These two small incidents, particularly witnessing Eileen's intimacy with another man, had indeed affected Richard, though he didn't realize it at the time.

  The next morning, the entire bay still slept. As winter deepened and the long night approached, sunrise was still hours away. Yet this did nothing to diminish the brightness outside. Ice coated everything—ground, hills, vegetation, the inland river—frozen solid, refracting and reflecting light primarily in hues of blue and white. Only the surface of the harbor waters still rippled with waves.

  Unable to sleep, Richard stood before the large, ten-meter-high floor-to-ceiling window, silently gazing down at the magnificent, chilling austerity of the ice floe bay. After exhaling a long, pent-up breath, he suddenly felt his vision broaden, his heart expanding almost enough to contain the entire bay. Before this grand vista, the darkness of the past few seasons left only a faint trace. Though it might accompany him for a long, long time, perhaps even stinging each time he remembered it for the rest of his life, every memory, every pain, became a form of wealth once overcome.

  Richard began to truly open his eyes, observing the world around him. The first things to enter his sight were the diverse people within Deepblue. He interacted most with the Magisters who taught him, but in Richard's eyes, they were no longer mere alchemical machines endlessly spouting profound knowledge. They transformed into living humans, elves, dwarves, and even dark elves.

  The Magisters had their own joys and sorrows, their own interests and desires. The way they looked at each person differed; their attitudes towards others varied. A gesture, a movement, a raised eyebrow, a glance—even the same words spoken at different speeds or tones—all mapped to different conclusions in Richard's emerging reality. As his understanding of the Magisters grew, and his observations became more focused and detailed, the increasing number of comparable instances in his memory suddenly made him realize: much of what the teachers said, many expressions they made, actually concealed something beneath the surface. And these hidden things were gradually being uncovered by him.

  The Magisters operated in different fields, which influenced their relationships. Some fields were closely related, while others were entirely separate. Magisters in related fields often had less amicable relationships, sometimes even engaging in blatant undermining, like Popovich and Riley. Relations between Magisters in unrelated fields were much more harmonious; many were good friends. Observing this, Richard reflected and perceived that the keyword connecting these phenomena was competition, and behind competition lay interests, represented by gold.

  After opening his eyes, Richard learned many other things. For instance, he finally understood why so many geometry, mathematics, painting, and magic array courses had suddenly been added to his schedule. He had also heard whispers about his future identity as a 'Saint Rune Crafter'.

  So, the Teacher intends to cultivate me as a Rune Crafter... Richard thought silently. Though a boy raised in the mountains, after more than a year in Deepblue, his perspective and temperament were no longer those of the ignorant child he once was. Yet, while the status of a Rune Crafter was extraordinary, in Richard's mind, it felt as placid as water. Under Elani's decade of subtle influence, Richard hadn't realized he already possessed a heart impervious to favor or disgrace.

  But regardless, now that he knew his Teacher's expectations, Richard would not disappoint her. Mountain children are stubborn, their loyalties and dislikes clear-cut. Richard was intelligent, and his many hardships had matured him far beyond his peers. He now understood his special position within Deepblue and was keenly aware of how many people would go mad for the Teacher's favor he received monthly. And while many people with ulterior motives looked at him with eyes full of jealousy, desire, and avarice, they still kept a certain distance, not daring to readily aim their schemes at him. The Papan incident had been an exception, just a few foolish noble brats ignorant of the world's true depths.

  Furthermore, Richard had noticed that wherever he went, one or two people always followed him from a distance. Whether it was his own intuition or the way the barbed stares in the crowd shifted from ill-intent to fearful retreat, he knew this wasn't surveillance, but protection. And so, whenever he thought of his Teacher's seemingly carefree personality and her trait of loving money as life itself, a faint warmth would rise in his heart.

  This was the only warmth Richard received that winter.

  Fortunately, during those muddled days, Richard's studies hadn't suffered in the slightest. On the contrary, he advanced rapidly in the world of magic. Only when thinking of this did his nascently mature heart feel a measure of gratification.

  Winter passed as winter does, and then, imperceptibly, spring arrived again. After finishing his studies for the day, Richard dragged his weary body back to his living quarters. As he passed the steel mannequin standing alone in the corner, he suddenly remembered: it was his birthday again.

  Except for its intact head, the steel mannequin was severely twisted and deformed, almost unrecognizable. This was the result of Richard repeatedly striking it using his explosive bloodline power. The nearby walls were also covered in pits and craters of various sizes, marks left by the mannequin crashing into them.

  Richard walked over to the mannequin and gently ran his hand over the mottled dents. Within the dents were sharp folds and keen-edged fractures. What had left these marks were not just his fists, but also his elbows, shoulders, knees, and even his head. More than one dent bore the stain of old, dried blood.

  Feeling the faint sting transmitted through his fingertips, seeing the bloodstains, Richard finally understood that the winter he thought had passed in busyness and calm had actually been anything but quiet. The pain had always been there, just hidden so deep he had almost believed he had forgotten.

  The steel mannequin's head remained undamaged, its smooth, round surface reflecting Richard's somewhat distorted face. The mannequin itself was battered beyond repair, the connections in many places reduced to a thin line; perhaps one more blow would detach them from the main body. Richard smiled, reached out to pat the mannequin's face, and then strode towards his bedroom.

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  Among the next day's lessons was a painting class. After listening through an entire lecture on art appreciation theory, the dozen or so students politely handed in their assignment paintings one by one and gradually departed. Richard was the last to approach. For some reason, seeing the still-young Richard, the Master suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable, his gaze instinctively avoiding Richard's eyes. Just thinking about the 'paintings' Richard had submitted before made the Master feel as if a damp, cold creature was clinging to his skin, impossible to shake off—an utterly wretched sensation.

  The Master's eyes swept over the assignment Richard was handing in, saw it was just a small painting, thirty centimeters square, and breathed a sigh of relief.

  It was a landscape painting depicting the Ice Floe Bay in winter, rendered with Richard's usual brushwork, fully showcasing the severe cold, the austerity, and the stark beauty. Compared to the darkness and chaos of his previous works, this painting had finally, uncharacteristically, returned to normalcy, though the power contained within the lines still made the Master feel a faint chill. As he relaxed, the Master suddenly noticed Richard staring intently at him, his pupils, tinged with sapphire blue, appearing bottomless.

  "Doesn't this painting look much more comfortable?" Richard's soft-spoken words instantly caused the Master to break out in a cold sweat. He instinctively leaped up from his chair, nearly tripping over the hem of his own robe. Ignoring his discomposure, he pointed a finger at Richard, stammering, "You... you..."

  In contrast, Richard was as calm as an iceberg, the elegant, beautiful smile on his face holding the allure of a demon's whisper. But however tempting a demon's murmur might be, the Master knew the terrible price behind the temptation—the eternal fall of the soul into the abyss! Seeing Richard's rare smile, more cold sweat trickled down the Master's spine. What chilled him even more was the realization that, if he remembered correctly, Richard was only just twelve years old!

  The Master desperately wanted to ask how Richard knew his feelings, but the words died on his lips. Regardless of how Richard knew, he did know now. And after calming down slightly, the Master understood Richard must have more to say. This twelve-year-old boy gave him a feeling of being utterly unfathomable. And those paintings constantly reminded the Master just how much madness resided deep within the boy before him.

  The Master took a deep breath, straightened his clothes, adopted the proper bearing of a tutor, sat down, and gestured for Richard to sit as well. Richard did not sit. Instead, like any ordinary apprentice inquiring about his studies, he first bowed respectfully to the Master, then asked with practiced etiquette and grace, "Master, firstly, I would like to ask you to tell me what the world of Rune Crafters is like."

  The Master paused, then shook his head. "I am not a Rune Crafter, merely a level twelve mage. When it comes to knowledge related to Rune Crafters, you should ask Magister Phil or Magister Huru, who teach you. Their attainments in runic construction far surpass mine..."

  Richard interrupted the Master. "No, I don't mean to ask about the specialized knowledge of runic construction. I want to know what a Rune Crafter does in the outside world, what responsibilities they have, how they live. Also, who are the currently famous Rune Crafters, their life experiences before and after achieving fame, their deeds, and so on. That is what I wish to know. Teacher Phil and Teacher Huru spend most of their time within Deepblue, unlike you, who has travelled the continent and was once an esteemed guest of the imperial courts of the three great empires. You must certainly know more about these matters."

  Richard's question made the Master pause again. He didn't understand why Richard was asking about what amounted to little more than anecdotes. However, a possibility occurred to him, one he found somewhat incredible—logically, this was definitely not something a twelve-year-old should be considering. Still, out of caution, he probed further, "Why do you want to know these things?"

  "Because I want to become a Rune Crafter, so I need to know what their world is like, and how one can advance further within it. And by knowing the lives of great Rune Crafters, past and present, I can learn about the setbacks they faced and the experiences they gained. At the very least, I don't want to repeat the mistakes they once made." Richard replied. He paused, then added, "The world of Rune Crafters as seen by a Rune Crafter must be different from how outsiders see it, wouldn't you agree?"

  The Master instantly broke into another cold sweat. This was precisely the possibility he had just considered.

  He could no longer refuse now. And on an emotional level, he was willing to impart his knowledge to the boy before him. Over these past days, through the silent communication of those paintings, the Master had always felt Richard was somehow different from his other students.

  He gathered his thoughts and began slowly, "Alright! Firstly, in my view, Rune Crafters are not merely creators of miracles; they should more accurately be called weavers of nightmares. It is because of them that the ultimate weapon, the Rune Knight construct, came into existence. Fortress after fortress, pass after pass, mountain stronghold after mountain stronghold, once deemed impregnable, were pulverized under the iron hooves of Rune Knights. The emergence of Rune Crafters changed warfare, altered the landscape of the continent, and greatly accelerated Norland's expansion into other planes. Without them, the world might be a different place entirely, and so many lives might not have been lost..."

  "Meaning," Richard interrupted the Master's artistic lamentations and sighs, summarizing concisely, "Rune Crafters are effectively creators of war legions."

  "You could put it that way, however..." The Master was reluctant to accept Richard's conclusion and still tried to resist, but after careful thought, he had to admit, "Alright, you are correct. Just as the significance of Legendary individuals lies in their lethal threat to a nation's royalty and high nobility—because regardless of profession, a Legendary figure can become the most dangerous assassin—the respect afforded Rune Crafters stems from their being destroyers of nations. A legion composed of Rune Knights, even just a small squad, is enough to rout an army tens of thousands strong. Now, let us begin with Master Lodontar. He was the first true Rune Crafter on the continent..."

  The Master's commentary was concise yet vivid. With just a few words, famed Rune Crafters who had once dominated their eras seemed to appear before Richard's eyes. These individuals used their wisdom and genius to create numerous Rune Knight legions, and each Rune Knight bore the deep imprint of its creator. Every Rune Crafter's creations were distinctly different; it was a world where individuality and talent could be displayed without restraint. The most famous Rune Crafters in history invariably left behind dazzling masterpieces for posterity, such as Solomon's Phantom Devil Set, Lucadim's Crimson Knights, and Saint Peter's Heavenly Armaments. Countless other Rune Crafters attempted to imitate and follow the paths of these masters, yet these true geniuses were always imitated, but never surpassed.

  An entire hour passed before the Master had sketched even a rough outline of the history of Rune Crafters. A detailed account would likely take more than ten days or half a month.

  After the Master had rested for a moment, Richard spoke again. "Thank you, Master. My second request is to ask you for an introduction."

  The Master nodded. "I know many people in Deepblue; it's fair to say I have some connection with most of the more... special individuals. What kind of person do you need an introduction to? A woman? Haha!"

  The Master's lame joke didn't make Richard laugh. He lowered his head, remaining silent for a long moment before looking up as if having made a firm resolution. "I need to find someone who can teach me how to kill."