A mage? A spell engineer!

Chapter 81 Rural Spiritual Civilization Construction

"Don't blink." Rorschach spread his hands, showing everyone that he had nothing in his hands. Everyone held their breath, and the venue became so quiet that you could hear birds chirping in the woods.

Then he flicked his right wrist, and suddenly a package appeared.

"Open it, you can eat it." He gave it to the nearest child, then said to everyone, "There's something for everyone, a little gift."

"Wow, it's so sweet." The child opened the bag; it contained slightly transparent candies, which he put in his mouth with great delight.

There was nothing fancy about it. The trick just now was that Rorschach took out some brown sugar prepared for the lower planes from his storage ring. He had originally divided it into dozens of packets, each weighing about half a pound. When he gave them to the children, he would tease them by pretending to be a magician.

"Great, great!" The villagers clapped and crowded around to receive it.

Rorschach was handing out candy, carefully watching the color of the paper packet in his hand—don't give them the Vibration Crystal Powder!

Some people take out a piece and start licking it slowly, while others start chewing it directly. The most knowledgeable eaters will crush the sugar in a wine glass and then stir it into a small half glass of light beer, transforming it into an expensive mead. In the era when wine was not only not made into dry red wine but also had sugar and honey added, the taste of sweetness was never enough.

The villages nestled against the Black Forest had access to honey, and the settlements further south even possessed the skill of domesticating a type of hairy bee. However, the scarce honey was used as medicine, given to the lord as tax payment, and even those who kept it for themselves would dilute it terribly with grain porridge.

Each person received a packet of candy; Rorschach was a generous lord, and everyone enjoyed luxury goods upon his return.

According to Rorschach, things will only turn out the other way around. Brown sugar will be slightly better, as people will still buy it if it's packaged as something made using traditional methods. Glucose syrup and white sugar will become the bottom of the pecking order, while wild honey will be the most sought-after source of sweetness.

A magic show begins in a small village during the winter festival. The audience is thrilled by the magician's invisible "hands" that make things float and even pick up children. There is also a clever use of "resurrection" to turn dried fruit back into fresh fruit. During the show, the magician accidentally loses control of the force and causes a seed to sprout into a seedling, which receives even more applause.

Rorschach thought with a touch of wicked humor, what if one day spellcasters became so numerous that some had to make a living by performing? Would the so-called "magic revealers" in the audience become: "I know that, it's [Silent Illusion], a level one spell is nothing special."

"Look, folks, there's nothing in the cup." Standing on the table, Rorschach turned the cup upside down, showing the bottom to the audience, and then, gurgling, the cup was filled to the brim. The villagers passed the cup around with reverence, as if it contained holy water rather than pure water.

The cup returned to Rorschach's hand, which he tossed into the air. Everyone gasped at the spilled water, which didn't fall but hovered in mid-air. Rorschach froze and then held the ice shards with his icy hand, "activating" and "reflecting" them.

Earth, with its more complex composition than its actual components, is easier to shape than water. The icicles in the air transformed from irregular shapes into a magnificent greatsword, which descended steadily and was grasped by Rorschach. His dark purple robes fluttered in the wind, making him appear like a legendary hero, earning him waves of applause and cheers from the villagers.

Finally, to prevent the children from getting hurt while playing with the makeshift "Village Sword" made of ice, the sorcerer Rorschach infused it with an excessive amount of magic, causing it to explode into tiny ice crystals in the light and dissipate, earning high praise from the adults and deep regret from the kids.

Thus, the Winter Festival magic show came to a successful conclusion, and the Imperial Intermediate Spellcaster Rorschach made an outstanding contribution to the spiritual and cultural development of his hometown's rural population.

"Master Luo Xia is truly amazing! Why haven't we ever seen our resident mage show off his skills?"

"No way, he wears gold and silver every day and carries a cane everywhere he goes. He's just a show-off who looks impressive but is actually a good-for-nothing."

"Shh, don't talk nonsense, and don't tell the truth carelessly either."

The town's resident mage, an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire, shuddered, paused signing documents, and fiddled with the firewood in the fireplace to make it burn brighter.

He recalled a message he received during dinner: "Has Master Luo Xia returned to the village?"

"Yes. Do you want me to get his information?" the apprentice and assistant replied.

"No need. This information is just worthless paper for the parliament to see; it's not worth reading."

Unlike the resident monks who work late into the night, the small mountain village is naturally not like that.

After everyone extinguished their campfires and took their pots and pans back to their own homes, they immediately went to sleep. Staying up all night meant more fuel and more food, a privilege reserved for non-manual laborers in the town.

So no matter what Rorschach's schedule was, he always needed to sleep. It wasn't a lack of light, but rather that turning the pages of his book would disturb others—the houses in the countryside didn't have guest rooms!

Although the house is divided into many rooms, the main distinctions are the kitchen, storage room, and even a semi-open room for the beloved cows to spend the winter. To save fuel, the whole family sleeps in one room, or even just one bed, and so do guests.

Rorschach's younger siblings—whom he had never met and whose names he only knew from letters—were relegated to the attic to make room for Rorschach.

"It was full of dried wheat straw inside, warm and cozy, so they wouldn't freeze to death."

"I think I could sleep in the attic."

"This won't do!"

"The mage won't get cold! Angel's little attic is a bit too cold." Franz was ten years old, the same year Rorschach started his schooling. He was already able to help his parents with some farm work. If his sister's calculations were correct, she should be six years old.

Old Merkle no longer insisted. Like most of the men in the village who managed their households, he was a stubborn man. But when it came to the homecoming monk Rorschach, he did whatever he was told, and simply took out a coarse cloth bag stuffed with straw and a sheepskin.

"Rorschach, can you tell me the story of the sorcerer?" came his sister's voice from the darkness.

Angel's parents didn't stop her; perhaps they wanted to hear it too.

Rorschach's voice came from the rooftop: "In the capital of the southern kingdom, there is a very tall tower. It was built by magicians and dwarves to celebrate the king's birthday. From the top of the tower, you can see the entire capital. On the night of the king's birth, the world's largest torch will be lit, scattering countless stars into the sky and the city."

"I want to see it too. Can we pick up the scattered stars?"

"There will be a chance."

Rorschach also described the beauty of the sub-planes, avoiding any mention of the dangers encountered along the way—if he were to talk about those things now, the elderly Merklers might start to worry and fret when he wasn't around.

8:04.

This is the time Rorschach woke up the next day.

"You're awake?" Mrs. Merkle said with a smile. "Have some porridge, mixed with milk and last night's broth. It's been kept warm on the stove."

Old Merkle took young Franz to feed the cattle and gather firewood early in the morning—they were taking advantage of the fact that it hadn't snowed in the last few days to collect as much as they could, as fuel was extremely precious, especially in the countryside during winter.

"You should have called me." Luo Xia's habit in the Holy Kingdom was to get up at 7:30. Without cell phones, maintaining a regular schedule and going to bed early and waking up early seemed to have become an easy thing. So now no one wakes him up. In the countryside, bells only ring at noon, but Luo Xia doesn't get up too late.

"You must have traveled a very, very long way. You should get some more sleep." The woman had never been to a place farther than the town, and for a long time, she had been separated from Luo Xia by a distance she could not imagine.

"Our archmage has awakened?" Old Merkle shouted loudly from outside, as he and Franz returned carrying miscellaneous wood.

Luo Xia went out to find him; the boy had something very important to confirm.

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(End of this chapter)