Volume 2

Chapter 12 : The Madman Yet to Become a Hero

Emerging from the public cemetery, Mingfuluo looked up at the overcast sky.

Three minutes and sixteen seconds until it rains.

She needed to hurry back, she thought.

Though part of Solen’s restrictions had been burned away, Mingfuluo’s soul remained trapped in the puppet, so Lady Ronggor accompanied her on this trip.

For Mingfuluo, such a purely wasteful act was deeply shameful, yet she did it, indicating its importance equaled her study and research.

“Let’s go, Lady Ronggor.”

Mingfuluo said calmly: “It’s time to return to Babel Tower.”

The elegant, noble scholar nodded slightly, walking alongside Mingfuluo toward Babel Tower.

“Mingfuluo,” Ronggor said suddenly. “You… still haven’t told us why you went to the Alchemical Association that day or what happened.”

“Because it’s unnecessary. You can’t solve this problem. Telling you would only add to your worries and lower your efficiency.”

The woman answered expressionlessly, leaving it unclear whether to call her rational or cold.

Hearing this, Ronggor gave a wry, helpless smile: “You know, acting like this worries us too.”

“…I’ve always been this way,” Mingfuluo glanced at her. “I thought you’d be used to it by now.”

Ronggor wanted to say, you haven’t always been like this, but as she opened her mouth, only silence followed.

She sighed softly, saying no more, and walked alongside Mingfuluo.

Ronggor occasionally glanced at Mingfuluo’s impassive face, catching her gazing at the Imperial Capital’s streets, buildings, and bustling crowds.

In those gorgeous purple eyes, she saw vivid weariness and unwillingness.

Mingfuluo rarely let her emotions show, but after leaving the public cemetery, she always struggled to control them.

Despite countless admirers of the young sorcerer’s talent, the perception of Mingfuluo—outside and even within Babel Tower—remained unchanged by her genius.

Rational, cold, unapproachable.

To most scholars in Babel Tower, she was a ceaselessly operating, cold machine—one both respected and feared.

And now, this machine walked silently, wasting precious study and research time, even dragging a fifth-tier sorcerer along to waste time, lost in thought or reminiscence.

“Lady Ronggor,” Mingfuluo said suddenly. “Have you ever regretted it?”

“…What?”

“I mean, when Babel Tower began producing firearms.”

The woman turned to her elder, saying calmly: “Have you regretted it?”

Ronggor fell silent.

Regret?

She didn’t know how to describe her thoughts.

Back then, Babel Tower was on the brink, with no choices left. Mingfuluo’s stunning breakthrough saved the organization.

At the time, no one saw a problem; all were immersed in the joy of rebirth.

But as time passed, with Ivora’s increasing pressure, the mass production of firearms, and demands for new ether firearms… more and more in Babel Tower grew anxious about the future.

So far, Ivora’s demand for alchemical weapons hadn’t reached oppressive levels, keeping the anxiety contained, allowing Babel Tower to remain an “academic organization.”

But as high-ranking members, neither Hendrik nor Ronggor… held positive expectations for Babel Tower’s future.

That violent revolution was both Babel Tower’s salvation and a path to a hell contrary to their ideals.

By the time they realized it, it was already too late.

“Mingfuluo, it was never your fault,” Ronggor said gently, offering comfort. “No one would blame you.”

She knew all too well the burdens this young woman, laden with countless accolades, had borne—the trials, pain, and transformation she’d endured over the years.

Mingfuluo never confided in anyone, yet she hadn’t collapsed in silence; instead, she grew stronger in it.

If she hadn’t devoted so much energy to research and development, she might have reached the fourth tier by next year or the year after.

Mingfuluo gave no response to Ronggor’s words, merely continuing to walk calmly, her steps quickening as if shifting her focus away from meaningless matters, reverting to her usual cold, machine-like demeanor.

“Let’s go, Lady Ronggor. There should be a carriage station nearby. We—”

“Ah! The big sister in white!”

A little girl’s delighted cry interrupted Mingfuluo’s words.

The woman turned her head expressionlessly, her don’t-come-near-me gaze fixed on the girl who had broken free from her mother’s hand and was running toward her.

As expected, the girl, who had seemed so happy moments ago, shrank back under Mingfuluo’s stare.

Mingfuluo adjusted her glasses, turned away, and ignored her.

“Big sister, you… um, you’re… from Babel Tower, a great transcendent, right?”

The timid call, filled with anticipation, made her pause again.

After a moment of silence, Mingfuluo turned to the girl, saying impassively: “What is it?”

The girl, initially hesitant, fidgeted for a moment before bowing to Mingfuluo with flushed cheeks, mustering her courage to say loudly: “Two years ago… My father was injured, and something made by Babel Tower healed him. I saw you back then! I want to thank you!”

“…”

A silence fell between the cold, detached woman and the grateful girl.

Just as the girl realized her boldness and hurriedly tried to bow again to say goodbye, the cold, rational machine suddenly spoke: “How is your father now?”

“…Ah! Father, he’s doing well, very healthy!”

The girl grew even more excited at the response, as if she had much more to say, but her mother approached, repeatedly apologizing to Mingfuluo.

“Great transcendent, I’m so sorry, my daughter didn’t mean to offend you…”

At the mother’s words, Mingfuluo lost interest in listening further and turned to leave.

Ronggor smiled at the mother and daughter, waving her hand to cast a blessing, clearing a hidden ailment from the woman and nourishing the girl’s growth, then hurried to catch up with Mingfuluo.

“How many times has this happened?”

The scholar couldn’t help but smile: “You rarely go out, yet you always run into people grateful to you, Mingfuluo. They must be relatives of those who benefited from the simple healing device experiment.”

“That device,” Mingfuluo said, her tone somewhat indifferent, “was suppressed in less than a week because it affected the profits of healing potions and healer sorcerers.”

The simple healing device Ronggor mentioned was an alchemical tool with curative functions. Babel Tower’s unique technology made its production cost extremely low.

Though its effects were modest, unable to cure major illnesses, it was versatile and could treat minor ailments to some extent.

Due to its overly low cost and usage fees, it was quickly stifled in its infancy.

As for why Ivora didn’t intervene… She had received generous tributes from those who suppressed it and saw the device as useless garbage in her eyes.

Similar incidents had occurred multiple times, and as time passed, Babel Tower rarely mass-produced such alchemical tools anymore.

Mingfuluo’s words left Ronggor with a slightly helpless expression.

Though Babel Tower was renowned in the Imperial Capital, it still struggled to make headway, a fact they knew better than anyone.

She was about to offer some encouraging words when Mingfuluo spoke again: “But this precisely proves we are right.”

“Because our enemies are afraid.”

Mingfuluo said to Ronggor, her expression still cold, her tone unwavering, as the emotions once stirred for someone had long been buried due to an unforgivable betrayal.

Yet even so, in the depths of those all-encompassing purple eyes, a spark remained—one she herself hadn’t noticed, one she couldn’t possibly conceal.

It was like the irrepressible excitement and uncontrollable joy from when she spoke with her only friend, when she, with that person by her side, believed she could never fail.

“Lady,” Mingfuluo met Ronggor’s gaze, “the path Grandfather pointed out… the path we walk, is right.”

She spoke in a declarative tone, as if stating an indisputable fact.

Ronggor smiled warmly: “You’re right, Mingfuluo. Our path is right.”

Their gazes met, the convictions of idealists sparking brilliantly, undeterred by the dark, winding road ahead or the reality that could never crush an unyielding spirit.

Was it… truly so?

***

Still in the underground lab addressing her soul and body issue, Mingfuluo received a message from Hendrik.

The Grand Princess had suddenly arrived at Babel Tower, not just to speak with Hendrik in his office but to deliver a formal address to the entire organization.

The leadership seemed to be waiting for her to say more after the speech.

Though the Grand Princess’s brutal punishment had passed, her ferocity lingered in Mingfuluo’s mind.

Though she had no desire to attend this meaningless address, she had no choice.

On the way back to Babel Tower, heading to the speech plaza, Mingfuluo kept pondering her situation, the gamble between Anselm and the mysterious figure, and… the future she hoped to see.

The restrictions Solen placed on her through Anselm were about to expire.

With most of the restrictions burned away, Mingfuluo had found a way to break them and would soon return to her body.

But even now… she still couldn’t fathom why Anselm did this.

—What benefit did he gain from trapping her soul in this puppet? Just those two instances of torment and humiliation? He shouldn’t be…

No…

The woman narrowed her eyes, denying it expressionlessly.

He was indeed that kind of person.

Of course, this was only a fallback theory in Mingfuluo’s mind.

She still believed Anselm trapped her soul in this puppet to prepare for something greater.

That devil’s plans were always interlocking; once caught in one part, a cascade of suffocating, terrifying conspiracies would follow.

And what countermeasures had the mysterious figure taken against Anselm’s plans… Mingfuluo didn’t know either, but from the previous two discoveries, she was certain their strategic acumen was no less than Anselm’s.

At the very least, they had successfully countered him.

The only thing to do was still to make the right choice.

She soon arrived at the plaza where Ivora was to deliver her speech.

Mingfuluo found it odd—though Ivora enjoyed being surrounded by cheers and praise, Babel Tower’s scholars knew exactly what kind of person she was… What could she possibly say here?

And currently… Babel Tower shouldn’t have any research projects or events warranting such a high-profile address.

Soon, a brilliant flame erupted on the high platform, and Ivora, in her splendid gown, emerged from the fire, looking down at the gathered scholars with an expression so grim it made most of them uneasy.

“I won’t waste time, so I’m here to inform you of one thing.”

The Grand Princess, in a foul mood, spoke coldly: “I don’t care what you’re researching now. From today, your only task is to develop more powerful alchemical weapons.”

In a deathly silence, Ivora raised her hand, and a towering fire curtain swept across the sky, nearly engulfing all of Babel Tower.

The so-called undying ideals had yet to face true destruction, pure annihilation.

“I won’t give you a specific deadline. You just need to know—faster is better, stronger is better. If you fail to meet my demands by the deadline…”

Boom—!

A blazing fireball descended, instantly incinerating Babel Tower’s iconic statue at the plaza’s edge, leaving not even ashes.

“Then Babel Tower, and all of you,” the ruthless princess declared, “will have no further value or reason to exist.”

Her anger and urgency were baffling, but more than confusion, everyone felt… fear.

An uncontrollable plague called fear spread among Babel Tower’s scholars.

Even Mingfuluo was stunned by Ivora’s brutally insane command.

As she reacted, analyzing possibilities, crimson flame flowers suddenly enveloped her, incinerating the puppet body instantly.

The next moment… Mingfuluo inexplicably appeared in Hendrik’s office.

Here, all of Babel Tower’s leadership, all high-tier sorcerers, were gathered.

But before the young, burning figure, all hung their heads in silence, not daring even to breathe audibly.

“Because of a certain bastard.”

Ivora began slowly, the anger in her voice raising the room’s temperature: “I have no choice but to be tied to you, facing her and the Ether Academy head-on.”

Mingfuluo instantly knew who the pronouns referred to.

Only the Empress could face the Grand Princess directly, and the “bastard” who could provoke their conflict could only be the young, wicked Hydra.

But upon learning this, her mood sank to rock bottom.

The competition Ivora spoke of—could it be…

“The Ether Academy will create an alchemical weapon called mechanized armor to compete with the weapons you produce.”

For ordinary scholars, a direct command sufficed, but for Babel Tower’s leadership, Ivora, despite her fury, briefly explained the context: “Some time from now, two territories will wage war, and your and the Ether Academy’s alchemical weapons will arm them respectively.”

Blood-red flames flickered in the Grand Princess’s eyes, betraying her unstable emotions: “Now do you understand why I want you to focus all resources on developing weapons?”

No one spoke, perhaps stunned by the shocking news, perhaps suppressing their anger at this absurd atrocity.

“Your Highness… Grand Princess.”

Finally, Hendrik, as Babel Tower’s current leader, spoke, striving to keep his tone calm and cautious: “May I ask, when you say war, do you mean a single battle, or…”

“A full-scale war engulfing two prosperous territories until one is utterly crushed and destroyed,” Ivora waved impatiently. “What does the type of war matter? The war itself isn’t the point. I don’t want to repeat what I just said.”

Despite the stark disparity, Ivora showed no intention of yielding to Ephithand.

She turned her gaze to the silent woman behind the leadership, saying coldly: “Mingfuluo, you know about mechanized armor, don’t you?”

The secret between Anselm and Mingfuluo was known to few, Ivora among them, but for some reason, she still kept Anselm’s involvement quiet, not mentioning him directly.

“…Yes.”

Mingfuluo bowed slightly: “I have some knowledge.”

“Your chances against that thing… no, I don’t need to hear about chances.”

Ivora’s harsh words echoed her mother’s: “I only want to hear of your victory. You’d better pray you can bring me that victory.”

“Otherwise—”

The Grand Princess, in a foul mood, left the rest unsaid, the ominous silence carrying more dread than any cruel punishment.

She turned into flame flowers again and left the office, her lingering anger making the room feel like a furnace.

“…War.”

After a long pause, a Babel Tower leader murmured: “She meant… a real war?”

“A full-scale war between two vast, prosperous territories—that could involve… millions of people!”

“Hendrik, we can’t do this! We’re seekers of truth, not butchers, not executioners!”

“But if we don’t, everything ends… Do you want all these people, all these years of effort, to turn to ash?”

Once someone spoke, these powerful sorcerers, lofty in the eyes of mortals, began arguing incessantly, their fragility exposed under fear and chaos.

Amid this fear, a cold, impassive voice, as if seeing no issue, shattered the chaos: “Just do as she says.”

Mingfuluo said: “Follow the Grand Princess’s orders and create weapons to defeat the mechanized armor.”

Her words were as calm as deciding what to eat for dinner.

“Or do you all think we can’t create such weapons?”

“Ming… Mingfuluo.”

In the dead silence, Hendrik recovered first: “It’s not about the weapons, but the consequences… If we push alchemical weapon development further, that war will have countless victims!”

“So what?”

Five emotionless words turned the office, warmed by Ivora’s flames, into an icy cavern.

Mingfuluo scanned the stunned leaders, frowning slightly: “What’s so surprising? I thought you were prepared from the start.”

“—When the ether firearms were mass-produced.”

“Mingfuluo, you… that’s not the same!”

“How is it not the same?”

Mingfuluo responded expressionlessly: “Is there any difference between people killed by advanced alchemical weapons and those killed by ether firearms?”

"Or do you think that after the Grand Princess ascends the throne, she won’t use the weapons we’ve made to slaughter the people on the other side of the Tianlu Mountain Range? What difference is there between those people and the ones who will die in the coming war?"

She repeated the words she had just spoken:

"Such is reality, and I thought you were all prepared for it."

Everyone stared blankly at the young woman standing there, at this outstanding genius they knew, recognized, and praised, the leading figure of Babel Tower.

—Yet it was as if they were looking at a stranger, a monster.

What she said… seemed to make sense, but the indifference in her words sent chills down everyone’s spine.

"…Mingfuluo."

Hendrik looked at her with an unfamiliar gaze, his voice hoarse: "Reality is indeed that cruel, but why…"

"Why are you so cruel as well?"

"Is it cruel to simply not waste energy and time on meaningless remorse and hesitation?"

Mingfuluo furrowed her brow slightly: "Can my remorse change the fate of those who die? Producing weapons that slaughter lives, while indulging in guilt-ridden self-criticism, and at the same time enjoying the benefits brought by making those weapons… Do you find that amusing?"

"Listen well."

The woman paid no heed to the increasingly cold, isolating atmosphere around her, stating expressionlessly: "I acknowledge the weight of life, but that’s not a reason for me to do meaningless things. Since we’re already standing atop a pile of corpses, there’s no reason to stop climbing just because more corpses will be trampled."

"If we stop here, then what was the purpose of the slaughter we’ve already created?"

Mingfuluo looked at these colleagues and seniors, all fourth- or fifth-tier, renowned in academic and sorcerer circles, equally endowed with exceptional talent.

She saw their silence, their disappointment, their alienation, and suddenly felt no desire to speak further.

She missed that person, the friend whose ideals had always aligned with hers before betraying her.

"I suppose I’ve said some meaningless things."

Finally, Mingfuluo said:

"After all, we never had a choice to begin with."

With that, she turned to leave the office.

But unexpectedly, the moment she opened the door, she saw the last person she wanted to face.

"My intuition tells me—"

The young Hydra stood at the doorway, smiling at Mingfuluo:

"My friend, you need my help."

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