Chapter 1284 Lured In to Kill Me? (2)

He looked into Musa’s eyes, which were full of stories, yet at this moment revealed a deep longing, pondering as if he had realized something, but he did not interrupt; he just waited quietly.

Musa seemed to have plunged into distant memories, his cloudy gaze fell on the simulated blue sky and white clouds far away in the manor, with a tone that seemed to be telling an ancient legend, carrying a unique rhythm and deep emotion, he began to recount his life.

“It was a long, long time ago… so long that many details have become blurry, but the feeling remains as clear as if it were carved on bones.”

“When I was young, well, probably about your age as you appear now, maybe even younger, I was always restless since the beginning.”

“My teacher, a strict but knowledgeable old wizard who has long since passed away, said I had a clever mind but lacked perseverance, wasting a decent magical talent. To sharpen me and broaden my horizons, he took me away from the tribe and began to travel across the African Continent.”

“We traversed the scorching Sahara, crossed the dense Congo rainforest, camped at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro, and meditated in the mist of Victoria Falls.”

This is the typical start of a traveling wizard’s life.

Unlike most academic wizards, African traveling wizards and Hogwarts academic wizards represent two completely different paths of inheritance in the Magic World.

Hogwarts is a temple of knowledge, emphasizing systematic teaching, textbook theory, and standardized exams. Students learn “Standard Curses” in fixed classrooms, cultivate Magic Plants in greenhouses, and everything is done within safe boundaries. Magic is broke down into teachable courses.

The growth of wizards is like an assembly line, pursuing “correctness” and “regulation.”

Whereas African traveling wizards are practitioners of survival. They have no fixed schools but follow mentors deep into rainforests, deserts, and battlegrounds, learning magic at the brink of life and death. Their “classrooms” are swamps infested with venomous snakes, caves with Ancestral Spirit Seals, camps of the Centaur Tribe.

They do not recite spells but master magic through personal experience.

Learning to dispel after being bitten by venomous bugs, understanding protective spells after witnessing tribal wars, even personally participating in the “Bone Carving Enlightenment” ceremony to comprehend the fusion of magic with flesh and blood.

The academic path seeks “control,” while the traveling path pursues “adaptation.” The former casts spells with magic wands, the latter often uses their body as a medium—carving symbols on bones, swearing by blood, spirit communicating through dance. Their magic is more primal, more direct, and more dangerous. There are no O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. exams, the only test is whether one can survive in the wilderness.

In Africa, the strength of a wizard is not measured by how many spells they can memorize, but by whether they can summon a thunderstorm without a magic wand using just a stick, or set up a trap to confine ghosts with three stones.

They believe: Magic is not in books, but in the wind, in the earth, between every heartbeat and breath. This is why most such wizards are stronger than academic ones.

The main reason is that those who can grow up alive are undoubtedly strong. Unlike the high survival rate of the academic path, it’s not easy for the little wizards in the traveling path to grow up.

The traveling wizards seen in their glory are actually showcasing the effect of survival bias, and there are many more who perished during their journey who never had the chance to show themselves.

Low survival rate.

High upper limit.

This is the traveling path.

The academic path is high survival rate, low upper limit.

We can only say that both growth methods have their pros and cons.

While Ian was pondering, the old man continued to tell his story—perhaps people of a certain age, whether wizards or not, all have this rambling hobby?

Anyway, the other side was speaking incessantly.

“Those days were hard but also allowed me to witness the vastness and magic of the Magic World. I learned many things that could not be learned in school, but deep down, I still couldn’t muster much interest in those profound Magic Theories or complex Combat Spells. I preferred observing the flora and fauna along the way, tasting local delicacies, recording those unique flavors in my clumsy way. For this, I was often scolded by my teacher for not doing my duties.”

“Until… we came to a beautiful lakeside tribe on the edge of the East African Rift Valley. The place was lush with grass and water, and the people were warm and hospitable. It was there that I met her… Armani.”

When mentioning this name, Musa’s voice became exceptionally gentle, his eyes sparkling like those of a young person.

“Armani was the daughter of the tribe Priest. She was like the meaning of her name, a serene and brilliant pearl. Her eyes looked like the deepest lake water, her smile could melt the ice on Lake Victoria. She was not only beautiful but also an extraordinarily gifted wizard, especially skilled in communicating with natural creatures and Healing Magic.”

“People in the tribe said she was a child blessed by the Elf of the lake.” This description seemed a bit sycophantic, but in high emotional intelligence terms, it’s deeply affectionate.

After all, listening to the old man’s tone, he indeed succeeded, becoming a standout among devotees, an object of envy, jealousy, and hatred for countless other devotees.

“Our meeting was quite ordinary, yet it seemed like a destined arrangement. I was trying to use my crude Alchemy to extract the essence of a water plant by the lake, hoping to create a new seasoning, but messed it up, causing a small explosion and ending up with a sooty face.”