School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start-Chapter 147 --The Crisis Averted

As the magic array was dismantled, countless ghosts surged out like bats fleeing their nest, prompting even Barlo to instinctively raise his hand in defense.

The emergence of so many ghosts posed a significant threat to the outside world.

Yet, Eldrich raised his hand, speaking weakly, "Grandmaster Barlo, there’s no need for concern. These ghosts have been drained of their energy by the magic array. They will fade away soon enough."

True to his words, Barlo observed the ghosts rapidly turning ashen and withered before they could even escape the cavern’s entrance, disintegrating into dust without ever seeing the sunlight.

"Is it over now?" Barlo inquired.

Eldrich understood what Barlo was asking: "As long as His Highness hasn’t perished within the Soul Haven, he can now emerge alive. The formation has been broken."

Barlo smiled confidently, "Rest assured, His Highness won’t perish so easily."

...

Owen was deep in thought when suddenly, half of the River Crossing Demon offspring’s head fell off, sliced cleanly.

A collective pause took the group by surprise; none had seen Red General make his move.

Such combat technique must be at the pinnacle of mastery.

Without a sound—was this even human?

Owen, reflecting on Red General’s strike, thought to himself, "I could never execute that. Such a level of combat technique, even Barlo couldn’t match."

Barlo’s techniques were traceable; with the help of the Emerald Eye, Owen could discern their essence.

But Red General’s skill was beyond his visual perception, impenetrable even with the use of mental force.

Had such expertise transcended the realms of normalcy?

Could Red General be a sage?

Regardless, the two behind Owen breathed a sigh of relief.

The creature had been an indomitable nuisance, no different from an indestructible pest.

Its effortless eradication by Red General was a welcome development.

Their perilous situation had finally been resolved.

Willow suddenly exclaimed, "Owen, we can get out now."

Owen’s eyebrows lifted, and in his mind, he silently commanded "self-destruct."

True to his intent, the world of consciousness boomed loudly, and the entire illusion vanished before his eyes.

He sprang up from the bed, opening his eyes to survey the room’s illusionary setting.

This was the trial arena, and in front of him, among the individual cubicles, was a crystal ball, now marred by a dent-like scar.

It resembled a glass orb struck by a stone.

The female teacher beside him, seeing Owen awaken, covered her mouth in surprise, murmuring gratefully, "Thank heavens, you’ve finally woken up. My God, too many students have died..."

Her eyes were red, clearly having just cried.

This teacher, merely a master-tier, undoubtedly bore a significant burden.

Owen fell silent for a moment, realizing his team had the highest survival rate, with six members, including the injured Bryce, making it through.

It was likely because Bryce had been injured early on and then well-protected by his teammates, or perhaps the River Crossing Demon offspring saw the injured as no threat, focusing its power on Owen and his group instead.

That was how Bryce survived.

Owen got out of bed and left the room, looking around the arena to find it mostly empty, with the sounds of sobbing emanating from some cubicles.

Willow, appearing beside Owen at some point, didn’t express joy at their survival but instead said in a low voice: "Stellar Magic Academy and Ethereal Wisdom Academy were completely wiped out, and from Skyward Magus Academy, only Jiplin survived. Our team having six survivors is nothing short of a miracle."

Owen stretched lazily, his detachment evident.

"It’s a good thing, really. We should be happy. We get to see the sun tomorrow."

"You..." A voice came from behind him, "You actually think this is a good thing?"

Turning around, Owen was met by a burly man pointing at him, his face contorted in anger, eyes red as if he were a bull seeing red.

"And?" Owen raised an eyebrow, "You have a problem with that?"

"Hmph, your team surviving with so many members, isn’t it because students from other academies laid down their lives for you? You owe your survival to our fallen teammates," the burly man declared, almost roaring, as if speaking an undeniable truth.

Owen, feigning to clean his ear, looked at the man as if he were an idiot: "When I met Feldin, they were down to four people. When I met Jiplin, he was alone and even brought us trouble. As for the last academy, we never even saw them from beginning to end. I suppose they rushed in recklessly, ventured too deep, and got themselves killed. How is that our fault?"

Willow tugged at his sleeve, whispering, "That’s someone from Stellar Magic Academy, the team we never met. He’s furious right now; just ignore him."

The burly man suddenly threw a punch at Owen, who dodged and countered with a kick to the man’s chest.

Owen’s foot seemed to curve in mid-air, making it impossible for the man to evade.

The man stumbled backward, ending up seated on the ground in a most undignified manner.

Owen grinned, feeling immensely satisfied as he returned to his own body, like a fish returning to the sea.

The familiar sensation was back, and the powerful authority was once again in his grasp.

It was wonderful.

The man sprang to his feet, arcanergy swirling around him, ready to unleash a spell.

But then, the imposing aura of dragon might pressed down from the heavens, with Barlo quickly descending beside Owen, followed by two other grandmasters.

Regardless of their dragon race, they all shared two undeniable strengths: rapid constitution recovery and superior physical prowess.

While other grandmasters were still recuperating with potions and meditation, they were already capable of flight.

"How daring, to strike at one of my dragons," Barlo said, looking down at the man through his nostrils, "Which family do you belong to?"

The man’s painstakingly gathered arcanergy was instantly crushed by the overwhelming dragon might.

Such was Barlo’s way of handling matters.

Domineering, passionate, and direct... completely at odds with his ice dragon heritage.

The man paused, his previous rebuke gone, replaced with an awkward, "Grandmaster Barlo, it’s a misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding."

Barlo’s eyebrows, sharp as blades, raised, "You know me?"

"Grandmaster Barlo’s fame spreads across the entire continent of Novalia. Who doesn’t know you?" The man forced out an ugly smile, devoid of his earlier arrogance.

He thought he had picked an easy target, only to challenge a behemoth, filling him with immense frustration.

Barlo snorted coldly, paying him no more attention, and turned to Owen, "Your Highness, are you alright?"

Owen shook his head, "How come you’re here?"

"I’ve found news about the Dragon Slaying Pillar," Barlo’s eyes flashed blue momentarily, "Next, I plan to confront the angel race. Your Highness, if you’re unoccupied, stay at the Grand Magus Academy. A lot may unfold soon."

Owen furrowed his brow, puzzled, "Is the angel race behind this?"

Barlo glanced around the environment, and in front of everyone, he crafted a ward.

In this era, soul telepathy was no longer secure.

Many grandmasters, seeing no hope of breaking through to the sage-tier and out of sheer boredom, have devised numerous methods to pry into soul telepathy.

Only by setting up a ward to prevent sound from spreading could true security be achieved.

"Saint Your Highness, I’ve pondered for a long time whether to discuss this with you."

Barlo, usually so forthright, hesitated now, "The matter of the Dragon Slaying Pillar is not only a concern for dragons but for all beings across the continent. We must investigate thoroughly, and it might require some... unconventional means."

Owen perked up, eager to uncover ancient secrets, "Go on, I’m listening," he said, filled with anticipation.

Barlo pursed his lips, "I’m only speculating, after all, I’m not from that era. The Dragon Slaying Field was designed over ten thousand years ago, to be precise, seventeen thousand years ago. Since then, dragons have been in decline, retreating into the Dragon Echo Valley."

Owen did not interrupt, allowing Barlo to elaborate:

"I’ll just state my conclusion. I believe the establishment of the Dragon Slaying Field is inseparably linked to the deities."

Owen’s pupils dilated sharply, murmuring, "Deities? Doesn’t the God of Dragons care?"

Barlo scratched his head, "That’s what puzzles me, too. Perhaps the God of Dragons is unable to intervene."

Owen didn’t delve deeper into that question but instead asked, puzzled, "If deities act against dragons, there must be a purpose, right?"

"This question leads to a long story," Barlo said with a wistful tone.

"As you know, no new deity has emerged in Novalia for seventy or eighty thousand years. Scholars believe the key issue is the absence of certain rules between heaven and earth, preventing the establishment of new rules, which in turn leads to no new deities appearing."

"So, what then?" Owen was even more confused.

Barlo continued, "The thing about rules, only a sage can touch upon them, and I’ve had some insights recently.

The operation of rules is the most fundamental logic, requiring an enormous amount of resources to deduce, and the most important resource is an energy known as ’Spiricontam.’"

"Spiricontam?" Owen looked baffled.

Barlo, undisturbed, elaborated smoothly, "When people are born..."