The Strongest Magic Summoner

Zichen Imperial Academy, the annual summoning ceremony. The children of noble houses scrambled to spend lavish sums on summoning mediums, calling forth one Black Iron warrior and Bronze mage after another to thunderous applause. Lin Chen, the legitimate son of the empire’s richest family, the Lin clan, was notorious throughout the crowd as a spendthrift. In front of everyone, he dumped an entire chest of gold coins into the summoning circle: a full hundred thousand. The crowd burst into laughter. “Young Master Lin is wasting money again!” “A hundred thousand gold coins? That’s enough to cover our academy’s expenses for three years!” “Does he think summoning a spirit hero is like buying groceries? The more money, the better?” When the magic circle lit up, its glow was faint, as dim as a candle about to go out. As the smoke cleared, the one summoned was a blind old man with a face full of wrinkles, dressed in a tattered robe and leaning on a cane. The crowd roared with laughter. “What is that? Some old beggar?” “A hundred thousand gold coins for an old beggar? Young Master Lin really is an idiot with more money than sense!” Zhao Hao, son of the empire’s great general and a prodigy who had just summoned a Silver-rank swordsman, clutched his stomach and laughed so hard he could barely stand. “Lin Chen, if you’re looking for a father, I can introduce you to a few. Don’t go fishing around in the summoning circle.” Just then, the blind old man slowly raised his head. His cloudy, milky-white eyes swept across the crowd. Just one glance. Every crystal chandelier in the summoning hall exploded with a sharp crack. The Silver-rank longsword Zhao Hao had just contracted with flew out of its scabbard with a hum and dropped to its knees before the old man. The old man did not look at anyone. He merely turned his face slightly toward Lin Chen and rasped, “Boy.” “You spent so much to fish me out.” “Are you hoping I’ll destroy another country for you?”