Volume 2

Chapter 47 : Anselm’s Gift, Part Four

“Sulun…” Ivora’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I didn’t permit you to set foot here.”

“And.”

The air’s temperature surged, and amid the crackling of spontaneous sparks, she said coldly and arrogantly: “What did you just call me?”

“My apologies, I was rude, Your Highness the Grand Princess.”

Sulun gracefully lifted her skirt in a curtsy, showing no trace of panic—unlike other princes or princesses, who would likely already be thinking of how to grovel.

“My unannounced visit is to… borrow your hunting ground.”

Hitana was utterly confused, while Mingfuluo, her eyes twitching, didn’t believe in such a coincidence.

“You?”

Ivora slightly shifted her gaze.

Already tall, her fifteen-centimeter heels made her presence overwhelmingly imposing.

Unlike Hitana, whose height came solely from the Head of Power’s bodily enhancements, Ivora’s dominance was all-encompassing—her figure, attire, posture, and aura… all radiated an ever-present arrogance of “I will always reign above you.”

Her lips curved into a mocking, disdainful smile, as if she’d heard the most absurd joke.

“You want to borrow it too? Sulun, you love your little schemes, so your brain should be sharp, shouldn’t it? What, did it break today?”

Sulun smiled serenely, unfazed by Ivora’s words: “It’s not exactly my need… it’s mainly… Mother’s command.”

She spoke calmly and gently, without a hint of leveraging the Empress’s authority, sounding merely like someone following orders.

But to Ivora, this was pure provocation—especially since, regardless of Sulun’s demeanor, mentioning she was acting on the Empress’s behalf, whom Ivora viewed as an enemy, ensured Ivora’s worst attitude toward her.

The Grand Princess looked up at the highest palace in the Imperial Capital, her gaze darkening, the temperature soaring to painful levels, reflecting her mood.

“…Sulun.”

Pulling her gaze from the palace, Ivora sneered: “Your days of borrowing your mother’s authority are numbered. Enjoy them while they last.”

“Thank you for your concern, Your Highness.”

The sweet, obedient younger sister smiled at her elder sister: “So, may I enter? Oh… my apologies, Lord Anselm.”

She quickly curtsied to Anselm, her face full of regret: “With Mother’s orders, I neglected to greet you. Please forgive Sulun’s rudeness.”

Gleipnir reverted to a cane, and Anselm’s lips curved slightly as he glanced at Ivora: “You’re far more courteous than your sister, Sulun.”

“Ha, same old Anselm.”

As if cloaked in blazing flames, the Grand Princess Ivora didn’t grow angry at Anselm’s provocative words; instead, she sneered disdainfully: “Have you lost your mind, or are you too deep in your role?”

“Etiquette, morality, ethics… When have we ever needed to follow those! They should obey us!”

The fiery intensity in her crimson eyes was utterly genuine; at this moment, Ivora was clearly voicing her true thoughts while also expressing slight dissatisfaction with Anselm.

“Then just assume it’s the latter, Ivora.”

Anselm smiled, unconcerned: “I quite enjoy this millennia-long drama. At least for now, I haven’t grown tired of it.”

“…Boring guy.”

Ivora shifted her gaze away from Anselm, saying casually: “Go on in. Consider yourself lucky. If that girl can come, there’s no reason for me to bar you.”

“Let’s go, Hitana, Arlo.” Anselm, leaning on his cane, walked calmly into Ivora’s opulent palace complex.

Hearing that address again, Mingfuluo’s heart skipped a beat.

She immediately sensed two distinct gazes—one meaningful, the other scorching and sharp.

Even if it seemed like a casual remark, Anselm had deliberately used the intimate nickname from their past to address Mingfuluo in front of others.

And Mingfuluo… had clearly underestimated the ripple effects of Anselm actually doing so.

Thus, Miss Doll realized once again.

Anselm only used my name before…

Was he… protecting me?

This absurd thought would never have crossed her mind in the past, but the intense shocks of recent days had stripped away her former cold rationality.

More importantly… Anselm’s image in her mind had shifted from a cruel, deceitful conspirator and betrayer to something chaotic, something she could no longer see clearly.

—When it came to Anselm, Mingfuluo was starting to lose control of her thoughts.

The two gazes lingered on her for a long time, only fading when Anselm led them some distance away.

“Anselm, Anselm.”

It was only after walking a bit that Hitana, sneaking a glance back, couldn’t help but ask: “That… Sulun, was it? Was her arrival your doing too?”

“It wasn’t my arrangement,” Anselm said with a smile.

“What do Her Majesty’s orders have to do with me?”

Hitana caught on immediately: “Saying that makes it obvious you arranged it!”

She hummed smugly: “Otherwise, how could the young princess show up so perfectly timed… Did you really plan to fight that arrogant woman if she didn’t let us in?”

Anselm ruffled Hitana’s hair, chuckling: “Even from this distance, she can hear you, you know.”

“Eek!”

The girl instantly bristled, nearly jumping in place, warily scanning her surroundings while hurriedly covering her mouth.

Watching from the side, Mingfuluo didn’t know what to say… Such a lack of basic sense, such a reckless tongue—how much trouble would this bring Anselm? But Anselm—

Anselm’s gentle expression, devoid of any impatience, only made Mingfuluo lower her eyes, unable to keep looking.

…Yes, no matter how foolish this girl was, Anselm had endless reasons to forgive her.

A flame flared up without warning beside Anselm and Ivora stepped out, glancing at the wary Hitana and then at the lowered head of Mingfuluo.

Looking at these two beautiful women, each with their own charm, her lips curved slightly, carrying an inexplicable, condescending sneer and confidence.

Of course, this scorn and confidence lasted only a moment—unseen by the bowed Mingfuluo and unnoticed by the wide-eyed Hitana.

“So, you’re just here to find a place for your little dog to run wild?”

Standing side by side with Anselm, she said casually: “You’re spoiling her too much, Anselm.”

“What’s that?”

Anselm tilted his head, giving Ivora a half-smile: “Is the Grand Princess jealous?”

“…” Ivora paused, her eyes narrowing slightly.

A blood-flame suddenly ignited by her hand, and as she reached into it, her entire palm seemed to vanish into some space.

Anselm’s expression froze for a moment, his sea-blue eyes carrying a hint of warning as he looked at Ivora.

“…Hmph.”

The woman gave a low chuckle, withdrawing her hand from the crimson flames, then inexplicably licked her palm, looking somewhat strange.

“Fine, it’s not surprising you’re so fond of this little dog.” She glanced at Hitana, still vigilantly staring at her.

“Loyal and full of potential… I’d like to keep one myself.”

“But while she’s not surprising, the other one…”

Ivora looked down at Mingfuluo: “Isn’t this the little toy you got tired of three years ago? Why pick her up again?”

The capricious Grand Princess never considered the venom in her words—or rather, she never thought her words were venomous.

For someone who could say “morality and ethics should obey me,” her character’s vileness needed no further explanation.

“Why bring her along? And with such a… nauseating nickname?”

Ivora’s face showed vivid disgust: “Arlo… ugh, really. Anselm, are you restarting that childish game with her after three years?”

“Because Hitana needs a helper for this hunting event. Is that so hard to understand?”

“A helper? Seems you’re not that confident in your little dog.”

“You’re underestimating Arlo’s value, Ivora.”

“Her value? Don’t I know her value better than you? Don’t forget who was toying with her during the three years you abandoned her.”

“Exactly because of that,” Anselm said with a light smile.

“You never saw Arlo’s true potential. What a pity that you wasted three years of her time.”

Anselm unexpectedly took Mingfuluo’s side… or perhaps it wasn’t so unexpected?

To Mingfuluo, this was crystal clear—just another of Anselm’s tactics to gain her favor. H

arsh, almost cruel methods to make her suffer, paired with key moments of support… hadn’t he been doing this since their reunion?

In the end… it was just a means of taming her.

Just… that’s all.

Mingfuluo tried to convince herself of this.

In the past, her rationality and perfectly logical conclusions always prevailed, but now, she failed time and again.

Yes, taming… Anselm wanted to tame her, so he made his stance clear from the start.

From the moment they reunited… had he already discarded her?

A wave of panic and fear surged in Mingfuluo’s heart.

She tried to dispel it, but the growing chaos of emotions made her thoughts… increasingly difficult to navigate.

The truth…

The bewildered scholar clenched her fists.

To resolve her current predicament, she needed the truth.

Whether Anselm had hidden motives or that phrase was a trap relayed through Marina, she needed a definitive answer.

Otherwise, if this continued, if this continued…

“Alright, both of you, go in.”

Unbeknownst to them, they had arrived before a massive, sealed palace, guarded by two four-to-five-meter-tall armored giants. Ivora, hands behind her back, said casually: “So, you’re lucky, Hitana. Thanks to my foolhardy sister, you’ll get more than just an afternoon to play.”

“…What?” Hitana blinked.

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. Hurry up and go in, don’t waste my time.”

Ivora waved impatiently, and two fiery portals appeared before the palace doors.

“…Anselm.”

Hitana turned to him: “You’re not coming with us?”

“I’m not good at this,” Anselm said with a smile, shaking his head. “Just have fun.”

“But I want—”

Hitana started instinctively, but upon seeing Ivora’s haughty, stunning face, she quietly swallowed her words.

At some point, Hitana had learned to restrain the willful privileges Anselm granted her.

“Let’s go, Mingfuluo.” She glanced at the silent petite sorceress.

Mingfuluo nodded slightly and stepped with Hitana into the flame-wrought portals.

Once the two disappeared, the lofty expression on Ivora’s face vanished instantly.

She eagerly grabbed Anselm’s hand, and before he could speak, flames enveloped them, transporting them in the next moment to a sofa in an observation room.

“Ugh, enough already…”

Ivora let out a long breath, lifting the hem of her lavish gown to reveal her thighs, lazily reclining on the sofa and placing her high-heeled feet on Anselm’s lap.

“Making me play along with your little dog and toy like this—have you thought about how you’ll compensate me?”

Ivora propped her chin with one hand, her once sharp and commanding eyes now dripping with seductive charm.

She smiled, her index finger tracing a circle in the air, igniting a ring of flames.

“Shall we start with what we didn’t finish earlier?”

As she spoke, she leaned toward the fiery circle.

“Ivora.”

Anselm sighed, and in the deep, dark void of Ivora’s displeased gaze, he silently extinguished the flames.

“You’ve been awfully… amorous lately. Why is it that every time we meet, your mind goes there?”

“Do you think staying chaste is easy for me?”

Ivora, visibly annoyed, pressed her heel lightly into Anselm’s thigh: “You’re not the only one with desires, Anselm. And… what’s with that irritated look? Are you losing out here?”

“I think, as the future of the Empire,” the young Hydra sighed again, “our relationship should be a bit more… proper.”

“It’s perfectly proper now, and I’m quite satisfied.”

The woman said nonchalantly, the straps on her high heels burning away.

She shifted her foot slightly, creating a gap between her soft heel and the shoe, then lifted her leg as if aiming for something, ready to lower it.

Anselm grabbed her ankle, turning to her: “I’m not fond of this kind of play.”

“You just hate being stepped on,” Ivora giggled. “Fine, you take charge, switch from passive to active—how’s that?”

She wiggled her foot, the high heel dangling from her toes.

In such matters, Anselm was usually proactive, but Ivora was one of the rare few he couldn’t take the lead with.

Hydras only produced offspring at the end of their lives, but if paired with another divine species, who knew if that rule would hold?

Anselm would never accept such an uncontrollable accident.

And Ivora’s “desire” wasn’t so much physical as… a craving for the twisted, terrifying offspring that could result from combining two divine species’ powers.

After all, as humans, the Flame-Feasting Royalty weren’t affected by the world’s corruption until the late sixth tier. Mere physical desire was trivial to Ivora—suppressing or even extinguishing it was effortless.

The young Hydra didn’t mind enjoying Ivora’s allure, but not now.

Seeing Anselm’s lack of interest in “using” her, Ivora frowned slightly, tsked, and kicked off her heels, crossing her bare feet on his lap without further action.

“Looks like your little dog gets her fill every night,” she said with a sardonic tone. “And that little toy? With your size, you’d ruin her insides without some preparation, wouldn’t you?”

“I thought you’d move on to serious matters after giving up, Ivora.”

Anselm’s gaze passed through the massive floor-to-ceiling glass, fixed on the distant view.

An endless lush jungle, with rolling ridges covered in dense vegetation.

Yes, this was Ivora’s hunting ground… seemingly within a palace, but in reality, an enormous ecological zone, practically a transplanted piece of the continent.

“Serious matters… I don’t want to talk about those two damned bitches.”

Ivora’s eyes darkened: “Tossing a Callers of the Deep lesser species’ egg into my hunting ground to ruin the place I’ve spent years building—hah, as expected of my beloved mother. Even as an old, senile fool, she retains the cruelty of her youth.”

Sulun’s so-called “task” from the Empress was to place a Callers of the Deep lesser species’ egg in her hunting ground.

Why?

Because the Empress needed a suitable place to study the Callers’ resistance to world corruption, and Ivora’s meticulously maintained hunting ground was… perfect.

Whether the Empress truly intended this or not, her desire to destroy the hunting ground was undoubtedly real.

“If it weren’t for you, Anselm… this would’ve been a massive headache.”

Ivora laughed gleefully: “Perfect timing to use your little dog to deal with that damned thing, and let my smug little sister… witness the cruelty of how that woman handles failures. Truly… delightful!”

She lifted her delicate toes to brush Anselm’s cheek, her crimson nails burning like flames: “So, Anselm, don’t you deserve my praise?”

“I’ll choose to use that praise in a more fitting place.”

Anselm, catching her snowy foot, said calmly: “Your favor is too valuable to waste here.”

“Boring guy.” Ivora irritably pulled her foot back.

With a wave of her hand, a massive screen appeared in the room. At its center, Sulun, clad in a pristine white dress, held a deep blue glowing egg, walking toward the source of the jungle’s river.

Ivora muttered to herself: “I don’t know where that woman got a Callers of the Deep lesser species’ egg. She never hides such orders—I’d have known.”

“Indeed.”

Anselm propped his chin with one hand, watching Sulun submerge the egg into the river, the corner of his mouth slightly upturned:

“Who… suddenly gave this thing to our Majesty?”

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