Wizard: My career panel has no upper limit

The process of cultivating seeds is much longer than the process of obtaining them.

For a long time nothing happened, and Ron infused it with a fixed amount of "quiet" necromantic energy every day (every day of the grid time).

But it remained motionless, like a gray stone picked up from the roadside.

"Are you sure it's not dead?" Acelia asked.

"It wasn't even considered 'alive' to begin with."

This seed is something that exists between life and death; you can't judge it using conventional standards.

"Then what standard do you use?"

"patience."

Azalea wanted to roll her eyes, but unfortunately she had no eyes to roll.

The turning point came during a routine observation when the seed surface began to change.

Ron immediately intensified his observation efforts.

Astral perception revealed that some kind of structural reorganization was taking place inside the seed.

It is "digesting" the injected necromantic energy.

Those specific necromantic auras carry memories of natural death—falling autumn leaves, the peaceful slumber of the elderly, the receding tide…

This information was gradually absorbed by the seeds.

"It is learning what 'death' should look like."

Soon, the seed split open, and a thin, skeletal thread emerged from the crack.

The thin thread pierced the soil, and a corresponding root system grew synchronously in the spirit world.

The roots of the material world and the roots of the spiritual world are mirror images of each other, extending synchronously.

"Rooted in both worlds".

Ron's eyes were filled with the satisfaction of his scientific research achievements bearing fruit.

Barnabas's lifelong unfulfilled dream, Alexander's hypothesis bought with his life...

The ultimate goal that countless necromancers have pursued one after another is now quietly sprouting before him.

The seed seems to have passed a critical "tipping point," and once it started growing, it could not stop.

Its structure is also unlike any known plant; its root system in the spirit world is hundreds of times larger than that in the material world.

"It is 'breathing'."

Nari's voice suddenly rang out in the mental channel.

Although the Apostle was far away in the Abyss, her perception of Ron's mental state was real-time.

When his spiritual perception is fully activated, Nari can also vaguely "see" what he sees through the link.

"What do you mean?"

“Look at its root system…” Nari, unusually, didn’t whine:

"That contraction-relaxation rhythm is very similar to breathing, but it doesn't inhale air..."

“It’s an echo of the soul,” Acelia replied.

“Yes~” Nari’s tone returned to its usual softness:

"It 'breathes' with fragments of its soul, absorbing the lingering echoes scattered throughout the spirit world, and then..."

“And then what?” Ron asked.

“My mother wasn’t quite sure either, but my gut feeling told me that it wasn’t just ‘eating’ those echoes.”

The design of the verification experiment is very simple.

Ron took three lab mice from the storage cabinet and placed them within the area covered by tree roots.

The mice sniffed around in their new environment, showing no interest in the translucent tree.

Twenty minutes later, the data acquisition rune reported its first anomaly.

The souls of the three mice are all connected to the tree roots, like some kind of delicate umbilical cord.

Ron's eyes lit up, and he immediately started high-precision observation.

When magnified to a sufficiently fine scale, the umbilical cord appears as a mesh-like structure.

Countless tiny units are tightly packed together, each of which is "recording" the mouse's soul information at an extremely slow speed.

Like a typewriter running at one-millionth the speed, it copied down the entire contents of "laboratory mouse" letter by letter.

"It must be backing up."

He waited quite a while, allowing the trees to complete their full scan of the three mice.

Then, I did something cruel but necessary.

A high-energy ray, as fast as lightning, instantly ended the life of one of the rats.

At the moment of death, the data collection rune recorded a series of astonishing changes.

The fragments of the rat's soul did not dissipate and disappear within seconds as they would normally do.

The energy network of tree roots tightens abruptly when death occurs.

The scattered fragments of souls in the spirit world were firmly wrapped up, pulled back to the trunk along the roots, and stored in a newly formed nodule.

Ron stepped forward and extended his spiritual senses into the tumor, discovering that it actually contained the rat's soul information.

Memory, instinctive reaction patterns, preferences for the smells of various foods... most of this information can be preserved.

"This is practically a living hard drive storing soul information."

But amidst his excitement, Ron quickly realized something was amiss.

The information he gleaned from the tumor was not the soul itself.

This distinction is crucial.

"Acelia, come and see this."

Ron projected the observation data into two sets of contrasting graphs.

The left side shows the structure of the soul of a living laboratory mouse, and the right side shows the information stored in the tumor.

Same light spots, same arrangement, but...

“It’s stationary.” Acelia grasped the key point immediately.

"Correct."

Ron's finger traced between the two sets of graphics.

"It's more like an 'imprint' of the soul. In other words, what it does is similar to the collective memory bank of the dragon species, but there are some differences."

Before their death, each dragon can choose to inject what it considers valuable memories into a memory bank for its descendants to access and learn from.

The key lies in the "choice".

The content uploaded by Dragon Seed has been screened.

An ancient dragon that has lived for thousands of years may only upload a dozen or so memories.

It may be a decisive battle in a dragon's life, an important person/dragon, or some strange and precious treasures.

All the other mundane daily matters, and the privacy they didn't want Houlong to see, will disappear forever as their souls dissipate.

But this tree's mechanism is completely different.

"It is mandatory, and it applies to all."

Ron took notes while clarifying his thoughts:

"As long as you live within its root system's coverage area, it will continuously and automatically inscribe your information."

Your permission and cooperation are not required.

"Whether you are thinking, fighting, falling asleep, or daydreaming, every moment of your soul's state will be recorded frame by frame."

"But what is recorded... is ultimately just information."

He wrote a line heavily in his lab notebook and then underlined it.

“Engraving on the soul does not mean preservation of the soul; the dead will not come back to life.”

Azalea's voice became very soft.

"You mean... even if the Echoing Tree stores all of a person's soul information, it still can't bring that person back to life?"

"Correct."

Ron's gaze fell on the tumor.

"If there is enough energy, it should be possible to regenerate a body using the stored information."

"The new body will possess all of the deceased's memories, personality traits, behavioral patterns, and even speaking habits and micro-expressions."

"From an outside observer's perspective, it is almost indistinguishable from the deceased individual."

"but……"

"For the individual who died, he was dead, completely and irreversibly dead."

“The newly generated individual possesses the memories and experiences of the former, but his spark of consciousness is newly ignited.”

"The former's subjective experience ends forever at the moment of death."

“He will not ‘wake up’, nor will he have the feeling of ‘I died and then came back to life’.”

After saying all this, the laboratory remained quiet for a long time.

"So what...is the point of this thing?"

Azalea's voice trembled with a tremor she herself might not have been aware of.

For a remnant soul residing in another's body, every word of the discussion about "self-continuation" strikes at the most sensitive nerve.

"It is of great significance."

Ron's tone softened.

"Aseria, imagine that the wisest elder in a tribe has died."

Under normal circumstances, all the knowledge, experience, and understanding of the world he accumulated throughout his life would vanish with the wind.

"But if all of the elderly person's information is fully recorded, a new individual can be awakened."

He inherited the old man's memory and way of thinking, and picked up the work the old man had left unfinished to continue.

"As far as the old man himself was concerned, he was indeed dead."

"But for the entire race—knowledge has not been broken, experience has not been lost, and the flame of civilization has never been extinguished."

"This is not 'immortality' in an individual sense."

"This is 'immortality' in the sense of civilization."

Acelia fell silent again.

This time the silence was even longer.

Finally, she sighed in a very, very low voice:

"...What if one day you use my soul information to create a new 'Acelia'?"

Do you really think that was me?

Ron looked at the gray-white tree standing quietly in the dim light of the spirit world and did not answer.

Some questions have no answers.

He decided to name this tree species the "Echo Tree," meaning "the tree of the lingering echoes of the dead."

The soul does not perish; it merely transforms into another form of echo.

“A good name,” Nari said softly.

Azalea did not speak again.

………………

The discovery of the Echo Tree was the first cornerstone of the entire research.

But a foundation alone is not enough.

What needs to be built upon it is a grand vision.

At this moment, Ron is sitting in the observation room of γ-18.

If γ-17 is a quiet library, then γ-18 is a noisy arena.

This grid is designed as a miniature Earth-like planet, with a complete atmospheric cycle, hydrological system, and geological structure.

Thousands of standardized humanoid experimental subjects live and thrive on this planet, enacting a miniature version of civilization development.

His original plan was to deal with the problems left over from the Daywalker project.

The simulation experiment of the corona breathing method has also been running for several cycles.

The idea was simple: since he didn't have time to practice the breathing technique himself, he would have his subordinates practice it, and then he could just copy it.

Speaking of which, I started the "Daywalker" plan.

On the one hand, it was necessary to make up for the vampires' biggest weakness, and on the other hand, it was also inspired by the "Corona Breathing Technique".

Early data is disappointing, with a complete build success rate of less than three percent for the Radiant Wheel.

Dozens or even hundreds of energy nodes must be in a balanced state at the same time; any deviation in any node will lead to a chain reaction of collapse.

This breathing technique is quite similar to the internal energy cultivation methods described in the martial arts novels I read in my previous life.

The drawback is the same: if the power of the corona goes astray, not only will all previous efforts be wasted, but one will also suffer from qi deviation and spontaneous combustion.

Among the few experimental subjects who failed in their cultivation but barely survived, about 15 percent of them had varying amounts of stellar fragments remaining in their bodies.

Logically, these fragments should be expelled or broken down by the body's self-healing mechanisms.

But the data shows the opposite.

The fragments formed a symbiotic relationship with the host's muscle fibers, skeletal structure, and even neural networks.

Like miniature suns scattered among flesh and blood, they continuously carry out low-intensity light energy conversion.

Its efficiency is extremely low, a difference between a firefly and the sun compared to a complete Corona Knight.

However, it is heritable.

After tracking fifteen generations of reproductive data, Ron confirmed that the genetic decay rate of the stellar fragments was extremely low.

Even in the tenth generation, it can still retain more than 30% of its initial value.

The fifteenth generation even exhibited a self-organizing phenomenon—scattered fragments spontaneously clustered together, forming more efficient fragment clusters.

"Natural selection".

He sighed, "The evolutionary pressures of life itself are making precise adjustments for me."

Star debris grants its carriers three passive abilities: increased tolerance to sunlight, enhanced light absorption, and accelerated wound healing.

It's pretty good, but not revolutionary.

until today.

Until he re-examined the genetic report of this set of stellar fragments with the data from the Echoing Tree.

The arrival of a thought is like lightning splitting the darkness.

On the left is the complete technical documentation for the Echo Tree, and on the right is the extrapolated data on the genetic characteristics of stellar debris.

The two reports were laid out side by side, almost filling the entire table.

His gaze shifted back and forth between the two.

One has energy but lacks information storage; the other has information storage but lacks energy.

The pen tip landed on the blank paper.

There was no need for planning or hesitation; the blueprint had always existed somewhere, just waiting for him to "see" it.

Ternary symbiotic system.

First element: physical body, material carrier, carrying heritable stellar fragments.

It absorbs solar energy during the day, and becomes stronger the more it is exposed to sunlight.

The second element: the Echoing Tree, the anchor point of the spirit world, rooted in the core of the race's settlement.

Continuously back up the soul information of each member within the coverage area.

The third element: stellar debris and energy ties, connecting the first two.

Part of it is supplied to the body, and the other part is transported along the roots to the Echoing Tree as energy to maintain the backup of the soul.

The three elements form a closed loop:
Sunlight → Star Fragment → Body + Echoing Tree → Soul Backup (Continuously updated);
When the body is destroyed, the soul is intercepted and preserved by the Echoing Tree, and the body is rebuilt using the backup information as a blueprint and the fragments as fuel.

After writing the last line, Ron put down his pen and stared at the paper for a long time.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Acelia finally asked.

“I know, but that’s not enough.”

"……what?"

"The Echoing Tree can preserve souls, star debris can provide energy, and the Sunwalker modification can endow racial characteristics—these are all just 'hardware'."

He stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window of the observation room.

Outside the window, the miniature planet of γ-18 grid is slowly rotating.

Those standardized humanoid experimental subjects are undergoing their thirty-seventh generation of civilization development, and have spontaneously developed agriculture and rudimentary handicrafts.

“A true race needs more than just the ability to survive.”

"It requires language, faith, history, philosophy... everything that constitutes 'civilization'."

He turned around:

"Only when a race develops its own unique civilization, no longer dependent on vampires, humans, or any existing racial framework, but instead creates a completely new system of cognition..."

"Only then can it be considered truly 'born'."

Create a completely new race, give it the ability to survive independently, and then... let it go.

Let it develop its own civilization.

Over the long course of time, countless individuals spontaneously construct language, stories, beliefs, and history around the system you have created.

When all of this happens naturally...

The "gift of creation" will be returned to the creator like a rising tide.

"So your real goal has never been to break down any reproductive barriers."

Acelia's voice became extremely serious:
"What you want is a completely new race, a completely new race capable of developing its own civilization."

"Correct."

Ron's gaze pierced through the miniature planets within the grid:
"The Sunwalkers' prior modifications, along with the vampires' inherently superior racial qualities, endowed them with unique racial traits—sunlight resistance, pollution immunity, and accelerated growth. These traits define their ecological niche."

“Stellar debris gives them a unique energy cycle—coexisting with the sun.”

This will profoundly influence their culture and beliefs; they will become natural 'sun worshippers'.

"The Tree of Echoes endowed them with a unique spiritual legacy—collective memory, ancestral echoes."

This will become the foundation of their civilization; their history will not be forgotten, and the experiences of each generation will be preserved in the tree.

His fingers tapped lightly on the blueprint:

"The combination of these three elements constitutes a self-consistent, independent, and complete racial system."

"They are not vampires, not humans, not derivatives of any known race."

"They are...completely new."

Barnabas wrote another sentence in the introduction to "An Introduction to the Boundary Between Life and Death":

"Those who grasp this principle can glimpse the mysteries of the universe's operation."

After thinking for a moment, he added a footnote below, the text half the size of the main text:
"Death departs, life rises."

But then again, the gap between blueprint and reality is more than just a mountain.

The Echo Tree has a very small coverage area; a three-meter-tall tree can only cover a radius of two hundred meters.

An ethnic enclave requires an area of ​​at least tens of square kilometers.

This means either planting a large number of trees to form a "forest" or cultivating a giant tree of "world tree" level.

While the genetic stability of stellar debris is considerable, data from fifteen generations is only a "short-term observation" in the field of biology.

Only after fifty generations or more can it be considered initially reliable.

And the most fundamental question is, how will this new race acquire "self-identity"?
They need to know who they are and where they come from.

Otherwise, they will forever remain "modified vampires" or "modified humans," unable to develop their own independent civilization, and the concept of "the grace of creation" will be meaningless.

"Each of these questions requires extensive experimentation to answer."

Ron wrote in his notebook.

But the direction is set, and the road is laid out beneath our feet.

He carefully stored the blueprint in the innermost layer of his spatial bag and turned off the magic lamp of the experimental tower.

"baby."

Nari's voice softly rang out in the mental channel.

"Ok?"

"Although I don't quite understand what you're doing... Mom thinks that bringing life into the world because of you must be a very difficult, but also very remarkable thing."

This statement seems to refer to more than just the experiment he is currently conducting.

Ron did not answer.

He walked out of the experimental tower and stood for a long time in the twilight of the grid-like world.

The wind blew from the wasteland, carrying the unique chill of the dead.

It was the chill of autumn when the leaves fell to the ground.

It is also a coldness that everything will eventually pass, but everything new will eventually come.

………………

The autumn wind, carrying fragments of withered leaves, swept across the northern slope of the hills.

It brushed against the neatly arranged canopies of pine and cypress trees, emitting a low, mournful sound.

The Farouk Royal Mausoleum is built against the mountainside; it is neither grand nor elaborate, and even the royal emblem on the lintel is smaller than that on the palace.

Every detail of this mausoleum faithfully conveys the wishes of the deceased: no luxury, and certainly no extravagance.

Wearing a plain-colored long dress, Airo Ralph walked alone on the stone steps leading to the mausoleum gate.

In her right hand, she held a bouquet of fresh marigolds.

That was the national flower of the Kingdom of Farouk, and it was also the first plant her mother taught her to identify.

The edges of the petals were glistening with morning dew, which the witch had picked herself in the countryside early that morning.

"Beautiful flowers don't need others to grow them; they can stand firm in the wind on their own."

These were the words her grandfather had said to her when she was young, and she remembered them for the rest of her life.

The guards in front of the mausoleum gate saw the figure from afar and immediately stood at attention, saluting in unison.

They certainly recognized the witch who looked very young.

The "Witch Princess" of the Kingdom of Farouk, the most beloved granddaughter of His Majesty Andre, a formal witch of the Emerald Tower, and a renowned puppeteer.

Rumor has it that she is as cold as iron in winter and never wastes a word on anyone.

The guards dared not speak to her, but silently made way for her.

Airo walked past them without looking to either side.

The interior of the mausoleum is even simpler than the exterior.

At the end of the passageway is a small tomb chamber with a dome just the right height so that one doesn't have to bend over.

The stone tablet in the center of the tomb is rough and simple, with only the edges slightly polished by craftsmen.

A few simple lines of text were engraved on it:
Andrei Farooq

Knight, King, Friend, Father

I have lived a life without regrets.

The witch knelt down and gently placed the marigold in front of the tombstone.

"Grandpa, I'm back."

Of course, there will be no response.

The tomb chamber contained only stones, lights, flowers, and her in front of the tombstone.

Airo took a phonograph out of her storage bag.

Most of the paint on its outer shell has peeled off, and the flared end is also greenish.

Only the stylus area has been carefully maintained and has an oily sheen.

This phonograph originally belonged to Andrei.

One of the gifts he received from his closest friend when he was young.

Later, the two left the Black Mist Jungle, one heading to the Central Lands, and the other being crowned king.

This phonograph, however, remained a testament to their friendship and was kept in his private study.

Until his deathbed, he handed the phonograph to his most beloved granddaughter.

"This thing has been with me for most of my life."

The old king's voice was very weak at the time, as if it might be blown away by the wind at any moment:
"Your great-uncle re-recorded that song on a phonograph on that record inside."

"Please keep this safe for me."

Airo reached out and turned the hand crank.

"Click...click...click..."

The sound of gears meshing was exceptionally clear in the silent tomb.

Then, the singing began.

“Umbrae ambulant in tenebris profundis…

A shadowy figure lingers in the abyss…
The record was obviously made a long time ago.

The sound contains a slight distortion and tremor, which instead gives the melody a sense of vicissitude that transcends time.

It's as if this song wasn't played from a record.

It is drifting out from the cracks in the walls, from the dome of the tomb, and from the dreams of those who sleep beneath its feet.

“In morte, vita nova palpitat…

"The stirrings of new life after death..."

Airo sat cross-legged in front of the tombstone.

The plain-colored skirt spread out on the ground, like a quietly blooming white flower.

"Grandpa once said..." she recalled silently:

"The meaning of this song is that death is not the end, but only the beginning of another journey."

The witch's gaze fell on the inscription "With a clear conscience" on the monument.

"I didn't really believe it before."

"When a person dies, they are dead. Consciousness dissipates, the body decays, and memories, emotions, experiences... all cease to exist."

"This is the first lesson I learned at the Emerald Tower."

"The mentor said that wizards must face the nature of death squarely, neither embellishing it with romantic fantasies nor avoiding it with fear."

"I think she's absolutely right."

The song continued to flow, the melody gradually transitioning from a somber sadness to a bright hope.

"Sed in fine noctis, aurora nascitur...

From the end of night, dawn is born…

"But now, I'd rather believe it."

"I believe you've simply gone to another place, a place I can't reach."

"There, there is my grandfather who would tell me stories, and the old knight who held my hand and taught me to read..."

The phonograph record has completed its final rotation.

The stylus slips into the groove at the end, making a repeated "click...click..." sound.

Airo didn't touch it.

She sat there, listening to the monotonous yet comforting rhythm, like a heartbeat or a pendulum.

After a long while, she stood up and dusted off the hem of her skirt.

"I'll come see you again next time, Grandpa."

She put away the phonograph, took one last look at the tombstone, and turned to walk down the passageway.

The tomb returned to silence.

………………

Stepping out of the mausoleum, the sunlight made Ai Luo squint.

At the end of the stone steps, a carriage was waiting.

Beside the carriage stood a young attendant dressed in the Farouk court uniform.

"Your Highness." The attendant bowed respectfully.

"A message has come from the palace that His Majesty the King... wishes to meet with you."

"time?"

"Tonight, His Majesty said it's not a formal audience, just a family dinner, so Your Highness need not be too formal."

Airo remained silent for a moment.

A family dinner, of course, not a family dinner at all.

The new king harbored a subtle apprehension towards her, the "wizard princess" who was rarely in the country.

"understood."

The witch lifted the hem of her skirt, boarded the carriage, and remembered the letter her great-uncle had given her.

"Ailuo: "
The park's collapse has reached an irreversible stage.

Ordinary people have almost no ability to protect themselves in this level of turmoil.

I need you to do one thing: transfer the key personnel associated with me, especially the direct descendants of the Farouk royal family and the Ralph family, to the sanctuary built by the Crown Clan.

The list is attached.

This matter must be handled discreetly and swiftly, and given your position, you are the most suitable person to carry it out.

Trust you.

—Ron

"I trust you".

Her great-uncle's letters always ended like this: no unnecessary formalities, no excessive admonitions.

The witch leaned against the carriage wall, closed her eyes, and meditated, but a sense of unease crept into her heart.

………………

Farouk Palace, small banquet hall.

The term "small banquet hall" is only used in contrast to a formal banquet hall that can accommodate several hundred people.

The long table was laden with standard Farouk court dishes: roasted whole deer, spiced ox shank stew, honey-baked pumpkin, and fresh wine made from the newly harvested grapes...

The new king, Freifaruk, sat at the head of the long table, his blond hair weighed down by a simple silver crown.

His heroic spirit was similar to that of his grandfather when he was young, but his eyes held a more shrewd and calculating look.

He is Andrei's youngest grandson, and strictly according to seniority, he has to call Airo "Royal Sister".

"My elder sister has come from afar, and I have failed to greet her personally; this is truly impolite of me."

Frey stood up and picked up his wine glass.

Airo sat at the head of the table on the right, a position reserved for the most senior member of the royal family.

"You're welcome."

She took the wine glass handed to her by the waiter, took a symbolic sip, and then put it down.

After the initial pleasantries, Frey began to subtly inquire about the purpose of Airo's trip at the dinner table.

Each question was presented flawlessly, but they all pointed to the same core question: What exactly do you want to do with this sudden return?
Airo wasn't good at dealing with these kinds of tests.

Rather than sitting here dealing with this, she would prefer to go back to her studio and quietly adjust the dolls.

But there are some things that only you can do.

"Frey."

After the third course was served, she suddenly put down her knife and fork.

This impolite use of his first name caused the expressions of several of Frey's attendants to change slightly.

The new king himself did not show any displeasure; he put down his wine glass and adopted a "listening attentively" posture.

"I'm not good with words, so I'll just say what I mean."

Airo's tone was as flat as if she were stating the weather:

"Besides visiting my grandfather's grave, I have another important matter to attend to when I came back this time."

"Please speak, Your Majesty." Frey maintained her polite smile.

"You need to disperse the direct members of the royal family, as well as key personnel who have marriage ties with the Ralph family, to several designated locations over the next year."

"I will provide you with the specific location and resettlement plan later."

The moment those words were spoken, the atmosphere at the dinner table cooled down.

Frey's smile froze on his face.

"What does Your Highness mean by that?"

His voice unconsciously rose by half an octave.

Disperse and resettle members of the royal family?

In any kingdom, this means two possibilities:

It could be either preparation for evacuation before an invasion by a foreign enemy, or... the prelude to a coup.

"You're thinking it might be a coup, right?"

Ai Luo suddenly voiced his suspicions, so bluntly that it left everyone speechless.

Frey's composure finally crumbled, and his courtiers around him were on high alert.

The witch raised an eyebrow, subtly releasing her magical pressure to shut down any potential questions:

"I don't want to sit in your seat, nor am I interested in managing a mortal nation."

"But something is about to happen. The main world is about to undergo a major change, with an impact far beyond your imagination."

"If preparations are not made in advance, the Farouk royal family may suffer unnecessary losses in that change."

Frey fell silent.

He certainly knew what the "wizard world" meant to the Kingdom of Farouk.

My grandfather, Andrei, was able to transform this small border country into a continental power, not only because of his personal charisma and military talent.

Most importantly, there was the special relationship between him and the wizard Ron Ralph.

This relationship brought Farouk technology, resources, intelligence, and even direct military assistance.

But Frey did not share his grandfather's natural trust in the wizarding community.

In his view, wizards ultimately belong to another world.

Their lifespan far exceeds that of ordinary people, and their way of viewing time is also completely different from that of ordinary people.

What a wizard calls "about to happen" could mean tomorrow, or it could mean fifty years from now.

The dispersed placement of members of the royal family is a significant decision that will immediately cause a stir in the government and the public.

"I appreciate your kindness, elder sister."

Frey raised his glass again:

"However, such a matter concerning the foundation of the nation cannot be decided in the time it takes to eat a meal."

"Moreover... my elder sister has been away from the country for many years and probably doesn't know much about the situation in the court."

"If we start a major conflict based on just a few words from the wizards, the court officials probably won't agree."

These words were perfectly watertight.

It expressed doubts without directly rejecting the idea, leaving room for both sides to maneuver.

After listening, Ai Luo remained silent for a few seconds.

She is clearly not good at dealing with this kind of political rhetoric.

"Ok."

The witch stood up.

Frey was slightly taken aback, somewhat unsure of what the other person was thinking.

"Since you feel that a few words are not enough."

Airo took something out of the inside pocket of her robe and placed it on the dining table.

It was a letter.

The envelope was yellowed and the edges were curled, but the sealing wax was intact.

Frey recognized the emblem on the letter.

Andrei Farouk's personal seal was destroyed after his death.

"This is..." The new king was somewhat surprised and uncertain.

It was left to me by my maternal grandfather before he passed away.

Airo's voice remained calm, but when she spoke the words "grandfather," her tone softened almost imperceptibly.
“He told me to show it to my successor ‘when necessary’.”

“I didn’t plan to bring it out this early, but you don’t seem to believe me.”

Frey finished reading it quickly and put down the letter.

The firewood in the fireplace crackled and popped, sounding particularly jarring in the silence.

"Elder sister, how long will it take you?"

"The relocation plan has already been prepared by my great-uncle."

Airo pulled another document from her sleeve; it contained a list and route that Ron had prepared in advance.

"The first batch of personnel needs to be transferred within three months."

"It was carried out under various pretexts such as 'granting fiefs,' 'inspections,' 'marriage alliances,' and 'studying abroad,' so that it went unnoticed."

Frey took the document and quickly glanced through it.

“I have one condition.” He looked at Airo.

"explain."

"During the transfer, I need a way to contact you in case anything unexpected happens..."

He hesitated for a moment, then finally used a less hurtful wording:

"At least let me know that my family and subjects are safe."

Airo nodded.

She took out a communication crystal and pushed it across the table.

"Use it only in emergencies; don't touch it otherwise."

Frey took the crystal and felt the coolness on his fingertips.

Looking at the perpetually calm face opposite him, a strange feeling suddenly welled up in his heart.

This witch queen, whom I had always secretly feared, didn't seem to be as cunning as I had imagined.

She may just be a person who is not good with words, but she happens to be carrying a heavy responsibility.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

Airo didn't respond, but simply sat back down in her chair, picked up her glass, and took a sip.

The wine has a slightly bitter taste upon entry, followed by a long, sweet aftertaste. (End of Chapter)