But, was this a power he could truly control? For the first time, Richard felt shaken.

  In the testing ground, the Ironclad Horse's stamina was rapidly draining. Its speed had noticeably slowed, though still much faster than an ordinary Ironclad Horse, and naturally, its energy depletion was also quicker. After knocking down the final obstacle, it finally collapsed from exhaustion, letting out a mournful cry before falling headlong to the ground. White foam sprayed from its mouth, its four hooves twitched a few times, and then it lay still.

  Richard let out a small gasp, not expecting this outcome, and quickly looked towards Master Phil. The old Archmage patted him on the shoulder and said, "Don't be alarmed. A standard Basic Agility construct only increases speed by about thirty percent. Because the one you made isn't perfected, its speed enhancement fluctuated between thirty and fifty percent. That Ironclad Horse's constitution wasn't actually sufficient to bear the Rune Construct; it was only forcefully implanted for the sake of the experiment. If everything were properly matched, a Rune Construct wouldn't harm the host like this. Now, I think you've seen how Construct Masters change the world."

  Richard nodded, his heart still pounding wildly, utterly speechless.

  "This is power that can change the world. Use it cautiously, especially you," Master Phil said meaningfully, then led Richard away.

  Richard was granted leave to rest for the day, and he desperately needed it. Inscribing the 'Basic Agility' had kept him in a state of extreme excitement all night; his physical strength, mental energy, and mana were long overdrawn. Now, having witnessed the effects of the Rune Construct made by his own hands, the exhilaration was irrepressible. However, once his excitement subsided, an equal measure of fatigue washed over him. His eyelids felt weighted down with stones, impossible to keep open; he desperately wanted to fall asleep right where he stood.

  Phil summoned a mage on duty and instructed him to take two non-human strongmen and escort young Richard back to his residential area. After the duty mage left, Phil thought for a moment, then called over a nearby student. He handed the student a procurement order, telling him to send a case each of potent mana recovery potions and stamina recovery potions to Richard, charging the expense to Phil's own account.

  This student was already thirty years old and had followed the Master for many years. Thus, only mild surprise showed on his face, though internally, his mind was already reeling.

  Each case contained only ten bottles, but the potency of Deepblue's potent potions was several times that of similar potions found outside, and their price was more than ten times higher. Although Phil held an extremely high position in Deepblue, with an income to match, these two cases were equivalent to the Master's entire fixed monthly income. It was important to remember that Phil's income wasn't just for his own living expenses; the operation and maintenance of the laboratories under his name, as well as the remuneration for the staff working for him, all came from this fund.

  The other, younger students nearby were even less able to conceal their feelings. There was surprise, envy, and even indifference, though the latter was rare.

  The Rune Construct experiment had taken up the entire morning. Phil glanced at the magical hourglass timer; the afternoon Magic Philosophy class was about to begin.

  Just then, the magic teleportation array in the northeast corner of the stands flickered several times, and the figures of Stevenson and Minnie appeared. Spotting Phil from afar, Stevenson immediately called out, "Master Phil, we finally found you!" Usually composed and elegant, he revealed an irrepressible urgency and joy.

  Stevenson broke into a run, only stopping when he reached Phil. Despite his anxious expression, Stevenson still performed a respectful bow first. It had to be said, his etiquette and bearing were outstanding among his peers. Considering his significant family background and his own excellent talents, achieving this was even more commendable. Compared to Stevenson, Her Highness's other two students clearly fell short. Minnie invariably revealed an unconscious, deep-seated pride, while Richard spent most of his time utterly oblivious to everyone around him. Even during class breaks, Richard would be completely engrossed in his notes and lectures, seemingly deaf and blind to his surroundings, causing many who wished to befriend him to hit a soft wall.

  "Master Phil! This is a work inspired by a chance insight last night. I'd like to ask for your appraisal!" Stevenson's tone couldn't hide his eagerness. Though maintaining humility, the pride and self-assurance in his voice were unmistakable, making one uncontrollably curious about what he would present. Stevenson carefully opened the enchanted leather case in his hands, took out a regular hexagonal piece of magical beast hide, and presented it to Master Phil.

  It was a dark red hide. The rich smell of sulfur, the dark red patterns resembling bloodstains, and large black spots indicated it came from an extremely dangerous magical beast: a Flame Drake. Drake hide, due to its excellent durability and good magical conductivity, was a standard material for inscribing Rune Constructs, suitable for constructs below the second level. The piece Stevenson presented was of superior quality, clearly exceeding the average standard. If it fell into the hands of a highly skilled Grand Construct Master, it could even be used to create a simple third-level construct.

  The cutting and preliminary treatment of this drake hide were exquisite, obviously not Stevenson's own work. In the center of the hide, a complex magic circle was inscribed, shaped like a clenched iron fist pointing upwards, emanating a primal, forceful aura. Judging from the lines and composition, the creator's skill was quite refined and practiced, already quite good by general standards. However, for constructing this particular magic circle, the technique seemed slightly crude, as it was a composite array formed from three magic circles, demanding a level of precision and macroscopic grasp fundamentally different from ordinary standards. Therefore, the magic circle wasn't complete, though occasional flickering flows of magical light sparked in a few corners, indicating it was at least partially effective.

  Master Phil casually glanced at the magic circle on the hide, slightly surprised, nodded, and said, "Ah, 'Basic Strength.' Completion level is roughly... 20%. Hmm, considering your current age and level, it's not bad. The style of Saint Kruse is very evident on this Rune Construct; it seems he has indeed been guiding you diligently. When Luther returns, have him spend some time studying it and see what areas you need to improve."

  After speaking, Phil casually handed the drake hide to a student beside him and walked towards the teleportation array. As he passed Stevenson, the old Archmage paused, glanced at the young Dragon Blooded Sorcerer, and remarked, "Also, the drake hide is truly excellent. A bit of a waste."

  Flanked by several students, Phil's figure vanished into the light of the magic array.

  Stevenson remained standing there, lost and bewildered.

  The sky was overcast, and the wind was cold.

  Stevenson was not yet eighteen and possessed Red Dragon bloodline. Being able to inscribe a complete Rune Construct was the single most important step in a Construct Master's life. As long as the completion level exceeded 10%, creating a truly functional Rune Construct was merely a matter of time. It could be said that once this step was taken, one was certain to become a Construct Master, even if only capable of inscribing primary runes.

  Stevenson was still young; time was the one thing he didn't lack. He had thought this piece—the result of over half a month of painstaking effort, with material processing mobilizing the entire resources of the Solam family, costing over a million gold coins in total—would completely conquer Master Phil. He never expected this outcome. If this work had been presented to the Construct Master Saint Kruse, it would undoubtedly have received the highest praise and accolades. But Archmage Phil's coolness and indifference poured a basin of ice water—Floe Bay ice water—over Stevenson's fervent heart.

  Who was Luther? Stevenson knew Luther was Master Phil's student, thirty-one years old, a thirteenth-level Great Mage, with no special bloodline; his age and mana level were merely adequate, nothing more. Such a person wouldn't even register on Stevenson's radar outside of Deepblue. Yet the work he had poured his heart into was casually tossed aside by Archmage Phil to his own student, instructing such a mediocre waste to guide him?!

  If Phil's attitude was like this, then the reaction of the Legendary Mage, Her Highness, could easily be imagined. Stevenson suddenly felt disheartened. Thinking of the empty income column on his account statements for the past few months only intensified his confusion. Was earning the Legendary Mage's 'pleasure' truly so difficult? Where had he gone wrong? Even setting Richard aside, that waste Randolph had previously received no small amount of the Legendary Mage's 'pleasure'.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Stevenson didn't care about the money; what he needed was the Legendary Mage's recognition and inheritance. And 'Helen Su's Pleasure,' just as the project name suggested, was the most direct representation of her attitude. If he couldn't even obtain 'Helen Su's Pleasure,' how could he possibly qualify to inherit the mantle of Construct Master?

  He had been in Deepblue for over half a year now, and during this time, Stevenson believed he hadn't slacked off for a single moment. He meticulously prepared for every meeting with the Legendary Mage to showcase his most perfect self. Some meetings were scheduled, while some 'chance' encounters were engineered with significant manpower and resources. He spent more time on magical studies and cultivation than ever before, and the growth rate of his mana attested to his efforts. He did many things he was supposed to do, and many things he shouldn't have done but felt were necessary. For example, sparing no effort, using any means necessary, to strike at his greatest competitor, Richard—the one deemed by the Legendary Mage as the 'future Saint Construct Master'. Unfortunately, Richard was as closed off as a stone, giving him almost no opening.

  On every occasion, Stevenson maintained the most appropriate etiquette and demeanor of a high noble scion, even when he desperately wanted to smash someone's nose or rip open their bodice. He had clearly understood Deepblue's structure, comprehended its operational model, knew the tempers, habits, and preferences of every important figure like the back of his hand, and had successfully gathered a group of friends while isolating his enemies. Although, there was some doubt about the last point, as Richard had always been solitary.

  Yet, after unprecedented effort, Stevenson now reaped unprecedented disappointment. Archmage Phil's indifference made him realize in that moment that Deepblue was a colossal, unmatched beast. He had only ever assumed he understood it well; in reality, he hadn't even seen its full picture. Facing the collective body formed by numerous Archmages, a seventeen-year-old Dragon Blooded Sorcerer was nothing, even if hailed as a genius.

  In Deepblue, there was no shortage of geniuses.

  One of Phil's students remained in the testing ground, cleaning up. Seeing Stevenson's pale, bewildered face, he suddenly felt a pang of sympathy, especially since he had received quite a few small gifts from Stevenson. Though not exceptionally rare, they represented thoughtfulness and consideration, particularly valuable coming from a direct descendant of a major noble family like Stevenson.

  He greeted Stevenson, looked around to ensure no one was nearby, then lowered his voice, saying, "The Master is very busy today because Richard submitted a Rune Construct this morning. So the Master spent the entire morning testing its effects, disrupting his schedule."

  Though the student's voice was soft, several words within it exploded like thunder in Stevenson's ears, shaking him so violently he could barely stand.

  "Richard? A Rune Construct? What kind was it? What was the completion level?" Stevenson asked, clinging to a final shred of hope. His voice turned suddenly hoarse. His hair, intentionally styled somewhat messily, was now genuinely disheveled, a few strands on his forehead soaked with sweat and plastered flat. But he knew in his heart: any Rune Construct usable for practical testing, no matter how poor, would have a completion level far exceeding his 20%.

  The student looked at Stevenson sympathetically, pointed towards the Ironclad Horse carcass being dragged away by strongmen in the distance, and said, "It was 'Basic Agility.' The completion level... is actually meaningless. See that Ironclad Horse? That construct was already made into a plugin and installed on it. The experiment was very successful, indicating the construct plugin only needs minor refinement."

  Despite being mentally prepared, the answer far exceeded Stevenson's expectations. The Rune Construct had already been made into a plugin and tested successfully? This was the second major hurdle on the path to becoming a Construct Master: installing a finished Rune Construct onto a specific creature. And Richard had effortlessly cleared this hurdle? Stevenson knew exactly what that meant. By the loosest standards, Richard could now fully claim the title of Construct Master!

  This news shattered Stevenson's psychological defenses. Although the current Richard still had a long way to go before becoming a Construct Master truly capable of creating Construct Knights, the fatal blow was that the road ahead for Stevenson was far, far longer! And Richard was only twelve—even rounding up, only thirteen!

  Stevenson's vision suddenly went black. All hope, all future prospects, all honor and glory seemed to recede in that instant, while the immense investment his family had poured into him remained as cold and heavy as ever. Stevenson had seen Randolph's fate and had arrogantly mocked it. But soon, Randolph's today could become his tomorrow.

  Stevenson grabbed the student's arm, gripping so tightly his nails dug deep into the other's flesh. He demanded in a hoarse voice, "Are you sure it was Richard? Richard Akmond? That little brat who isn't even thirteen yet?!"

  The student calmly pulled his arm free. He understood Stevenson's current state of mind and his loss of composure. Young Richard had delivered a monumental shock to everyone; even Archmage Phil couldn't maintain his calm, let alone Stevenson.

  The Legendary Mage's habit was long an open secret, so students in the same field were always in competition, sometimes even trampling each other. Every step of Richard's progress meant joy for the big boss to his teachers, but for the boss's other students, it was a heavy blow. And Richard's achievement this time was so dazzling that this student couldn't bear to imagine the weight of the blow Stevenson had suffered. Actually, he didn't need to imagine; one look at the usually composed Dragon Blooded Sorcerer's current panic and disarray told the whole story.

  As for the minor pain from being grabbed, the student didn't mind. The small gifts Stevenson had given were more than enough compensation, dozens of times over. And seeing this young, dazzling, talented Dragon Blooded Sorcerer—who had also plundered the bodies and hearts of many beautiful young women—so utterly devastated brought a faint thrill of secret pleasure to his heart. It was like Her Highness Helen Su often said, "I really can't help but laugh!"

  After all, compared to the habitually taciturn Richard, Stevenson's radiance was far more blinding. If he were to fall face-first into the mud, far more people would cheer.

  Of course, the student wouldn't actually laugh out loud. Instead, he looked at Stevenson with eyes full of deep sympathy and understanding, said nothing, and simply nodded.

  For someone like Stevenson, who had been the center of his world since childhood, sympathy was the last thing needed.

  The student's pitying gaze was more painful than several slaps to the face, yet Stevenson couldn't react. He could only force a benevolent smile in return, but his face burned as if on fire, blood rushing to it, his pale skin showing an unnatural flush. The student, in fact, was equally aware of the effect and impact of that sympathetic look.

  Having achieved the desired effect, the student didn't intend to linger. If he stayed any longer, he feared he really wouldn't be able to hold back his laughter. In Deepblue, only Helen Su was unrestrained and could laugh with impunity. Everyone else needed to consider the time, place, occasion, and surrounding people before daring to laugh out loud. Before leaving, the student suddenly remembered something. He glanced around again and discreetly slipped a piece of half-burnt, fragmented hide into Stevenson's hand. Stevenson didn't immediately look at what he received; instead, he took out a small crystal vial and gave it to the student as thanks.

  It was a vial of potent mana recovery potion. Although a small, portioned bottle, its market price exceeded 500 gold coins.

  A rather satisfactory gift! And merely in return for the information the student had revealed. He believed someone as perceptive as Stevenson would surely offer more for the item he had just been given. The student carefully pocketed the small crystal vial, the cool, smooth, delicate touch of the bottle making him reluctant to remove his fingers.

  For the student, today was a day of abundant harvest. He had witnessed the birth of a miracle, received valuable 'small gifts,' with more 'small gifts' on the way, and had his spirits lifted. One couldn't ask for more! Before stepping into the teleportation array, the student couldn't help but look up at the sky over Floe Bay, thinking the weather today was truly fine.

  Stevenson also looked up at the sky. As far as his eyes could see, leaden clouds gathered densely—a clear omen of an impending blizzard.

  Only Stevenson and Minnie remained on the large stands beside the testing ground. Minnie had stayed near the magic array the entire time, only approaching the railing near the Ironclad Horse by a few steps to observe carefully when the strongmen were clearing it away. Otherwise, she hadn't come closer, whether Stevenson was talking to Phil or to the Master's student.

  "This damned weather!" Stevenson couldn't help but curse. Early spring in Floe Bay was still extremely cold. The icy wind blowing on his sweat-soaked clothes made Stevenson feel as if he had fallen into an ice cave. He opened his palm, looked at what the student had slipped him, and his face immediately turned even uglier.

  It was a piece of half-burnt hide, the material clearly from some subspecies of lizard. In terms of quality, it was at least four major grades lower than Flame Drake hide, and the price per unit area differed by more than fifteen hundred times. Stevenson was intelligent; he naturally understood the student's intention in giving him this scrap. Richard's 'Basic Agility' construct had been inscribed on such a piece of barely adequate material.

  Everyone knew that better materials increased the success rate and potency of magic circles.

  Thus, the small, half-burnt scrap of hide in his hand suddenly felt incredibly heavy, almost impossible to hold. And the already vast distance Stevenson perceived between himself and Richard, because of this charred scrap, had now more than doubled.

  Another gust of cold wind blew past, and Stevenson's face turned deathly pale. He suddenly felt he hated this place—the damned weather, the damned events, the damned people! The only thing he could feel satisfied about today was that his conduct before Master Phil and his student had remained reasonably dignified, without excessive loss of composure.

  But what use was that? The overall battle was already lost. What was the point of winning back a point or two in minor skirmishes?

  Stevenson waved his hand, beckoning Minnie towards the teleportation array. He wanted to leave this place as quickly as possible. Minnie suddenly asked nonchalantly, "What did he give you just now?"

  Stevenson's body stiffened. Then, he forced a few words through clenched teeth: "Also a fine piece of hide!"