Volume 2 Chapter 6 : Anselm, the Puppet Shaper

What does the world look like in the eyes of a genius?

Mingfuluo had never described her view of the world to others, as she never believed anyone could see the same sights as she did.

—Until this person appeared.

In a chaotic room filled with tools, materials, scattered papers on the floor, and walls covered with blueprints—a place you’d never imagine as an alchemical workshop—Mingfuluo held a design sketch, murmuring with a frown:

“…A weapon?”

She looked up at the golden-haired boy, dressed in plain work clothes like her, meticulously handling magical alloys attuned to ether flow.

“Why a weapon?” Mingfuluo asked, puzzled.

“Because weapons are the most direct link to power.”

Anselm replied leisurely, a long tubular object floating above his palm, slowly rotating as invisible forces etched perfect rifling into its inner walls.

“Mingfuluo, Babel Tower doesn’t have much time left, does it? Though Her Highness has turned her gaze toward you, keeping you from collapsing under the Ether Academy’s relentless pressure, that alone isn’t enough.”

He grasped the alloy tube, holding it up to his eye, peering through the bore at Mingfuluo with a soft chuckle:

“You, all of you, need to produce something that will make Her Highness truly choose to stand with you, to place a heavy bet on you.”

“And for someone determined to conquer the lands beyond the Tianlu Mountain Range, to rule the entire continent, nothing is more enticing than pure violence.”

“So, all it takes is a revolutionary breakthrough in power and you can make Babel Tower stand tall in the imperial capital.”

“And now…”

He tossed the tube to Mingfuluo, striding lightly to her side, whispering like a devil tempting a mortal:

“The revolution lies in your hands.”

“…”

The woman was silent for a long time, a strange hesitation surging in her heart for reasons she couldn’t name.

Mingfuluo had never crafted weapons, but she didn’t feel guilty about making them.

However, the world she envisioned wasn’t dominated by weapons—there shouldn’t even be so many weapons.

If the power of knowledge was used only for violence, how was it different from the beasts that relied on brute strength?

If possible, she didn’t want to prove herself with weapons at all.

But no matter how strong that inexplicable hesitation was, Anselm’s words overpowered her inner convictions.

“…You’re right.”

Mingfuluo said softly, “We don’t have much time left. We must secure the Grand Princess’s full support to have a chance to keep growing in the imperial capital.”

When Anselm approached her, Babel Tower was already on the brink of collapse.

Despite its remarkable innovations over the years, the Ether Academy’s relentless pressure had driven the fragile new organization to the edge of ruin.

Though the Grand Princess had shown interest, she hadn’t yet committed.

In her eyes, Babel Tower still lacked the weight to warrant it.

They had to create this thing, had to gain the ability to mass-produce it.

“Excellent.” A pleased smile spread across Anselm’s youthful face, “I couldn’t ask for more than you understanding this. Do you need my help with the crafting?”

“…Hmph. Only the dumbest of fools would need help with such clear ideas and designs.”

“Besides…”

Mingfuluo gently ran her fingers over the blueprint, her eyes reflecting the dimensions, data, and concepts of each part, murmuring softly:

“I feel like I already had… some inspiration about this.”

Seven days later, the first ether-driven firearm on the continent was born.

As a second-tier extraordinary, Mingfuluo Zege used this weapon to shatter a third-tier sorcerer’s shield from two hundred meters away in an instant, sending the entire imperial capital into shock.

And when she announced that Babel Tower could mass-produce this weapon… not just the capital but the entire Empire erupted.

Countless invitations and orders from nobles poured in, and even the lofty Grand Princess officially placed her bet, announcing personal funding for Babel Tower’s firearm research.

This fledgling academic organization, on the verge of collapse, found its footing and on that day… the trajectory of fate shifted profoundly.

Mingfuluo stayed with the now-backed Babel Tower, and thus… the future where she, filled with hatred for the Ether Academy after Babel Tower’s destruction, joined the Revolutionary Army by chance, ceased to exist.

Originally set to debut six years later, providing the Revolutionary Army with formidable armaments, the firearm… became a brutal weapon in the Empire’s hands.

That year, Mingfuluo Zege’s genius resounded throughout the Empire.

That year, the Hydra, lurking in the shadows, was only thirteen.

***

Excruciating pain jolted Mingfuluo awake from her deep memories.

The agony of her body being twisted apart, as if every bone had shattered, would have caused any normal person to faint.

But Mingfuluo didn’t, not because she had extraordinary pain tolerance, but because she had set the pain sensitivity of her puppet low.

Losing pain perception was dangerous, even for a puppet.

Mingfuluo didn’t want to lower her vigilance by numbing it entirely, but she disliked enduring pain, so she reduced it.

She struggled to open her eyes, fighting through the simulated torment of torn muscles and broken bones, relying on her awakening anger to keep her will from sinking back into exhaustion.

“This is… this is—”

In her blurred vision, Mingfuluo saw a round table and a white-robed figure circling it excitedly, holding something.

“Truly… an unparalleled creation! Though I’m no expert in this field, just the draft… I can’t imagine the grandeur when it’s realized!”

“Heh, the concept of mechanized armor is indeed remarkable, but it’s not as exaggerated as you make it sound, Lord Solen.”

At the sound of that voice, Mingfuluo’s puppet eyes shifted slightly.

Mechanized armor…

She let out a long breath in her mind.

So it was just mechanized armor.

Hydra hadn’t gone completely mad after all.

Even amidst the searing pain, Mingfuluo felt genuine relief.

As long as it wasn’t the design of the universal ether furnace handed so easily to the Ether Academy, she could accept it.

So just now…

The woman’s head, dangling to one side due to her nearly crushed neck, glared at the blurry profile not far away.

Was it all an act to make me lose control?

Calming down, Mingfuluo quickly realized she had fallen into Hydra’s trap, a rare misstep.

It was her one weakness, and after so long, it wasn’t surprising that Hydra had seized it again.

No shame, no anger, no impatience. In this dire, almost hopeless situation, Mingfuluo swiftly accepted reality.

Everything from his return to the capital until just now was orchestrated to lead to that moment of my collapse… You’ve planned this for a long time, Hydra.

“I don’t need you”—repeating that phrase, did you think it would have any effect? Did you really believe I’m some lapdog, dependent on you, unable to achieve anything without you, trembling in fear after being “abandoned” like this?

Hydra, your arrogance… is as unchanging as ever.

After dissecting Anselm’s true intentions, hidden beneath layers of this tour, Mingfuluo felt neither pride nor joy.

The deed was done.

Though she would never submit to him, her current predicament was undoubtedly part of Hydra’s deliberate plan.

Soul…

Mingfuluo sensed this puppet body, merely mid-tier among her creations, her mind heavy.

For an extraordinary, the soul… is the true essence of life.

The soul is the origin of ascending to the extraordinary, the core of inner-to-outer transformation, the foundation for evolving toward higher forms of life.

An extraordinary person's original body is naturally the perfect vessel for their soul.

But if a soul is forcibly placed into something other than its original body…

Powerful extraordinaries could reshape matter with a robust soul, making it adapt.

But as a third-tier, Mingfuluo was far from that realm.

A soul lingering in a non-original vessel would weaken her strength significantly, and prolonged exposure could irreparably damage her soul, hindering her future extraordinary path.

But that wasn’t what concerned her.

What mattered was… once her soul was fully sealed in this puppet, her life’s safety would no longer be assured.

As expected, that soul-manipulating sorcerer Solen must have imposed some restriction to prevent her soul from easily returning to her true body.

“So, I’ll leave the mechanized armor concept to you, Lord Solen.”

Mingfuluo heard that now utterly detestable chuckle, “I trust you’ll make it serve its purpose. Until next time, Lord Solen.”

“Hahaha, by our next meeting, you might already surpass me, Anselm. Then I won’t deserve the title ‘Lord’—I couldn’t bear it.”

The sordid transaction, its exact terms unknown, concluded.

Mingfuluo heard approaching footsteps, and her immobile body was hoisted onto someone’s shoulder.

“No need for me to see you out, Anselm?”

Solen raised an eyebrow, looking at Hitana carrying Mingfuluo, “Carrying such a burden might be inconvenient.”

Anselm shook his head gently, “No need, Lord Solen. I can use the return trip…”

His gaze fell on the puppet with its neck bent at ninety degrees, chuckling softly:

“…to repair this broken doll.”

The Soul Dominator, renowned not only in the Ether Academy but across the sorcerer world, rubbed his chin, watching Anselm depart.

“So this is his second choice? Doesn’t seem quite fitting. Ambitious idealists don’t take kindly to others lording over them.”

The man said, then shook his head with a laugh:

“But at this point, that little girl has no way of escaping.”

***

In the spacious carriage, Hitana tossed Mingfuluo’s body onto the floor with a look of disgust.

“All the way here, hearing her neck creak—it’s so uncomfortable, Anselm.”

Anselm couldn’t help but laugh, “Didn’t you break Mingfuluo’s neck?”

“She dared to harbor killing intent toward you… though she couldn’t possibly succeed.”

Hitana pouted, “But it pissed me off. It’s just a puppet anyway, so what if I broke it? Anselm, why’d you bring her back?”

“If I didn’t, our genius miss would end up dead on the streets.”

Anselm placed Mingfuluo’s body on the opposite seat, saying leisurely, “Though I don’t need her anymore, she’s a rare talent, vital to the Empire’s future. It’d be a shame for her to die like that.”

Hitana knew Anselm had begun taming Mingfuluo, but she had no idea what he was planning. To avoid interfering, she suppressed her urge to speak, staying silent.

Even so, the girl bearing two Contract Heads’ powers glared at Mingfuluo’s puppet body, unable to shake her irritation.

Does this woman really have any skills?

All I see is her making puppets.

Nothing else?

Just those floating metal lumps?

Joking, right?

Those things wouldn’t even heat my bathwater.

The more she thought, the more it seemed her only talent was making bigger puppets or more metal lumps.

Hitana scoffed inwardly.

I can kill a snake that big without breaking a sweat.

No matter how large her puppets are, can they match that?

What use are giant puppets? Target practice?

This comparison filled Miss Hitana with a surge of pride.

I’m definitely Anselm’s strongest Contract Head!

Lost in these thoughts, the wolf miss saw Anselm sit beside Mingfuluo’s puppet and start… touching it.

“…”

“Hm, structurally, it’s indeed improved significantly from three years ago. The ether’s cycle and flow are more efficient and streamlined… but still no generational leap. Mingfuluo, you haven’t put much effort into refining alchemical puppets.”

Anselm’s hand glided over Mingfuluo’s body.

Though it sounded suggestive, in reality, Hydra’s fingertips had peeled back the puppet’s skin, revealing the faintly silver-gleaming core beneath.

Mingfuluo’s brow twitched slightly, and Anselm, noticing her expression, smiled and smoothed her brow, “Sorry, forgot you’re sensitive to pain after three years.”

Though her neck was mangled, the puppet could still speak, albeit with a distorted voice:

“Hydra, what did you trade the mechanized armor design to the Magic Eye for?”

For Anselm, nearly everything in this world was within reach.

Mingfuluo couldn’t fathom what benefit he could gain by giving such a critical design to Solen.

“Well…”

Anselm gently caressed Mingfuluo’s chin—the metal chin, its skin worn away by Hitana’s brutal attack.

Mingfuluo’s appearance, or rather, this puppet’s appearance, was more mature than Hitana’s, what her transmigrator friend called a “cold imperial sister.”

If Hitana’s beauty was youthful and sweet, Mingfuluo’s carried the mature allure of a woman, adding a contrasting temptation to her eternally icy face.

Touching the adorable Hitana brought joy to body and mind; touching Mingfuluo, however, stirred restlessness.

“If I said it was to get the fragile you in this state…”

Anselm’s hand slid down her gleaming metal face to the twisted, damaged neck.

He leaned closer, gazing at the puppet’s frame, whispering, “Would you believe me?”

Mingfuluo sneered, “I recall Mr. Hydra saying he no longer needs me.”

“In terms of ether theory and alchemy, indeed.”

Anselm’s fingertip traced the broken parts of her neck, pausing at a spot and suddenly delving inside.

“Guh!”

The cold beauty winced in pain, letting out a muffled groan.

“Hm… this part is stuck here, disrupting the ether’s natural flow.”

Anselm’s index finger gently stirred in Mingfuluo’s shattered throat, carefully extracting a sharp fragment.

He turned to Hitana, who sat with arms crossed, looking uneasy, “Hitana, you were a bit too rough.”

“Uh… I got a little mad back then, um, Anselm…”

Hitana, watching Anselm handle the puppet, started to speak, hesitated, then stopped.

Meeting Anselm’s puzzled gaze, the girl shook her head, muttering:

“…Never mind, it’s nothing.”

She’s not even human—just a puppet draped in skin, pure magical alloy underneath.

Peel off the face, and it’s just a human-shaped metal lump.

But why…

Why, especially when Anselm’s fingers probed the puppet’s broken neck and Mingfuluo let out occasional groans, did she feel so… offended?

These strange thoughts led Hitana to self-reflection: Am I this petty? Am I that jealous? No way!

Anselm, unaware of Hitana's adorable musings, focused on picking out the fragments in the puppet’s neck.

Mingfuluo stayed silent.

The foreign sensation in her throat was uncomfortable, but as Anselm said, it was due to damaged structures and parts obstructing the ether’s flow, making the puppet “uncomfortable.”

With pain sensitivity lowered, Anselm’s rough method of sticking his fingers into her throat was only mildly painful, within her tolerance.

What unsettled her more was the tangible, real sensation—not ether obstruction but… a sense of fullness.

In Mingfuluo’s life, only Anselm dared to invade her body like this—puppet or not; she treated it as her own when using it.

Or rather, she seemed to allow only Anselm to do so.

“Done.”

Anselm withdrew his hand, gathering the fragments, examining Mingfuluo’s neck.

The crushed pieces Hitana had mangled were all removed, and the distorted neck was realigned.

The once-snowy, slender neck now lacked skin, exposing a faint silver metallic sheen.

The flexible magical alloy supporting her neck movements was tattered, but thanks to Anselm’s deft work, its shape was roughly restored, though now riddled with hollows, like an intricately carved model.

It resembled lace netting or a hollowed silver sacred tree, cradling her cold, radiant head.

Eerie, mysterious, yet imbued with an indescribable charm.

“Without tools or parts, this’ll have to do for now,” Anselm said, nodding with satisfaction at the artwork born from his hands.

Mingfuluo touched her neck, looking at Anselm expressionlessly, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Haven’t I? Oh… right, I mentioned you’re indeed no longer valuable to me in ether theory and alchemy.”

Anselm chuckled softly, “But your value goes beyond that.”

“My value lies only in that.”

Mingfuluo replied without hesitation, her voice cold and resolute.

“That’s my entirety.”

A comfortable life, daily joys—these held no value for Mingfuluo. She poured all her energy and time into learning and research—

No need for food, only requiring nutrient fluid every three days, during which she could still work; no need for sleep, as brief mental respite after research was enough; no need for entertainment, as advancing even one step in the realm of knowledge was the greatest joy.

This was Mingfuluo Zege—a despair-inducing genius, a fearsome lunatic.

For the genius young lady before me, so consumed by her obsessions, I merely placed my hand on her metallic, gleaming neck and said softly:

"Mingfuluo, you must understand one thing. A person's worth, in most cases... is often determined by others."

"Your own will doesn’t play much of a role."

"So, you’re now deciding my worth?"

Mingfuluo’s tone didn’t waver in the slightest: "Deciding the meaning of my existence in this domineering way, to make me doubt myself, or perhaps to provoke me?"

She wouldn’t fall into the same trap twice.

Now, Mingfuluo had realized one thing—

Anselm Hydra still came with the intent to make her fully submit to him.

He still refused to be her equal partner, insisting on placing himself above her to feel at ease.

Mingfuluo didn’t know where this most dangerous man in the world got such insecurity, nor did she understand why Anselm believed she was destined to be disloyal to him, or why he thought she would inevitably betray him.

Mingfuluo had never harmed any collaborator, and she had no idea where Anselm’s malicious prejudice came from.

Mingfuluo only knew that if she were to identify the most important thing in her life, it could only be her beliefs and ideals.

As long as she remained vigilant, aware that Hydra was constantly acting with the intent to subjugate her, Mingfuluo was certain she wouldn’t fall into any more traps.

"Hmm... I don’t know what provoked you."

Anselm raised an eyebrow: "In truth, I really don’t hold any expectations for you anymore, Mingfuluo."

Mingfuluo only sneered in her heart.

She didn’t need to care whether Anselm truly had expectations for her; she only needed to stay vigilant at all times.

"Your worth to me now is merely as a key piece in a bet between me and a friend, to determine the winner between us."

"...What did you say?" This sudden statement made Mingfuluo frown slightly. "A bet?"

"A friend in the imperial capital."

Anselm smiled: "This bet was made exactly three years ago, the day I left."

"That friend bet that you could carve a bloody path under the pressure of the Ether Academy, making Babel Tower the leader of a new era, with you standing at the pinnacle of this wave, becoming the origin of change, the great source."

"And I bet that you’re destined to end up with nothing, destroying your achievements and ideals in your own obsession and madness."

"Treating someone else’s life as a game for amusement."

Mingfuluo gave a cold laugh: "Truly the style of you high and mighty types... So, you’re saying you can’t afford to keep betting and plan to step in yourself?"

"Can’t afford to bet?" Anselm raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, but compared to me stepping in now, my friend already made their move before I even left."

That statement stirred a ripple in Mingfuluo’s seemingly calm heart...

The so-called friend Anselm spoke of had already acted for this bet even earlier?

Or was this bet itself just a fabrication, a setup for his next trap?

"It’s an unfair bet to begin with," Anselm sighed. "That friend agreed we’d each use our own methods, but..."

He tilted his head: "I imposed a self-restraint.

Regarding this bet, I can guarantee one thing: I won’t directly threaten or even restrict you—unless you make a mistake yourself."

The young Hydra laughed cheerfully: "Like just now, you could’ve stayed on the sidelines, but you had to harbor genuine killing intent toward me, forcing me to make a ‘response’ of sorts."

"I was only making a deal with Lord Solen."

He rubbed Mingfuluo’s cold, metallic silver neck, his tone innocent: "You falling to this state can’t exactly be blamed on me, can it?"

"...You’re right."

Mingfuluo slapped Anselm’s hand away, her voice growing even colder:

"Being bitten by a venomous snake like you was indeed because I wasn’t vigilant enough."

"Why be so cautious, Mingfuluo?" Anselm spread his hands.

"I was even planning to take you to my home, give you a proper repair, and then send you back to Babel Tower."

"No need."

"Really no need?"

"..." Mingfuluo fell silent.

No need? That wasn’t necessarily true.

The fact that her soul had been extracted and placed in this puppet would undoubtedly spread quickly within the Ether Academy.

Her current state was too pitiful.

The moment she was alone, the risk of danger would skyrocket.

The puppet’s functions had been severely damaged by Hitana’s violence.

She couldn’t immediately call for Babel Tower’s fifth-tier support, and if she left Anselm’s carriage, danger could arrive in less than ten seconds.

After all, during the earlier visit, Anselm had practically openly sided with the Ether Academy, so they wouldn’t hesitate.

If she stepped out, she’d only be seen as abandoned by Anselm.

Only she knew best how much certain people in the Ether Academy wanted her dead.

And having Anselm send her to Babel Tower?

He could easily refuse, or rather, he had no reason to agree—You want to go back?

Go back to yourself.

I’m not restricting you.

In other words... for her safety, she now had only one choice.

Follow Anselm to Hydra Mansion, let him do as he pleased, and repair this puppet.

And the entire process...

Ironically, it truly involved no “direct” restrictions on her.

Mingfuluo slowly closed her eyes.

Just one mistake, truly just one mistake.

If she had been even slightly calmer, she might have realized it was Anselm’s design.

But there were no ifs.

Under that layered scheme, there were no ifs.

Just one mistake had forced her soul into this puppet, compelling her to temporarily accept Hydra’s “kind” invitation.

And, infuriatingly, it was all so “voluntary.”

This was... Hydra.

This devil, who hadn’t put much effort into alchemy, had made unimaginable progress in such matters, dangerously so.

"Let’s go." Mingfuluo opened her eyes again, her tone indifferent.

"I’ll see if your puppet craftsmanship has regressed."

Since she had already been thoroughly defeated, she would suppress all resentment and regret.

Anger would only lead to the next failure, and regret held no value.

All she could do was handle everything better from now on.

Anselm, resting his chin on one hand, responded with a smile full of delight: "You won’t be disappointed, Mingfuluo."

"I happen to have learned some... rather interesting things."

***

Inside the alchemy workshop of Hydra Mansion, Anselm was examining Mingfuluo, who lay before him, completely bare.

Mingfuluo, with no skin except on her head, her body emanating a faint silver metallic sheen.

"Overall, the construction of this puppet is even more advanced than I imagined."

Anselm’s alchemical carving knife glided over Mingfuluo’s body.

Though it had resilience and an incredibly lifelike softness, it was utterly cold, devoid of any living warmth.

"The neck has been repaired.

What are you still doing?" Mingfuluo said expressionlessly.

"This puppet’s damage isn’t limited to just that."

Anselm sliced open the puppet’s abdomen, revealing an exquisitely intricate internal structure.

The ether circuits intertwined in a complex dance, the magical metal framework forming a fantastical inner cavity, prompting Anselm to sigh in admiration:

"Such a beautiful internal structure... though the damage is quite severe.She first rammed into you, then grabbed your neck.Hmm... it didn’t completely fall apart, so Hitana must have held back."

"Oh, the ether circuit here is damaged... and here."

A faint glow lit up on the edge of the alchemical carving knife.

As the blade moved, one ether circuit after another was repaired, and Mingfuluo’s perception grew sharper.

The puppet’s condition was improving, that was undeniable, and Anselm’s skill in puppet craftsmanship seemed to have advanced, which Mingfuluo hadn’t expected.

After all, for Anselm, puppets held no significance.

He hadn’t sought more profound, valuable alchemical techniques from his father, yet he had invested effort in this field for reasons unknown.

"Speaking of which..."

Anselm’s gaze slowly shifted:

"You really didn’t install that part on this puppet."

"..."

Mingfuluo followed Anselm’s gaze but said nothing, nor did she want to.

"Repair is repair." Anselm looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"How about I add the missing part for you?"

Now, Mingfuluo had to speak.

She stared intently at Anselm, enunciating each word: "That is an unnecessary part, not a missing part."

Anselm chuckled: "Don’t tell me your real body doesn’t have that part."

"Even so—"

"You forget, your soul is now in a puppet’s body," Anselm interrupted.

"There’s already a strong rejection reaction.

The best approach is to make this puppet as close to your real body as possible."

Hydra smiled lightly and spread his hands: "From the perspectives of alchemy, ether theory, and soul studies, is there anything wrong with what I’m saying?"

"Even so..." Mingfuluo said deliberately, "I should do it myself."

Anselm handed the alchemical carving knife to Mingfuluo, saying cheerfully: "Be my guest."

The woman silently gripped the knife, slowly moving the blade downward.

"Speaking of which," Anselm suddenly said as she made an incision, "have you ever really paid attention to that part?"

"..."

Mingfuluo lifted her lowered head, staring fiercely at Anselm’s face: "Hydra, don’t... push your luck!"

"Push my luck?" Anselm frowned.

"What are you talking about, Mingfuluo?

I’m just repairing your puppet to help you better adapt to this body."

He turned the tables, questioning her: "What strange things are you thinking about?"

At this moment, if it were Hitana, her emotional nature would disregard Anselm’s words entirely.

She’d go berserk on the spot, even if it meant mutual destruction, refusing to let him proceed.

But Mingfuluo was different.

Mingfuluo... actually considered Anselm’s words, because they... weren’t entirely wrong.

Yes, it was just sculpting the puppet.

What was the problem with that?

The woman closed her eyes and handed the alchemical carving knife back to Anselm, saying no more.

Then... she felt the shaping of a certain part, the further completion of the ether circuits.

Originally, she, who merely used her five senses to control the puppet, didn’t need such superfluous designs.

But now, with her soul confined to this puppet, any bit of added strength was valuable.

Mingfuluo was that pragmatic.

The fullness, the curves, and the tightness carved by the knife, as the ether circuits were further activated, caused the puppet’s body to tremble slightly.

Even now, as Mingfuluo blocked her perception, the surge from the inscription and activation of the ether circuits was unavoidable.

Since he was thirteen, three years ago, he had always been like this—handling her puppet so deeply, dominating her body without any hesitation or restraint.

Mingfuluo thought as much.

She had no superfluous feelings for Anselm, as her studies and research left no room for such meaningless things.

But whenever this happened, strange emotions would always stir within her.

Yet Anselm always had a reason, and she was always unable to refuse, just like now.

When the carving was complete and the ether channels opened, Mingfuluo thought it was over, but the puppet’s body suddenly stiffened again.

Because she felt something probing deeper—not the ether carving knife, but... Anselm’s fingers.

"...Hydra," Mingfuluo slowly clenched her fists, "what exactly are you doing?"

"Adding more complex ether circuits for you."

Anselm’s response was so matter-of-fact: "This is to kindly enhance your strength.

Or do you think losing a bit of self-preservation ability doesn’t matter?"

"..."

In the silence, the wicked Hydra chuckled.

His index finger slowly and gently traced out folds... I mean, um, ether circuits, faithfully fulfilling his promise.

With each new ether circuit, Mingfuluo could vividly feel the surging sensation.

Ten minutes—passed before Mingfuluo’s repair was fully complete.

She refused to let Anselm personally escort her, instead having a random maid from the mansion take her away.

She left the alchemy workshop without so much as a glance at Anselm.

In the alchemy workshop, Anselm watched Mingfuluo depart, twirling the alchemical carving knife with delight.

Anselm loved a saying from a female writer in that world.

The path to a woman’s soul is—

So, in his conditioning of Hitana, whenever there was a chance for physical contact, Anselm wouldn’t hesitate.

Due to Hitana’s personality, Anselm had always taken a gradual approach, but Mingfuluo... was different.

When the reality before her was reasonable enough, Mingfuluo wouldn’t let her emotions take over.

She would always accept—as long as Anselm could convince her.

In that woman’s eyes, it was merely “reasonable,” unrelated to anything else about him.

Of course, this wasn’t the entirety of Anselm’s plan.

The true dominance lay in the subjugation and conquest of the soul, but...

Just as ascending to the third tier and entering the true extraordinary world required the union of spirit and flesh, in Anselm’s plan, neither base desires nor malicious domination could be absent.

Desire without domination was dry and tasteless, while domination without desire was cloying and nauseating.

Anselm gazed at his fingertips, recalling everything that had just transpired, and couldn’t help but laugh.

Because, in a way, Mingfuluo just now was clearly more absurd than he was.

But that wasn’t a bad thing—or rather… it was very good.

Mingfuluo, who used so-called reason and rationality to control everything, was so much like his former self…

Would she, like he eventually fell into Hitana’s love, slide into his abyss in the process of endlessly convincing herself with reason?

“Truly… something to look forward to, Aluo.”

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