Volume 2

Chapter 39: The Puppet Lady’s Trance

In the vast hall that could hold thousands, Anselm sat alone in the front row’s center.

Or rather, he was the only one in the front row.

For Solen Kannast, who also sought a share of Grand Duke Sainthue and his family’s legacy, no aid was worth more than Anselm sitting here.

“Though you have your own motives, Anselm, your presence does me a great favor… How can I repay you?”

Solen’s phantom appeared beside Anselm, dressed in a white robe, legs crossed, sighing: “You don’t care for Nakisai’s legacy. I don’t know what else I can offer.”

“Last time was already a great help,” Anselm said with a smile.

“That was repaying a favor,” Solen said helplessly. “That old man was tough… hidden away for years, yet his level had risen. Without the Soul Orb, it’s hard to say who’d have won.”

Leaning back, stroking his chin, he mused: “How about I take out either Essence or Source Tree for you? That’d give you control over the Southern Territory.”

This neutral sorcerer of the Supreme Nine Seats casually uttered chilling words.

“Hydra doesn’t need to expand its territory. That’s too troublesome, Lord Solen.”

“…True, extending Hydra’s system to the entire Southern Territory would keep you busy.”

Solen laughed, then frowned: “But if you don’t name a price, I’ll owe you a big favor. Owing you… makes me uneasy.”

Anselm smiled without answering.

To him, Solen’s favor was no longer crucial, but a skilled chess player always positions pieces to strike in any direction for maximum advantage.

A fifth-tier sorcerer skilled in soul magic, empowered further by the Celestial Conquest relic, the Soul Orb, was a versatile tool for both preparation and counterplay.

Besides, Anselm wasn’t here to support “Solen.”

For Anselm, as long as it pressured Babel Tower and forced Mingfuluo to choose, it didn’t matter which Ether Academy faction he backed.

He simply chose the one that maximized benefits, and Solen knew this, which was why he was so eager to repay Anselm.

The flow of people at the hall’s entrance grew denser.

Some came for Solen, the soul magic master, and his new spell, while others… were clearly more interested in whether the young Hydra was truly seated there.

Anselm Hydra was an extraordinary figure in the contest for Grand Duke Sainthue’s legacy, much like how no one would dare object if the Empress herself claimed the entire inheritance on the spot.

Under normal circumstances, divine beings and their heirs wouldn’t engage in such blatant “plundering,” as they could have anything they desired—but that was only under normal circumstances.

After all, no divine being in this world was truly normal.

Even if Anselm, who seemed normal enough, suddenly decided to whimsically profit through someone’s hand… it wouldn’t be surprising.

“Two minutes until Lady Ronggor’s lecture begins.”

Solen shook his head with a sigh: “Neither she nor Babel Tower seems to understand their place. Should we call these scholars ‘pure’ or… naively foolish?”

Anselm, hands resting on his cane, smiled: “The world always needs idealists, Lord Solen.”

“Idealists…”

Solen mulled over Anselm’s words, unsure if he was joking or serious.

After a moment’s thought, he cautiously avoided continuing the topic.

Decades had passed, and Erlin Zege’s influence in the Imperial Capital had dwindled to near nothing.

The grandiose claims of that former master had, under the gaze of lofty transcendents, shattered like fragile bubbles.

Solen wasn’t among those vehemently opposing Erlin’s “Universal Transcendence” theory.

In fact, he thought some of the Ether Academy’s old guard were overly timid—if mere mortals could threaten them with transcendent artifacts, what was the point of their fifth-tier achievements?

Were they building sandcastles?

Still, Solen didn’t care for Erlin’s idea of sharing transcendence with mortals.

To him, it disregarded the “talent” and “aptitude” of transcendents.

Those without such gifts could never truly wield that power, so he’d never believed in Erlin from the start.

But Anselm’s attitude toward Mingfuluo, her identity, and that comment just now…

Could this young Hydra, after inheriting his father’s power, truly intend to spark a revolution that would upend the entire Empire?

Sitting with a clever person was headache-inducing; sitting with a clever person who could crush you effortlessly in the future made you wish for an extra brain.

Anselm’s casual remark forced Solen to think deeply, despite their apparent equality and Anselm’s respectful “Lord” address.

Even a top-tier fifth-tier powerhouse, dominant in their realm, had to rack their brains when facing this inscrutable, smiling young man.

Clearly, Anselm’s actions in the game he played for the Empress had forced many major figures to elevate their caution toward him several notches.

“It’s time, Lord Solen.”

Anselm spoke suddenly.

“…Hm?”

Solen snapped out of his thoughts, glancing at the hall’s entrance with surprise: “That Miss Zege isn’t coming to find you? That’s… rather unwise.”

He didn’t know how Anselm had spoken with Mingfuluo, but to Solen, Anselm must have given her near-explicit hints to pressure her.

If that little girl still couldn’t grasp the situation, she was being rather ungrateful.

The enigmatic soul sorcerer glanced at Anselm, surprised to find no trace of displeasure on his face.

But with just one look, Solen knew better than to probe further. He coughed lightly, smiling: “Time to show my results to the guests… Excuse me for a bit, Anselm.”

The phantom beside Anselm vanished as if it had never existed, and on the previously empty lecture platform, a figure in a lavish white robe appeared from thin air.

“Fellow seekers of truth.”

Solen’s voice was clear and confident: “I, Solen Kannast, am deeply honored to open a new door to the soul for you all.”

His concise opening prompted immediate applause from the packed hall, save for the front row.

“Whether you walk the Celestial Path or bravely tread the abyss, you should all know one thing.”

Solen spread his hands, dazzling light blooming in his palm.

“The soul is the key to transcendence, the core that elevates life to higher realms…”

Anselm’s fingers tapped his cane lightly.

He paid no mind to Solen’s eloquent speech or the spell the top soul sorcerer was presenting.

In this world, only a handful knew Anselm’s true depths, so most never considered what kind of power the young Hydra, renowned for his kindness and tolerance, truly wielded.

As magical beasts closest to the abyss, Hydras had a vast and varied power spectrum, but that didn’t mean every Hydra was, in gaming terms from another world, a “jack-of-all-trades.”

Take Flamel, with his terrifying alchemical talent.

The broad spectrum of Hydra power allowed them to choose the most fitting aspect for deep development.

This was one of the Hydras’ terrifying traits—they could autonomously select… their desired Spiritual Essence.

To become an all-dominating warrior, their awakened essence could rule any battlefield; to become a sorcerer exploring magical truths, countless mysteries would open to them; to become an alchemist, the truth of creation would seem simple and clear…

Spiritual Essence, far rarer than transcendence, could fundamentally alter a person’s nature… and Hydras could control its awakening direction.

Everyone knew Flamel’s essence, but in the Imperial Capital, only Flamel—or perhaps no one—knew what essence Anselm had chosen to awaken.

Yes, not even the Empress knew—Flamel had deliberately ensured she couldn’t.

Compared to Ivora, who flaunted her peerless talent and brutal power, Anselm, who rarely displayed his divine being strength, sometimes inspired greater awe among top transcendents.

Thus, in his initial taming of Hitana, Anselm said… he wasn’t so desperate for mere “power.”

In contrast, the petite scholar who once perfectly aligned with his personality, thoughts and ideals seemed to have made a gravely mistaken choice.

Yet Anselm only smiled lightly.

Though seated here, he was constantly monitoring another hall, thoroughly satisfied with how events were unfolding.

***

Backstage at the lecture platform, Phase Traveler Barnes was speaking with Ronggor, his expression grim.

“So, you still failed to pull Anselm to your side?”

He questioned darkly.

“…Mr. Barnes.”

Ronggor took a deep breath: “We have our own considerations.”

“Your own considerations… Damn it! Your own considerations!”

Barnes laughed in exasperation: “Do you think I invited you here to hear your considerations?”

They’d discussed this countless times, but to vent his anger and humiliate Babel Tower, he stressed again: “I need Anselm!”

“Do you realize… Anselm’s backing Solen means he gets a bigger slice of the pie, and that stubborn bastard will walk away after eating, leaving a mess of disputes!”

Barnes wasn’t just furious about losing ground in the Sainthue legacy contest; he was more enraged that his gesture of lowering himself to Babel Tower yielded such a laughable result.

He’d aimed to win Anselm, only to be preempted by Solen… who knew how long other factions would mock him.

But he knew the situation was irreparable.

After a brief outburst, he said irritably: “So, how’s your lecture preparation? Don’t tell me you’ll botch that too.”

Normally, lectures required ample preparation time.

The Ether Academy’s morning notice for an afternoon event showed their ulterior motives—as long as Anselm showed up, the lecture itself didn’t matter, serving as a reverse test for Babel Tower.

If a rising academic organization couldn’t handle this, it might as well disband.

But with Anselm absent, the only thing preserving Barnes’ dignity was the quality of Ronggor’s lecture.

“On that note, Mr. Barnes.”

Ronggor paused, then said firmly: “This lecture will be led by Mingfuluo.”

“…”

The fifth-tier transcendent, who spent most of his time exploring the Zero Point Labyrinth and thus had a prickly, solitary demeanor, was stunned for over ten seconds before asking incredulously: “You said who’s leading the lecture?”

“Mingfuluo, not me.”

After a moment’s silence, Barnes tugged at his lips, then burst into laughter.

His laugh carried anger, but Ronggor’s absurd response rendered it almost impotent.

“Hahaha… Are you giving up or do you actually have some confidence? Letting a third-tier girl lecture the entire Ether Academy… Fine, I’m not in a rush anymore. Since this is how it is, let’s see some entertainment.”

Barnes sneered sarcastically, his expression fading:

“But remember, Anselm’s actions show he doesn’t care about your Babel Tower. Your days ahead won’t be easy. If you make me lose face, I’ll be among those making sure you don’t have it easy!”

“I trust Mingfuluo, Mr. Barnes.”

Barnes’ reaction calmed Ronggor’s earlier hesitation and worry: “She’ll deliver a perfect answer for us both.”

At that moment, a commotion erupted in the hall, clearly sparked by something shocking the audience.

Because the one stepping onto the stage wasn’t Babel Tower’s renowned fifth-tier sorcerer, Ronggor Molten, but the somewhat famous, yet fame-limited… Mingfuluo Zege.

Like Solen’s lecture showcasing his new spell, many attending Babel Tower’s lecture had varied motives.

The difference was that Solen’s event drew some genuine learners, while Babel Tower’s… was now mostly attended by those seeking amusement.

Some came to see Babel Tower’s isolated predicament, others to see what spectacle it could muster. In the vast lecture hall, few were there to learn.

When Mingfuluo took the stage, the atmosphere of schadenfreude peaked.

“Is Babel Tower insane? Why isn’t the Molten woman leading?”

“She’s their core genius, right… but is she really fit to stand up there?”

“What tier is she? Third? A third-tier dwarf spouting nonsense? Has the Babel Tower lost its mind?”

Amid the noisy whispers echoing through the hall, Mingfuluo’s icy voice, amplified by the platform’s equipment, reached every corner:

“I’m here to change the entire alchemical field.”

Her words silenced the hall instantly.

Then, predictably… laughter erupted, loud enough to challenge even the soundproof barrier.

“She said what? Change the alchemical field?”

“Is Babel Tower trying to gain Lord Anselm’s attention with this nonsense? Why not just become clowns?”

“She’s mad… but it’s pretty entertaining, haha—”

“Shut up, you mediocre fools, you… idiots.”

The woman’s frigid voice forced the hall into silence again.

“I can spot at least a hundred of you who I’d crush from theory to practice with one glance.”

Mingfuluo spoke the truth.

Among Babel Tower’s younger generation, only Conrad could rival her.

Most of the gawking spectators weren’t even fit to carry her shoes.

The big shots barely cared about the lecture’s content, only wanting to confirm if Anselm would back Babel Tower.

With him now at Solen’s side, the lecture seemed pointless.

So, while Mingfuluo’s words offended many, they were… not exaggerated.

“I don’t waste time.”

Before the audience could start jeering, Mingfuluo removed her glasses, her sharp purple eyes surveying everyone below.

“Watch closely. This is it.”

A flash crossed her eyes.

The next second, a massive pale blue screen projected from her glasses into the air, displaying a mass of incomprehensible numbers, bizarre charts, and… a three-dimensional model?

“[Data System]”

She uttered the cryptic term: “This is what I’ve created, the core to replace the current inefficient alchemical system.”

“I know you can’t grasp its purpose, so let’s use simple examples—Lorencain potion formula.”

As she spoke, the flickering numbers on the screen scrolled rapidly. Within seconds, a three-dimensional scroll appeared, inscribed with:

Two grams of Calamity Mountain Frenzy Mushroom powder, 0.5 grams of Blue Water Butterfly phosphor, 0.1 grams of White Amber, plus 100 grams of water, thoroughly stirred, using extraction techniques…

It detailed the necessary materials and process for making Lorencain potion!

“Query,” Mingfuluo said calmly.

“The most basic function. All potions, alchemical tools, special items, enchantment requirements… Once recorded, I can retrieve what I need in the shortest time and its extension—”

“If I have a piece of Flamel-forged gold with over ninety percent purity, a two-hundred-year-old Noen ancient tree branch, and a complete Lava Dragon Beast core, what can I make?”

The numbers scrolled again, this time for a full five minutes, before the screen changed:

“An unknown potion with effects similar to [Source Flame Potion], success rate fluctuating at thirty-two percent.”

“A weapon stable in fourth-tier combat, maximum volume not exceeding five thousand cubic centimeters, capable of nine enchantments including piercing, sharpness, curse, burning, and life, with a success rate of twenty-one percent, enchantment probabilities calculated separately.”

“A casting medium favoring [Fire], [Life], [Versatility], [Resilience]… totaling twelve attributes…”

By providing only the materials, the screen automatically listed possible creations, including success rates!

Under the stunned gazes of many transcendents, Mingfuluo’s demonstration wasn’t over.

“Scan, build model.”

She aimed her glasses at the podium, speaking calmly.

Soon, a 3D projection of the podium appeared on the screen, accompanied by text:

Composition: Ninety-two percent White Mountain Wood, eight percent common metal.

“This is just a fraction of the Data System’s functions.”

Mingfuluo retracted the screen, put her glasses back on and gazed expressionlessly at the audience below.

Here is the translation of the provided Chinese text into English, following the strict instructions outlined, with one line space between sentences:

She, who appeared in that petite form, could hardly establish any authority through her appearance alone.

The only thing that allowed her to silence the scene was that incomprehensible… data system.

“Perhaps some would say that these things could all be done with magic, albeit more troublesome—well, that is precisely the significance of its existence.”

“More efficient information collection, more efficient route adjustments, more efficient mathematical calculations, deductions for alchemical processes, simulations, trial and error, data storage… This data system can eliminate many steps that need not be repeated, achieving a revolutionary simplification of the entire alchemical procedure.”

“I know some will still question the source of the data, the accuracy of its various functions. Well, you can absolutely input the information yourself and make adjustments yourself. That is where the freedom and malleability of the data system lie—anyone can design their own data system to suit their needs.”

“…”

Backstage, Barnes’ eyes narrowed slightly: “This thing…”

The data system Mingfuluo spoke of, to a seasoned sorcerer like him, seemed impressive at first glance but utterly worthless upon closer inspection.

Because true powerhouses had no need for such an “assistant.” Did high-tier alchemists need this thing to calculate success rates, look up formulas, or scan objects in front of them, with all these miscellaneous functions?

No! Because they could already achieve “omnipotence” through ether. Upon closer thought, this thing was nothing more than a child’s plaything.

But upon deeper reflection… it was not so.

Because fourth- and-fifth-tier transcendents were, after all, a rare minority.

Third-tier transcendents, the backbone of the transcendent world, were vast in number and the first-and second-tier transcendents struggling to climb the ranks were even more numerous.

Who could say this data system… was of no help to them?

Even more, if its malleability was truly so strong, why would it be limited to the field of alchemy?

Not just alchemists—if this thing could be mass-produced and spread widely, every mid-and low-tier transcendent in the entire Empire would receive the boundless blessings of Babel Tower!

And…

A keen intuition told Barnes that the petite woman on the podium was hiding something about this data system!

Its uses were definitely not limited to this, but the constraints and limitations of the world, the era, and conventional thinking prevented him from imagining what else this thing could do.

Even so, the functions this data system currently displayed were already… terrifying enough.

“Mingfuluo… Zege.”

Barnes softly uttered Mingfuluo’s name.

“So that’s it. Erlin’s descendant, inheriting that madman’s will… fond of casting achievements toward the weak? Truly a legacy passed down.”

This data system would be a powerful weapon for mid-and low-tier transcendents, offering unimaginable aid on their path to advancement.

“Hmph, but you’re much clearer-headed than your grandfather, knowing that even if you help the weak, it should be the weak among transcendents, not mortals.”

“I said from the start that you are a mediocrity, fools.”

Having finished her demonstration, Mingfuluo stood at the center of the podium, her tone devoid of emotion: “Because I do indeed have the qualifications to look down on you.”

“…However.”

When she said this, Anselm, who was lounging in another hall with his head tilted, dozing off, suddenly opened his eyes, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“However, this data system is not exactly my creation.”

Under the stunned gazes of everyone, including Ronggor, Mingfuluo’s lips curved slightly upward, as if in provocation toward someone or as if… satisfied with having made the right choice, she declared boldly:

“This is the work of Anselm Hydra.”

“I could create it, and achieve what I have today…”

“All thanks to Lord Anselm.”

At that moment, when Mingfuluo was trapped in an impossible dilemma, she suddenly reali““Sure enough, Lord Solen’s side is more important.”

Important?

What in this world could be “important” to Anselm?

Did Solen have anything worthy of his investment?

No! Anselm stood with Solen purely to put pressure on Babel Tower, on her.

So, the meaning of this importance… was self-evident.

—Babel Tower, or rather… she herself, had to produce something of “important” value.

When her thoughts reached this point, Mingfuluo finally understood.

If Babel Tower didn’t produce something as groundbreaking as firearms, something that could cause a seismic shift, it would forever remain a dispensable toy to the Hydras—because that young Hydra’s “kindness” was, in fact, the deadliest poison.

Anselm helped them escape Ivora’s shadow, making them think they could rest easy from then on, but in reality… even if Anselm was truly willing to help them unconditionally, they absolutely could not accept it so brazenly.

She, absolutely, could not accept it so brazenly.

Because this was no longer three years ago.

Anselm was no longer playing the role of a like-minded friend willing to give everything for her unconditionally.

He looked down on her from a lofty position, and if she wanted his favor, she had to prove her worth, had to… flatter him.

So, Mingfuluo continued:

“Without Lord Anselm’s guidance, I could never have conceived of this creation. In this regard, I, too… am a mediocrity.”

She wasn’t lying, because this concept, abstract to the extreme, was indeed something Anselm had told her about.

But at the same time, Mingfuluo was lying.

Because all the products of her collaborations with Anselm were supposed to be claimed as her independent work, but this one thing… had no such requirement.

—Because Anselm never even thought she could create it. When they first met at Hydra Mansion, Anselm had expressed surprise over it.

Of the countless collaborations between her and Anselm, most were led by Anselm, but this one creation, which completely transcended the era…

It was something Mingfuluo had accomplished independently, relying only on Anselm’s extremely abstract concept.

Yet at this moment, Mingfuluo cast aside her pride, her dignity.

She would rather call herself a mediocrity and attribute the creation of the data system entirely to Anselm.

Because at this moment, she finally broke free from the illusion Anselm had once given her.

Mingfuluo Zege realized that only by looking up to Anselm in this way was she correct.

But at the same time… there was no anger in her heart. Instead, a strange feeling arose.

Because something so simple—she couldn’t possibly have only realized it now.

Anselm Hydra’s talent and greatness, she knew better than anyone.

It was because of how Anselm treated her three years ago that she had sunk into this mistake.

But if, back then, she truly hadn’t felt any need to look up to Anselm, to bow her head, to be humble, to flatter him.

Did that mean Anselm had truly seen her as a friend, that he might not have been lying, as Marina had said…

That he had been forced to give up something?

However, as Mingfuluo was lost in these thoughts, a loud “boom” rang out, and a four-to-five-meter-tall steel puppet crashed down from the ceiling!

“Heh heh heh… hahaha! Impressive, Babel Tower, Mingfuluo, truly impressive!”

A frenzied laugh came from the steel puppet: “To create such a thing, and with Lord Anselm’s guidance, you’re about to take another step forward, aren’t you? Completely different from a stray dog like me who’s lost everything…”

“Why!”

He roared in furious madness: “Why do you, a lowly breed, get to have everything, while all I had was destroyed because of a single mistake… Babel Tower, Mingfuluo, did you think…”

“I’d let you get away with this so easily!”

The steel puppet charged forward, and the stunned Mingfuluo had no time to react.

Because she recognized the voice from the puppet.

It was the former genius of the Ether Academy, once her… rival.

—Conrad Sainthue

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep