r18novel Page 169
Page 169
Although upgrading a regular profession doesn't lead to an increase in physical attributes, reaching level five in the [Leader] profession still grants Ian a skill bonus.
[Sharing: You can temporarily lend your power to followers. The power can be reclaimed at any time, but each time a follower uses your power, they will have to pay a certain price.]
This seemingly ordinary skill is listed in Ian's general skills list, and together with his Defense and Learning skills, it forms the triumvirate of a powerful individual.
Isn't this a kind of trinity?
Ian was delighted. Looking at Thor, whose happiness had been completely absorbed by him, he said in a lighthearted tone, "You can continue to call me mentor. I love hearing that title and I don't like putting on airs."
“Only true gods like to put on airs.” Ian, perhaps really quick to immerse himself in the role, said, “Now, I can teach you a supreme storage magic.”
He also knew that he should offer some benefits to appease Thor's emotions at this time.
"Don't teach me magic yet, I need to slow down." Thor plopped down on the ground, his 450-pound weight making the floor tremble, yet he still managed to look as aggrieved as a child.
"The Asgardians are incredibly strong. I can feel my magic power steadily increasing." Ian wasn't being provocative; he was genuinely praising them from the bottom of his heart.
"..."
Thor looked even more aggrieved.
"That's the magic tax I'm paying you. We Asgardians grow stronger every moment we live." He now realized that he might eventually lose thirty percent of his divine power for the rest of his life. No wonder his mother told him to stay home and be a hermit; the outside world is truly terrifying!
"Believe me, it's worth it."
Ian has discovered that he can even share his professional abilities with his followers. He is naturally very confident in his professional skills, and the high usage fees he can collect are well-deserved.
"Even so, let me catch my breath first," Thor mumbled, continuing to eat frantically, as if trying to fill the wounds in his heart with food.
See this.
Ian's high emotional intelligence also began to play a role.
"I'm going to check on another of my followers. Pray if you need anything." He knew it was time for him to leave, to give Thor some time to process this good fortune.
"There are still unlucky ones?"
Thor suddenly looked up, sauce still dripping from the corner of his mouth.
How many believers do you have?
His tone carried a hint of probing.
Anyway, I've joined the cult of evil gods.
We should at least see how things go.
Thor asked for nothing else but that the other side's followers reach half the population of Asgard, so that when he returns and is stripped of his crown prince position, he can still stubbornly claim that he did it for freedom.
"Including you, there are two in total."
Ian is honest when he is an evil god.
"..."
Thor watched Ian's departing figure, his eyes gradually shifting from shock to bewilderment. This was more than just a hopeless future; he even felt that he might never be able to return to Asgard in his lifetime.
You'll laugh yourself to death.
More sublime than the starry sky.
[More ancient than the universe.]
[The all-powerful Emperor Ian, who wields hidden authority.]
You are the weaver of magic.
"You are the witness to history, the ultimate interpreter of the Marvel Code, where order and chaos intertwine..." Thor muttered the ten thousand-word prayer that appeared in his mind. He began to comfort himself, thinking that at least he could learn to brag from Ian, which could be considered a real skill?
"If he can lift my hammer, he must at least have the qualities of a leader." Thor looked at the hammer placed beside him and began his frantic self-reassurance.
They ate and ate to their hearts' content.
He seemed destined to grow into a 500-pound fat man—while, in the Asgardian royal court, an aged king sat on a golden throne.
Gungnir, the spear of eternity, leaned against the throne, a few strands of his afro still clinging to the spearhead. Odin, still with only one eye, seemed to have a gaze that could pierce through the nine realms and reach any place.
Odin witnessed the whole thing.
However, he did not make a move.
She just looked at her overweight son and sighed silently.
"Fools are sometimes lucky."
Slowly withdrawing his gaze, Odin remained silent for a long time before finally letting out a soft sigh. His murmur was barely audible, as if no one in this hall of revelry could hear it—the entire palace was filled with the glittering of golden goblets, the melodious sounds of stringed instruments, and the gods raising their cups to drink, singing and dancing, their joyous voices echoing like a tidal wave.
It looks like it will stay like this forever.
Ok.
It just looks like that.
……
The sun is high in the sky.
sunny.
Just like Ian's current joyful mood, the doors of the Sanctuary were kicked open by Ian, and the air was filled with a faint scent of sandalwood and the residual energy fluctuations of magic.
“Surprise! My faithful believer, come and see what special things your God has brought you.” Ian’s words were cut short.
I saw.
Center of the hall.
Doctor Strange sat cross-legged, surrounded by golden magical runes. His face was ashen, his forehead was covered in cold sweat, and his red levitation cloak hung listlessly over his shoulders.
The whole person felt as if they had just experienced a soul-splitting pain.
He truly felt as if his soul was being torn apart, because what he was doing was severing ties with Ian, forcibly giving up half of his magic to break the contract with Ian.
"what you do?!"
Ian's eyes widened.
He suddenly felt his magical power surge again.
From a small well.
It turned into at least fifty or sixty small wells.
"Wow~"
Doctor Strange after the contract was terminated.
He fell from mid-air.
He weakly raised his head, looking at the evil god before him with unusual determination: "I, the Sorcerer Supreme, will never associate with a demon like you who has survived since ancient times!"
His voice was equally weak and feeble.
Yet it resonated deeply.
With a strong belief.
"Forehead……"
Ian began to admire Doctor Strange's pride.
He finally saw someone with the spirit of a superhero in the Marvel Universe. As for breaking the contract, Ian, who found that he hadn't lost any experience points, was naturally not angry.
He is an evil god.
Believers have always been given the right to choose whether to stay or leave.
This is not noble.
Rather, it is the basic quality of an evil god in a new era.
"If you are willing to wait for me to recover before the final battle, then..." Doctor Strange was so weak that he tried to get up from the ground several times but failed.
"You're still as good at negotiating as ever. This is the Doctor Strange I know." Ian kindly went over to help him up, but he didn't hear Doctor Strange say what terms he wanted to negotiate.
the reason is simple.
Doctor Strange crashed.
It wasn't because Ian was approachable.
"No! How could this be!" Doctor Strange's expression was unusually stiff. He pushed Ian away, stumbled back a few steps, and fell in front of the wall.
"Why do I have to offer you more magic power after I gave up the contract?!" He was genuinely shocked, his trembling voice filled with disbelief—although the contract had been severed, it seemed that the constraints of the contract still remained, causing forty percent of the magic power that Doctor Strange would cultivate in the future to flow to Ian.
This is actually increasing, not decreasing!
Previously, the magic tax only required a 30% contribution!
“Young evil gods need alimony, that’s how it is.” Ian’s explanation was always so patient; his one sentence plunged the entire Sanctuary into deathly silence.
"There was no such treaty before!" Doctor Strange's face turned pale and then red. Finally, he gritted his teeth and asked angrily in a voice that was almost squeezed out from between his teeth.
“This treaty was only added five minutes ago. You’re probably too busy breaking it to notice.” Ian lifted his shirt, revealing the Book of Creation that was tucked into his waistband.
"..."
Dead silence, still dead silence.
"This shouldn't have been the outcome."
Doctor Strange's facial muscles trembled, his cheeks puffed out like two walnuts in his mouth. His fingers gripped the edge of the levitation cloak tightly, his knuckles turning white, and his lips pressed into a thin line—this Sorcerer Supreme, who prided himself on his wisdom comparable to Sherlock Holmes, was using all his cultivation to control himself from crying.
“To be honest, I admire your backbone. That’s the kind of superhero I know.” Ian handed over the gift, the aroma of grilled octopus filling the air.
however.
Doctor Strange did not reach out to take it.
"No, don't admire me yet. You're admiring me too soon... Give me a chance. I want to enlist again. I was actually secretly bewitched by other demons before."
Doctor Strange wore a sincere expression, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty. Between dignity and the loss of magic, he chose to believe in his mathematics.
The difference between 30% and 40%.
He is still very clear-headed.
After all, I love reading Sherlock Holmes stories.