Chapter 101: Ice Arrow [An Extra Chapter for the Alliance Leader, Rong Xiaorong!]

Sophia’s words immediately brought a solemn mood over the group.

The truth was undeniable. Back when Zhou Yi had fought the Tomb Keeper and survived, it was thanks to the Tongquan Grass—where on earth could they find that now?

“Everyone, hurry up and study on your own. Time is tight. At the very least, each of you should grasp one defensive spell so we’re not completely defenseless,” Sophia urged.

She understood how deeply the death of the old sect leader had affected Zhou Yi. It must have been because the demon-subduing formation’s pattern activated exactly like the mark on his body. That was why this time, she didn’t suggest they leave but instead handed out food and drink to everyone. The chubby fellow and Cheng Zhi went to the east room, while Sophia sat quietly on a meditation cushion. Zhou Yi once again unfolded the wooden wall, showing no hesitation in allowing Sophia to enter.

Once inside, the wooden wall shut tight, isolating all sound and light.

The glow of the luminous pearl seemed even brighter in the dim room, bathing everything in a soft radiance.

But as Zhou Yi settled quietly, he heard a faint rustling sound. He immediately froze and scanned the room.

On a shelf in the corner sat an hourglass, sand steadily trickling down. What caught his attention was the unusually slow rate—the grains fell in such slow motion that he could count each one.

Intrigued, Zhou Yi extended a finger to test, but it didn’t change the flow. The top lid of the hourglass was open, and there was no blockage inside, which puzzled him.

After a moment’s thought, realization struck.

This hourglass leaked at least five times slower than normal. Could it mean that time inside this room flowed more slowly than outside?

The thought was unsettling, yet the hourglass only worked when the door was closed and the room occupied, so clearly it was linked to the room’s sealed state.

If time here was indeed more abundant, then there was no excuse—not a moment to waste. It was time to begin practicing.

Setting aside the two books on metal and water magic, Zhou Yi pulled out the black-covered tome on mental spells and opened to the first page.

The character “Sleep” greeted him.

The name sounded grand, but Zhou Yi knew the effectiveness would vary by person. Still, it was impressive enough.

With the spiritual energy absorbed from the spirit stones in his body, he had the power but lacked the technique. He glanced at the incantation and hand gesture.

The chant was brief and easy to remember:

“From nothing to something, illusion and reflection, sleep!”

He silently repeated it twice—no difficulty there.

Following the illustration, he pressed his thumb against his middle and ring fingers, extending his index and little fingers. As he mentally recited the chant, the tips of the two extended fingers snapped open with the word “sleep,” releasing an invisible airflow drifting toward the bookshelves.

Zhou Yi tried this dozens of times. The airflow grew stronger until it caused the pages of the books across the room to flutter violently.

A smile crept across his face. Regardless of how well he performed, the spell was working. He thought that since this was a mental spell, channeling mental energy might amplify the effect, but that would have to wait for an outside test.

Not wanting to overwhelm himself, Zhou Yi set the book down and opened the white-covered volume next, drawn irresistibly to the spell called “Leap.” Survival’s first rule was escape—the best tactic in any battle. Learning to flee wasn’t shameful; if you could run, you had a chance to live.

It was like learning to drive—the first step was always reversing into a parking spot.

Another reason Zhou Yi wanted to master this was to save Sophia from having to carry him back and forth. It was undignified, and with three people, if they had to run, who would carry whom? Who would be left behind?

Opening the white book to the second page, Zhou Yi found a single character incantation: “Jump!”

There were no hand gestures, just the single word to call upon.

He drew a breath and attempted the leap.

Several tries yielded no movement, leaving Zhou Yi frustrated. Was he stuck at the most crucial step?

It shouldn’t be so.

Was his method wrong?

He looked at the illustration again. It was simple, with no detailed explanation—maybe so simple that none was needed?

Even with weak ability, some movement should have occurred.

He shook his head and tried various approaches, all to no avail.

Then, as he shouted “Jump” and lifted his left leg, he took a three-meter step forward, but his other leg was unprepared. He ended up doing a split on the floor.

Grimacing, Zhou Yi got up, rubbing his sore muscles. That was careless!

He thought carefully about what had worked.

It seemed that shouting “Jump” and stepping out with one leg alone caused the delay in the other leg’s movement.

Dusting himself off, he tried again—not a big stride but more like running steps. With the chant in his heart, he took two steps.

Looking up, Zhou Yi was stunned.

He had gone from standing by the door’s statue to the northern bookshelf—about seven or eight meters away.

No running start, no exertion—just two light steps covering several times the usual distance.

This was excellent. If he could keep shouting “Jump” repeatedly, he might rival Sophia’s speed.

As for teleportation, he decided to leave that alone for now; self-awareness was key, and this room wasn’t suitable for that practice.

To solidify his memory, Zhou Yi practiced several more times. His steps grew from tentative side-steps to large strides with the back leg following, pushing his distance from seven or eight meters to ten.

He also pondered: since the spell was “Jump,” would jumping physically cover the same distance?

With the room’s length and height limited, he couldn’t test that now, but there would be plenty of time outside. This would be a powerful escape tool.

The chubby fellow, along with Cheng Zhi, would likely have no trouble using it.

Confidence surged, and Zhou Yi felt considerably lighter. Running away was no longer a problem. Whether the sleep chant was effective remained unknown, but he still needed to glance at the metal and water magic books. Having a lethal attack spell would be best.

His previous “Syringe Spray” spell was decent, but compared to the old sect leader’s power, it seemed insignificant.

Closing the white book, he opened the volume on water magic.

Flipping through the spells, Zhou Yi frowned. What were these?

The first was fog, then snow, hail, and finally ice...

He wasn’t the Dragon King—what use was this? Summoning rain? It seemed pointless!

For a moment, Zhou Yi was speechless. Could the world’s magic really be weaker than his own improvisations?

That shouldn’t be.

He frowned thoughtfully.

Fog, snow, hail, ice—they were all forms of water.

But the most offensive form should be ice.

He recalled a murder in a secret chamber, committed with an ice blade. The police couldn’t find the weapon, but deduced it from water marks on the floor. Ice’s extreme cold could serve as a deadly weapon—not just blades but other sharp implements as well.

His own Syringe Spray was just high-pressure water jets, but if replaced with ice arrows, ice blades, or shards, the power would multiply.

Suddenly intrigued, Zhou Yi flipped to the fourth spell. The incantation for ice was simple: “Water into ice!”

He closed his eyes, feeling the water elemental energy. Silently chanting “Water into ice,” he flicked his finger.

A slender ice arrow, about the thickness of a chopstick, shot out at incredible speed and struck the bookshelf with a sharp “thunk.”

Rushing over, Zhou Yi saw the ice arrow had not melted inside the shelf. Whether from low temperature or the ice’s unique nature, it was firmly embedded about three centimeters deep.

A grin spread across his face. The first attempt was a success.

Though as thin as a toothpick, it was better than nothing.

He tried countless times, increasing the thickness from toothpick to pen to thumb size. Though he could only summon one ice arrow at a time, its silent precision pleased him greatly.

Looking at the pockmarked bookshelf and toppled books, Zhou Yi scratched his head. He couldn’t keep practicing here or he might collapse the room.

He’d need to test the range outside.

Just as he was thinking this, dizziness hit him and he plopped to the floor.

Glancing at the hourglass, he noticed the sand near the bottom was almost full. It seemed he hadn’t eaten in a long while.

He tore open a compressed biscuit and drank water, quickly filling his stomach.

Before he could swallow the last bite, a shout came from the wooden door:

“Boss, come out fast! Someone’s crashing the place!”