There were still obvious traces of frozen white frost on the earthen wall, and when he reached in with his finger, it felt as cold as touching ice. This residual icy magic also caused a certain amount of damage.

After casting Ice Arrow once, William Grant felt that he had used up about one-tenth of his mana.

In other words, if he went all out, he could cast ten Ice Arrows. Moreover, he could maintain a certain level of power within a range of twenty steps.

Of course, this was just his own feeling; the exact numbers would require detailed testing to confirm.

William Grant then cast a Fireball. A fist-sized ball of flame shot out, blasting a pit about a foot deep into the ground and sending up a cloud of dust.

The deafening roar of the Fireball made William Grant's ears ring.

Such power was far beyond William Grant's expectations.

The hot air and smoke rising from the pit rushed toward him, making William Grant momentarily hold his breath.

The Fireball looked even more ferocious; its high temperature and explosive force seemed even stronger than a grenade. However, grenades have shrapnel, which is extremely lethal to the human body, so the comparison isn't that simple.

The Fireball also consumed more mana—about one and a half times that of Ice Arrow. Its power seemed even greater.

Ice Arrow was faster, had piercing damage, and carried icy magic.

The power of both low-level spells was far beyond William Grant's expectations.

As he compared the strengths and weaknesses of the two spells, his heart was still filled with joy.

At this point, he finally had two spells for self-defense.

He just didn't know how other cultivators fought, or what level his rapid spellcasting actually was. How did it compare to spells cast with talismans?

William Grant knew too little about this world and couldn't accurately assess his own strength.

He had an Ice Arrow talisman in his hand, but there was only one, and he was really reluctant to use it.

As William Grant was debating whether to splurge, he saw Old Baker rudely push the door open and walk in.

Old Baker was dressed the same as always, but his head was covered with some dust and bits of grass, making him look rather disheveled.

Yet his old face was full of joy, and he looked quite excited.

"What are you doing, making such a racket?"

Old Baker casually asked, his old eyes sweeping over and immediately spotting the pit in the ground, as well as feeling the heat radiating from it.

"Fireball, is that the spell you learned?"

Old Baker curled his lip disdainfully. "What's the use of such flashy but impractical spells? By the time you finish chanting and making hand seals, someone could have killed you twenty times over!"

"Take my advice: for us low-level cultivators, it's better to stick to swords and blades. Just learn some support spells, that's enough!"

As a cultivator who often hunted in the mountains, Old Baker had plenty of real combat experience. He looked down on weaklings like William Grant from the bottom of his heart, so after a couple of casual pointers, he lost interest in saying more.

"I got what you wanted."

Old Baker tossed the bundle wrapped in ragged cloth to William Grant, still grumbling, "For this stuff, I almost died in the mountains."

William Grant opened the bundle, and sure enough, inside were more than ten stalks of purple Dhara flowers, all wrapped together in the rag, looking rather miserable and battered.

In reality, the flowers, leaves, and roots were all intact, with no real damage.

William Grant was satisfied, but still nitpicked, "Look at the condition of these..."

"What do you mean? It's not like they're for display. Who cares what they look like!"

Old Baker would pick herbs while hunting in the mountains, so he knew a bit about basic medicinal knowledge.

Hearing William Grant say that, he immediately got annoyed.

"Don't get worked up, I keep my word."

Seeing the fierce look in Old Baker's eyes, William Grant felt a bit uneasy, and his hand inside his sleeve had already formed a hand seal.

The Electric Dragon Subduing Hand made his fingers exceptionally nimble, allowing him to form a seal in an instant.

Deep in the center of his brow, Sister Lane had also condensed into a mysterious talisman, ready to activate Ice Arrow as soon as he chanted the spell.

William Grant forced himself to stay calm as he watched Old Baker, afraid the other would do something rash.

The whole spellcasting process was extremely smooth, mainly because he was timid and would instinctively prepare whenever something happened.

Old Baker noticed William Grant's nervousness but didn't catch his little movements. Acting a bit cocky, he stretched out his black, skinny hand. "Hand over fifty Deer Antler Powder first!"

Chapter 12: Purple Dhara Flower

William Grant looked at Old Baker's arrogant old face and felt a wave of lingering fear.

Just now, when Old Baker suddenly reached out, he almost fired off an Ice Arrow. At this distance, Old Baker would probably have been skewered on the spot.

He calmed himself and slowly exhaled. "Hand over the spirit stones first."

Old Baker glared fiercely at William Grant and shouted, "Didn't we agree? I risked my life to get you the Purple Dhara Flower, and you give me the Deer Antler Powder."

"What, trying to go back on your word?"

As he spoke, he had already gripped the hilt of his sword at his waist, looking ready to draw it at any moment.

"We made it clear before: you bring me the Purple Dhara Flower, and I'll only sell you the Deer Antler Powder."

William Grant didn't want to fall out with Old Baker, but he couldn't back down either.

After so many years in society, he knew people like Old Baker were never satisfied and always pushed for more—the more you gave in, the more arrogant and aggressive they became.

William Grant emphasized, "If you want the Deer Antler Powder, you can only buy it with spirit stones."