Volume 2

Chapter 90 : The Reckoning of Three Years, Part Two

“The sixth model… still has fatal flaws.”

At the workbench, Mingfuluo set down her pen, her face weary.

Rarely showing fatigue, she rubbed her brow, trying to rally herself.

“Anselm.”

She turned to the blond boy reading on the sofa: “Any thoughts?”

“None.” Anselm replied casually.

“Hitting a bottleneck is normal, Arlo.

Did you think you could achieve in less than a year what your grandfather couldn’t in a lifetime?”

“Not me, us.”

The petite Miss Mingfuluo removed her glasses, wiping them with a silk cloth from her pocket, responding calmly: “With you, it’s not impossible.”

“You think too highly of me.” Anselm chuckled.

“But the Universal Ether Furnace’s progress was mostly driven by you alone.”

Mingfuluo sat beside Anselm, looking at him earnestly: “Without you, I wouldn’t be here today.”

“…” The young Hydra, shedding some boyish innocence for a hint of youth, paused, then laughed.

“That doesn’t sound like you, Arlo.”

Mingfuluo touched her cheek, frowning slightly: “Can’t I say such things?”

From her expression, she wasn’t displeased by Anselm’s words but genuinely pondered if such words suited her.

“Just kidding.”

Anselm rubbed her brow, smiling brightly: “You rarely say things like that, so I was surprised.”

Mingfuluo gazed into Anselm’s clear, radiant sea-blue eyes, silent for a moment, then said softly: “Because you’ve seemed… in a bad mood lately.”

His hand paused mid-motion.

He withdrew it, looking at Mingfuluo with surprise: “Why would you think that?”

“Because I understand you.”

Mingfuluo answered without hesitation.

“Understand…”

Anselm murmured the word, as if savoring it, then couldn’t help but laugh aloud.

[You understand me, and I understand you; you support me, and I support you. Just like the relationship we have now, in my eyes, this is friendship.]

Mingfuluo had once said these words to him directly and candidly, and the truth was just as she described… she truly understood him.

Even though, strictly speaking, the time they spent together wasn’t long, even though he had initially approached her with schemes and malice.

“You always seem to express your emotions and thoughts so directly, Arlo.”

“There’s no need to hide them.”

Mingfuluo tilted her head slightly, seemingly puzzled by Anselm’s sentiment: “Unless there’s some necessity to conceal them, why would I hide my emotions and thoughts?”

“The necessity… perhaps it could earn you more respect and… friends.”

“Those things aren’t necessary.”

In Mingfuluo’s eyes, Anselm’s reflection shone clearly, and she responded in a matter-of-fact tone: “Respect means nothing to me, and as for friends…”

“I already have you. I shouldn’t need any other friends.”

Anselm turned to look at her, saying in a teasing tone: “What’s this, a confession?”

“…”

Mingfuluo froze for two seconds before standing up, her expression and voice utterly serious:

“I’m five years older than you, Anselm.”

“So… the key point is that you’re five years older?”

The blond boy gave her a half-smile: “I thought you’d say, ‘I’m only thirteen now.’”

“…Because you don’t look like a thirteen-year-old at all—you’ve grown another 0.3 centimeters recently.”

“Have I?” Anselm touched his hair.

“I’ve been watching you.”

Mingfuluo stepped in front of Anselm and, in the casual tone one might use to discuss lunch plans, uttered words brimming with ambiguous warmth.

She looked up slightly, gazing at the face so close to hers, and said with even greater certainty:

“0.27 centimeters. You’re in your growth phase, and soon…”

The highly dignified scholar turned her gaze aside, her voice lowering: “Soon, you’ll be taller than me.”

Her subtle displeasure and awkwardness made Anselm chuckle.

Currently about the same height as Mingfuluo, he reached out to pat her head, teasing: “If you’re so concerned about height, why not make some special potion? For you, increasing your height should be simple, right?”

“…I won’t make any modifications to my body.”

Mingfuluo first brushed Anselm’s hand away, then furrowed her brow and said with utmost seriousness: “This is the purest proof of my will, dominating and mastering the extraordinary. Besides… only a natural body is the most perfect vessel for the soul.”

She glanced at the spare puppet in the alchemy workshop, its tall and flawless form, but her eyes held no envy or longing.

“If the value of growing taller is merely to be taller, and it affects my soul, then it has no value at all.”

“What a pure utilitarian…”

Anselm reached out, pinching Mingfuluo’s cheeks with both hands.

Though she seemed slightly displeased, she didn’t stop him.

After kneading the delicate, smooth cheeks of the petite girl for a while, he suddenly said:

“Arlo, are you… this utilitarian with me too?”

“…What?”

“I mean,” he said in a half-joking tone, “if one day I can no longer help you, would you abandon me?”

“Would I become someone without value in your eyes then?”

“…The meaning of your question is…”

Mingfuluo stared directly at Anselm: “If you became senile for some reason, would I take care of you?”

It seemed she couldn’t imagine a scenario where Anselm wouldn’t be able to help her, so she assumed he inexplicably became senile.

Anselm, caught between laughter and tears, replied: “Sure, let’s say that’s the case.”

“Even though there’d surely be plenty of people to take care of you, and it wouldn’t be my turn. But since you’re making this assumption…”

The scholar, her cheeks still pinched by Anselm, responded calmly: “Of course I’d take care of you, Anselm.”

“Even if I had no value by then?”

“Your value to me isn’t limited to that.”

She glanced at Anselm’s hands on her cheeks: “Do you think there’s anyone else in this world who’d dare treat me so recklessly?”

The blond boy laughed happily, giving her cheeks another squeeze: “Should I be glad about that?”

“Of course, but likewise… I feel the same.”

Mingfuluo replied calmly: “Seeing you makes me happy, Anselm.”

The young Hydra froze for two seconds, then said suspiciously: “But you don’t look happy at all.”

“…Do I have to show that stiff smile you’d mock to prove I’m happy?”

Mingfuluo sighed, reaching out to pinch Anselm’s cheeks in return. The two of them stood there, playfully kneading each other’s faces, a somewhat comical scene.

“If you really ended up so pitiful that no one would care for you, I wouldn’t mind keeping you by my side—though that’s impossible.”

She gazed into those sea-blue eyes that always stirred her heart, saying softly: “If you insist on making such meaningless assumptions, my answer is—”

“No matter what happens, you’ll always be my friend, Anselm.”

“…No matter what?”

“Yes.” Mingfuluo nodded.

“Then what if…”

The Hydra, taking in his friend’s sincere expression, asked softly:

“What if I said I was going to give up?”

“I was going to abandon the future you and I are pursuing.”

***

Inside the alchemy workshop of Hydra Mansion, a massive swarm of alchemical insects, like a dark cloud, covered the entire ceiling.

Anselm, pushing open the door, looked at the scene before him, his expression slightly surprised: “Your efficiency… is truly impressive.”

“She was too weak.”

Mingfuluo, adjusting Nidhogg, said without turning back: “Resources, background, strength… she had everything, yet only produced such a… half-finished product. From strength to functionality, nothing met the standard. It’s laughable.”

“Hm… these three years of study seem to have given you a slight misunderstanding of the circumstances between ‘you’ and her.”

Anselm waved his hand, calling over a group of Nidhogg, and said leisurely: “In essence, you and my dear Helen are no different. If you had gone through everything she did, you’d only end up as another Helen, or Alice, or some other… daughter whose nickname I’d come up with, wouldn’t you?”

Mingfuluo, who usually showed strong defiance toward Anselm, didn’t retort, clearly agreeing with his words.

“So, critiquing ‘yourself’ so loftily is a bit unfair, but…”

Transforming Nidhogg into a cane nearly identical to Gleipnir, Anselm tilted his head and smiled: “It also shows you’re truly, truly… furious. Right, Mingfuluo?”

“No, not just furious.”

He strolled to her side, using the cane to lift her cold, delicate face, and said warmly:

“You’re scared. The thought of being in the hell I carefully crafted for you makes you realize you might not escape either. You’re afraid I’m scheming something else, afraid that even if you defeat that pathetic, weak, fallen waste in your eyes, you could still fall into the same despair as her, and then…”

The devil leaned close to her ear, chuckling softly:

“And then, like her, you’d have to abandon everything, rely on me, to find meaning in living.”

“…”

Mingfuluo didn’t speak, but the hand holding the carving knife trembled—she was no longer the naive Mingfuluo who would unhesitatingly show her negative emotions to Anselm. In the past, she would have pushed him away, angrily denounced him, but now… she didn’t.

She only said in a slightly hoarse voice:

“But at least you’re someone who honors bets.”

“Of course.”

Anselm smiled, stepping back two paces, casually manipulating Nidhogg as if for amusement:

“As long as you defeat Helen, from now on, we’ll be equal partners—you create what I need, and I’ll provide equivalent resources, clear obstacles, no problem.”

Mingfuluo’s lips twitched, her stiff smile full of sarcasm: “You’d really let me kill your ‘daughter.’”

“Only if she defeats you can she truly be my daughter.”

Anselm carelessly transformed Nidhogg into a hand-cannon version of Gleipnir, pulling the trigger, and the resulting blast amused him.

“If she can’t defeat you.”

He smiled, his tone gentle:

“Then she’s something without value, isn’t she?”

“…She truly is something without value.”

Mingfuluo’s expression was cold, and for a moment, she avoided Anselm’s gaze: “And she has no chance of winning.”

The Nidhogg above her head vanished abruptly, the vast dark cloud disappearing instantly, but in truth… they were still there, everywhere.

“Compressing Nidhogg from its visible size to nearly the fundamental unit of ether…”

Why couldn’t Hendrik detect how Mingfuluo attacked Helen?

Because the upgraded Nidhogg, modified by Mingfuluo, had been compressed to nearly the size of an ether unit… Its movement was like the natural flow of ether.

Though traceable for a fifth-tier transcendent, anyone unfamiliar with such a technique would undoubtedly fall for it.

Anselm clapped lightly: “The knowledge you’ve absorbed these three years truly exceeds my expectations.”

“The texts and secret arts preserved by Hydra are the same… any single one leaked could create a master-level figure, yet you treat them like garbage, left in the basement.” Mingfuluo replied coldly.

“We at least put them on bookshelves… though no one dusts them regularly.”

Anselm shrugged: “After all, the truly valuable things wouldn’t be kept in a basement. This is just Hydra’s estate in the Imperial Capital.”

“Hah… I was once naive enough to want your help, naive enough to think you and I shared the same hopes for that future.”

Mingfuluo raised her hand, storing most of the Nidhogg in her bracelet, leaving only a small portion for Anselm. Looking at his gentle, smiling face, she sneered:

“The true culprit shackling everything was right in front of me, yet I knew nothing, played like a fool by a thirteen-year-old… truly pathetic.”

“Are you losing your temper?” Anselm tilted his head slightly. “Why do you keep cursing yourself?”

“Because the past me was foolish enough to deserve contempt.”

The young Hydra gazed at Mingfuluo for a long time, then, as if understanding something, sighed softly and said gently: “So it seems you feel you’ve been reborn.”

“Thanks to you.”

Mingfuluo replied, then looked up, her gaze seemingly piercing through layers of obstacles, landing on the entrance of Hydra Mansion.

There stood someone who looked exactly like her.

Anselm looked up as well, his smile widening: “I didn’t expect my dear Helen to come find you first… It seems this duel will be very interesting.”

As he turned to leave, he said leisurely:

“Settle it well, Mingfuluo. Let me see… who will be the final victor of this bet.”

The bet.

Not long after reuniting with “Mingfuluo,” Anselm had told her that three years ago, when he left the Imperial Capital, he made a bet with a mysterious person.

Anselm bet that Mingfuluo’s obsessive mindset would ultimately lead Babel Tower to destruction; the mysterious person bet that Mingfuluo would guide Babel Tower to a… radiant, glorious future.

Now, Helen had resolved to abandon Babel Tower, believing it held no value—whether it lived or died was irrelevant.

Thus, the so-called mysterious person had to become part of the bet, determining the final winner.

Yes, the one who made this bet with Anselm wasn’t some great figure capable of challenging Hydra, nor a fictional entity meant to deceive Mingfuluo and unsettle her mind.

It was none other than… Mingfuluo Zege herself.