Rhys ended up farming roughly thirty-four thousand years of lifespan from the mass death of the pests, but the operation had cost him approximately three thousand nine hundred and seventy-three years of his own reservoir to set up the accelerated exhaustion command.

That left him with a massive net profit, but the victory felt incredibly short-lived when he looked at the ruined greenery around him.

To save his job and avoid a massive investigation from Old Chen, he had to immediately spend an additional twenty-eight thousand years of his life force to manifest an Uncertain Command.

He focused his mind on the concept of absolute biological rejuvenation, forcing the withered, broken fibers of the exotic plants to rapidly piece themselves back together and absorb the nutrients from the dead bug dust on the soil.

It worked perfectly, and the plants returned to their original, pristine condition within seconds, but the massive double drain on his lifespots left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Damn it," he cursed softly under his breath as he sipped a mouthful of fresh fruit wine from his clay cup.

He was currently sitting at a long, battered wooden table inside a rowdy, low-end tavern near the outer courtyard district.

The manual laborers sitting around him shook their heads in mild amusement, watching him closely.

This was the sixth time Rhys had let out a heavy, depressing sigh like he had just lost his entire life savings in a bad gamble.

Rhys had indeed lost a very good part of his harvest today because of his own reckless phrasing, but as he sat quietly in his seat, he felt the constant, rhythmic pulses of fresh lifespan sweeping into him from the one thousand hidden hummingbirds farming the outside territories.

The massive swarm was currently farming the dense insects of the wild forests at an incredible pace.

Feeling that steady, automated influx of lifespam, his dark mood finally improved a bit.

Next time, he would have to be incredibly careful. He had to deeply consider the exact physical consequences of all his thoughts before activating the crown, simply to avoid massive, costly mishaps like the greenhouse disaster.

While Rhys was buried deep in the silent rumination of his recent actions, the surrounding manual laborers were buzzing with excited murmurs.

They banged their wooden beer mugs against the table, their rough voices rising over the general noise of the canteen.

"I am telling you, this time’s Annual Hunting Day is going to be so much more exciting than the previous years," a burly man with a scarred forearm shouted, leaning across the table. "Even the direct disciples of the grand elders are officially participating this time around."

"That is only normal," another elderly worker replied, wiping foam from his thick beard. "After all, the rewards for the top rankings are incredibly tempting, even for high-level High Mages. I heard from a reliable source in the administration building that the Sect Elders actively objected to the reward pool during the meeting.

They thought it was too much wealth to give to youngsters, but all of their complaints were instantly swatted away by the Sect Master herself."

"Haha, those greedy old elders must be pulling out their own white beards in private, cursing their bad luck for ranking up beyond the Adept tier," the first man laughed loudly, taking a deep gulp of his wine. "If they were still young, they would be fighting tooth and nail for those rewards."

Rhys leaned his back comfortably into the sturdy wooden bench, keeping his eyes down as he listened intently to the local gossip.

A light, genuine smile appeared on his face as he imagined the proud, ancient elders getting utterly jealous of a bunch of teenage disciples.

’Those three girls will definitely be out there for the hunting event as well,’ Rhys thought to himself, his mind instantly flashing back to the image of Kai, Selena, and the strange, distant Yuki walking away at the train station.

[Do you plan to team up with them again for the hunting zone, host?] the system’s text blinked curiously within his vision.

Rhys shook his head slightly in the dim light of the tavern. ’Of course not. I am not even going to appear looking like this.’

The upcoming annual hunting day would be his very first real experience stepping foot into the true untamed lands.

Unlike the Whispering Ravine, where the reinforced iron tracks passed through a legally tamed and heavily patrolled sector of the canyon, the sect’s hunting event would take place in a completely wild, unmapped territory where the rules of humans did not apply.

Not only that....

He was actually quite curious about the legendary safety spell that the sect handlers allegedly cast on all the participants to protect them from dying inside the dangerous field.

A spell capable of tracking thousands of moving mages simultaneously and automatically pulling them out of harm’s way right before a fatal blow landed would have to be beyond rare.

The sheer magical calculation required for such a spell was something he wanted to analyze.

"The Islanders are also coming to the city for the event," a quiet voice suddenly said from the corner of the table.

The statement instantly stopped every other voice in the immediate area. The rowdy laughter died down, and the ambient noise of clinking mugs faded into an uneasy silence.

"What? The Islanders?" a younger worker spoke up, visibly gulping down his saliva as his hand trembled slightly against his glass. "No way, right? Why would those northern maniacs cross the borders for an inland sect hunt?"

"The Vikings rarely care about anything that happens on the main continent," the older worker explained, his tone turning dead serious.

"They are constantly busy trying to tame the Endless Sea and fighting those massive ocean leviathans. The only reason we ever see a gold Viking coin in Azure City is because their chiefs love our luxury silks and medicinal herbs.

If they are traveling all this way, the rewards must be the sole reason."

Rhys raised a single brow at the mention of the newcomers. He had read brief entries about the Vikings.

They were a brutal clan of blonde-haired, blue-eyed madmen who spent their entire lives exploring the endless, uncharted oceans on massive warships.

After thinking about the situation for a few seconds, Rhys found the news to be entirely normal.

After all, the two main rewards were incredibly helpful for anyone trying to survive the chaotic laws of the ocean.

’They are really going to get completely disappointed when they realize someone else has already claimed those rewards,’ Rhys smirked inwardly, taking another slow sip of his fresh wine.

However, Rhys knew very well that the Vikings were all battle-hardened warriors who lived and breathed physical combat.

To fight against opponents of that caliber without exposing his secrets, he had to drastically improve his personal control over his spells.

Especially his application of the Crown of Force.

Since he did not want to appear as Rhys during the hunt, he had to develop an entirely separate, unique fighting style.

He needed a method of combat that would enable him to use his telekinetic force to crush enemies while never revealing his real identity or his connections to the outer courtyard mages.

’The physical preparations for creating a fake identity are going to be hella boring,’ Rhys thought, standing up from the table and tossing a few copper coins onto the wood to cover his drink.

Yet, even though he complained about the tedious work ahead, his light green eyes showed nothing but excitement as he walked out into the cool night air of the sect.