Do you know what it feels like when your brain is buzzing nonstop?
I think I understand now.
Tsurumaru’s words were like a heavy hammer repeatedly pounding on my skull, blow after blow, almost shaking everything inside my head into a chaotic mess, until it finally turned into a dizzy, gooey blur.
What he meant was—every Sword Spirit in the Honmaru that has ever replenished my Magic has left a Marriage Contract on me?!
…Suddenly, I began to understand why so many people kept staring at me back when I was at the Man-ya.
How rare is that.
Just imagine, one day I’m walking down the street and I run into a colleague. From the tip of their hair to the tips of their nails, every inch of their skin is marked with different Sword Spirit seals, making them glow like a giant light bulb in the darkness—
I can’t help but sneak a few extra glances.
After all, it’s free entertainment; who wouldn’t want to watch?
If only that entertainment wasn’t about me.
I started shaking the bell again.
“You all are quite capable, aren’t you?” I sneered, sitting proudly at the head seat, staring at these swords who had secretly done something big behind my back while pretending to be loyal.
I had already grilled Tsurumaru on this. Although they hadn’t communicated among themselves about it, all the Swords had, without exception, branded me with Marriage Contracts!
Wonderful.
May I ask—do I still have any skin left on me that’s mine alone and unmarked?
I didn’t want to dwell on that question, because my instincts were warning me I might get answers I’d rather not hear.
So I chose to be an ostrich.
If I don’t see it, it doesn’t exist.
I’m pretty sure I must be furious right now!
But it turned out I’d spent too long with these swords, and we were far too familiar with each other—they simply didn’t care about my little thunderous anger.
Mikazuki looked up at me and smiled softly.
“Then, Master, what would you like to do?”
…You have the nerve to ask me?!
Of course, I want these things removed immediately!
“Hahaha, that’s not going to happen.” Mikazuki laughed while refusing my request. “Although everyone had their own little reasons for leaving their marks, the most important thing was still for you.”
He looked at me with a gaze that made me want to look away for a moment.
“My dear Master…” Mikazuki sighed, “Are you hiding something from us?”
Strictly speaking, Mikazuki wasn’t a sword I personally forged.
Didn’t I mention earlier? I started at a good time.
To attract new Saniwa, they didn’t just lavish resources on us, but also handed out rare Five-Star Swords as strategic assets after completing the registration process.
In other words, besides the initial swords, I was given an extra nanny (strike that).
Being a Five-Star Sword, before polarization, its rank practically corresponded with its stats, making it an invaluable asset for a new Saniwa.
You could say Mikazuki holds a tremendous presence in my Honmaru; he’s a genuine “senior” who nurses the little ones, so every sword more or less gives him some respect.
And not just the swords.
Even I, the Saniwa, have benefited from Mikazuki’s guidance and care.
So when Mikazuki asked that, cold sweat instantly broke out on my back.
…Ah, you say that like it’s nothing.
After all, I do have a lot I’m hiding from them.
Seven Star Sword gazed at me from afar, his heterochromatic eyes resembling the star trajectories of the heavens.
“When we came into contact with your skin, we realized something.” This sword, born in the distant and ancient sea-bound country, said to me, “Since these are broken parts, then they must be repaired.”
“Every mark left by each sword on you exists for this purpose.”
I was temporarily speechless.
Yes, I am “incomplete.”
I was born into a family of Magicians who specialized in magic research for generations.
When I was very young, I was tested and found to possess an incredibly large number of Magic Circuits—
…And more than 90% of these Magic Circuits were fractured in strange ways.
Do you know the story behind the phrase “chicken ribs”?
Tasteless to eat, yet too precious to discard—this is the predicament I faced.
My family arranged a future for me: to marry into another Mage Family and serve as an excellent Mother Vessel, potentially giving birth to children with an equally large and intact number of Magic Circuits.
But I could never accept such an ending.
So, on the eve of my wedding at the age of fourteen, I ran away and signed a Contract with the Government of Time, becoming a permanent Saniwa.
That was the best path before me at the time, and even now, I have never regretted that choice.
Counting the years, it’s already been an entire Epoch since then.
Magic Replenishment, even within the concept of Magicians, is a very intimate act.
And for these divine beings, it is the ultimate fusion of spirit and flesh.
They were originally Fusangshen awakened from the swords by the Saniwa’s own spiritual power, naturally possessing a soul-bound connection; now, they share the deepest possible bond on the □□, with Magic Circuits forming a bridge.
While channeling energy to them, they also grant the swords unrestricted access to themselves.
Thus, through the linked souls and circuits, they see the Saniwa’s tattered and broken Magic Circuits.
To be close to and protect the Master is a sword’s instinct.
Even if they are not Lingdao, even if they lack healing power, it is enough for the swords to instinctively know what to do.
Fill her up, fill her completely, change her very essence with their aura and divine power—each Marriage Contract is a stitch reconnecting the previously broken Magic Circuits.
I couldn’t even tell who dared to leave their seat first, walking behind me and holding me like a doll in their arms.
Delicate kisses landed on the back of my neck, ticklish, but even more unbelievable was the instinctive reaction my body had, craving more.
…Isn’t it supposed to take 21 days to form a habit? No matter how I count, that time hasn’t come yet, right?!
“Master…”
A low sigh whispered in my ear.
A pair of hands reached out and covered my eyes.
“If you can’t take good care of yourself, then we will have to resort to measures you might not want to see…”
“Compulsory measures.”
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