Volume 2

Chapter 9: The Utterly Wrong Timing

The grandeur and prosperity of the Imperial Capital defied description.

Under the radiance of the Empress’s mighty power, the city’s magnificence was unimaginable.

Ephithand, before the twilight of her reign, would occasionally bestow miracles upon Tianxin City that made even transcendents tremble—or rather, every Empress exhibited such behavior, perhaps even took pleasure in it.

In this great city standing at the heart of the Empire, the Alchemical Association undoubtedly held a lofty status.

Though when Anselm stepped through the solemn gates adorned with intricate arcane patterns, the alchemists swarmed toward him like madmen; under normal circumstances, they barely spared a glance for others entering the Association.

For instance, Mingfuluo, who had just walked through the gates, was a prominent figure in the Imperial Capital, recognized by many alchemists, yet they showed little reaction beyond a few extra glances.

“Lady Ronggor, thank you for your assistance.”

Mingfuluo slightly bowed to the noblewoman beside her: “This is far enough.”

Ronggor Molten, Babel Tower’s most formidable force in combat, had escorted Mingfuluo to the Alchemical Association.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay with you in the Association?”

The refined female scholar frowned slightly: “I’m not comfortable leaving you here alone, Mingfuluo.”

Mingfuluo replied calmly: “Hendrik and Professor Nokera placed five protective spells on me. In theory, there shouldn’t be any issues.”

—Of course, this was only in theory. If protective spells alone could prevent assassination attempts by the Ether Academy, why would Mingfuluo have created so many puppet bodies?

Though Ivora’s deterrence meant the Ether Academy wouldn’t send high-tier transcendents to kill her, they typically resorted to hired assassins, which allowed them to shift blame and suggested Mingfuluo’s own inadequacy.

But as masters of diverse and unpredictable methods, sorcerers had many options and Babel Tower’s theoretically inclined sorcerers couldn’t protect Mingfuluo with spells alone.

After all, Ivora had already extracted enough value from Mingfuluo.

A single individual wasn’t worth the arrogant Grand Princess waging war against the Ether Academy, which could effectively eliminate a genuinely threatening and hostile genius.

“You… ugh,” Lady Ronggor sighed. “Hendrik is very worried about you, Mingfuluo.”

“He’s always like that, but worrying is pointless.”

Mingfuluo always spoke such cold, detached words: “Don’t worry about me, Lady Ronggor. Don’t waste your time on this. Go back to your research—it’s more important.”

The cold beauty with her blue-gray hair tied in a high ponytail said impassively:

“More important than anything.”

She walked to the reception desk, and after stating her purpose, someone quickly led Mingfuluo to the alchemical workshop housing the Hummingbird production chain.

“Oh, you’re Miss Zege.”

The head of the production chain came to greet her, somewhat puzzled: “Are you personally handling the coordination with us?”

“No, I’m just here to check on the status of the Hummingbird’s mass production.”

“It’s not stalled anymore… I mean, after resolving the core circuit issue, there’s no problem.”

The head crossed his arms, looking at the complex production line in the vast workshop, and said casually: “Twenty units a day shouldn’t be an issue.”

“…The efficiency is a bit low,” Mingfuluo frowned slightly. “With your resources, it shouldn’t be this limited.”

“Even with the Association’s resources, the allocation for each project is finite.”

The head grew visibly displeased at this topic, suggesting that the resources for the Hummingbird’s mass production… had been reduced?

“Are you saying the Alchemical Association cut back on resources for the Hummingbird’s production?”

Mingfuluo’s gaze swept over the resources piled in the workshop, a glimmer passing over her glasses.

The resources stockpiled here were fine, so it was likely that future allocations would be reduced.

“The Hummingbird’s mass production is an order from Her Highness the Grand Princess.”

A deeply unsettling premonition rose in Mingfuluo’s heart, her voice growing colder: “Why would the Alchemical Association reduce resource allocation, and by so much?”

“Because it’s not just this project.”

The head shrugged: “Most workshops have had their resources cut, no exceptions. As for why even a project mandated by the Grand Princess is affected…”

“It’s obviously because of that thing called mechanized armor. The Grand Princess is clearly interested in it.”

Mechanized armor… as expected!

Everything was unfolding as Mingfuluo had anticipated.

She just hadn’t expected the Ether Academy to act so quickly… Had they handed the mechanized armor’s design to Ivora without thorough analysis?

She wondered which version of the armor Hydra had traded and how detailed the blueprints were.

Developing mechanized armor was far more challenging than mass-producing the floating cannon.

That thing—she and Anselm had researched it for a long, long time.

Aside from the core universal ether furnace, the mechanized armor was the project they’d spent the most time on together.

It was also one of the few things they couldn’t produce a finished product for.

But the Ether Academy didn’t need the Alchemical Association’s aid.

Their own resources, alchemists, and workshops were fully capable of producing the mechanized armor, which meant…

“How predictably despicable.”

Mingfuluo muttered coldly, then turned to the head: “The alchemical workshop for mechanized armor—has it started operating?”

“Not yet. Those Ether Academy folks are still bickering with our people.”

This seemed to be the real reason for the head’s irritation: “That so-called mechanized armor might fool an outsider like the Grand Princess, but many details—they don’t even know how to implement them.”

“…Hmph,” Mingfuluo sneered, saying nothing.

Alchemy was the domain of creators, of geniuses.

Sorcerers walked the path to truth, but each person’s path and truth differed.

Only alchemy, representing “creation,” aligned with the broader concept of truth.

The mechanized armor was a masterpiece conceived by her and Hydra, two geniuses among geniuses.

The Ether Academy lacked anyone capable of matching that level of design and creativity.

Moreover, they hadn’t studied it immediately, instead using it as a tool to suppress Babel Tower.

It would be strange if they could figure out what the mechanized armor truly was.

Still, she didn’t rule out the possibility that the Ether Academy had already secretly set up a workshop to study the mechanized armor, with this one merely a decoy to frustrate Babel Tower.

Mingfuluo didn’t let her disdain for the Ether Academy cloud her thinking or judgment.

The Hummingbird’s mass production was no longer the key.

After leaving Hendrik’s office, Mingfuluo resolved to counter violence with greater violence.

Her purpose in coming to the Alchemical Association was to deliver an answer that would satisfy Ivora even more.

The Ether Academy couldn’t have anticipated… that such interference wouldn’t significantly affect her.

“The alchemical workshop for mechanized armor,” Mingfuluo said suddenly. “Can I go there?”

“…Huh?”

The head was momentarily stunned but, as a meticulous alchemist, answered carefully: “In theory, that newly started workshop currently has no restrictions on entry. If there are no restrictions, you should be able to… hey!”

Before he could finish, Mingfuluo had already left the workshop.

The head scratched his chin: “What I said was fine. She just didn’t hear the rest of it. If anything happens… in theory, it’s not my fault.”

The rest of his sentence was—

Her Highness the Grand Princess and Lord Anselm Hydra were currently inspecting that workshop.

***

“So… tall!”

Hitana looked up at the towering ceiling, turning to Anselm in shock: “Anselm, why is this room built so high?”

Anselm smiled: “To build something very large, of course.”

“But this…”

Standing on the elevated corridor, Hitana looked down at the floor, then up at the ceiling, even more perplexed: “It’s too big! Are they building a giant ship?”

Only a few northerners had seen the ocean and Hitana’s imagination of ships was limited to stories she’d heard.

“They can’t be building a house inside a house, can they?”

This amusing remark made Ivora, standing nearby, burst into laughter: “Anselm, your Contract Head is quite entertaining.”

Hitana glanced at Ivora but said nothing, inching closer to Anselm.

She didn’t like this woman, didn’t like her constant arrogance and aggression.

Someone like her as Empress… would absolutely be the worst of the worst!

But, heh heh heh…

“…”

Ivora, arms crossed and surveying the massive alchemical workshop, sensed Hitana’s gaze. The mocking look in her eyes made Ivora frown slightly: “Anselm, control your dog.”

“Hm?”

Anselm, also observing the workshop, paused briefly before slowly turning his head, smiling brightly: “Pardon me, Ivora.”

“What did you just say?”

Gleipnir tapped the ground lightly, the sound of steel striking echoing through the air, stirring a chilling, menacing aura.

The abyssal creature, usually languid and dormant, seemed to lift its gaze at that moment, looking down from the void upon the yet-to-burn crimson flame flower with an icy stare.

Ivora, meeting this gaze, grew cold as well: “She was looking at me with impudent, disrespectful eyes, Hydra.”

“Ivora.”

Anselm continued smiling, gently stroking his cane.

“I was only asking what you just said.”

The terrifying aura emanating from the two monsters made Para, working in the workshop far below, look up in alarm before shaking his head with a bitter smile.

Every fifth-tier in the Alchemical Association’s stronghold felt a primal fear and trembling.

Hitana, closest to this clash of auras, stepped in front of Anselm, her eyes brimming with ferocity and menace.

Her body even began to undergo a secondary transformation, the bones at her tailbone writhing as if something were about to break through her skin.

“…Hmph.”

The heart-pounding standoff ended with Ivora’s cold snort and retreat.

“Your attitude toward your Contract Head is just like your father’s. Truly father and son. Fine, I retract my earlier words and rephrase.”

“Hydra, tell your ‘Contract Head’ to behave.”

“Of course, no problem, Your Highness,” Anselm’s smile remained unchanged, now warm and radiant. “Disciplining Hitana is my duty.”

Yet he showed no intention of making Hitana apologize.

“Discipline… hah, you don’t seem eager to discipline her, and…”

The woman studied Hitana for a moment, her eyes inexplicably showing… satisfaction?

“She’s not suited for discipline. She’s fine as is. Just keep her in check around me.”

This lofty attitude, as if everyone were beneath her, irritated Hitana, but this time she obediently stepped behind Anselm, saying nothing.

As she moved behind him, Anselm lightly hooked her pinky finger.

He turned his head, winking at Hitana silently with a smile, signaling her not to take it to heart.

The tall yet delicate and charming girl behind the youth rubbed the finger Anselm held, lowering her head slightly to hide an irrepressible smile.

Ivora saw this but didn’t care. She didn’t believe the Hydra she knew was capable of “loving others,” and even if he were, he wouldn’t waste it on a Contract Head.

“Anselm,” she said. “That mechanized armor—you researched it with Mingfuluo, didn’t you?”

“To be precise, I only provided the ideas.”

Anselm shrugged: “The actual realization was mostly her doing.”

“…Hah, I’ll take it as such.”

One was the son of the greatest alchemist in history, the other a young scholar from a barely notable family.

It was obvious who could create such a magnificent work.

But Ivora didn’t care why Anselm downplayed his role, instead asking: “In your opinion, does that thing really have such potential?”

“As a war weapon… it’s quite good, but that’s all.”

Anselm smiled: “After all, there’s no war within the Empire.”

“But there will be in the future.”

Ivora’s lips curved upward, her eyes… seemingly reflecting a cruel vision of the world ablaze.

“Beyond the Tianlu Mountain Range lies a vast land waiting for you and me to conquer, Anselm.”

“But for such a powerful force, isn’t a Crown-tier transcendent enough?”

“Crown?” Ivora scoffed. “The land I aim to conquer isn’t worthless scorched earth, and the war I envision isn’t the destruction of fifth-tier clashes.”

Her face gradually bloomed with a delighted and fervent smile of excitement, the woman slightly raised her head, joyfully saying to Anselm:

“Anselm, don’t you think it’s utterly boring for everything to be dominated by individuals?”

“I want the Empire itself to become an irresistible force, a power that dominates all, allowing first- and second-tier transcendents, even mortals, to sweep across the continent beyond the Tianlu Mountain Range.”

“Let the transcendents there be slain by beings countless times weaker than themselves—hahaha, just thinking about it is thrilling! Exciting!”

In the end, it was still just for amusement.

For Ivora, conquering that land was to satisfy her desire for domination, but also to enjoy a game… that she found sufficiently entertaining.

Anselm made no comment, but Hitana, standing beside him, furrowed her brows tightly, itching to pin this psychopath to the ground and beat her senseless.

—It’s only a matter of time, the girl thought to herself.

“So, aren’t you going to do something?”

After laughing gleefully, Ivora continued: “This is your masterpiece. As its creator, don’t you want to see it born by your hand?”

Anselm chuckled lightly, saying to Ivora with deep meaning: “I do want to see it… born by the designer’s hand.”

“But as for me, I’ll pass. This is just a transaction with the Ether Academy. If I also handled the follow-up, wouldn’t it seem like I’m too accommodating?”

“Hm?”

Ivora frowned slightly, leaning against the railing of the elevated corridor, clearly displeased.

“Then why did you call me here? I thought you planned to take charge yourself, which is why I made the trip. You know I never waste time on meaningless things.”

“Well, about that…”

The young Hydra narrowed his eyes slightly: “Let’s just say I wanted to hear your thoughts on the mechanized armor.”

“Hear my thoughts?” Ivora laughed loudly. “You can’t guess them? Don’t make me laugh, Anselm.”

She extended her index finger, hooking Anselm’s chin, slowly leaning closer, her breath hot: “You, a devil who loves toying with hearts, don’t you already know me, who’s always open to you?”

Miss Hitana’s forehead pulsed with veins.

To avoid causing trouble for Anselm, she kept reminding herself to endure.

“But you saying that makes it sound like you care about my opinion. Good, I’m pleased. Let me think—what reward… hm?”

Ivora’s previously delighted expression turned icy in an instant.

She turned her head to look down at the vast alchemical workshop below, where a tiny figure had appeared.

“Why is this failure here… well, fine.”

The Grand Princess, not hiding her brutal and ferocious nature, sneered and clenched her hand.

A muffled groan echoed from the open area below as the figure was tightly bound by blazing flames, their body mercilessly scorched.

With a slight lift of Ivora’s hand, the figure was swiftly pulled up to the elevated corridor where they stood, suspended in midair.

“I’m busy with affairs and have no time to punish you.”

The woman’s voice was cold and indifferent: “Yet you just had to show up right in front of me. If I don’t do something, it’d almost be a disservice to your sincerity—”

“Mingfuluo.”

Who else could it be, crashing so recklessly into Ivora’s crosshairs, but Mingfuluo?

“I told you—I don’t allow failure. And then what?”

The Grand Princess scoffed mockingly: “Then your soul got stuffed into this pathetic puppet by the Ether Academy.”

“If Anselm hadn’t already punished you like this, the suffering you’d face now would be a hundred times worse.”

Mingfuluo, bound by flames in midair, had her skin further damaged, her puppet body showing signs of melting.

Watching the silent Mingfuluo, Ivora recalled Anselm’s concern for her and his earlier behavior that irritated her, fueling her sadistic urges.

“Why bother keeping you such a decent puppet?”

The flames wrapping Mingfuluo’s puppet body burned even fiercer.

Destroying this puppet was merely a matter of time and Ivora’s will.

The Grand Princess, in a foul mood, tilted her chin slightly: “I know a bit about souls. Hm… after burning this body, I’ll just stuff you into a workshop puppet.”

Workshop puppets were the common, miscellaneous constructs found in alchemical workshops, some literally just “puppets” without faces, only human-shaped torsos; others weren’t even humanoid, designed purely for utility in bizarre forms.

Mingfuluo had no doubt Ivora would do this.

The Grand Princess, extravagantly generous with rewards but brutally cruel with punishments, always followed through.

She would absolutely destroy this puppet, extract her soul, and toss it into a workshop puppet.

That would truly be the end for her.

Amid excruciating pain, Mingfuluo struggled to maintain her composure.

The blazing flames blurred her vision, but she could still see… that devil smiling at her.

She had no time to wonder why Hydra was here, but to seize this slim chance…

“Hy… dra!”

“Hm?”

Seeing Mingfuluo bypass her to plead with Anselm, Ivora’s gaze grew even more dangerous. The blood-flame swelled, instantly engulfing the entire puppet.

She didn’t burn Mingfuluo’s puppet to ashes immediately, intending to let her feel the pain slowly.

But through the flames, Mingfuluo’s weak voice still came intermittently: “Repair… circuit.”

Amid the searing agony, Mingfuluo’s mind raced to figure out how to make Anselm save her.

That man repeatedly emphasized she had no value to him, his ultimate goal being her submission.

Clinging to the idea that she was valuable to him was clearly futile.

She had to act according to… the value he previously described.

That value could only be—

The value of being toyed with.

Mingfuluo arrived at her answer and made the best choice—to demonstrate that value.

Repair the circuit… hm, Ivora genuinely didn’t understand what circuit Mingfuluo was referring to.

“Enough, stop, Your Highness.”

Upon hearing those words, Anselm’s lips curved slightly: “I think this punishment is quite sufficient.”

“…This time,” Ivora turned, her expression icy, “you don’t get to decide.”

The flames burning the puppet’s body flared even more, Mingfuluo’s unbearable screams proving her current suffering.

“Is that so?” The ever-prepared young Hydra, who saw everything, smiled. “Then, what if… I tell you something about your little sister?”

“You—”

Ivora uttered a single word, then fell silent for two or three seconds.

Bang!

She casually flung Mingfuluo’s puppet onto the elevated corridor.

The severely damaged puppet twitched in pain. Ivora didn’t even glance at her, saying expressionlessly: “Anselm, you’d better ensure what you say is worth it.”

Anselm raised an eyebrow: “I don’t think Mingfuluo’s life is worth that price.”

“But calming my anger is,” Ivora snapped her sleeve, coldly adding, “We’re equals. If you can’t appease my anger, I’ll just have to do something to make you angry.”

Her form turned into flames, scattering into the air, leaving only the distorted heat of warped space.

Hitana wasn’t sure if she was truly gone, so she didn’t immediately curse.

She turned to Anselm, seeing him standing beside the severely damaged puppet, looking down at it.

“You were too careless, Mingfuluo,” Anselm sighed. “If I weren’t here, your life might have ended like this, no?”

“Stuffed into a workshop puppet, limited by its shoddy functions, unable to even conduct alchemical research—that’s no different from death for you, right?”

Mingfuluo didn’t respond, likely because the ether circuit’s damage was so severe that most of the puppet’s functions had completely shut down.

It was unclear if she was even conscious.

Anselm crouched down, gently touching the severely damaged, somewhat ghastly face, chuckling softly: “Remember, Aluo, you owe me again.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll ‘fix’ you right away.”

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