Chapter 14 : It’s Me, Hitana!

“Aluo, you haven’t slept in six days.”

Anselm, lounging on a sofa, propped his cheek on one hand: “You don’t look like you’re in good shape.”

“Two hours ago, I took a potion.”

Mingfuluo’s bloodshot eyes were fixed on the furnace, unaware of the faint waver and weakness in her voice.

Threads of ether flowed from her fingertips into the furnace, wrapping around the smoldering construct, carefully forging it toward her desired outcome.

“Potions can replenish physical and ether needs, but they can’t ease the soul’s fatigue and burden. This isn’t good for the alchemical process.”

Mingfuluo ignored him, her gaze on the furnace growing unfocused, almost manipulating the ether by instinct, sensing the changes within.

Her lips moved, muttering chaotic, complex data, her consciousness teetering on the edge of collapse.

The young Hydra nagged helplessly: “You didn’t even notice I dragged a sofa into the workshop. Being this tense is absolutely terrible. Alchemy requires focus, not overload. If you keep going like this, there’s a ninety-nine percent chance—”

Boom!

A violent explosion cut off Anselm’s words.

But just as the furnace erupted, with ether and chaotic energies surging into a wild torrent, he raised his hand, clenched his fist, and contained the entire exploding furnace and all its intangible energies into a single mass, averting an accident that could have destroyed the entire workshop.

“Well, that’s…”

Looking at Mingfuluo, collapsed on the floor, Anselm crossed his arms and sighed helplessly:

“Quite the troublemaker.”

Half an hour later, Mingfuluo jolted awake on the soft sofa.

Instinctively, she sat up, turning to the furnace’s location, where the scattered debris silently told her the outcome of the forging.

“…”

The woman clutched her forehead.

The immense pressure from her soul’s overload caused piercing pain in her head.

The side effects of overusing various potions added fuel to the fire, leaving her so weak she couldn’t even hold an alchemical knife steady.

“Awake?”

A familiar voice sounded nearby.

Mingfuluo turned to see Anselm sitting beside her, looking at her with amusement.

“A crushing defeat,” he said, tossing her a piece of blackened scrap iron, his tone playful. “How does it feel?”

Mingfuluo caught the scrap Anselm threw, saying nothing.

“Three days ago, I told you to stop, but you insisted on pushing forward. Doesn’t it feel bad to work so hard and gain nothing?”

Mingfuluo met his sea-blue eyes.

She opened her mouth to speak but was overtaken by a violent coughing fit, pain searing through her chest, ribs, organs, and lungs.

“Drink this first.”

She took the potion Anselm offered and drank it without hesitation.

A cooling sensation flowed from her throat to her organs and limbs, greatly easing her physical pain, though the soul-deep fatigue remained unyielding.

“…There was no better choice.”

These were Mingfuluo’s first words after drinking the potion.

She rubbed the scrap iron, striving to keep her tone calm: “I caught a thread of inspiration from your description. Even if it meant failure, I couldn’t let it vanish meaninglessly.”

“Over these six days, I’ve gained some understanding of material elements. It wasn’t entirely fruitless.”

Anselm chuckled in disbelief: “You, a second-tier, claiming you can understand elements? That’s really…”

“You don’t believe me?” Mingfuluo frowned slightly. “The Celestial Path isn’t a rigid framework, not a rule set at the world’s creation, but a transcendent path forged by human hands.”

“Since it was created by people, it can be changed. Besides… the creators of the Celestial Path never restricted its possibilities. I don’t believe I’m the only one in the world who can do this.”

Anselm’s expression grew serious.

Suddenly, he reached out, cradling half of Mingfuluo’s face, leaning so close their faces nearly touched.

Staring into her nearby purple eyes, Anselm was silent for a moment, then let go, smiling and shaking his head, as if unsure what to say.

His reaction seemed to displease Mingfuluo. She reached out, grabbed his chin, turned his face to meet hers, and said earnestly: “Anselm, is there something wrong with my choice?”

“Well… if you think it’s fine, then it’s fine.”

Anselm shrugged: “As for my reaction… you could say I was surprised by your decision. You’re right that the Celestial Path doesn’t restrict change, but most who walk it wouldn’t make the choice you did.”

“If you take a wrong step and fall into the abyss…”

He tapped his head: “There’s no coming back.”

“I didn’t embark on the transcendent path for power, but to get closer to the truth.”

“The abyss or the heavens—they’re no different to me.”

Words that extraordinaries would call mad, Mingfuluo spoke without any psychological burden, and not as mere bravado.

Her expression and tone made it clear—she truly believed this.

“If you’re that confident, I won’t argue. And honestly, I’m curious to see what you’d do if you fell into the abyss. Also—”

The blond boy poked the hand gripping his cheek: “Can you let go before we continue?”

But Mingfuluo didn’t release him, instead looking at Anselm with… a hint of dissatisfaction?

Controlling emotions was something Mingfuluo only did when necessary.

Anselm had long seen her display various emotions, or rather… Mingfuluo had grown accustomed to showing her emotions mostly around him.

After all, they were each other’s only, and best, friends.

“Anselm,” the young Hydra’s close friend said stiffly, staring at his face, “I don’t think you could miss what I meant by those words.”

“…Hm?”

He tilted his head, puzzled, but Mingfuluo quickly straightened it.

“If I said I didn’t catch any deeper meaning in your words, Aluo, would you believe me?”

Forced to meet Miss Mingfuluo’s gaze, Anselm said with an innocent tone.

“…”

Mingfuluo stared at him for a long time, as if confirming whether he was lying. After a while, she repeated her earlier words.

“I said, the abyss and the heavens are no different to me.”

“And then?” Anselm blinked, still looking at her in confusion.

“…And then?”

Anger flashed between Mingfuluo’s delicate brows: “What more is there? The one walking the path to the abyss—isn’t that you, not me?”

“It is me, so you—hm?”

Anselm froze slightly, his interrupted words and questioning tone showing genuine surprise, proving he hadn’t connected her words to anything specific.

“…Aluo.”

The young Hydra looked at Mingfuluo with an odd expression: “Are you saying you want to be my Contract Head?”

The concept of Hydra’s Contract Heads wasn’t a grand secret, but Mingfuluo hadn’t had the insight or opportunity to know about it before.

Anselm had casually mentioned it to her one day during a chat.

“What else?” Mingfuluo countered. “If I become your Contract Head, I’d have the ability to perform deeper alchemy, better helping you realize all your concepts and take us closer to the new era we both envision.”

She looked at Anselm, her tone growing slightly excited, clearly not only serious but highly expectant of becoming his Contract Head.

“If the cost is merely falling into the abyss, I think there’s no deal in this world more worthwhile. And for you… Anselm, you should know, aside from your father, I’m undoubtedly the one who can best turn your ideas into reality.”

“To put it simply.”

She paused, still holding his face, lifting her head.

System: head slightly, and said confidently:

“I believe there’s no one in this world more suited to be your Contract Head than me.”

From thought to ideals, from ideals to talent, Mingfuluo held absolute faith in Anselm, and she believed he felt the same.

But instead of an enthusiastic affirmation, she was met with… an infuriatingly cheerful laugh.

“Hahaha… wait, Aluo, hold on…”

The blond boy doubled over with laughter: “I really didn’t expect you to be circling around to this. This isn’t like you at all. You’re not supposed to, um…”

He gently removed Mingfuluo’s hand, cleared his throat, mimicked her cold expression, placed his hands on her shoulders, and said impassively:

“Anselm, I will be your Contract Head.”

After the performance, Anselm laughed happily: “—That’s how you should’ve done it, just laying it out directly, right?”

After a brief silence, Mingfuluo slapped his hands away and replied calmly: “Our conversation wasn’t about Contract Heads. It just occurred to me.”

Before Anselm could keep laughing at her earlier awkward or nervous demeanor, she continued: “So, how exactly does one successfully form a Contract Head? Out of the eight, which position suits me best?”

Miss Mingfuluo skipped the “What’s your answer?” phase entirely, calmly and confidently asking Anselm which Contract Head role suited her best, making him burst into laughter again.

"…Pfft, alright, alright, I’ll stop laughing."

Under Mingfuluo’s icy stare, Anselm gradually restrained his overly cheerful smile.

He gave a light cough, fixing his gaze on Mingfuluo with a slightly more serious look.

"First, I don’t deny what you said, whether it’s your talent or your value to me—there’s no issue with that."

"I don’t want to hear ‘first,’" Mingfuluo’s brows slowly furrowed.

"Because that means you’re probably going to reject me next."

"Hmm… you’re acting much calmer than I expected."

"Because this is the most important decision of your life."

Even after receiving this implicit rejection, Mingfuluo’s emotions remained unchanged.

"Your caution, I can understand. Besides, the facts I stated won’t change."

There was no one in this world more suited to be Anselm Hydra’s Contract Head than Mingfuluo Zege—this fact would never change.

Mingfuluo herself had unwavering confidence in this.

"However…"

Though she didn’t react drastically to Anselm’s rejection, Mingfuluo still asked with slight displeasure, "I don’t quite understand your reason for rejecting me now. All things considered, it should only be about strength being too weak, but I think, for someone like you, potential should matter more than strength."

"Well…" Anselm studied Mingfuluo, then suddenly chuckled.

"Let’s wait until you’re more mature."

"…"

The woman instinctively glanced down at herself, her expression immediately turning ice-cold.

"Anselm, you’d better be joking."

Clearly, the young Hydra had touched on a rather taboo topic.

Yet, even with such a warning, Anselm laughed carelessly and said:

"No, I’m not joking."

He reached out to pat Mingfuluo’s head, saying meaningfully:

"When you’re truly mature, Mingfuluo, then we’ll talk about the Contract Head matter."

"But you’re not wrong either."

Before Mingfuluo could get truly angry, Anselm quickly withdrew his hand from her head, his voice gentle yet confident, filled with faith in Mingfuluo.

"I also believe there’s likely no one in this world more suited to be my Contract Head than you."

***

Mingfuluo has been sinking into memories lately.

Whenever she recalled the words Anselm had once said to her, she couldn’t help but try to discern how many lies were hidden within them.

Were those promises and affirmations also lies?

"Anselm… so boring…"

In the alchemy workshop, which should have only housed two people, a jarring third presence appeared.

However, based on the interaction frequency of the other two, Mingfuluo was actually the third wheel.

Hitana, resting her head on Anselm’s lap, rolled around on the couch, complaining about boredom while sniffing at Anselm’s stomach.

Mingfuluo couldn’t fathom how Anselm’s first Contract Head—possibly the most significant one in his heart—could be such a… beast-like person.

Though she couldn’t deny Hitana’s strength, Anselm Hydra clearly needed something other than power.

If she and Hydra worked together, they could create a grand era unimaginable to anyone.

But this girl, rolling around and sniffing at Hydra’s stomach—what could she possibly achieve?

Fetch a toy thrown hundreds of meters away for Hydra?

…Though such thoughts crossed her mind and she often belittled Hitana verbally, deep down, Mingfuluo naturally didn’t entirely think this way.

Someone chosen by Anselm must have something special.

No matter how poor an impression she left, Hitana Lansmarlos surely possessed qualities that made Hydra treat her this way.

But…

"Anselm, what exactly are you tinkering with?"

"Anselm, who’s opposing you? Who do you want to fight? Can I join?"

"Anselm, are we just going to stay here forever? I’m scared I’ll accidentally break something."

"Anselm, I…"

Creak—

Mingfuluo abruptly stood, her chair scraping harshly against the floor.

Hitana flinched instinctively, then turned to look at Mingfuluo, utterly baffled.

"Anselm…" The girl hooked her arms around Anselm’s neck, whispering in his ear, "She really doesn’t seem to welcome me."

"It’s not ‘seems,’" Anselm said, chuckling as he ruffled Hitana’s head.

"But she can’t do anything to you."

"As long as she doesn’t interfere with our work," Mingfuluo’s voice came from the workbench.

"And if she does?"

Before Hitana could respond, Anselm raised an eyebrow and said, "Mingfuluo, you’ve got one thing wrong. I’m not forced to be on the same boat as you two. I’m only helping you out of the goodness and morality in my heart."

Mingfuluo fell silent for a moment, then glanced at Anselm.

"Aren’t you afraid of ruining the image you’ve built in front of those people?"

"Why would it ruin?" Anselm laughed lightly.

"Is it that hard to push all the blame onto you?"

"…" Hitana, standing nearby, scratched her head, feeling like she’d heard this somewhere before.

"Besides, I’ve been generous enough to agree to your request—I’ll focus only on you, Mingfuluo."

"But," the wicked Hydra said, slowly stroking the soft, firm waist of the girl in his arms, "only during research time."

Hearing the suggestive panting, Mingfuluo’s eyes lowered, but she said nothing.

Research time… Anselm’s research time was nothing like hers.

Even if she could understand Anselm’s concepts in the shortest time, turning them into reality required Mingfuluo to invest an immense amount of time.

And Anselm? He only provided theories and structures.

Logically, this should be a task no less challenging than practical execution, yet he always managed to effortlessly and clearly outline every stage’s creative ideas and specific plans.

It was as if there was no research process at all—as if, long ago, he had completely dissected, mastered, and perfected the entire thing, creating a flawless masterpiece that drove people to obsession.

So, whenever Anselm finished explaining a phase of his concepts to Mingfuluo, she had to spend vast amounts of time experimenting, while he, as long as she completed her part, could immediately provide the next phase’s complete ideas.

And so, well… he had nothing to do.

It was just like three years ago, in that small, crude underground alchemy workshop, with the same division of tasks.

Back then, no matter how idle Anselm was, the only person he could talk to or tease was Mingfuluo, so even in his boredom, their relationship remained close.

But now…

"An, Anselm!" A shy whisper echoed in the alchemy workshop.

"Don’t… ah!"

"…"

Mingfuluo remained silent, continuing her work.

The concept of this new "weapon" sparked some inspiration in her, but it also made her feel a certain… danger.

An indescribable intuition told her she shouldn’t continue researching this dangerous thing.

But no matter her intuition, the fact was, if this concept could be realized, it might be Babel Tower’s only savior.

So it had to—

"Wait… you can’t…"

The provocative breathing and subtle words interrupted Mingfuluo’s thoughts again.

She closed her eyes, took two seconds to regulate her breathing, and when she opened them again, her expression was calm.

Controlling herself, suppressing emotions—Mingfuluo was long accustomed to this.

Whenever necessary, she wouldn’t let emotions sway her, especially when Anselm was clearly trying to affect her.

"How, feeling shy?"

"…You, you’re talking nonsense! She’s not Lina, I, I don’t want…"

"Then cover your eyes, and you won’t see her."

"Why don’t you cover her eyes!"

"So, it’s fine if she doesn’t look at you?"

"I—"

"Enough." Mingfuluo’s icy voice echoed through the alchemy workshop.

She didn’t turn around, still staring at the workbench, but her hands stopped moving.

Anselm, holding the panting Hitana, smirked slightly. "What’s wrong, Mingfuluo?"

"You, both of you." Mingfuluo, still facing away, spoke in a chilling tone, "You’re affecting my work."

"Hmm? This doesn’t sound like you, Mingfuluo."

Anselm’s fingertips traced along Hitana’s neck, faint currents intermittently flowing from the collar to her limbs, making her let out cute, dog-like whimpers from time to time.

Still doing as he pleased, Anselm said lightly, "The old you wouldn’t have been disturbed by something so trivial."

Yet, in the depths of his sea-blue eyes, there was a coldness Mingfuluo couldn’t see.

With a tone of playful mockery that belied that coldness, he said, "Even if you see me as a betrayer, do you still hold some lingering attachment or expectation toward me? Like I said, do you really see me as the most special person? Well, I’m quite… flattered, then."

"Anselm… Anselm…"

Hitana gently nibbled at Anselm’s neck, using her teeth to undo the buttons of his inner shirt, then obediently kissed his collarbone, murmuring dreamily:

"Stop talking to her, okay… Hii is so much better than her…"

A girl who had tasted pleasure often became candid, and Hitana had recently skipped the phase of feigned resistance, giving a few symbolic protests before trying to take the lead.

But Anselm didn’t continue.

Instead, he whispered something in Hitana’s ear.

In an instant, the desire and haze in the girl’s eyes vanished.

She stood up from straddling Anselm’s lap, kissed his cheek, grabbed the white leather coat from the couch, and draped it over herself.

Without glancing at Mingfuluo, she strode out of the research room.

As Hitana brushed past her, Mingfuluo felt a piercing, almost soul-stabbing… savagery and danger.

Like the instinct of life to seek safety and avoid harm, when a top predator subtly released its ferocious intent, any creature would retreat, even if they hadn’t consciously registered it—their instincts had already reacted.

"Aluo."

When Hitana was gone, Anselm reverted to his old nickname for her. Propping his chin on one hand, he gazed at Mingfuluo’s back, speaking in a slightly teasing, light tone:

"Why didn’t you answer my question earlier? Did I hit the mark, and you’re shy? Normally, you’d dive right into analyzing the situation, or at least… put up a stubborn front for a bit. This makes it hard for me to figure out what’s going on with you now."

What’s going on?

Mingfuluo knew her situation clearly, and she understood the current circumstances even better.

One thing had been clear to her from the start—no matter what Anselm did, she saw it as groundwork to tame her.

As long as she held to this belief, no matter how many schemes Anselm had, even if she couldn’t see through them, she wouldn’t easily fall into his traps.

"You’re right, Anselm."

Without turning around, resuming her work, Mingfuluo said impassively, "Even now, I still hold illusions about you, believing there’s a chance we could walk the same path again."

It was precisely because of this belief that, even after “parting ways” with Anselm, she kept reaching out to him.

"You are indeed special. You’re the most creative genius I’ve ever met, so brilliant that I can’t tolerate other mediocrities."

"At the same time, you’re also the only friend I’ve had in my life so far."

Mingfuluo began speaking about her relationship with Anselm, her views on him.

These words sounded like intimate confessions, an outpouring of emotions stirred up… but in reality, from Mingfuluo’s mouth, they were just cold, hard facts.

Facts that could be analyzed and dissected.

"Because of this, I misjudge you, I get swayed by these emotions, and you’ve seen through this, which is why you keep emphasizing ‘I’m no longer useful to you,’ while also saying ‘you’re special to me,’ ‘we can always be friends’… and now, using this Contract Head of yours to reignite my old desire to become your Contract Head."

Her method of dissecting materials grew steadier, her speed at unraveling facts quickened, and she became increasingly calm—calm to the point of seeming like she had stripped away everything “human” from herself.

"You want me to waver between hope and hatred for you, unable to discern my feelings, unable to know myself, until I’m completely under your control, a puppet who obeys your every word… but unfortunately, Hydra, you won’t succeed again."

A tiny, nail-sized insect-shaped metal appeared on the workbench.

Mingfuluo, from start to finish, never once looked back:

"Because I can now factor my feelings for you and everything we’ve been through into my calculations. From now on, those aren’t memories between us—they’re tools I use to dismantle your schemes."

Her chilling, almost manic rationality seemed… to have advanced another step.

Hearing this, Anselm sighed with apparent regret: "Is that so? That’s truly heartbreaking."

Yet, in his eyes, there was no shock at “failing,” not even a hint of surprise.

It was as if… even though Mingfuluo had once again exposed his scheme, he still hadn’t lost at all.

Bang!

Within minutes, the alchemy workshop’s door was flung open again.

Hitana, half-covered in blood from a hunt, swaggered in, tossing a corpse carelessly to the ground before cheerfully running toward Anselm:

"Anselm, Anselm! I took care of it! This guy was so much weaker than that big python. He didn’t even try to run when he saw me; he thought he could kill me… and then I killed him with two punches."

The girl was about to hug Anselm but stopped short when she noticed the blood on her. Scratching her head awkwardly, she said, "I accidentally punched him so hard he sprayed blood everywhere, got a lot on me."

"…" Mingfuluo looked at the corpse on the ground, her voice slightly hoarse. "Karen Mobenda, a senior sorcerer who worked at Babel Tower for three years."

"Such a pity." Anselm shrugged. "He was a spy for the Ether Academy."

"Anselm told me, ‘This environment isn’t quite suitable,’ and I got it right away!"

Hitana, hands on her hips, beamed with pride. "Anselm hates people snooping… anyway, finding this guy was no trouble at all. I went for a stroll and sniffed out the one with the weirdest scent in the crowd."

The perception and intuition granted by the Head of Wind made Hitana unmatched in tracking spies and assassins.

"Anselm!"

She grinned brightly at Anselm, brimming with confidence. "You’ll never find a Contract Head as in sync with you as I am, right?"

"Hmm… perhaps."

"Perhaps, my foot!" Hitana stepped in front of Anselm, clearly displeased. "No saying ‘perhaps’!"

Anselm chuckled, ruffling the girl’s snowy hair. "Alright, definitely."

Hitana’s face lit up instantly. "So, I’m Anselm’s greatest Contract Head!"

"Haven’t you been certain of that for a while?"

Anselm waved a hand to clean the blood off her, pulling her into his arms and rubbing her cheek with a smile. "No need to confirm it again."

"Hehe~"

Hitana happily nuzzled against Anselm’s chest, half-closing her eyes in bliss. "I’m not just Anselm’s greatest Contract Head… I’m definitely the most compatible one!"

As if struck by sudden inspiration, she said something she’d never have thought of before.

"There’s no one in this world more suited to be Anselm’s Contract Head than me, right!"

Her words made Anselm pause for a moment.

He glanced at Mingfuluo’s back, noticing nothing unusual, his eyes gleaming with deeper satisfaction as he lightly kissed Hitana’s cheek. "Of course, Hitana, you’re definitely my best partner."

"Yay!"

Mingfuluo ignored them, continuing her work.

But just as she hadn’t noticed that Anselm, who was trying to tame her, felt no frustration at her utterly rational analysis—only deeper satisfaction in his eyes—

Anselm didn’t notice…

The simple model Mingfuluo had been working on had, at some point, inexplicably turned into a lump of scrap metal.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.