Volume 2

Chapter 37: The Devil’s Trial Descends Swiftly

The next morning, Mingfuluo didn’t wake on time.

In Anselm’s bedroom, she could wake as usual because the puppet’s body was more controllable. But this time…

With Anselm’s antics escalating in the latter half of the night, Mingfuluo, whose endurance couldn’t compare to Hitana’s, woke five hours later than usual.

The woman, propping her forehead with one hand, opened her eyes wearily, finding no trace of the chaotic scene she expected.

The mess she’d been forced to create, the clothes Anselm had made, were all gone, neatly cleaned up, though she didn’t know where.

Beside her was a stack of clean clothes, from underwear to her ever-present white coat, neatly folded.

Mingfuluo’s eye twitched at the black garter stockings and lace-trimmed underwear atop the pile.

After hesitating for three or four seconds, she slowly put them on.

Last night’s madness and indulgence had cleared her mind significantly.

Though reluctant to admit it, she had to concede Anselm was right.

—She did need to vent her resentment, needed someone who could resonate with her soul.

And in this world, only Anselm had that talent, vision, and depth.

The word “friend” only described their past.

Thinking back now… if Anselm hadn’t broken with her, this outcome might have been natural.

…Though back then, Anselm seemed too young, and Mingfuluo hadn’t considered it.

“…Three years.”

The garter snapped against her thigh, the lace band slightly tight, digging into her skin.

Mingfuluo murmured absently:

“In three years, he’s completely changed.”

Inside and out.

Her feelings toward Anselm had shifted—from anticipation before meeting, to disappointment and hostility after he handed the mechanized armor designs to the Ether Academy, building a wall of reason to resist his influence.

When their relationship hit rock bottom, Anselm delivered a decisive, open blow… forcing her to rekindle her emotions.

Reflecting on it, her emotional shifts seemed entirely within Anselm’s grasp.

If he hadn’t provoked her hostility from the start and approached her gently, even with lingering expectations, her past grievances would have kept her cautious and their relationship wouldn’t have progressed this quickly.

But as Anselm pressured her step by step, catalyzing her already precarious rationality, then unhesitatingly laid his cards on the table, intent on dragging her into the abyss of her ideals, she could no longer remain coldly absolute.

Because “reason” told her clearly: now wasn’t the time to destroy everything.

Thus, Mingfuluo Zege’s heart reignited with a craving for Anselm Hydra—not the “hope” of a betrayer’s redemption, but a direct “craving” for him as her only one.

The difference was stark.

“Hitana… that girl.”

Mingfuluo donned her white coat, saying softly: “Tamed by Anselm like that, it wasn’t her choice.”

Even she, who could clearly trace Anselm’s intentions and schemes, couldn’t resist him.

That clueless, silly dog had no chance but to be toyed with.

…Though now, she seemed a little better, perhaps even worse.

Hitana, though thoroughly dominated, was blissfully ignorant, living carefree.

But Mingfuluo, clear-eyed, could only passively accept everything.

Still, this was within her acceptable range.

Her thoughts aligned with Anselm’s—since she, who had once been so close to him, could make a decisive choice in the end, Anselm’s current methods clearly couldn’t tame her either.

“I’m not that collared girl who blushes just sitting on your lap.”

The resolute Miss Mingfuluo muttered to herself: “At worst, it’s stress relief. Simple and efficient.”

This assertive thought restored some dignity from last night’s ravaging memories.

Barefoot, she walked to the storage cabinet, intending to grab an energy potion to recover.

She planned to upgrade the current detector, enhancing its core functions.

With Babel Tower now on track, the designs she and Anselm developed weren’t hard to produce individually, but mass production—considering costs, technology, and other factors—would take years.

No need to rush.

Her priority remained investigating her grandfather’s death.

Though yesterday’s clues pointed to Zege Mansion, she gained no useful leads, as her talk with her parents couldn’t continue.

The only certainty was that Layden was uninvolved in Erlin’s death—his response to her final question didn’t seem feigned, whether it was his complex feelings for Erlin or calling her… a monster.

But Layden wouldn’t have gone to Erlin’s old residence without reason.

Mingfuluo didn’t believe he’d visit to mourn her grandfather, just as she hadn’t seen them in over a decade.

If unintentional, something must have lured him there; if intentional, it must tie to the events fifteen years ago, though he… didn’t know the full story.

Thus… she’d start by investigating who he contacted and his activities five days prior or earlier.

Mingfuluo’s thoughts were as clear as ever. She quickly set her goal and planned to act immediately.

As she finished thinking and reached to open the cabinet, the workshop’s doorbell rang, signaling a visitor.

“Open the door,” Mingfuluo said calmly, reaching for the cabinet as the workshop’s heavy door opened.

Rumble—

“Mingfuluo, are you… free today?”

Ronggor, hearing an odd noise, looked at Mingfuluo, who was pressed against the cabinet door, puzzled.

“What’s wrong?”

“…Nothing, my lady.”

Mingfuluo closed the cabinet door unfazed, tucking the exposed white crotchless stockings from the gap into her coat pocket: “What do you need?”

Though curious, Ronggor didn’t dwell on it.

The highly esteemed noblewoman, also a disciple of Erlin, smiled brightly: “The Ether Academy wants to make peace.”

The news stunned Mingfuluo for two seconds.

“The Ether Academy… make peace?” she repeated, “Are you sure, my lady?”

“Not everyone, exactly.”

Ronggor tossed her hair, her smile radiant after years of rare elation: “But it’s still rare good news.”

“Her Majesty’s sanctions seem to have caused quite a stir. The death of Grand Duke Sainthue has thrown the Ether Academy into severe factional chaos. Many high-tier sorcerers abroad have returned, likely to carve up the resources of Grand Duke Sainthue’s faction.”

A fifth-tier transcendent with a grand ducal legacy—however they died, others wouldn’t dare openly devour and divide it.

But… this poor, unlucky Grand Duke Sainthue died offending our great Empress.

The countless wolves and tigers wouldn’t bother with pretense, eager to strip the Sainthue Family bare in days.

The Ether Academy, the grand duke, and other covetous individual transcendents all eyed the Sainthue Family’s vast inheritance.

The already faction-ridden academy descending into fierce internal strife was no surprise.

But Mingfuluo didn’t care about that.

She cared only about Ronggor’s earlier words—

[Many high-tier sorcerers abroad have returned to the Ether Academy.]

The academy’s headquarters were indeed in the Imperial Capital, home to the cream of geniuses and elites, but that didn’t mean… its vast influence across the Empire was concentrated there.

The Imperial Capital symbolized the most abundant, highest-end resources, but also… the Empress’s eternal pressure.

Not everyone was willing to bear that cost.

Of the Ether Academy’s Supreme Nine Seats, only two fifth-tier sorcerers resided permanently in the capital and Grand Duke Sainthue’s legacy had clearly stirred many old monsters long absent from the city.

Among them… likely the one who killed her grandfather.

The enmity between Babel Tower and the Ether Academy predated its founding.

Erlin’s radical ideas clashed fundamentally with the academy’s conservatism, and Mingfuluo’s deep hatred for it stemmed from this.

“So, a faction in the Ether Academy wants to ally with us?”

Hiding her true thoughts from Ronggor, Mingfuluo asked calmly.

“Not one—multiple.”

Ronggor’s smile widened.

Suppressed by the Ether Academy since its inception, how could they have imagined Babel Tower’s day would come?

“Essence Grand Duke, Phase Traveler, Lost Wanderer… three fifth-tiers, three factions, have invited us to hold lectures at the Ether Academy.”

“…Three?”

Though Babel Tower wasn’t despised by every faction in the Ether Academy, none held it in high regard.

Even the most neutral factions harbored some hostility toward it.

Yet now, three of the Supreme Nine Seats were extending goodwill to Babel Tower—a third of the Ether Academy aligning with them?

Even if this was to vie for Grand Duke Sainthue’s legacy, such a shift was remarkable.

“Yes, three! Mingfuluo, we’ve finally—”

“Calm down, my lady.”

Unlike the ecstatic Ronggor, Mingfuluo seemed unmoved, her brow furrowing slightly as she said: “Do you really think their attitude is something we earned ourselves?”

As Ronggor’s smile froze, Mingfuluo continued:

“Or rather, are they truly trying to win us over?”

“…”

The noblewoman opened her mouth, the joy fading from her face, and fell silent.

Indeed, who exactly were these three factions in the Ether Academy trying to win over?

“…I got carried away, Mingfuluo.”

Ronggor sighed: “How could I forget something so simple? Even now, with no obstacles and abundant resources, no one values us.”

“Everyone only values Lord Anselm.”

Babel Tower’s sudden rise in the eyes of the powerful wasn’t because it represented a transcendent future, but because… it was the new toy of the future Hydra.

Ronggor could already guess what Mingfuluo would say next—that profiting from such an “identity” wasn’t something to be proud of, but a disgrace.

That girl was always so rational, so composed, so… ruthless.

“But this is still something to celebrate.”

Under Ronggor’s slightly stunned gaze, Mingfuluo said this, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly:

“My lady, we will surely have a better future.”

Seeing Mingfuluo like this, Ronggor stood still for a long moment before stepping forward and enveloping her in a hug, leaving Mingfuluo flustered.

“…You’re right, Mingfuluo.”

Ronggor said firmly: “We will have a better future, and you no longer need to make any sacrifices for it.”

“The firearms, floating cannons, and all that miscellaneous stuff… let them rust and rot in the warehouse.”

Ronggor couldn’t remember the last time she saw Mingfuluo smile.

Though it was faint, barely a smile, the fleeting vitality in the petite girl deeply touched her heart.

Ronggor, Hendrik… and many others, many of Erlin’s students, had known Mingfuluo since she was young.

In a way, she and Hendrik had vaguely taken on the role of her parents.

When this moment arrived, when the heavy burden could finally be lifted from this girl, still a child in her eyes, Ronggor’s heart stirred, prompting her to do something Mingfuluo usually disliked, even hated.

“…”

Mingfuluo’s arms lifted slightly, as if instinctively wanting to return the hug, but unaccustomed to it.

After hesitating for a while, she finally embraced Ronggor.

Her life had lost many things and she hadn’t considered reclaiming them, which left her somewhat at a loss.

Fortunately, Ronggor didn’t let the awkwardness linger, soon releasing her with a smile: “The lecture starts this afternoon. Will you come with me?”

“Of course,” Mingfuluo said without hesitation.

“I must go… I’ll contact Anselm to see if he’ll come.”

“…Is that wise? Won’t it disturb Lord Anselm?”

“No, it won’t.”

Mingfuluo’s hand unconsciously slipped into her pocket, brushing the white crotchless stockings, her tone carrying an emotion even she couldn’t pinpoint: “It’ll strengthen our position. As for him… he won’t refuse. Trust me, my lady.”

“If you’re sure, that’s great. Just, Mingfuluo… remember to maintain the right attitude and position. I know you and Lord Anselm have history, but things are different now. He’s our savior, and we must—”

“Do everything to repay him, I know.”

For some reason, Mingfuluo looked away, inexplicably emphasizing: “I know. I’ll repay him.”

“…To the best of my ability.”

Though Mingfuluo’s behavior was odd, her less icy attitude reassured Ronggor. She sighed in relief, stepping back: “Then… hm? What’s this?”

Feeling something underfoot, Ronggor lifted her foot and glanced down, spotting a smooth, oval object on the floor.

“Mingfuluo, is this little thing one of your creations?”

“…Yes.” Mingfuluo, unusually, moved as she answered, swiftly taking the oval object from Ronggor’s hand. “I forgot to tidy up. Sorry.”

“Careless? That’s not like you,” Ronggor teased, not thinking much of it. “I’ll let you know when it’s time to leave… Oh, and if Lord Anselm agrees, you must tell me.”

“Mm.”

Ronggor looked at Mingfuluo, who responded softly, hesitated for a long time, then suddenly reached out, ruffling her hair vigorously before leaving with light, cheerful steps.

“…”

Mingfuluo instinctively touched her head, guessing what Ronggor was thinking, and, surprisingly, felt no annoyance.

Then she looked at the oval object in her hand, her breathing growing slightly uneven.

“Anselm, you bastard…”

The genius alchemist, Miss Mingfuluo Zege, muttered, opening the storage cabinet she’d hurriedly closed earlier.

Clatter—

Strange rounded rods, long strings of glistening beads, five or six oval objects identical to the one in her hand, a hollow-sphere gag, and folded restraints… all were items Mingfuluo had painstakingly crafted while synchronized with the puppet as Anselm toyed with it.

In the end, they were all used on her.

Anselm never lied; he was indeed diligently fulfilling his promise.

Mingfuluo stared at the scattered objects and assorted clothes, initially intending to toss them straight into the alchemical furnace to burn, but for some reason, she didn’t.

Instead, she contacted Anselm.

“I thought you’d sleep even later, dear Arlo.”

A teasing voice came through the communication crystal.

“…This afternoon, the Ether Academy invited us for a lecture. Can you come?”

“Hm? Using me to make a statement? Did my leniency last night give you some misconception, Arlo?”

Mingfuluo paused, then took a deep breath.

“What do you want?”

She almost wished Anselm would demand something crude, as that would be the easiest price to pay.

But he seemed to know her thoughts, chuckling: “This time… let me think…”

The brief pause brought Mingfuluo prolonged pressure.

After a long moment, the young Hydra said leisurely: “You’re always the one paying the price. I’m getting tired of it, Arlo.”

“Babel Tower isn’t yours alone. If you want it to thrive, others… should make sacrifices too, shouldn’t they?”

In Hydra Mansion, Anselm swirled his wine glass, smiling brightly:

“Hendrik, Ronggor—these two key figures should set an example.”

“I won’t allow you to tell them, and you’ll decide for them—whether to sacrifice something for Babel Tower’s further prosperity.”

The devil, so tender to her last night, revealed his true nature at dawn.

“Reason,” he said, as if reciting a poem, “or emotion?”

“…”

“No need to answer right away. Contact me before the lecture begins.”

Anselm ended the call, leaning back on the sofa, gazing at his reflection in the wine.

“This is the first test, dear Arlo.”

Hydra whispered:

“Don’t disappoint me a second time.”

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