Chapter 655: Chapter 313: Promotion and Transfer (2) "The essence of life lies in the transmission and reorganization of information. Every bloodline factor is a witness and recorder of life’s history..." "Traditional bloodline modulation involves simple additions, deletions, and modifications within the existing framework, akin to altering a few notes on a prewritten score. Bloodline reshaping, however, requires the creation of an entirely new symphony..." "The key is understanding: bloodlines are not static entities but dynamic systems. They adapt to changes in environment, pressure, and even will..." As Ron delved deeper into the text, he felt an unprecedented sense of enlightenment. Cassandra’s theoretical system was extremely rigorous, with every concept supported by detailed experimental data. More importantly, these theories almost perfectly aligned with the advanced direction of his ’Bloodline Shaping’ skills on his professional panel. [Bloodline Shaping (Proficient) Experience Points +1] The professional panel’s prompt made Ron realize that the value of this manuscript exceeded imagination. The manuscript detailed three core steps of bloodline reshaping: First Stage: Information Deconstruction "Decompose bloodline factors into the most basic units of information, akin to breaking a book down into individual words. This process requires extremely precise operations; any lost information could lead to irreparable consequences..." Second Stage: Potential Awakening "Every bloodline contains potential information far beyond what meets the eye. Through specific stimuli and guidance, dormant gene fragments can be activated over eons. Like awakening a sleeping giant, it is filled with hope but also accompanied by risks..." Third Stage: Structure Reorganization "Reorganize bloodline information according to a new blueprint, creating a stronger, more stable new bloodline. This step is the core of the entire process, determining the ultimate success or failure..." Yet, the final part of the manuscript weighed heavily on Ron’s heart: "Though the theory is perfect, the practical challenges are far beyond imagination. I conducted seventeen complete experiments, only three achieved partial success, with only one meeting the expected effect..." "The biggest obstacle is the lack of reference samples. Reshaping bloodlines is like drawing a map; you must know the exact location of the destination to plan a route. Without high-level bloodlines as a ’template,’ any attempt is akin to a blind man feeling an elephant..." "My success hinged on acquiring a fragment of Dragon Species from the Second Era. Though only the size of a fingernail, the complete genetic information it contained provided precious reference..." Cassandra had written a small note on the edge of the manuscript: "The cost was the death of six experimental subjects, with each failure marking the end of a life—this is a burden I cannot reconcile with..." The note was written in ink of a different color, its handwriting slightly trembling, evidently added much later. Ron stared at the note for a long time, imagining the volunteers dying miserably on the laboratory table. In this wizarding world, every advancement in knowledge demands a road paved with blood and bones. Yet, from Cassandra’s current demeanor, she hardly seems affected by the deaths of experimental subjects... Indeed, as Uther mentioned, she appears thoroughly alienated. He closed the manuscript, his eyes revealing complex emotions. He only hoped that someday, hundreds or even thousands of years hence, when he looked back at his logs, they wouldn’t seem strange or laughable. "Without sufficiently stable high-level bloodline samples as templates..." He cleared away his scattered thoughts, gently caressing the cover of the manuscript, and began devising a solution in his mind: "It seems I’ll have to wait until joining the Abyssal Observation Station to see if Professor Uther has relevant channels." He carefully placed the manuscript into the spatial bag, then began clearing the experiment site. ......... During the morning, the waiting area of the Crystal Tower’s administrative hall was packed with applicants of various identities. Ron, dressed in a brand-new black Wizard’s Robe, quietly sat in a corner, observing the surrounding crowd. As a researcher, he always hoped to discern more information from details. Sitting opposite him was a young man with a pale complexion, missing two fingers on his right hand. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦 These were remnants of a failed alchemy experiment. He was applying for a downgrade transfer, moving from a dangerous experimental position to relatively safer theoretical research. Not far away, an elderly man with white hair was arguing with a clerk. From the intermittent dialogue, Ron discerned that the man was seeking early retirement but was told he wasn’t yet eligible. The elder’s eyes were filled with exhaustion and fear, evidently terrified by certain dangerous tasks. This was the true face of the Crystal Tower. Beneath the glamor of academia, countless sacrifices and costs lay hidden. "Wizard Ralph, please proceed to window number three." A crisp voice interrupted Ron’s observation. The clerk was a woman appearing in her twenties, with short golden hair, emerald eyes, and skin pale due to long exposure to high concentrations of magic power. "Congratulations on the approval of your promotion application." She adeptly stamped various documents, her movements mechanical and repetitive: "Based on your contribution points records and academic achievement assessments, the School Committee unanimously approved your lecturer appointment." Speaking, she handed Ron a brand-new identification certificate. The certificate was made of special magic power paper, its surface covered with a faint anti-counterfeiting glow. "Starting today, you will have level-three research permissions and level-two teaching permissions." The clerk continued, with a hint of envy in her tone: "Additionally, I must remind you that higher permissions entail greater responsibility. The School imposes strict confidentiality requirements and behavioral guidelines for lecturer-level personnel." Her gaze became meaningful: "Especially in such... special times, any improper behavior may be severely pursued." Ron keenly grasped the implication in her words. Evidently, Cassandra’s return had caused tension within the School, even ordinary clerks could sense the impending storm. "I will strictly adhere to relevant regulations." He calmly replied while accepting the certificate. "Regarding the application for the Abyssal Observation Station..." The clerk took out another file from the drawer, its cover bearing a disturbing symbol—a tentacle-wrapped eye: "The Observation Station has already approved your placement in the Materials Analysis Department, mainly responsible for research related to Abyssal samples." She paused, her voice becoming more solemn: "I must especially remind you that work at the Observation Station is extremely dangerous. Even ’safe’ positions like materials analysis often encounter accidents." The clerk took out a thick manual from under the desk: "This is the safety protocol guide; please read it carefully. It records one thousand three hundred and seventy-two known Abyssal contamination symptoms and corresponding emergency treatment methods." Her expression grew somewhat complex: "Though most symptoms cannot be cured, at least you can retain a period of rationality before becoming a monster." Ron accepted the manual, noting the warning text on its cover, written in bright red ink that, under the influence of magic power, seemed to flow like real blood. "Your direct mentor is Professor Uther." The clerk continued: "Please report to the Observation Station by 8 AM tomorrow. Also..." She hesitated for a moment, but ultimately expressed her concern: "If you have any unfulfilled wishes, I suggest handling them promptly before starting. Although the Observation Station’s mortality rate is lower than Abyssal exploration, it is not entirely safe." This statement hit Ron with cold reality, making him keenly aware of the dangers his upcoming work entailed. As he left the administrative hall, he noticed several new names on the commemorative wall at the entrance. Those were researchers who perished in Abyssal-related work. Their names were engraved on black marble, along with their date of death and a brief explanation of their cause of death. "Edwin Grey, materials analyst, died of Abyssal spore infection..." "Monica Blake, intern researcher, died due to self-destruction caused by spiritual contamination..." "Thomas Vane, senior analyst, cause of death unknown, found fully alienated..." Line after line of cold words narrate the brutal reality of Abyssal research. Ron stood for a long time, memorizing each name. Not out of sympathy or mourning, but to constantly remind himself. ...In the pursuit of knowledge, a slight misstep could make one the next name engraved on the wall.