Volume 2 Chapter 5: A Stormy Unfolding

The imperial capital, Ether Plaza.

Seated on a bench, Mingfuluo flipped through a heavy book, its spine embossed with ancient gilded text, attesting to its considerable value.

But as she read, her brows gradually furrowed and a deepening expression of disdain appeared on her usually cold, impassive face.

“Why do people always equate antiquity with truth?”

The young sorcerer, already renowned in academic circles yet polarizing, murmured coldly, setting the book aside.

“…This kind of thing and at the Ether Academy, it still requires vast resources to access.”

The woman sneered, then pulled a stack of letters from the inner pocket of her long coat…?

Mingfuluo began reading these letters and soon, the eternal iceberg that was her face began to visibly melt.

In stark contrast to the growing disdain she’d shown while reading the ancient tome, her amethyst eyes, usually cold and emotionless, sparkled with vivid, captivating light.

Her head moved slowly with her gaze across the letters, her immersion and evident joy akin to savoring an exquisite delicacy.

—Even though she had read these letters dozens of times, the earliest one over a hundred times.

Today, instead of dedicating her precious time to endless study and research, she was… waiting for the pen pal who had been sending her these letters over time.

A genius she willingly admitted surpassed her in design and creation, without hesitation.

Truth be told, Mingfuluo couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt an emotion called “anticipation.”

Her first time reading a book, her first time channeling ether, her first time casting a spell… as she grew older, things worth anticipating dwindled, while those she despised multiplied.

Until now, for her, whose life revolved solely around learning and creating, that sense of anticipation had finally returned.

An anticipation that stirred her heart.

Tap, tap, tap—

The sound of a cane approached, but Mingfuluo, still engrossed in the letter drafts, didn’t notice.

“Um… hello, miss.”

“…”

Mingfuluo looked up, her reading interrupted, her cold expression enough to send a child running back to their mother.

But what appeared before her… was indeed a child.

More precisely, a boy somewhere between childhood and adolescence.

He had radiant, beautiful golden hair, reminiscent of gentle, non-blinding sunlight.

His face, both youthful and increasingly handsome with age, held a terrifying allure for women of all ages.

Especially those sea-blue eyes, so pure yet so profound, as if they encompassed everything.

—But Mingfuluo wasn’t swayed by this.

No matter how good-looking this kid was, she only knew he’d ruined her reading experience.

“Speak if you have something to say.”

Mingfuluo stared at the boy, clearly of noble birth and distinguished lineage, her expression flat.

Normally, her tone and demeanor would have scared off any ordinary child, but this noble kid merely tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Mingfuluo hated that smile and the people who wore it, because they were troublesome—terribly so, more cunning than foxes, slipperier than eels.

“Though I wasn’t entirely sure at first,” he said slowly, “now, judging by your tone and presence…”

“You’re Aluo, aren’t you?”

“…”

Mingfuluo froze.

Aluo—that was the name her pen pal, who called themselves “Faust,” used for her in their letters.

It was precisely this way of addressing her, as if to a younger person, that led Mingfuluo to believe this pen pal must be a middle-aged or even elderly scholar, hidden among the masses, unrecognized yet brimming with astonishing talent.

Before this meeting, Mingfuluo had even resolved to spare no resources or cost to become this scholar’s ally.

But…

What was this situation?

Why was the genius who proposed such era-transcending ideas in those letters… a twelve- or thirteen-year-old golden-haired kid?

Or perhaps…

“You…”

Mingfuluo’s expression stiffened, but as if suddenly realizing something, she said in an extremely unnatural tone, “Faust, do you also enjoy acting through a puppet?”

“Puppet?”

The boy standing before her, using the pen name Faust, couldn’t help but laugh, “Aluo, in your mind, what kind of image do I have that you’re so shocked you think I’m a puppet?”

“…”

“Now that we’ve met, let me formally introduce myself.”

With an air of refined grace, he tapped his cane on the ground and bowed slightly:

“I am your pen pal, Faust. My real name is Anselm.”

“Anselm…”

The boy, head slightly lowered, concealed the lifelessness and malice in his sea-blue eyes to their deepest depths.

Then he raised his head again, beaming brightly:

“Anselm Hydra.”

***

Memories are, after all, just memories.

Yet now, Mingfuluo couldn’t help but recall those times.

That Hydra who still called her “Aluo.”

She wasn’t one to dwell on the past, but everything happening now made those fragmented memories surge uncontrollably into her mind.

“Anselm, Anselm, what are those bubbles floating in the sky?”

“Condensed ether clusters, used to replenish ether for students practicing spells here.”

“Anselm, Anselm, why are these stairs floating?”

“Hm… probably a spell used by the Ether Academy for aesthetic purposes.”

“Anselm, Anselm…”

Walking at the forefront, Mingfuluo listened to the endless chatter of the seemingly brainless girl behind her and took a deep breath.

The genius who once discussed magical alloy frameworks and ether circuits with her, experimenting and erring together to create era-defining masterpieces, was now acting like a nanny, patiently and meticulously answering one inane question after another.

And he even seemed to enjoy it.

On the second level of Yggdrasil, Conrad showcased the Ether Academy’s foundation in elemental mastery.

As the most commonly used spells and elements, elements were considered the cornerstone of matter, thus placed as the second major category, above the ether that underpins all extraordinary power.

“Ninety percent of abilities are tied to manipulating elements—that’s often the stereotype people have of sorcerers.”

Conrad said with a smile, “While most of our commonly used spell formulas are element-related, this view is as misguided as thinking warriors know nothing about channeling ether.”

Speaking thus, Conrad bowed respectfully to Hitana, “For instance, Miss Lansmarlos shattered a spell with a punch… that’s something only someone with profound mastery of ether could achieve.”

“Hm?”

Hitana, shifting her gaze from the magical creatures and sorcerers flying outside the window, tilted her head, “Is that so? I’ve never studied how to manipulate ether.”

“…That only proves you have an astonishing talent in this field, a true genius.”

Mr. Conrad responded smoothly.

“I have talent in ether too…”

Hitana’s eyes lit up.

She grabbed Anselm’s arm, shaking it gently, brimming with excitement, “Anselm, does that mean I could become a sorcerer too? I think casting fire and lightning is so cool! Can I learn spells?”

“Sure,” Anselm said, barely containing his laughter, “When we get back, I’ll find some books from Mother’s collection for you.”

Conrad chimed in timely, “If Lord Anselm and Miss Lansmarlos need them, we can provide any texts as well.”

Mingfuluo, at the front, stopped in her tracks.

She turned to look at the three behind her, the icy chill in her eyes lowering the surrounding temperature by a few degrees.

Having lost the first round and now failing to control her emotions, she looked utterly ridiculous, like a clown.

“What’s wrong, Mingfuluo?”

In the suddenly tense atmosphere, only Anselm’s smile remained, “Had a sudden inspiration? Want to spar with Mr. Conrad right now?”

“Miss Zege,” Conrad, seemingly convinced that Anselm was on their side, spoke with a smile, “I know you’re eager to win, but I’m sorry—my main duty today is to introduce the Ether Academy to Lord Anselm and Miss Lansmarlos. If you insist on a spar, I can have my mentor arrange an opponent for you.”

Conrad, initially wary of Mingfuluo disrupting the event, was now dismissing her, focusing entirely on Anselm, while Anselm and Hitana barely paid her any mind.

This left Mingfuluo, whose goal was to “make the Ether Academy lose face,” looking like an outsider, the one losing face instead.

Starting with Hitana’s unreasonable punch, her overt hostility had turned into a joke.

Yet, in this moment, when she seemed like a cornered beast with no way out, the ridiculed Miss Mingfuluo suddenly said:

“The true significance of elements lies in their versatility.”

The stark contrast made Conrad pause, and she seized the moment to continue, “As the foundation of matter, elements can combine with various abstract concepts—fire of life, fire of silence, fire of chaos, fire of the soul… Elements can integrate with multiple intangible concepts. While not as powerful as directly manipulating the most fundamental elements, they excel in convenience and efficiency, which is why most spells take the form of elemental magic.”

Clear, concise, and articulate, Mingfuluo delivered a succinct overview of elemental knowledge, leaving Conrad speechless.

That beast, under Hydra’s manipulation.

Just moments ago, a thought had flashed through Mingfuluo’s mind—her consciousness instantly expanded, deconstructing the earlier spar and immediately perceiving the malice within.

She and Conrad were nearly equal in their mastery of the Sorcerer’s Hand.

While Conrad had underestimated Hitana initially, Mingfuluo had taken her seriously from the start. The issue… couldn’t possibly lie with her.

The reason Hitana only shattered her spell was because she harbored a dislike for Mingfuluo, and that dislike…

Was part of Hydra’s calculations.

Was he using this to disrupt her emotions, sway her thoughts, and make her falter with his so-called “strength,” hoping she’d fall into despair and beg for his mercy?

Mingfuluo murmured inwardly.

The coldness she’d exuded earlier wasn’t from emotional turmoil but stemmed entirely from this realization.

Three years ago, you failed once, Hydra.

Do you really think you can pull off the same trick again? Underestimating me like that?

I can be your collaborator, but you… are nowhere near qualified to dominate me.

Snapping back to reality, Conrad’s expression shifted slightly, and he said in a low voice, “What do you mean, Miss Zege?”

“What do I mean?”

Mingfuluo sneered, her gaze shifting to Hitana beside Anselm.

“I can explain things more clearly than you, without adding any meaningless fluff. That’s all.”

Having perfectly controlled her emotions, Mingfuluo almost immediately found the key to breaking the situation.

One thing was clear: Hydra didn’t need these explanations—not just these basic fundamentals, but even the problems the old fossils at the Ether Academy couldn’t solve were likely trivial in his eyes.

So why had Hydra agreed to the Ether Academy’s invitation to visit?

Initially, Mingfuluo thought Anselm had fully sided with those vulgar people, but now, having seemingly become a clown yet gradually calming down, she understood something.

This Hydra, who had completely changed… didn’t care about the Ether Academy at all.

He only cared about that dim-witted beast, his Contract Head.

This visit was entirely to broaden the horizons of that intellectually challenged Hitana, to deepen her understanding of the extraordinary world.

And the Ether Academy?

They surely knew this but didn’t care.

Those old relics, clinging to past glories and treating them as eternal truths, only needed Hydra’s influence.

As long as he accepted their invitation, they could leverage it to gain an edge in their ongoing conflict with Babel Tower.

What did it matter if Hydra was only here for his Contract Head?

If they truly revered and thirsted for truth, would Mingfuluo despise the Ether Academy so much?

If that was the case… there was yet another way to make the Ether Academy lose face.

“You’re not the only one who can talk here, Conrad.”

Mingfuluo pushed her glasses up expressionlessly, glanced at Conrad, and then turned to continue walking forward.

Anselm chuckled softly, “Mingfuluo is as blunt as ever.”

Conrad took a deep breath. With the Grand Princess backing Mingfuluo, not even he—nor the highest elders of the Ether Academy—could expel her unless they defeated her outright, stripping her of the pretext for this “spar.” He truly couldn’t do much about her.

Let Mingfuluo speak freely at their side?

Let her describe the Ether Academy in her own way?

Let an enemy run rampant in their stronghold… Even if the Ether Academy capitalized on Anselm’s influence through this opportunity, what would it mean for their reputation if this got out? What would Anselm, listening to Mingfuluo’s brazen remarks, think?

Perhaps Conrad should be grateful that no students were on Anselm’s tour route, or managing the fallout would be even more troublesome.

“Lord Anselm, this is the elemental layer’s transformation chamber. The high-energy elemental crystals inside help students hone their control over the four basic elements and their derivatives—”

“Inefficient, outdated, with an extremely high energy waste rate,” Mingfuluo cut off Conrad’s words. “By processing high-energy elemental crystals and embedding them in ether-infused magical alloys, the same volume of crystals can achieve three times your efficiency, at only two-thirds the cost of your foolish transformation chamber.”

She glanced at Conrad, “It’s because you monopolize most of the elemental crystal output that we developed this technology. This success is thanks to you.”

Conrad narrowed his eyes, “I’m terribly sorry that Babel Tower couldn’t secure sufficient elemental crystal resources, Miss Zege.”

He sighed with a hint of helplessness, “After all, the Ether Academy is simply too vast. To share a fact that might amuse Lord Anselm… despite being an academic organization, our internal factions are deeply entangled.”

“From the western foothills of the Tianlu Mountain Range to the eastern ports that can safely sail to the Lost Sea; from the cold, vast northern lands to the prosperous southern territories, our members span the Empire, as do the resources we acquire. With such complexity, these situations are inevitable, aren’t they?”

Conrad didn’t directly address the technical issue, instead highlighting the Ether Academy’s immense influence across the Empire and the sorcerer community.

In contrast, Babel Tower, restricted even in resource access, seemed insignificant.

Conrad Sainthue, as the eldest son of the Grand Duke Sainthue and destined to inherit the title, didn’t falter under Mingfuluo’s assault from another angle.

On the contrary, as a scion of the highest education, he displayed the resilience expected of an elite noble.

Sent by the Ether Academy, he was no clown who could only rage impotently as Mingfuluo trampled over him.

Just as Mingfuluo, after being sidelined, quickly found a critical entry point to strike back at the Ether Academy, this was a clash of elites—strength, intellect, and words, neither yielding an inch.

Anselm, the catalyst of this conflict, smiled without speaking, while Hitana listened with rapt attention.

It wasn’t clear who would win, but she was undoubtedly the greatest beneficiary.

“So there’s all this to it…” Hitana nodded thoughtfully, “Then how do you distinguish which fire or water contains which elements?”

“That involves—” “Sorcerers have an innate sensitivity to spells. The simplest, most brute-force method is to broaden your spell knowledge, gaining some understanding of various elemental spells…”

“Oh, wait,” Hitana suddenly interrupted, scratching her head, “I don’t think I need to worry about that. I can feel it.”

“…” ×2

After a brief silence, Conrad smiled, “Of course, Miss Lansmarlos has unparalleled talent. How else could she be Lord Anselm’s Contract Head?”

Mingfuluo remained silent, refusing to even acknowledge Hitana.

As the only presence on-site who could easily disrupt her composure, Mingfuluo chose to ignore her as much as possible to focus entirely on “making the Ether Academy lose face.”

The only thing that mattered now was her confrontation with Conrad.

As representatives of the Ether Academy and Babel Tower, Conrad and Mingfuluo had clashed numerous times, with Mingfuluo usually holding the upper hand.

Though her win rate was lower in traditional spellcraft, Conrad still needed to find the right moment to strike with a higher chance of victory.

Thus, as Anselm “toured,” the two traded blows. Mingfuluo relentlessly attacked the Ether Academy’s obsolescence, backwardness, and extravagance, while Conrad countered lightly, pointing out Babel Tower’s instability, overzealousness, and shallow foundations.

What was supposed to be a tour morphed midway into a debate between the two.

Hitana, finding it increasingly noisy, rubbed her ears and yawned, while Anselm’s eyes reflected the swaying hem of the white coat and a glint of cheerful amusement.

Compared to Hitana’s approach to dilemmas—either avoiding them or charging in recklessly—Mingfuluo could always regain control of her emotions in the shortest time and find a better response.

Honestly, Anselm liked Mingfuluo’s personality. In some ways, their compatibility was indeed quite good.

But liking aside, such a personality was extremely difficult for Anselm to manipulate.

Every push of fate must return to a “rational” origin.

That is, even when influencing someone’s mind to alter reality, the “influence” must align with that person’s logic.

For example, when Anselm first tamed Hitana, under fate’s influence, she only grew more hateful toward him, constantly opposing him, never suddenly realizing Anselm’s intentions.

—Because our Miss Hitana simply couldn’t think that far.

But when this “rationality” was applied to Mingfuluo… its effect was far greater than on Hitana.

Under fate’s influence… Mingfuluo could, through her own reasoning, discern Anselm’s malice or find a way to break through in other ways.

Following the normal script, Mingfuluo would have been emotionally destabilized by Anselm’s initial assault using Hitana; then, without needing Anselm’s prompting, Conrad would have applied pressure to widen the victory.

Thereafter, this tour would have planted seeds of self-doubt in Mingfuluo’s heart.

—Of course, that’s not how it went.

This was merely the shallowest facade of Anselm’s design.

If this were just a plan to crush her confidence and negate her sense of self, what essential difference would there be between this taming and the one used on Hitana?

Anselm would never apply the same type of taming to someone whose personality and mindset were almost the polar opposite of Hitana’s.

His trap, his blade, lay hidden beneath the surface of this seemingly repetitive plan targeting Mingfuluo’s will.

Calculating the timing—oh, it’s here.

Anselm, rubbing his cane, smiled even more brightly, while Conrad and Mingfuluo, locked in their verbal duel, stopped almost simultaneously.

In the middle of the corridor, a pure white curtain of light appeared, like a doorway.

A figure stepped out from the light, slowly descending from midair.

He wore a deep purple crown and a pure white robe, but the white was etched with countless intricate, twisted patterns.

“It’s been a long time, Anselm.”

The plain-looking man laughed heartily, “The last time we met was four years ago when Mr. Flamel asked me to teach you soul magic.”

Anselm bowed slightly with the courtesy of a junior, “That day is still vivid in my mind, Lord Solen.”

Solen Kannast, Soul Dominator, Eternal Lost Magic Eye, one of the nine supreme seats of the Ether Academy, with unmatched expertise in soul magic across the Empire.

“Still, I didn’t expect,” he said with a light chuckle, “you’d come so quickly.”

“Quickly? Anyone would be quick!” Solen shook his head, “Anselm, you must know what Mr. Flamel’s latest design… means.”

Upon Solen’s appearance, Conrad, who had maintained a slight bow, twitched at the corner of his eye, while Mingfuluo’s pupils contracted slightly, her trembling gaze shifting to Anselm.

“Alright, I’ll take you through the rest of the Ether Academy tour, and we can discuss that design later. First—”

“Hydra!”

Facing the Empire’s greatest villain, facing a fifth-tier sorcerer of the Ether Academy, Mingfuluo, a mere third-tier with fame only among the younger generation, recklessly called out to Anselm, completely abandoning her earlier rationality.

“You…”

Mingfuluo glared at that false, perpetually unsettling smile, her words, squeezed through gritted teeth, cold yet burning with pained anger.

“What exactly is this design of Flamel’s you speak of?”

“…You’re Zege’s granddaughter, aren’t you?”

Before Anselm could respond, Solen spoke, “I heard you lack manners, but I didn’t hear you were a fool.”

“Hydra!!”

But Mingfuluo, as if crazed, ignored Solen entirely, glaring at Anselm, the barrels of her floating cannons faintly gathering particles of light.

“You’re giving it to the Ether Academy? You’ve truly sided with them!?”

Bang!

It wasn’t the sound of the floating cannons firing but the metallic crunch of machinery being crushed on the spot.

“It’s… a puppet, after all.”

Hitana, lifting Mingfuluo’s puppet by the neck off the ground, tossed aside the floating cannon she’d crushed in her other hand, her dark red eyes glinting with savage light.

“Just now,” she leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with the purple gaze behind the glasses, whispering, “you felt killing intent toward Anselm, didn’t you?”

“You…”

Creak, creak, creak—

The sound of twisting, deforming metal came from Hitana’s palm as she slowly crushed the puppet’s neck into scrap.

The wolf, who had always seemed carefree and dim-witted, now displayed pure, ferocious brutality, capable of devouring and annihilating any enemy.

Even Conrad, who considered himself worldly, was shaken by the menacing aura she exuded.

“Want to… kill Anselm?”

As Hitana uttered these words, the outcome seemed already decided, no response needed from Mingfuluo.

“I’ve memorized your scent…”

A cruel expression spread across the wolf’s face, “Not just the puppet—I’ll make sure the real you pays—”

“Hitana.”

“Huh?” The girl turned, blinking, “What’s up, Anselm?”

“That’s enough.”

“…Huh?”

Anselm raised an eyebrow slightly, “Don’t I get a say?”

Hearing this, Hitana reluctantly dropped the puppet to the ground, trudging back to Anselm’s side, glaring fiercely at Mingfuluo.

“Hm…” Solen rubbed his chin, “Anselm, this Contract Head of yours… is quite something.”

“I’ve made a fool of myself before you, Lord Solen.”

“A fool? The one making a fool of herself should be this little girl. This is the genius who’s been giving those old fossils headaches for so long?”

Solen smirked, “Her grandfather wasn’t this foolish. Anselm, how do you plan to deal with her?”

No one knew what madness had gripped Mingfuluo, but everyone except Anselm thought she was finished.

Harboring killing intent toward Hydra, with clear intent to act… even if Flamel turned her into alchemical reagents in front of countless people at Ether Plaza, that would be considered lenient.

“Well…”

Anselm, leaning on his cane, walked to the twitching, near-collapsing puppet and looked down at her.

“Mingfuluo.”

The young Hydra sighed softly, “Why bother? Didn’t I tell you? You’re no longer of value to me.”

“…”

The dimming eyes of Mingfuluo’s puppet flickered briefly, ignited only by a blaze of hatred and anger.

Then, Anselm crouched down and whispered to her:

“Handing those things to someone of greater value—isn’t that better for everyone?”

Calmness, rationality.

The more rational a person is, the more likely they are to collapse like a tsunami at a point where rationality can no longer control them, after repeatedly calming themselves with reason.

Mingfuluo had told herself rationally that Anselm hadn’t truly abandoned his talent and ideals; rationally convinced herself that his actions were merely attempts to make her submit and become his loyal servant; rationally assured herself that Anselm would never side with the Ether Academy, would never… commit such an unforgivable betrayal.

But now, Mingfuluo’s rationality has collapsed.

In this collapse, what dominated her actions was the madness of a truth-seeker and idealist.

[Changing the world sounds kind of interesting. Alright, I’ll help you.]

[Or… how about you help me, Aluo?]

In a daze, Mingfuluo’s ears echoed with the boy’s slightly youthful but still pleasant voice.

And what truly rang in her ears was—

“I’m sorry, but I don’t need you anymore, Mingfuluo.”

“Lord Solen.”

She heard that devil say, “I need you to do me a small favor.”

And his vicious, cruel words:

“Help me seal Mingfuluo’s soul into this puppet.”

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