"The final stroke." Ice magic power suddenly converged, and with a stroke of Nian Bing's finger on the most critical part of the scroll, a sound was made, and a blue light flashed on the scroll. It instantly turned into a pile of frost and was discarded.
The huge consumption of spiritual power made Nian Bing somewhat tired. He leaned against the bookshelf helplessly, "The success rate of this sixth rank magic scroll is really low, wasting me another Gold coin."
"This is already very good." An pleasing voice came from behind. When Nian Bing turned around, he realized Long Ling was already by his side. Long Ling squatted down and looked at the completed scrolls on the ground, she couldn't help but smile: "If every mage had your success rate, our Mage Guild would have been the richest organization across the Continent."