A Sage’s laboratory is often a unique cultural symbol in fairy tales.
It stands alongside the Elves’ Sacred Tree, the Vampires’ Blood Sea, and the Dragons’ Sky City.
In those stories, a Sage is often depicted as someone who will stop at nothing for their research, even if it brings disaster, without a second thought.
In a Sage’s laboratory, monsters that multiply infinitely, immortal Alchemy Dolls, summoned demons, and such are born.
Although this is somewhat of a stereotype.
But then again, the reason a stereotype exists is because a large number of examples show consistency.
In other words, stereotypes are the result of big data aggregation.
A Sage is often rational to the point of coldness, fanatically obsessed with magic.
A mage who lacks those qualities rarely becomes a Sage.
When Zhi Zi once again stepped onto the familiar carpet and returned to Sage Lianshan’s laboratory, she couldn’t help recalling those tales about Sages.
But Zhi Zi knew that some of those tales were true, and some were false.
For example:
Sages pave their entire laboratory floors with Abyssal Magic Crystals!
Ordinary mages would only dare to embed a tiny bit of Abyssal Magic Crystal into their staff’s crystal to boost its magic amplification, but a Sage would encase her entire laboratory with it to achieve absolute anti-magic!
That is a lie.
Her mentor does have her own Anti-Magic Laboratory, located in one of the rooms within her palace-sized laboratory.
But using Abyssal Magic Crystals for the floor and walls is too extravagant; there are more economical and practical methods.
Mortals often have unrealistic fantasies about the classes they cannot access.
Sages are all very stingy, because funding doesn’t just fall from the sky.
Saving a little here and there lets them run one more control experiment.
On her way in, Zhi Zi didn’t encounter a single activated magic matrix.
Zhi Zi found this somewhat unsettling.
It was as if her mentor knew she would return and left the door open for her in advance.
Today, by chance, Sage Lianshan was absent.
Only Zhi Zi was alone in the vast laboratory.
Before accepting her fate, Zhi Zi still had some things she wanted to do.
Zhi Zi returned to the seventeen incubation pods.
Facing the scenes that often haunted her nightmares, Zhi Zi actually grew calmer.
At least, let you rest in peace…
Don’t live like this anymore—neither human nor ghost, a fate worse than death.
Zhi Zi gently raised her arm, magic power gathering at her fingertips.
With a bang, the delirious experimental subjects all exploded into blood.
When Zhi Zi acted, the subjects were asleep in their dreams, feeling no pain.
Blood, flesh, and shattered bones mixed together, splattering all over Zhi Zi.
But Zhi Zi felt no fear, even knowing that the minced meat now plastered on her was once “herself.”
Zhi Zi only felt sorrow.
For them.
And for herself.
Zhi Zi recalled the image of a big and a small person.
She remembered the scene she had glimpsed with her detection magic that day.
Xia An was putting oil into a hot wok, while Zhi Zi watched with shining eyes, drooling.
How wonderful.
Like family.
But Zhi Zi knew that had nothing to do with her.
Even among humans, few are fortunate enough to have such happiness.
And she wasn’t even human.
So, Zhi Zi sat by the laboratory door, waiting and waiting, her mind endlessly replaying various things.
Like a lantern show.
Finally, all the memories gradually faded, leaving only one image lingering in her mind, impossible to forget.
At a peaceful dusk, the setting sun slowly sank between the mountains.
On the sofa by the French window, a young man was reading a book, while a golden-haired girl leaned against him, asleep.
The evening light cast a warm filter over their silhouettes.
If there is a next life, Zhi Zi thought dazedly.
Would I have such fortune, to get a mentor like Xia An?
Just then, the laboratory door was pushed open.
A purple-haired woman walked in.
The beautiful dream shattered in an instant.
I really am too naive after all.
***
Lianshan looked at the broken incubation pods in the corner and frowned slightly.
“I thought they deserved release.”
Zhi Zi said.
“I originally wanted to keep them as mementos. Since they’re destroyed, destroyed is fine. No great loss.”
Lianshan said with a slight shake of her head.
“Keep… as mementos…”
Zhi Zi repeated softly, gritting her teeth, as if a nameless rage suddenly exploded in her chest.
“I’ve been reflecting lately,”
Lianshan continued, as if she hadn’t seen Zhi Zi’s expression, or perhaps she simply didn’t care.
“A sample escaped my control.
Should I be angry, or should I be proud?”
“My technique has finally reached the point where it can bestow a true soul upon you, even if this doesn’t align with my original goal.”
“You talk about me as if you’re discussing a proud work you’ve crafted,”
Zhi Zi said through gritted teeth.
“Is it not so?”
Lianshan countered matter-of-factly.
“Look at yourself: alert, composed, battle-hardened. If I wanted, in an instant, tens of thousands of you could be created, sent to the battlefield, clearing obstacles for Deep Blue.”
“Just like your predecessors.”
“Deep Blue Battle Mage,”
Zhi Zi enunciated slowly.
“Deep Blue Battle Mages are not perfect works; they haven’t reached completion in various metrics,” Lianshan said.
“But you are different.”
“You are clearly superior to them.”
“Is this a mentor’s praise for her disciple?”
“Our conversation today seems longer than all our previous talks combined?”
Zhi Zi pursed her lips in sarcasm.
“I don’t deny it,” Lianshan nodded.
“After all, I haven’t felt this happy in a long time.”
“Happy?”
Zhi Zi frowned.
At that moment, an image began to appear on a nearby screen.
It was a shot of Zhi Zi gathering a blood-red spear in her hand.
Zhi Zi’s face turned pale.
“My original concept for my army was to be adaptable to multiple combat environments, possess strong endurance, high burst power, and extreme survivability. And most importantly, low production cost.”
“Sin of the Styx fulfilled all my concepts.”
“I worked so hard to recreate that Source Energy, and together with you, we spent countless days and nights sweating for it?”
“Every day was burning tens of thousands of gold coins, repeated failures, for nearly twenty years.”
“Now, because of an accident caused by you, I saw hope. That copy of the history when you stole my Brand, and by a twist of fate, it reproduced in this child named Luo Ya.”
“I really should thank you.”
“The problem that has troubled me for so long has finally been solved.”
“No, no…”
Zhi Zi muttered, her face pale.
“She is the disciple of Grand Archmage Xia An. You can’t…”
“Just a disciple. I’ll offer him a price he can’t refuse.”
Lianshan shrugged.
“Heh, what do you know?”
Zhi Zi stared intensely at Lianshan.
“That’s not about money.”
“Not about money?”
Lianshan raised an eyebrow.
“Knowledge, power, strength—which isn’t nobler than gold coins?”
“Why would I be stupid enough to fob others off with money?”
“You won’t succeed.”
“Master Xia An won’t let you succeed.”
In Zhi Zi’s mind flashed the image of Luo Ya leaning against Xia An’s shoulder.
No.
Don’t.
“…Well, you’ve reminded me.”
Lianshan looked at the frozen expression on Zhi Zi’s face with amusement.
“If this Xia An is really that troublesome.”
“What’s to stop me from going around him?”