Volume 2

Chapter 63 : A Game Where No One Gets Hurt

Anselm understood Mingfuluo better than anyone.

He understood her absolute rationality when needed, the profound indifference beneath it, the obsession hidden within that indifference, and the incomprehensible anomaly it signified.

And… the truth beneath all exteriors.

Though Erlin died, his legacy was oddly preserved, barely divided by the greedy beasts of the Imperial Capital.

He left Zege Mansion to Mingfuluo, along with wealth that couldn’t be exhausted in ten lifetimes, while his alchemical legacy went to his trusted student Hendrik, becoming the foundation for Babel Tower.

Even if Mingfuluo rejected Zege Mansion and the blood-tainted wealth, she still had Hendrik, Ronggor, and Erlin’s devoted followers giving her unwavering support.

Living with them, though never extravagantly and even ascetically, she had little chance to know human suffering.

From childhood to now, her life was study and research—she barely touched normal society, let alone human hardship.

She wanted to change the world, but what exactly was she changing?

Anselm’s question struck at the core, even kindly offering her a clear choice.

—Mingfuluo Zege didn’t care about the Empire’s commoners.

She only cared if the world could change, if a “bright future” driven by Ether and transcendence could arrive.

That was all.

As for the upheaval of such change, whether that future was truly bright, or what the Empire’s commoners would endure in such a transformation… she hadn’t considered it.

But clearly, this choice wasn’t correct either, because not long ago, as Helen, she condemned Ronggor’s weakness, believing their approach “ultimately couldn’t benefit commoners.”

If even this was wrong… then what was Mingfuluo Zege, this entity, truly “pursuing”?

The answer was, indeed, nothing.

The young Hydra’s gaze, piercing fate and the future, saw through Mingfuluo’s essence clearly.

Her resolve under absolute rationality was both coldly cruel obsession and transparently hollow nothingness.

Like Hitana, untouched by that hell, was a foolish, self-righteous fool… Mingfuluo, never exiled by Babel Tower’s collapse, was a flawed, abnormal idealist.

“…”

The street’s houses, their bricks stained and cracked, wood surfaces crawling with dark mold, exuded decay.

The desolate street carried the rotting stench Anselm mentioned, passersby casting curious glances but quickly retreating in fear.

Their clothes weren’t tattered, just ordinarily plain, their faces showing neither numbness nor pain, their lives seemingly normal, just getting by.

—In this city, where every visible corner spoke of decay and poverty.

A city reflecting the reality of the Empire’s commoners.

Seeing this, Mingfuluo’s heart didn’t ignite with so-called resolve but was filled with blankness.

“This is the Empire’s truth, dear little Helen.”

At her moment of mental void, Anselm wrapped an arm around Miss Doll’s shoulders, whispering: “This is what you want to change.”

Now was the perfect time to press his advantage—her trembling and wavering were visible—but Anselm didn’t.

Instead… he gave her a chance to breathe.

“So, let’s play a game.”

He smiled as if the earlier topic was mere casual chatter.

“A… game? Alright, alright… a game.”

Mingfuluo’s breathing quickened, her voice trembling.

Anselm’s sudden words were like a lifeline, pulling her from that terrifying doubt. She might have instinctively agreed to any topic to escape that void.

Anything to drag her from that nothingness would do.

“Since we’ve seen Watson Territory, let’s visit Mirror Lake Territory next.”

Mirror Lake Territory… wasn’t it annexed—no, destroyed by Grand Duke Source Tree’s experiment?

Or… was it the Hydra’s territory?

Mingfuluo quickly shifted her thoughts to Anselm’s new topic, but the shadow of that void lingered in her mind.

[Why do you chase that hollow illusion?]

Those words, like a devil, a specter, an indelible nightmare, whispered in her heart no matter how she tried to ignore them.

Anselm, holding her hand, took in her intense emotional turmoil and struggle, which brought him some pleasure, but only that.

As her conditioner, he knew precisely the progress of this process, ensuring he could make the most fitting arrangements for what came next.

This father-daughter game was, to Anselm, mere groundwork.

He knew one thing clearly—no matter how shaken Mingfuluo was, her pursuit of change was absolutely real, utterly genuine.

Just as Hitana’s foolish actions stemmed from her pure sense of good and evil, Mingfuluo’s inability to pinpoint the source of her pursuit didn’t mean it was false.

Now wasn’t the time for reckless attacks.

Besides, in this conditioning, Anselm sought more than just destruction.

Moreover, destroying someone’s beliefs and personality through mere conversation without sufficient groundwork… Anselm had no such comical delusions.

The young Hydra gently caressed her delicate hand, a whistle suddenly appearing in his other hand.

He brought it to his lips, blowing softly. The sound was unremarkable, but Mingfuluo faintly sensed a specific Ether fluctuation within it.

“A small city like this can’t have a teleportation array directly to Mirror Lake Territory.”

As if completely dismissing the earlier topic, Anselm smiled and winked: “Ever experienced flying, Helen?”

“…What?”

Before the dazed Mingfuluo could finish, her veil trembled slightly.

Within a second or two, it fluttered upward.

Her clothes vibrated, her unbound hair swayed, because… a fierce wind roared from the sky!

Amid the screams of passersby, a raging hurricane swept through like a tidal wave, lifting everything on the ground. Mingfuluo instinctively looked up, seeing a shadow eclipsing the sun, the source of the storm diving swiftly toward them.

Whoosh—!

As it landed, the boundless wind instantly subsided, the flowing air, no matter how ferocious, fully under its control.

It was a giant eagle with wings that could blot out the sun!

“Long time no see, Peregrine.”

Anselm reached out to stroke its massive head: “Still busy with that task? You haven’t visited the Imperial Capital.”

“Yes, Peregrine is still searching for what Master needs.”

The eagle didn’t speak, but its voice carried through the flowing air to Anselm and Mingfuluo: “If it were just to see you and leave, it would be too discourteous. Peregrine continues to carry out Master’s orders.”

“You have your mission, no need to force it,” Anselm smiled. “But I’ll trouble you to give us a ride. I’m heading back to the territory—specifically, to the newly annexed Mirror Lake Territory.”

“Understood, Young Master.”

Peregrine lowered its head docilely, crouching to let Anselm climb onto its back, but in that moment, Mingfuluo’s eyes met its noble, holy cyan gaze.

In just an instant… shorter than that, even, Mingfuluo knew she’d been completely seen through.

Because the being watching her, soaring through the skies, the all-seeing spirit beast, the unbound cyan storm, was Flamel’s Head of Wind.

Known to the world as “Lotkabair,” meaning “Secret Seer,” the Hydra family and other Contract Heads simply called it Peregrine.

“Young Master.”

Oddly, that ethereal voice spoke again.

Despite seeing through Mingfuluo at a glance, the current Head of Wind asked: “May I look at the girl beside you again?”

Anselm smiled: “Go ahead, Helen won’t mind, will you, my daughter?”

“…”

Both Mingfuluo and Peregrine fell silent.

After two or three seconds, the latter said, puzzled: “Is this… some sort of amusement between you and her?”

Anselm, now seated on Peregrine’s back, extended a hand to Mingfuluo, chuckling: “You could say that.”

Mingfuluo wordlessly let herself be pulled onto Peregrine’s back, naturally drawn into Anselm’s embrace. Peregrine spread its wings, responding gently:

“I understand, Little Miss. Please hold on.”

The term made Anselm burst into laughter: “Little Miss… Peregrine, where’d you pick that up?”

“Laurence and I once discussed your heirs. Though we doubt we’ll live to see that day, it doesn’t stop us from indulging in fun fantasies.”

In an instant, Mingfuluo’s vision blurred.

The barren street before her transformed into a clear, azure sky.

Yet she felt nothing—no rushing wind of ascent, no sensation of rising, not even the feeling of spatial teleportation.

“Hm… you seem to live a lot happier lives than Tornado and the others.”

“Heh, even with wisdom, we can’t match you or Master’s heights. For us, meeting basic needs is enough—shall I take you directly, Young Master?” Peregrine replied softly.

“No rush, I have some questions for you.”

Anselm stroked Mingfuluo’s hair: “The thing Father asked you to find—have you found it?”

“Almost,” Peregrine said.

“The unstable Zero Point Labyrinth is hard to probe, but it can’t escape my eyes. I’ve seen its flowing aura; it won’t be long before I deliver it to the Master.”

Its voice grew excited, as if this task held great significance for it.

Anselm said gently: “You’ve been searching for related materials since six years ago, haven’t you? I don’t know what Father’s making, but you’ve found everything. Well done.”

“It’s Peregrine’s duty, and the reason I soar, Young Master.”

Peregrine’s ethereal voice was soothing: “Contributing my strength to Master and you makes Peregrine happy.”

That natural, soul-deep loyalty and devotion left Mingfuluo, nestled in Anselm’s arms, silent.

This was… the Hydra’s Contract Head.

A being that found happiness simply in offering its strength.

Was it… really okay to feel this way, abandoning even one’s sense of self?

Mingfuluo rarely, almost never, concerned herself with others’ chosen paths, but this time, the thought inexplicably surfaced.

“Speaking of your ‘daughter,’” Peregrine suddenly said, “she’s interesting.”

“You think so too?” Anselm replied with a smile.

“In your eyes, it’s something else. Peregrine finds her interesting… from what I see.”

This made Mingfuluo’s mind uneasy.

After a moment’s hesitation, she said softly: “Is there… something wrong with me?”

Without Anselm’s permission, Peregrine wouldn’t say more, and Mingfuluo didn’t expect an answer.

Yet the eagle, its voice ethereal and less fierce than its appearance, replied:

“Not a problem, but interesting. Interesting in… you and the Young Master are indeed close.”

Then it said something cryptic: “The Young Master rarely seeks Master’s help. The more difficult and complex the matter, the less he seeks Master.”

“Peregrine,” Anselm raised an eyebrow, signaling it to stop.

“My apologies, Young Master.”

The sky-soaring eagle responded gently, but the exchange sounded like a rehearsed act.

Normally, Mingfuluo wouldn’t be swayed by such a simple ploy, but today, with so much happening in so little time, her chaotic mind couldn’t analyze it.

Was Anselm deliberately unsettling her?

No… did he know she’d think that and deliberately spoke the truth?

If so, what did his seeking Flamel have to do with her?

Mingfuluo struggled to think, using thought to dodge that question.

When Anselm didn’t force her to face the terror of that void, before it fully seeped into her mind, she instinctively chose to avoid it.

Anselm, ever so kindly, gave her room to escape, even thoughtfully providing new questions to ponder.

“We’ve arrived at Mirror Lake Territory, Young Master. Where do you wish to go?”

“A poorer city,” Anselm replied.

“Robaire and his people haven’t been here long; it’s still a work in progress—be discreet, don’t land on the street like before.”

“Understood, Peregrine complies.”

Peregrine dove with Anselm and Mingfuluo, its massive form cloaked in airflow, unnoticed by the street’s passersby as it landed on a rooftop.

“Young Master.”

Peregrine lowered its head, saying softly: “If you need me, blow the whistle, and I’ll come immediately.”

Anselm patted its head: “Do what you must.”

The unbound wind let out a soft cry, then soared into the clouds, vanishing instantly.

The young Hydra looked at the street below, saying wistfully:

“Mirror Lake Territory was recently annexed into the Hydra’s domain. Some moved to other cities, while others, under Robaire’s lead, aimed to build their own city from scratch.”

“With my support, building a new city isn’t hard, but he insists on minimal help, wanting to rely on his and the original Mirror Lake residents’ strength.”

He nodded slightly: “So, after some cities were built, I stopped aid. Their conditions are… slightly better than the last city, but only marginally.”

Mingfuluo’s gaze fell on the street below, not much different from the previous city. If that one was barren, this was plain—equally poor, equally unwealthy.

But everyone here seemed brimming with unmatched vitality and vigor, unlike the other city.

In Mingfuluo’s mind, that lingering nightmare cackled eerily again.

If alchemical devices helped, could these people live better soon?

Why hadn’t she considered this more deeply? Why was it always Anselm telling her?

Why…

“I said we’d play a game, didn’t I?”

As Mingfuluo’s body faintly trembled, Anselm spoke, pulling her from that void once more… She no longer knew what he was doing.

“…Yes.”

She could only respond, exhausted and powerless, letting Anselm manipulate her like a true doll.

“Look, Watson Territory and Mirror Lake Territory, two fated lands… each with a city in similar conditions.”

Anselm said gently: “Our Empress inspired me. I want to make them participants again. No worries—I won’t use Her Majesty’s brutal methods or enjoy watching people slaughter each other.”

“On the contrary… I’ll give them a grand opportunity.”

He lifted Mingfuluo’s hand, pointing below: “See, there are so many… so many places here that could be improved with practical alchemical tools, just like the other city.”

“How about…”

The devil whispered an irresistible temptation in the doll’s ear:

“We start here, with these two cities.”

“I’ll help you realize your wish—how’s that?”

Mingfuluo’s pupils contracted slightly, her ears buzzing briefly before her racing heartbeat took over.

What… Did Anselm just say?

“No need to worry about transcendents exploiting those devices and tools.”

“I’ll ensure they’re used for every commoner, that commoners have autonomy, that… everything aligns with their wishes.”

The young Hydra spoke with such compassionate, almost tear-inducing benevolence.

“As for the game’s outcome, it’s simple. We’ll see which side, starting from nearly the same point, develops better.”

“No harm, no pain, only the change you desire, the… future you seek.”

Anselm cupped her cheeks, his pure smile growing radiant:

“Dear daughter, will you play this game with me?”