Chapter 296: Chapter 190: Forging a Crown for Oneself

The workshop lights shone in the night like a bright star.

Outside the window, the wind howled; typical weather of the Black Mist Jungle—piercingly cold wind mixed with faint magical fluctuations.

This strange wind made the skin of every creature passing by sting, as if being continually pierced by countless invisible needles.

Ron was in the laboratory focused on a new alchemical experiment, concentrating on manipulating the amber liquid suspended before him.

This was an improved version of the "Spiritual Shield" potion, and he was attempting to enhance its anti-pollution effect.

The Bloodline Altar would open tomorrow, and he couldn’t waste any time.

"If I add an extract of Moon Shadow Grass..." Ron carefully dripped in three drops of silver liquid:

"Theoretically, it could enhance resistance to pollution."

The liquid reacted immediately, emitting a slight "sizzle" sound.

The color gradually changed from amber to deep purple, then slowly reverted to a purer golden hue.

[Material Refining (Proficient) Experience Points + 1]

Just as he was about to proceed with the next test, Ailan’s voice reached him through telepathy:

"Master, Lord Andre is visiting and seems to be in a hurry. His emotions are volatile, as if something important has happened."

Ron frowned slightly, feeling somewhat displeased to be interrupted at this point in time.

He carefully stabilized the experimental item before removing his goggles and briskly headed to the reception room.

Upon entering, he saw Andre sitting there, his usual elegance and composure replaced by anxiety, with his hands incessantly rubbing his knees.

The golden vertical pupils constricted repeatedly, indicating his inner unease.

Ron keenly noticed that his friend’s attire was not as tidy as usual, the robe had slight creases, and there was even a visible tear on the left sleeve, as if he had come hurriedly without time to change.

"Prince, what wind blew you here?"

Ron asked expressionlessly, though he had already perceived the unusual nature of the situation.

Andre looked up, a flicker of conflict in his vertical pupils:

"Ron... I received a confidential report from the Kingdom, my father’s condition has worsened significantly. It’s said that he has started coughing up blood, with persistent high fever, even my grandfather, an Advanced Apprentice, says he is powerless."

He paused for a moment, his voice turning deeper:

"Big Brother and Second Brother have started assigning confidants in the army, Third Brother has taken over the tax affairs of the South District of the Royal Capital, and even Fourth Sister, who usually stays out of such matters, has begun attending noble gatherings... the royal family has split into at least five factions, openly and covertly competing. I’m... considering whether I should return."

Ron sat down opposite him, his gaze sharp as a knife: "And then? What do you intend to do when you go back?"

Andre bit his lower lip, hesitating for several seconds before speaking:

"Perhaps... I should make an effort too? After all, I’ve successfully awakened the Red Blood Flying Dragon bloodline... if Father truly can’t make it, there must be a successor, I think..."

"From your tone, it sounds like you’re asking for my opinion?"

Ron sneered, a hint of disdain in his eyes: "Are you sure you really want to be king? Or is it just fear of being dragged into this and being forced to choose?"

"I..." Andre’s face visibly showed struggle, his golden pupils contracting and dilating:

"To be honest, I’m afraid. Big Brother and Second Brother have been groomed as heirs since childhood, they have the support of the army and nobility. Although I’ve awakened a powerful bloodline, beyond that, I have next to nothing. I’m not even sure if I should go back and get involved in this struggle..."

Ron suddenly stood up, his expression gloomy, a cold light flashing in his eyes:

"With that attitude, going back is a dead end!

Do you think you can just stay here forever without the royal family’s support? Will your brothers spare you just because you don’t contend?

In the power struggle within the royal family, neutrality is not an option! Not contending means being at the mercy of others!"

He walked to the window, turning his back to Andre, his voice icy:

"Participating personally may lead to failure; but retreating cowardly, the chance of death is one hundred percent.

I originally thought that brushing against death during your bloodline awakening would make you more resolute, but it seems I overestimated your resolve."

"Ron, you don’t understand..." Andre said painfully, "I lack experience, and resources are insufficient, going back would be akin to facing a den of wolves and tigers..."

"Lilia."

Ron abruptly raised his voice, interrupting Andre’s words: "Bring that special recording Crystal Ball, the one in the cabinet on the 3rd floor."

Lilia seemed prepared for this request, hesitating only briefly before quickly leaving the room.

Moments later, she returned with a dark red Crystal Ball about the size of a fist, carefully holding it with both hands, as if it were something dangerous.

Ron took the Crystal Ball and injected a thread of Spiritual Power into it.

The Crystal Ball immediately emitted a sinister crimson glow, unfolding a terrifying scene in the air like a three-dimensional projection.

It was an underground chamber stained red with blood, with the walls covered in various bizarre ritual runes, and a complex sacrificial array drawn on the floor.

In the center of the array hung a naked young man, his arms pulled apart by custom chains, fixed in mid-air in a cruciform.

His eyes had been gouged out, replaced by two Crystal Balls flickering with strange blue light;

His mouth was restrained by some kind of metal apparatus, preventing closure, with a tentacle-like foreign object extending from it, seemingly connected deep into his throat;

Every inch of his skin was densely engraved with twisted runes, each rune slowly writhing as if alive;