Chapter 53: Desire to Tangle

The Female Mage frowned slightly at Shaoke’s explanation. “You’ll come off worse if you keep this up—though it might be more effective against fellow mages. In the future, I plan to specialize in ward-type spells, as they’re universally needed.”

Shaoke nodded. “Everyone has their own path. Whatever you choose, I fully support you!” Francis shook her head gently and smiled.

After chatting a while longer, the coachman brought dinner. Somehow, the two of them ended up drinking two small barrels of red wine. Francis rubbed her flushed cheeks and leaned against the carriage wall to begin meditation, while Shaoke resumed crafting his spellbook.

His current task was adding a cover to the already-bound pages—a step he’d prepared for in advance. The cover was made from the fur of a snow tiger cub, magically fused together. A butterfly, poised for flight, was inlaid with mithril, and the edges were wrapped with the border region’s unique silvery-white snow copper—making it stunningly elegant.

Once finished, Shaoke placed the book into a prepared magical solution to soak. Only after the enchantment in the solution had been fully absorbed by the book could he proceed to the next stage. This process typically lasted three to five days—but Shaoke still had ample time.

He then took a drop of voidstone liquid and began meditating as well—though his was only a shallow meditation. This was primarily because Francis’s deep meditation rendered her completely unaware of external changes, so someone needed to remain alert—to buy time in case of unexpected events. They took turns fulfilling this duty.

The mana in his mana reservoir hadn’t increased significantly, but it was markedly stronger than right after his promotion. Shaoke estimated that, with his current reserves, he could cast one second-tier spell and several first-tier spells before exhausting his mana. This was partly due to the exceptional purity of his mental energy; otherwise, he’d have lost one casting opportunity for a first-tier spell. Crucially, the mana cost of a second-tier spell was roughly three times that of a first-tier spell—and a third-tier spell required three times the mana of a second-tier one. Beyond fifth-tier spells, however, the requirements for sixth-rank and higher spells escalated further.

Shaoke repeatedly guided mana through the newly constructed array within his inner space, sensing the mana emerging from the array gradually intensify. To him, this efficiency felt sluggish—prompting mild regret that the diamond array he’d formed during his promotion hadn’t been designed to boost mana output. Yet upon reflection, it wasn’t all bad—at least he didn’t need to expend extra mental effort to purify mana. Still, which design was truly superior? He wasn’t certain—though he still preferred the promotion-era array for its automatic purification function.

While meditating, Shaoke sensed Francis had ceased her practice. After completing one final cycle of mana circulation, he withdrew from his meditation space. “Francis, why did you end your meditation so early today? Is something wrong?”

She shook her head gently, her face still flushed. “It’s all your fault for making me drink so much wine. Now my body feels weak—I had to stop.” Seeing Shaoke’s skeptical expression, she turned her head away. “I felt uncomfortable the moment I began meditating, so I only set it for two magical hours.”

Shaoke nodded. “Let me give you a massage—it might help you feel better.” He moved to do so, but Francis wisely declined his potentially opportunistic gesture.

“I knew you had ulterior motives. Forget it—I’m going to bed. You can massage yourself.” With that, she tidied the carriage space serving as her bed, adjusted her wide robe, pulled the blanket over herself, and turned onto her side to sleep.

Shaoke shook his head, carefully activated an Alert Ward inside the carriage, and resumed his meditation.

It had been over a month since Shaoke had specifically focused on mental energy meditation. Now he wanted to observe how his mental energy had evolved. Though he still used voidstone liquid, he’d recently switched to a diluted version—and wished to carefully compare its effects against the undiluted form.

Mental light points drifted continuously within his mental space. Beneath the diamond array condensed during his promotion, a black vortex spun ceaselessly. Surrounding light points were occasionally drawn in—only to escape again from below. Each time, the total number of emerging light points was slightly fewer than those drawn in—but their intensity was noticeably brighter. After careful observation, Shaoke found that this half-diluted drop of voidstone liquid was about ten percent less efficient in purification than the undiluted version. Yet, based on past experience, its duration didn’t appear significantly shorter—an outcome that satisfied him. Still, he had no intention of diluting it further. Upon returning to the capital, he planned to purchase some auxiliary medicinal herbs—and then decide whether further dilution was warranted.

By the time Shaoke withdrew from his mental space, it was already late at night. He organized his belongings, lay down beside Francis beneath the blanket, and quietly observed her by the soft red glow of the nearby stove.

The blush on her face hadn’t faded. One small hand rested near her mouth, and her red lips—slightly parted under the pillow’s pressure—revealed a tiny gap. Just as Shaoke gazed intently, Francis’s long eyelashes fluttered faintly. Her eyes snapped open, and one hand shot toward her staff. Shaoke quickly restrained her. “Francis—it’s me.”

She blinked, rubbed her eyes with the hand near her mouth, and finally recognized him. “I thought we were under attack! Good thing it’s you. Why aren’t you letting go?”

Shaoke awkwardly withdrew his hand—which had been pressing over hers as she reached for her staff. “No one would launch a sudden assault on resting mages unless they wished never to see tomorrow’s sunlight.”

Francis tugged at her blanket. “Are you so sure? I know of many mages who were caught unawares—and pinned to their headboards by the short swords of those filthy Isagor assassins. I believe numerous texts mention this.”

Shaoke nodded, pulling the blanket she’d tugged down back over her. “Don’t do that—you’ll catch a chill.”

She rolled her eyes and tossed the blanket aside—nearly covering the stove. “Don’t you feel hot? I’m burning up. It’s all your fault for making me drink so much wine today—my whole body feels feverish.”

Shaoke quickly placed his hand on her smooth forehead to check her temperature. “It *is* a bit warm—but a good night’s rest will fix it. Mainly, your body was already exhausted, and the wine triggered this reaction. I should’ve anticipated it.” He retrieved her blanket again, intending to cover her.

Francis shook her head, sat up, and refused. “Mage Xueye—could you massage my head? I think the red wine is still affecting me. I’ve never drunk this much before—but I don’t know why I drank so much today, and now I’m like this.” As she spoke, she lowered her head, biting her lip before continuing, “Will this affect my mental energy? I feel my mental fluctuations are unusually rapid—much faster than usual.”

Shaoke gently drew her into his embrace and began softly massaging her head. “Don’t worry, Francis—this is perfectly normal. Had I known you couldn’t handle alcohol, I’d have stopped you immediately. By tomorrow morning, your mental fluctuations will have returned to baseline.”

Under Shaoke’s massage, Francis let out a soft, comfortable moan—sending a jolt of heat through him. Fortunately, he knew exactly what he needed to do. After a brief pause, he continued.

His hands slowly combed through her blue hair, gently stimulating her scalp with his fingertips—using the technique taught by instructors during their magical studies. This method had been refined over years of experimentation by mages who enjoyed drinking yet were prone to intoxication. Even now, some mages still hoped to perfect this massage to enhance its efficacy.

After lying there a while, Francis felt much better. “Mage Xueye—that’s much better. You can stop now. Hmm… this way, I can sleep comfortably. Thank you.”

Shaoke slowly ceased—but his hands lingered reluctantly in her hair, savoring the warmth radiating from her. Francis didn’t object. “Mage Xueye—were there many female mages in your former academy?”

Shaoke slowly traced his hand down her slender neck—stopping just above the upper curve of her prominent breasts when she gently halted him. “Not many. I recall seeing only about a dozen or so female mages back then. Why do you ask?”

Francis chuckled. “I thought so! Am I pretty? Were you looking after me along the way because you wanted to take advantage of me?”

Shaoke felt deeply embarrassed—though she couldn’t see it. “You *are* beautiful. But my care for you wasn’t motivated by what you just suggested. I simply wanted a companion for safety during travel.”

She lifted her head slightly so her eyes met his. “Really? A female mage’s fate is rarely in her own hands—unless she ascends to Magister. But by then, it’s often too late for many things.”

Hearing her words, Shaoke abandoned any lingering thoughts of taking advantage of her. He leaned down and kissed her smooth forehead. “Francis—I hope when we meet again, we’ll still recognize each other.”

She nodded, turning within his embrace. “Can I sleep leaning against you?”

Shaoke casually pulled the blanket over her. “No problem—though I can’t guarantee it’ll be more comfortable than leaning against a pillow.”

Francis whispered, “You don’t understand—there’s a difference. Thank you, Mage Xueye!”