Volume 2

Chapter 80: The Only Color, Part Three

Hendrik and the senior members of Babel Tower were in a meeting, discussing the future direction of Babel Tower.

As for why a meeting was suddenly called at this time…

Of course, it was because the figure they relied on had abruptly issued an order, demanding they provide a clear, decade-long development plan at today’s meeting.

Though the request was sudden, it was entirely reasonable for Anselm, as their investor and backer, to make such a demand.

Thus, Hendrik and the others didn’t think much of it, instead feeling excited and full of anticipation as they began the meeting.

“Beyond the realm of crafting new alchemical tools and artifacts… we should focus more on education.”

Ronggor interlocked her fingers, proposing, “The Empire still has many low-tier transcendents who, to gain resources and knowledge, must serve nobles and stronger transcendents… This is both a waste and a path that easily leads them astray.”

“Recruit more low-tier transcendents? That would require reallocating significant manpower from research and development to education. Since His Excellency Anselm wants results, our focus should surely remain on practical development.”

Someone frowned, raising a valid objection.

Ronggor rubbed her temples, unable to counter, and said helplessly, “But I believe His Excellency Anselm isn’t so shortsighted. A better era requires more talent to support it. He wouldn’t fail to understand this…”

“I believe advancing cutting-edge ether theory is more important,” an older, steady-looking man said excitedly, waving his hands.

“Ronggor said it herself—our academic authority is no longer what it once was… We should pioneer new frontiers, new fields. Mingfuluo’s data system is a perfect example! The entire sorcerer community is going wild over this unparalleled creation!”

“Babel Tower has no shortage of passion and ideas! We could absolutely build new industrial systems, energy systems, or even…”

“No, no, Buck, you’re thinking too far, too unrealistically. I support Mikokaev. To ensure His Excellency Anselm’s continued support, our focus must be on tangible development. We need to produce something that catches His Excellency’s eye every cycle…”

The discussion in the meeting room grew heated, with everyone voicing their opinions—loud, calm, passionate voices filling the space.

This noisy scene should have been headache-inducing, but Hendrik watched it with serene joy.

After over a decade of hardship, he had never felt so at ease.

“Why not try everything?”

Amid the endless debates, Hendrik spoke loudly, “All fields… advance together!”

“Let Babel Tower become an organization that nurtures transcendent talent, builds a mature alchemical industrial system, and pioneers new academic frontiers in transcendence!”

He stood, his expression fervent, his eyes bright, his resounding voice drowning out all discussion, “The soil enhancement potion experiment was a great success. Little Pelican City, Watson Territory, has become a land of miracles. I’m sure everyone has been closely following it.”

“With His Excellency Anselm’s help, no one has tried to steal our achievements. This not only proves His Excellency’s power and influence but also shows… he’s always been interested in our direction. We have every reason to be bolder. Perhaps what His Excellency wants isn’t just results but this very courage, this… ambition!”

After over a decade of bowing to countless forces and powerhouses in the Ether Academy, under Ivora and in the Imperial Capital, Hendrik, finally seeing a glimmer of dawn, spoke with such passion that his eyes reddened slightly.

He wasn’t moved by finally being able to speak with confidence but because… after such long torment, he saw the possibility he had nearly abandoned.

The Empire’s transformation… might truly be possible!

The man looked at the now-quiet people in the meeting room, most of whom were his closest friends, comrades who had supported each other for over a decade.

Babel Tower’s journey to this point had come at an immeasurable cost for everyone.

“If we can achieve this, Babel Tower can achieve this.”

He closed his eyes, as if envisioning that future, and said with deep satisfaction, “Then he would surely be pleased.”

Bang—

As he spoke, the meeting room door was suddenly flung open.

The passionate, hopeful atmosphere froze slightly, and all eyes turned to the unexpected intruder.

“…Mingfuluo? Didn’t you say the Grand Princess had something…”

“What were you all discussing just now?”

Mingfuluo, gripping the door handle tightly, spoke in a hoarse voice.

“About Babel Tower’s future development… Mingfuluo, what’s wrong?”

Ronggor responded, already noticing Mingfuluo’s abnormal state, standing up with concern, “You seem very—”

“Don’t come closer!”

The door handle snapped in Miss Doll’s grip.

She glared at Ronggor, then swept her chilling, heart-stopping gaze over everyone in the room, finally fixing it… on Hendrik.

“Babel Tower’s… future.”

She murmured softly, her dim purple eyes trembling with an emotion teetering on collapse, sending a deeply unsettling premonition through Ronggor’s heart.

“Then tell me, Hendrik.”

Mingfuluo’s usually cold, indifferent voice turned hoarse, trembling slightly, “Tell me, what do you think Babel Tower should be?”

“…Mingfuluo, what’s wrong with you—”

“Tell me!”

Miss Doll’s utterly abnormal state made most people in the meeting room stand up.

They stared at Babel Tower’s greatest genius at the door, their eyes filled with confusion and bewilderment.

Hendrik, at a loss for how to comfort her, could only answer helplessly, “I want to develop Babel Tower in multiple fields—education, theory, and practical production… With His Excellency Anselm’s help, we have the ability to achieve this.”

“…And then?” Wood splinters creaked in Mingfuluo’s hands, her usually emotionless delicate face now, for some reason, contorted.

“And then? Then, of course, it’s to… realize all our dreams, the dreams of our teacher, your grandfather.”

Hendrik tried to calm Mingfuluo with these words, “Think about it, Mingfuluo… think. When we train countless transcendents, achieve breakthroughs in more fields, create astonishing innovations, and perfectly apply them to society… What will the Empire become? The experiment in Little Pelican City is proof! With His Excellency Anselm’s help, the results were so perfect. We succeeded!”

His words struck precisely at the deepest despair in Mingfuluo’s heart, trampling on the ruins of what Anselm had shattered… her so-called ideals.

“That’s success? You think… that’s success?”

Bang!

Mingfuluo slammed her fist into the door. Her beautiful face twisted with collapse and rage, her clear voice turning hysterical. Never, not even when facing Erlin’s death, had she been so unhinged. Now, she was like… a madwoman with nothing left.

“That’s not success at all! You understand nothing! Not just you… even Grandfather, even he…”

In that moment of venting, she collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, slumping powerlessly to the ground, one hand covering her eyes, her voice distorted with sobs.

Ronggor could no longer hold back.

She hurried toward Mingfuluo, reaching out, “What’s wrong, Mingfuluo? What happened? Tell us, we can surely…”

Slap—

The crisp sound of her hand being swatted away echoed in the meeting room.

Ronggor stared in disbelief at the trembling hand that pushed her away, then… met Mingfuluo’s eyes as she slowly raised her head.

She saw, beneath the wet and glistening tears… a lifeless void.

“What… happened?”

Her tone suddenly flattened, as if she were a puppet reciting fixed lines.

“I want to ask you, ask all of you… Ronggor, fifteen years ago, what happened?”

“That day, how exactly did Grandfather die?”

In that instant, most people in the room showed unmistakable, vivid changes in expression.

Many of them were Erlin’s last, most steadfast followers.

Emotional reactions to his death were natural, but… Mingfuluo’s current state made their reactions shift not toward their mentor’s death itself but to what she said about… its cause.

“Our teacher… he…”

Ronggor controlled her emotions best, but her fingertips still trembled slightly, “We… I don't know. We haven’t found answers in all these years… Mingfuluo, are you missing our teacher?”

She tried to reach out and embrace Mingfuluo but was stopped by that chilling, lifeless gaze.

The noblewoman could only manage a strained, gentle smile, “That’s all… in the past. We have such a bright future now. Our teacher would surely be pleased.”

“It’s all in the past, and we shouldn’t dwell on it.”

Mingfuluo looked at Ronggor with those hollow eyes, then at the others, and finally at Hendrik, whose expression grew increasingly off, “You’ve told me that many times… so many times.”

“So, it wasn’t to help me move forward, but to keep me from looking back… to finding the truth.”

Whenever the topic of Erlin’s death came up, no matter who it was, they always avoided it when facing Mingfuluo, always telling her not to linger in past pain.

So it was… to keep her from finding the painful truth.

“Mingfuluo.”

Hendrik walked toward her, maintaining calm in his expression and tone, saying gravely, “You may have learned something about our teacher’s death… but are you sure it’s true? Or is it something designed by someone to manipulate you, to manipulate us—”

“How do you know that truth would affect you?”

Mingfuluo looked up at Hendrik, her lifeless, dark gaze piercing his chest like a sword, rendering him unable to say another word, while the unease and fear in his heart reached their peak.

Then, everyone heard Babel Tower’s ideal, Erlin’s most steadfast pursuer, say:

“Because you killed Grandfather.”

“…No.”

Miss Doll lowered her head, covering her face with trembling hands, her short nails cutting into her skin, embedding into her cheeks.

“It was Grandfather… who made you kill him.”

“Erlin Zege, died at the hands of his eleven most outstanding, most steadfast students…”

Hitana muttered the information she pieced together from the torn scroll, looking at Anselm in disbelief, “He… that guy, Mingfuluo’s grandfather, he… was killed by his own students?! And…”

The girl couldn’t help but look back, “He ordered his students to do it, to cut off his head, to carve out his heart… Was he insane?!”

“No, he wasn’t insane. On the contrary… this was Erlin’s most perfect, unparalleled creation in his career as an alchemist.”

Anselm gazed out the window at Babel Tower’s vibrant, thriving scene, sighing with some admiration, “He created a flawless lie meant for one person alone, a false life… capable of changing the world, meant for one person alone.”

Hitana couldn’t help but continue piecing together the scroll’s information.

The scroll provided detailed content, and the girl soon saw what seemed to be the recorder’s specific analysis:

“Erlin’s failures and downfall in his later years didn’t come from suppression by other forces, for his abilities allowed him to transcend such targeting. The sorcerer domain couldn’t contain him, but the transcendent world wasn’t ruled by sorcerers alone. Thus, his fall was entirely his own choice—he couldn’t achieve that absurd, laughable ideal, and so lost his reason to move forward, or even to live. It’s that simple.”

“In pursuing that [Universal Transcendence], he had already realized he might not reach the end, so he placed his hopes on his heir, Layden Zege. He spent over a decade pouring everything into nurturing Layden, but the truth proved that in the realm of creation, talent determines everything.”

“And Layden was the most common thing in this world—a common mediocrity. Realizing this, Erlin gave up on pushing his son, but by then, he had already pressured Layden for over twenty years. This abandonment didn’t bring Layden relief but instead deepened his hatred for Erlin.”

“So…”

Hitana, kneeling by the sofa piecing together fragments, scratched her head, “Mingfuluo’s dad was an idiot? Then why is Mingfuluo so smart?”

“Are Hit’s parents ordinary people? Then why do you, Hit, have such talent?” Anselm countered.

Hitana froze for a long time before suddenly realizing, “So you mean Mingfuluo is like me… Ah! She’s always been like me, a protagonist!”

With talent, ability, and power capable of overturning an era, she was chosen by fate to become a hero of the age.

Mingfuluo’s talent held no conspiracy, just as Hitana’s combat talent wasn’t bestowed by anyone.

It was merely the one-in-a-million, born amidst countless cycles of creation and destruction, among billions of possibilities… the only one.

“But Layden’s daughter, Mingfuluo Zege, showed extraordinary talent, so Erlin naturally placed his hopes on his granddaughter.”

“In this process, he learned from his failure with Layden, no longer forcing academic rigor but focusing on building a bond with Mingfuluo and shaping her mindset and beliefs.”

“And his granddaughter didn’t disappoint him, showing great enthusiasm for that nonsensical ideal. So Erlin chose the perfect moment to have his students kill him.”

“…Wait.”

A confused Hitana turned to Anselm, waving her hands, “This… Mingfuluo not failing her grandfather’s expectations… how’s that related to his suicide?”

Anselm propped his cheek, smiling brightly, “If I died now, what would Hit do?”

“What, what are you saying!”

Hitana jumped up, leaping into Anselm’s arms, angrily covering his mouth, “Don’t say such unlucky things!”

Anselm helplessly pried her hands away, “I said if…”

“No ‘ifs’ either!”

“…Anyway, if something like that happened, what would Hit do?”

“I… I…”

Hitana’s tone visibly panicked, “I’d definitely save Anselm, no… I wouldn’t let Anselm die! Anyway… Argh! I’d at least beat the guy who hurt Anselm to death first! No… break their limbs, stuff their hands and feet in their mouth, and then—”

“Besides revenge?” Anselm, suppressing a laugh, interrupted her ferocious words, “If, at that time, I entrusted something to Hitana?”

“Of course, I’d do everything to fulfill it,” Hitana answered without thinking.

“And if that thing was something I’d always been striving for… say, I told Hit, no matter what, to defeat fate?”

“Hmph! Then one day, I’d eat that stupid fate for breakfast!”

Hitana crossed her arms, huffing indignantly.

Anselm smiled without speaking, just quietly watching her.

After a long while, Hitana realized, her expression shifting to understanding, then shock.

“So… so,” the girl stammered in disbelief, “Her grandfather used this method… My god! He’s sick!”

“But undeniably, it was highly effective.”

The young Hydra gently stroked Hitana’s slightly messy hair, his gaze still on the scene outside, saying softly, “Mingfuluo back then wasn’t some worldly youth. She was just a six-year-old child.”

“Her life at that time consisted only of an endless thirst for knowledge and anticipation for the future Erlin described.”

“And in that context… her grandfather, who gave her these things, died so tragically, perhaps even deliberately leaving behind a message of hope that was, in truth, a curse.”

“So tell me…”

Anselm rested his chin on Hitana’s shoulder, half-closing his eyes, “What was left of Mingfuluo’s life at that moment?”

“Nothing but the entrusted belief… and bone-deep hatred.”

Whether it was faith in the ideal itself or the resolve fueled by hatred for the killer, both would lead Mingfuluo down the path Erlin wanted her to take.

“This is the lesson Erlin learned from Layden,” Anselm tugged at the corner of his mouth, “One thing—I disagree with the scroll’s recorder. Erlin didn’t become gentler. He wasn’t using warmth to inspire Mingfuluo. On the contrary, he felt Layden’s collapse and hatred stemmed from his own lack of decisiveness, thoroughness, and extremity, so…”

The young Hydra shrugged, “With his granddaughter, he was absolutely decisive, thorough, and extreme.”

Hitana, clinging to Anselm, felt a chill run through her. If she had a grandfather like that, ugh…

She’d have to break the old man’s legs first!

“Then… Why did he have his students do it?” Hitana couldn’t help asking, “Wasn’t it enough to disgust his granddaughter? Did he have to disgust so many others too? Those close to him were just too unlucky!”

“That’s the most brilliant part of this plan.”

Anselm shook his head, chuckling, “Hitana, would you let cockroaches stay in your room?”

“No way!”

“Then, if a little cockroach dragged the corpse of the cockroach leader to you, promising no more cockroaches would appear, would you let it roam free?”

“Uh…”

The girl hesitated, “I’d probably still squash it.”

“But that’s only because it’s a cockroach. People don’t feel extra emotions toward cockroaches, but with humans… it’s different.”

“In the sorcerer domain of the Imperial Capital…” Anselm toyed with Hitana’s smooth, silky hair, “Erlin Zege was that cockroach leader.”

“And Hendrik, Ronggor, and the other students… were the little cockroaches offering the corpse.”

In Hitana’s dawning realization, Anselm turned his gaze back to the window.

In the distance, Babel Tower’s sleek, artistic architecture and the scholars conversing on the paths showcased the organization’s thriving state.

“Think about it. How could those who faithfully followed Erlin be accepted by the sorcerer domain of the Imperial Capital? How could they have the opportunities and resources to build Babel Tower?”

The only reason, naturally, was… they used Erlin’s corpse, his severed head, his carved-out heart, to quietly tell a few key figures in the sorcerer circle—*Look, we’ve repented. We’re no longer that madman’s students. Here’s the proof.*

“Even so,” Anselm said with some emotion, “It took Hendrik a full seven or eight years to gain a foothold in the Imperial Capital and establish Babel Tower… And just a few years after its founding, it was already on the verge of collapse. If not for Ivora’s support, it would’ve been gone long ago.”

After hearing Anselm, Hitana sat stunned for a long time before managing to say, “That old man… was dangerous.”

“You think that’s the end?”

“…Huh?”

“In other words,” Anselm chuckled, pinching Hitana’s gaping mouth, “Do you think Erlin used his head and heart to lay Babel Tower’s foundation, but in his mind, was Babel Tower really the main force to change the world?”

“Don’t forget… in the realm of creation, only true geniuses can achieve unparalleled transformation.”

“This tower, reaching for the sky, challenging thousands of years of transcendent rules, isn’t just a vessel. It’s also…”

“…the cold workshop that pieced together the puppet called ‘Mingfuluo.’”

The puppet kneeling on the ground swept her gaze over everyone present, taking in their evasion, shock, panic, fear, and confusion.

She stumbled to her feet, swaying unsteadily, her eyes—etched with countless emotions—devoid of light.

“A mere initial resolve is not enough.”

She murmured softly, “It requires long-term, persistent, unrelenting influence, day after day, to make me accumulate belief bit by bit, every moment. Thus… I must be placed in an environment forever fervently pursuing that ideal.”

Looking at these kind, most important elders in her life, the puppet leaned against the doorframe, a mocking smile on her face:

“Right… among you.”

Using his own death to anchor the only thing of value in Mingfuluo’s gray childhood, the only belief that existed.

Then, using his death to secure the soil for Babel Tower’s birth and growth.

Finally, using that soil to nurture and foster Mingfuluo’s growth, immersing her daily in that fervent nourishment, deepening her pursuit of that ideal day by day.

Unwavering, unbetraying, unrelenting, endless.

So why, despite never truly understanding this world, never witnessing true suffering firsthand, did she still yearn to bring about changes to better the lives of commoners?

Because that was the environment she grew up in—that was everything she had accepted since the age of six, when she had nothing left but belief and hatred.

Everyone around her told her this, everything around her told her—go change this world with passion and fervor; it’s your grandfather’s legacy, and it’s the meaning of your existence.

You were… born for this.

Thus, fifteen years of toil finally pieced together the current Mingfuluo Zege.

A Mingfuluo Zege who never believed her actions were wrong in the slightest; a Mingfuluo Zege rational and decisive enough to sacrifice everything; a Mingfuluo Zege who, even when nearly destroyed at her core by Anselm, never fully gave up; and…

A Mingfuluo Zege who, for that future of infinite possibilities, had all her own possibilities erased.