Hogwarts: Bloodline Legend

The city of Ancient Egypt is bustling.

The merchants are loudly hawking spices, pottery, protective talismans, and carved statues of deities.

Children run and frolic amidst the crowd; in the distance, priestly chants echo through the air, as if the entire city is submerged in a mystical and solemn atmosphere.

"Those holy artifacts are powerful alchemy props, things that wizards can never create." The one-eyed old man spoke to Ian with a voice full of envy, giving him some education.

He is a wizard.

There is no doubt about that.

Anyone who can have even a slight connection with the temple in the age of active deities would only be a wizard. After all, in the feudal era, equality among beings did not exist; only wizards had the qualifications to serve the gods as priests, and naturally, the people these priests befriended would also be wizards. Muggles had an even more clearly defined class in the extraordinary world.

"Trials?" Ian raised an eyebrow, "What trials?"

The old man glanced around before speaking, his tone carrying a hint of awe: "Ah, the gods, they love testing mortals. Ra, Anubis, Set, Isis... each god has their own method. They might appear as travelers, priests, or even animals, right in front of you, and then present a riddle or a trial. If you can complete it, you will gain their recognition; if you fail... you might end up with nothing or disappear forever."

As he spoke, a peculiar light flashed in his eyes, as if he himself had experienced these legends.

"Do you think they are merely cold-eyed observers? No, they love playing with fate, love watching mortals struggle for survival. They're like... protagonists in a story, while we mortals are simply actors in their scripts." The one-eyed old man seemed to indeed have a storied past.

His words were filled with the flavor of stories he once had. Ian was indifferent to this; the notion of trials was essentially just a good show for the gods.

He knew very well that the one-eyed old man wasn't wrong; the so-called trials were really just the gods using mortal heroes for their own amusement in an era without television.

"Heroes are merely actors in the eyes of gods."

Ian made a critique.

The old man was stunned, then furrowed his brow: "What did you say?"

He clearly found it hard to grasp Ian's choice of words. Although Ian had already utilized Legilimency to learn the local language, his way of speaking still differed greatly from the native speakers.

Mainly in the structure of phrases.

"Nothing." Ian waved it off, saying what he felt inside was "I just think the gods here are somewhat boring."

His words lacked much reverence.

As soon as he spoke, the air seemed to freeze for a few seconds.

The old man's expression grew stern; he suddenly grabbed Ian's wrist, his tone severe: "Young man, do not desecrate the gods on this land. Do you think these are just legends? Do you think these gods have fallen asleep? No, they're still alive, in the depths of the pyramids, in the bottom of the Nile River, in every stone bathed in sunlight. They've always been watching us."

These words certainly had the flavor of ancient feudal superstition, but Ian had already encountered divine spirits many times and knew that they did not possess all-knowing power.

They also didn't scrutinize every corner of the human world at all times. Of course, when you mention a particular deity's name, they perhaps might sense something.

Nonetheless.

For Ian, it was inconsequential. Ian did not break free from his grip, he simply looked at him calmly, with no trace of fear in his eyes; the ancient wizard before him was vastly inferior.

"I know they're probably watching me." Ian said, "But I also know they won't easily appear unless... I disturb something they care about."

This was reasonable; Ian's presence would surely attract attention, for a legendary wizard in the wizard community stood out like a firefly, easily spotted with a glance.

"Ah! Bold young man."

The old man stared at Ian for a long time, finally sighed, and released his hand.

"You're not an ordinary person." he said, "But I hope you understand one thing—on this land, words carry weight. Especially when assessing the gods."

Ian nodded.

Considered a response.

He turned and left the stall.

Ultimately, he didn't buy that poorly crafted protective talisman. Perhaps there was knowledge from this era Ian could learn, yet he continued roaming the city.

He couldn't find any wizard stall owners that interested him. The cities of Ancient Egypt weren't as orderly as modern urban centers, but they were vibrant and organized. Shops and workshops lined the streets in neat rows; artisans carved deities, crafted pottery, while women selected fresh fruits and vegetables in the market.

By the river, slaves transported huge stones, preparing to take them to the pyramid construction site. In the far distance, several pyramids stood majestically, like silent giants.

Overlooking the earth.

"This place is quite hot." Ian walked past a temple and saw a group of priests in white robes performing rituals. They held long staffs and recited ancient spells, dancing around a giant statue of a deity. The statue's visage was majestic yet unfamiliar, seemingly of a deity not widely recognized in later eras.

Ian wasn't much interested in these mystical affairs; he searched for the gathering place of wizards, and sure enough, every city had a Broken Cauldron Bar, a gathering place for wizards.

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