Volume 2

Chapter 34: The Shadow of an Idealist

Erlin Zege’s death, an unsolved mystery silently buried in the Empire’s history.

Of course, Anselm, with his traverser memories, knew the truth behind that mysterious “suicide.”

Three years ago, he’d planned to use it to crush Mingfuluo but ultimately chose to abandon it.

Three years later, intending to destroy Mingfuluo entirely, Anselm had no need or plan to use this critical information.

But Sulun, to win Mingfuluo over, turned this life-altering event—the very thing that shaped her—into an irresistible lure.

Fate’s threads were far stronger than Anselm’s impromptu schemes in the black market.

Yet, this was within Anselm’s calculations.

His late-night chat with Hitana wasn’t baseless bravado. The contingencies he left three years ago were enough to decide everything, and fate itself… knew it.

Just as fate wouldn’t let Hitana be tamed into a loyal dog, stirring her defiance early on—yet that defiance also advanced Anselm’s taming—so too did fate, aware of his schemes, coldly push events forward.

Like Mingfuluo’s “rational choice,” a simple value calculation: let Anselm destroy her emotions and self, or follow his plan while vying against him. The choice was obvious.

After all, this wasn’t Chishuang Territory, where Anselm could suppress all variables with his power.

In the Imperial Capital, with the Grand Princess, the Empress and even Sulun, too much was beyond his control. Thus, even if fate never “deus ex machina,” its disturbances in this world were terrifying.

“It’s just that this thing’s effectiveness is quite limited.”

In a dilapidated house, Anselm leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyeing Mingfuluo’s “detector.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Even if you don’t want Babel Tower to know you’re investigating Mr. Zege’s case, you could’ve commissioned the Alchemical Association to make one. Why do it yourself?”

Mingfuluo paced the dusty room, saying coldly, “Sulun told me the assassin who killed Grandfather is still in the Imperial Capital. Commissioning the Alchemical Association for a specialized hunting tool would raise suspicions.”

“Because the requester is Erlin Zege’s granddaughter. Though it’s an old matter most have forgotten, there’s no guarantee someone won’t connect the dots.”

Anselm clapped lightly.

“Even outside creation and knowledge, your wisdom shines. That’s what I like most about you, Arlo.”

“Are you expecting me to swoon over such a flippant compliment?”

“No, I wanted to hear that sarcastic retort.”

The young Hydra squinted, chuckling.

“Quite amusing, nostalgic even. You’re adapting to our old rhythm better than I expected.”

“…”

Mingfuluo’s expression faltered, unable to refute his words.

When she scrutinized every word Anselm said, using rationality as her shield, his influence was minimal.

But now, with no choice but to lower her cold defenses and open the floodgates of reason, emotions flowed like bodily instincts, somewhat beyond her control.

—When not deliberately opposing Anselm, she became like this.

Unable to deny reality, Mingfuluo stayed silent, continuing her search for clues in the old house.

This was the home Erlin Zege lived in during his destitute later years, far from the Imperial Capital’s center, in an unremarkable corner of the lower district.

The alchemical master, renowned nationwide four or five decades ago, died miserably in this rundown house.

“Can you tell me what you’re thinking?”

Anselm stopped lounging, hands behind his back, strolling through the house.

“Hendrik and others, with more means, power, and resources, couldn’t uncover a shred of truth. Yet you, Arlo, rely on this rushed, half-baked detector to find clues.”

His fingers brushed the thick dust on a rotting wooden board.

“Because the case was unresolved back then, full of mysteries, you think their investigations faced heavy obstacles?”

“And now, with the events of fifteen years ago nearly forgotten, you believe there’s a chance to find something?”

“Not just that.”

Within her gray-white frames, Mingfuluo’s purple eyes were icy.

“I believe the killer who murdered Grandfather is likely active again.”

“Oh?”

“Just as they killed Grandfather, he—or those behind him—wants to kill me.”

Mingfuluo’s meaning was clear and Anselm responded with interest.

“Because you have my support, because you’re more likely than your grandfather to… realize his ideals, your convictions?”

Erlin Zege was the starting point of Mingfuluo’s transcendent ideals and the origin of Babel Tower.

From a near-peerless alchemical master, he fell to a raving madman, all for one vision—

Universal transcendence.

He wanted to create alchemical tools usable without ether, even by ordinary people, to transform the world.

In a world warped by transcendence’s dominance, the fate of such an idea was obvious.

Had the Empress or Hydra shown interest, Erlin might have found a turning point.

But Ephithand, though not yet as mad as now, was already showing signs of defying death, neglecting court and empire, indifferent to the matter.

Flamel, then still a half-wanderer roaming the world, gave Erlin high praise but cared little when the alchemist he’d once commended became a madman.

The Concordant Church’s Water of Redemption also offered mortals transcendence, but its essence was to elevate them to transcendents.

Erlin’s idea ran counter to that.

Not to make mortals transcendent, but to let them… wield transcendence.

His tragic end was inevitable, the despairing fate of an idealist.

Thus… Mingfuluo believed that if the killer and mastermind would kill a destitute Erlin with no hope of rising, they’d have no qualms targeting her—a woman with his knowledge, equal talent, and Hydra’s backing.

After all, the young Hydra might, on a whim, push that fantastical vision forward.

With Flamel’s death, Anselm inherited the alchemical legacy of the empire’s greatest sage and Hydra’s astronomical resources, giving Babel Tower and Mingfuluo the capital to pursue it.

In fact, Mingfuluo was preparing to do so, though far more cautiously than her grandfather.

Her reasoning held.

“Then my coming with you is a big help, isn’t it?”

Anselm’s gaze drifted to the floor, settling on a decayed chair.

In his traverser memories, Erlin Zege died sitting in that chair.

Young Mingfuluo, eagerly bringing a small experiment to show her grandfather, saw his corpse.

“I don’t deny it,” Mingfuluo answered calmly, focusing on her search.

“With you here, that dangerous assassin and their mastermind won’t dare cast their gaze, covering their tracks. They won’t know I’m pursuing the truth.”

“And it ensures your safety… quite a two-for-one.”

Anselm smiled, recalling Erlin’s death scene, the bizarre truth making his smile brighter. “Should I… charge you a price?”

“Fine.”

Mingfuluo agreed without hesitation.

“…Hm? When I asked if you wanted the truth about your grandfather’s death from me, you weren’t so quick.”

“The cost was too high. I couldn’t afford it.”

Both knew how deeply Erlin’s death affected Mingfuluo.

She understood that entrusting it to Anselm, alongside Babel Tower, would mean selling herself entirely, leaving no room to turn back.

But for this kind of “help”…

“You’re quite the opportunist.” Anselm chuckled.

“Such petty calculations aren’t likable, Arlo.”

“So, beyond the price I’ll pay, I’ll offer something extra.”

The petite woman turned to Anselm, saying earnestly, “Use me to spark conflict between the Empress and Ivora. How about it?”

Anselm looked at Mingfuluo, clearly not joking, and raised an eyebrow.

“How… did you suddenly think of this?”

“I agreed to help Sulun against Ivora, but that doesn’t mean I have any fondness for the little princess.”

Mingfuluo said expressionlessly, “Nor for Her Majesty.”

“Since you and Ivora are at odds, why not use this chance to strike her and shift the blame to the Empress? Just give me orders. You won’t bear the responsibility.”

Her words were audacious—using Sulun to uncover Erlin’s death, pulling Anselm into the deal, aiming to outmaneuver both, and even dragging the Empress into it.

“Whether Ivora faces severe punishment from the Empress or the Empress is affected, it’s good for you.”

The current Empress and Hydra had parted ways, each awaiting a final frenzy, perhaps a world-shaking clash.

Anything bad for the Empress was likely good for Hydra.

“…Interesting.”

Anselm nodded with a light smile.

“I hadn’t planned to meddle in your little deal with Sulun, but now you’ve piqued my interest. Alright, I accept.”

“Though you call it a bonus, since you’re so sincere, Arlo, I’ll lighten the price.”

The young Hydra’s lips curved, his intrigued smile hinting at something sinister.

“Tonight, I’ll come find you. Prepare that puppet you used before.”

“…” Mingfuluo’s eyelids twitched.

“Must the price involve that?”

“Would you prefer I use it to torment you? That’s not off the table.”

“…Understood. Any other demands?”

“Only one…”

Anselm’s figure suddenly appeared behind her, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Be prepared, Arlo—physically and mentally.”

Mingfuluo froze for two seconds, then turned, staring intently at Anselm.

“Are you deliberately interfering because you planned this all along?”

To avoid being completely and utterly outmaneuvered by someone like Anselm, Mingfuluo had a simple, effective strategy.

Always remind herself: Whatever I can think of, Anselm can surely think of too—and more thoroughly, more perfectly.

This mindset had saved her from many traps of self-assumed cleverness.

“Well…” The seemingly harmless Hydra smiled. “I don’t spend all my time scheming against you.”

In Mingfuluo’s eyes, that gentle smile was as good as a confirmation.

“You can say that to yourself. Don’t expect me to—”

Before she could finish, the detector in her hand suddenly reacted.

“…” Anselm, seeing this, raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Someone was here… five days ago!”

Mingfuluo’s attention shifted to the detector.

Though hastily made with a simple principle, it was effective enough.

It couldn’t uncover a fifteen-year-old tragedy, but detecting traces from five days ago was well within its capabilities.

Faced with this almost miraculous “coincidence,” Anselm merely crossed his arms and smiled. “Can you track it?”

“It should be possible. The other party doesn’t seem to be a high-tier powerhouse. The traces are faint but simple to follow.”

Mingfuluo took a deep breath, unprepared for such an easy lead.

Leaving traceable marks so carelessly likely ruled out the person as Erlin’s killer, but their presence here was enough to make them a suspect.

Her gaze swept over a chair in the room, then she closed her eyes, silent for a long time.

When her eyes opened again, the deep purple held a chilling, piercing danger.

“Let’s go, Anselm.”

“Not worried I’ll sabotage things mid-way, spooking the snake?” Anselm asked.

“You’re not that bored.”

“You have a lot of faith in me.”

Mingfuluo didn’t respond, leaving the dilapidated, empty house and resolutely following the detector’s trail toward her target.

However… Neither she nor Anselm expected the destination to be so… bizarre.

“This is true…”

Standing outside the gate, Anselm looked at the opulent Mansion, his expression peculiar.

“How does one even comment on this…”

He couldn’t help but laugh.

“But honestly, seeing things unfold like this makes the trip worthwhile… Don’t you think, Arlo?”

Mingfuluo, standing beside him, remained silent.

The mansion was Zege Mansion, once proof of her grandfather Erlin Zege’s glory in the Imperial Capital.

But now, or rather long before, its owners were no longer Erlin—or her.

They were Mingfuluo’s… father and mother.

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