Ron was eating in the communal dining hall when he overheard the idle chatter of a few aspiring apprentices at the next table:
"I heard Darrend bought that kind of medicine?" a tall, thin man with medium-length hair asked mysteriously.
"What kind of medicine? The kind that develops the brain?" His companion stared wide-eyed in surprise.
"Yes, he said he wanted to complete the concept of that sonic spell…" The long-haired man nodded, his expression a mixture of surprise and disdain.
"Are you crazy? So many people have tried that thing and failed..."
The third person scoffed and shook his head.
"With his limited mental strength, using that kind of drug would only turn him into a monster."
Ron was chewing on his unpalatable black bread while thinking about the potions he needed to review.
But when they mentioned their neighbor Darrend, he frowned and put down his plate.
Over the past few days, the noise from Darrend's experiments has become increasingly sparse, leading him to believe that the mad researcher had finally reached a bottleneck and chosen to take a break.
Now it seems that this may not be the case.
"The dorm area has been a bit too quiet lately. I hope it's not what I'm thinking..."
He muttered to himself, glancing at the half-eaten black bread in his hand, and lost his appetite.
To be honest, when he first arrived in the Black Mist Jungle, he was quite familiar with this neighbor named Darend.
His first meal here was at the same table as Darrend.
"My home is in Cedar City, in the northern part of the Black Mist Jungle."
Back then, the other person's temper wasn't as strange and irritable as it is now. The somewhat chubby boy stirred the beet soup in his bowl while quietly introducing himself:
"Our family has been musicians for generations, performing music and composing compositions for the city's nobles."
His eyes lit up when music was mentioned:
"Can you imagine, Ron? Music is more than just sound; it's a fluctuation of energy, a resonance of the soul. From a young age, I could sense the connection between different notes, their rhythm, their power..."
Ron remembers that he simply nodded politely at the time, not quite understanding Darrend's enthusiasm.
"My mental strength aptitude is not high, not even a fifth-level star. I was almost desperate on the way here."
Darrend stirred the soup in his bowl, his voice low, seemingly unaware that the food was gradually cooling down.
"But on my first day of school, I saw an opportunity on the bulletin board."
He lowered his voice mysteriously:
"Besides the regular mental strength test, the school has another path to advancement—perfecting the spell concept for the bounty. If you can develop a half-finished spell to a practical stage, you can also qualify to stay."
"And I found a research topic that perfectly matches my expertise..."
Darrend's eyes gleamed: "Sound waves transmit the mental field. The moment I saw this name, I knew it was prepared for me."
In the following months, Darrend did indeed devote himself entirely to this research.
Ron would occasionally glimpse the room filled with equipment and notes when he passed by, and the walls covered with strange symbols and musical notation.
For the first two months, Darrend would regularly bang on various metal utensils every day, sometimes making strange sounds, and then curse and start over.
At that time, Ron often complained to Andre that he felt the noise from his neighbor was affecting his meditation.
But about a month ago, Darrend began to become frustrated.
The research seemed to have hit a bottleneck; no matter how he tried, he couldn't get the sound waves to actually affect the mental field.
"The problem is that my mental strength is too weak." He once complained to Ron in frustration, "If I were a little stronger, I could break through this barrier."
In recent days, these voices have become less and less frequent.
At first, Ron thought that Darrend had finally given up, but when he ran into him by chance in the public bathroom yesterday, he noticed that Darrend's eyes were flashing with an almost crazy light. The man's face was sallow, and his originally slightly chubby body had become so thin that he was almost unrecognizable.
"Are you alright?" he asked casually.
Darrend looked at him and smiled, a smile with an eerie quality: "Good? Of course it's good... I'll be successful soon, Ron."
After saying that, she ignored him and left without looking back.
Looking back now, Darrend was already showing signs of abnormality back then...
With that thought, Ron used bread to wipe the last bit of sauce off his plate, forced it into his mouth, and then headed to the washroom.
Perhaps... he should be more wary of this neighbor, he thought to himself as he washed the dishes.
Back in his room, Ron opened the book "Basic Meditation Techniques" and continued meditating, thinking he could meditate a little longer today.
Although he had expended a considerable amount of energy, the effects of the energizing drugs had kept his mental state at a very high level these past few days.
[Beginning with Basic Meditation]
This time, he tried to incorporate the knowledge he had learned from Mrs. Allen into his meditation.
It's no longer just about simply outlining runes, but about feeling the natural flow of spiritual energy.
Whenever his spiritual energy encounters resistance, he gently guides it, letting it follow the most natural path, like an experienced helmsman using the power of the water flow rather than fighting against it.
In the space of consciousness, the rune composed of three arcs began to flicker with a faint light.
Unlike their previous rigid forms, the runes now seem to have come to life, trembling slightly with the fluctuations of spiritual energy.
[Triggering Special Effect: Rhythmic Resonance - Slightly increases the effectiveness of this meditation session]
[Basic Meditation Experience Points +1]
[Basic Meditation Experience Points +1]
[Basic Meditation Experience Points +1]
...
[You have reached your maximum training time for today; a rest is recommended.]
Ron opened his eyes. Although his energy levels were slightly lower than when he meditated using only energizing potions, they were still much higher than at the beginning.
"It seems that 'rhythm' is indeed the key."
Ron muttered to himself as he jotted down his thoughts for the day in his notebook.
His notes have become quite comprehensive, evolving from initial scattered observations into a relatively systematic theory.
After finishing organizing his notes, Ron picked up the training wooden sword and began practicing the basic moves of the "Corona Sword Technique".
Although he didn't have a professional coach, he could learn by referring to the notes given to him by Andrei.
Each sword swing is coordinated with the rhythm of the "Corona Breathing Technique," achieving a subtle balance between movement and breathing.
As he practiced more, he found that the coordination became smoother and the movements became more fluid.
Basic swordsmanship experience +1
Basic swordsmanship experience +1
Basic swordsmanship experience +1
...
As darkness fell, Ron tidied up the room, put down his wooden sword, took off his clothes, and lay down on the bed to rest for a while.
Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, a strange feeling suddenly welled up in his heart.
It was an indescribable, hazy feeling, as if someone or something was spying on him.
Suddenly, a very strange sound came from the next room, sometimes high-pitched and sometimes low, as if someone or something was struggling in pain.