Chapter 107: The Spreading Achievements

This is hilarious!
My school campus spans hundreds of thousands of square meters. And you’re offering a mere 4 square meters—who are you trying to brush off?

Even if Rhett noticed, he wouldn’t care about such a trivial gain.

Alright, now let’s make a sentence using the phrase “some people are single purely by their own merit”…

Back to the main story—while Rhett was urging his two gossip-loving disciples to copy texts as punishment, the entire human realm—and even other races closely associated with humanity—exploded with shock.

A grand lich, who had assembled a fully organized undead legion and nearly turned a duchy into a necrotic domain, had been effortlessly defeated by Archmage Tesla!

Key point: When the Barbarossa Empire’s Master-level adventuring team verified Brutus’s existence and filed the record, the lich was officially classified as Level 18.

What does that mean?

In a time when legendary-level figures were either in hiding or monopolized by kings, finding a team capable of taking down a Level 18 lich was a tall order.

Level 18 itself is a broad classification. Experts know that a lich typically represents an entire undead army.

To defeat a Level 18 lich, you’d need at least two adventuring teams averaging Level 18—one to confront the lich itself and the other to handle the endless waves of undead minions.

And that’s assuming an ideal situation where the strike team manages to directly engage the lich.

The more common scenario? The strike team gets overwhelmed by the undead horde before even reaching the lich.

Previously, Tesla Archmage’s feats—instantly killing a white dragon, confronting demons, and annihilating a demon lord across dimensions—had only been confirmed in smaller circles.

This time, in front of 100,000 Marino citizens, he single-handedly and unscathed captured a lich. This achievement was indisputable.

Even more astonishing? Tesla Archmage seemed to have defeated the Level 18 lich with just one move.

In public betting pools, 75% of participants now believed Tesla Archmage was a demigod-level mage.

And who could blame them? How long had it been since his rise?

Not even six months, right?

And how many formidable opponents had he defeated in that time?

This was only what was known publicly. How many others, clueless enough to provoke him, had been quietly obliterated?

Who could confidently say the remnants of those demons and devils he melted into pillars and floorboards didn’t include major infernal lords?

He had a “solid foundation,” after all!

The man seemed unstoppable—taking down anyone in his path without fail.

The last person with similar achievements was a figure named Elain—the former God of War with intermediate divine power before his fall.

If Elain’s legendary battles embodied awe-inspiring might, then the romantic rumors between Tesla Archmage and Grand Duchess Sophia had become the hottest gossip in every tavern.

“Ah! How merciful and compassionate the great Lord Tesla is! He foresaw Marino Duchy’s plight and, through this act, upheld his dignity while sparing Marino’s feelings and praising the Grand Duchess Sophia’s beauty in one fell swoop.”

A bard recited this romantic epic with rhythmic flair, delivering a Chaos World-style rap about the archmage’s rumored escapades.

“Do you know what Victory Wine is?”

Before the bard finished speaking, whistles and cheers erupted from the crowd. But not everyone understood.

“Ah! I need a beautiful lady to volunteer and play the role of the stunning Grand Duchess Sophia.”

Whenever this topic came up, whether it was an 80-80-80-figured middle-aged waitress or a petite, graceful young girl, there was always someone willing to play the role of the Grand Duchess.

Bards, indiscriminate in their preferences, didn’t care as long as it got them free drinks—or even the affection of a young lady. They always managed to pour out a cup of “collarbone wine.”

Whether it was taken from the navel or some other ridiculous location depended on the circumstances.

In any case, for the tips from tavern patrons, many shameless bards were willing to go to great lengths.

One could imagine how many non-professional bards had their livelihoods sustained thanks to Rhett.

Across the continent, many human women began to see having delicate collarbones as a mark of beauty.

Meanwhile, Rhett, constantly bombarded by the system notifications—“Congratulations, your legendary status in XX country has increased by 1”—felt nothing but annoyance.

“Making me lose out on a good match? You two brats are getting punished,” he muttered.

Though the two disciples grumbled about their punishment, they soon realized during their endless days of copying texts that their foundational skills were indeed improving.

“Junior brother, have you noticed that after copying so much, our spellcasting speed seems to have increased?”

“Senior brother, I feel the same. For example, when Master mentioned that triangular structures are more stable than square ones, I applied that to my trap spells by using a triangular protective barrier, and it really became sturdier.”

Downs sighed, “Ah! Back then, I was so afraid of being expelled from Master’s tutelage that I rushed through my studies. Looking back now, I missed out on so many basics. Thankfully, Master was kind enough to stop regularly testing my progress, giving me the chance to make up for lost lessons.”

Harry nodded vigorously. “Mm-hmm, I’m no longer in a hurry to learn more spells. I’ll focus on building a solid foundation first.”

Learning the fundamentals is a slow process that cannot be rushed.

However, repeating the same teachings over and over made Rhett a bit bored.

Still, every time his disciples copied a principle they’d already learned, they gained new insights and even managed to develop new spells. Rhett found himself with more free time than ever.

Eventually, he wandered to a waterfall, gazing out at the desolate Fulong Mountain Range in the distance.

The sunset, like blood, bathed the entire mountain range in red.

Rhett suddenly felt inspired, a surge of heroic ambition welling up within him. Stretching out his right hand and pointing into the distance, he spoke loudly. His voice, amplified by elemental energy, traveled at a frequency imperceptible to mortals:

“Boring! I want rivers of blood!”

This, of course, was just a reference to a joke from his previous life.

A random remark, nothing more.

Yet, unexpectedly, the system issued a notification: “The world has developed doubts about your alignment. Your alignment has shifted slightly towards Chaos.”

“…”

Alright, my bad. I won’t make random remarks anymore, Rhett silently vowed.

Before he could even finish his thought, he noticed something on the horizon—a green dragon flapping its wings alongside a few hatchlings no larger than adult wolves, flying away.

The leading green dragon kept glancing nervously in Rhett’s direction. As soon as it realized Rhett had noticed it, the dragon let out a wail and frantically sped up, as if fleeing for its life, doing everything it could to put as much distance as possible between itself and Rhett.

Rhett stroked his chin. “Am I really that scary?”

What he didn’t know was that, just recently, a dragonborn sorcerer had used the Legend Lore spell on him.

Now, rumors of the Tesla Archmage and his infamous Butcher of Dragons achievement were spreading like wildfire among the green dragon clans.