“Little Fox, have you finished chatting with your Ancestor?”
Serveyia came to Liuli’s side, placed a hand on her shoulder, and asked softly.
“Yes, I’m finished.”
Liuli considered it for a moment and eventually told Serveyia everything she and her Ancestor had discussed.
When she reached the topic of “whether to trust those around her,” Liuli hesitated, but in the end, she decided to speak out.
“Is that so? What the Senior said is correct. Little Fox, you must always protect yourself. Although I always tell you to trust me, honestly, whether you trust me depends on you, and whether you trust those around you also depends on you.”
Serveyia paused, her gaze softening slightly as she looked at Liuli.
“It might be exhausting and a bit painful at first, but if you persevere, everything will get better.”
“So, should I start suspecting you now, Serveyia?”
Though she spoke in a playful tone, true thoughts are often voiced through jokes.
She felt that if she really had to be wary of everyone, would the relationships she had worked so hard to build become unstable?
“I said it already, Little Fox, it depends on you.”
Serveyia used the same answer again.
It seemed logically sound, yet it wasn’t what Liuli wanted to hear.
To the current Liuli, she actually preferred a more definitive answer.
“But to think the Nine-tailed Celestial Fox Bloodline in your body really came from that Senior. It is surprising that it only manifested after so long.”
“Serveyia, I remember you mentioned that your Family used to serve the Nine-tailed Celestial Fox. So your Family should be more familiar with my Ancestor, right? Does my Ancestor not have a dedicated Book recording her life story?”
Usually, historical figures have their own biographies.
Liuli didn’t know if her Ancestor counted as famous, but surely such a thing should exist?
“There used to be one, but many were lost during a period of national unrest.”
“Really? That’s a bit of a pity…”
Liuli felt that a biography reflected a person’s character better than a history book, especially when seeing this thick Ancient Records containing only a few brief sentences about her.
Even though she could learn things by talking to her Ancestor, such a short entry made her feel forgotten.
“Serveyia, what was the content of that Book you just showed me?”
“A volume from the first edition of the General History of the Continent. Long ago, its concise version was a mandatory course at Saint Laia, but later they chose a more mature and educational version. However, in the eyes of some scholars, this set of books still holds an unshakeable status.”
If it was the General History of the Continent, then one person shouldn’t matter much.
But normally, even a short description should be complete.
Even if the Ancestor’s end wasn’t obvious to the writers, Liuli didn’t believe historians could write without subjective judgment.
Where was the evaluation of her Ancestor that she wanted to see?
“Since it’s a history book, why didn’t I see the evaluation section that a history book should have?”
“Though it might be inappropriate to say, the Senior was remembered by everyone as a warrior. After your Ancestor stopped appearing in public for various reasons, many people almost forgot her.”
“When it came time to compile the history, people found there was too little content to describe her, so they were forced to write it briefly. As for the evaluation, because so little was known about this unique Nine-tailed Celestial Fox, they didn’t dare to write one.”
“But thinking about it, is it really a good thing to be unable to leave one’s name in the long river of history?”
Countless people hope to leave a legacy, just as countless people leave a bad reputation.
This is an eternal truth.
So many want to be remembered by history, no matter the method.
Seeing her Ancestor practically forgotten by history, wasn’t it pitiful?
“I think if the Senior really wanted to be remembered, it would be impossible not to leave any information behind. To be honest, I think it’s very likely she didn’t want to be remembered.”
“By the way, Serveyia, why do you always refer to my Ancestor as ‘Senior’?”
“Out of habit, I suppose. The Teacher who taught me swordsmanship told me to use ‘Senior’ for those I respect. Although I’ve never met her, to me, a Nine-tailed Celestial Fox who broke people’s prejudices and became a formidable force through martial power in that era is incredible. That is why I respect her.”
“Was the Ancestor really that powerful?”
“Of course. Hardening one’s body through effort and perseverance to the point of being able to fight on the battlefield is no easy feat.”
Hearing Serveyia’s description, Liuli knew it wasn’t easy.
It was understandable why she earned Serveyia’s admiration.
“Serveyia, you know swordsmanship? I thought you only knew Magic.”
“Yes, Noble Lady-types know a bit of it, though we aren’t proficient. It’s difficult even for self-defense. But it is an important way to show temperament, so instead of swordsmanship, it’s more of a Sword Dance. However, my Teacher’s strength was beyond doubt.”
“Then, Serveyia, can you show me?”
Liuli was curious about Serveyia performing a Sword Dance.
In her mind, a Sword Dance was a soft, graceful dance.
She couldn’t imagine what Serveyia’s would look like.
“There will be a chance.” Serveyia didn’t refuse firmly, which made Liuli’s imagination run wild. Since there was no firm refusal, it meant there was a real chance. “If you perform well, Little Fox, maybe I’ll show it to you as a reward?”
“Perform well?”
“Exactly. Your upcoming Magic studies and the approaching Academy Festival require you to perform well. If you can act like a proper Princess in those situations, I might just agree.”