, you are not guaranteed to become a disciple of any peak. You must prove yourself. Fail… and you will remain in the central hall as a learning attendant, forever below true disciples.”

The group fell silent.

Amelia’s eyes narrowed. “So this is the real trial.”

Sophia sighed. “Which path do we choose?”

Thea looked at Kent quietly, her heart pounding.

Fatty Ben groaned again. “Three days to decide? My brain needs three years.”

Finally, all eyes turned to Kent. He is the one who must choose finally.

He stood still, his gaze sweeping over the seven peaks, his aura calm but deep as the sea.

“Seven mountains… seven destinies,” Kent murmured. His voice was steady, carrying the weight of storms. “Very well. We will see which peak dares to claim us.”

The servant bowed. “Then, Golden Heir, prepare. Your three days begin now.”