After the Day of Fate, Richard's life returned to its original track. He had already pushed himself to the limit; now, all he could do was persevere day after day. With each passing day, he gave the Archmages one more reason to be astonished. Even having fathomed many mysteries of the magical world, the Archmages struggled to discern what lay hidden within Richard's not particularly robust body, enabling him to strive like the most precise alchemical machine—emotionless, unwavering, and ceaselessly.

  When persistence and diligence combine, they erupt with astonishing energy. Richard's progress in almost all fields was breathtakingly fast. Only the accumulation of mana offered no shortcuts, growing slowly and methodically.

  Time should have flowed like water, yet the calm was punctuated by minor incidents. Richard had resolved to bury the secret of the Night of Fate deep within his heart, but less than a week later, the Legendary Mage, unable to keep a secret, blurted it out herself, repeatedly and smugly emphasizing the assessment "fresh and delicious."

  Like other secrets, this news quickly spread throughout Deepblue. Consequently, most men and nearly half the women remembered Richard's name, often with various forms of resentment, wishing they could take his place. Alas, this could only remain a thought. However, for most people, although they couldn't actually beat Richard up, mentally pummeling him several times a day could still produce a sense of pleasure, sometimes quite intense.

  No matter how many people found it incredible, no one dared question Helen Su, not a single one.

  The boss is the boss; the one who distributes gold coins is always right. This was already a truth in Deepblue. The pricing system within Deepblue would make it impossible, or at least very difficult, for anyone who didn't receive "Helen Su's Pleasure" to survive. As for the vast majority of Deepblue's population, those ineligible for monthly accounting statements, they simply had no right to voice an opinion. The accounting statement was the most effective invisible dividing line in Deepblue, separating people into core and peripheral groups.

  Those familiar with Deepblue's history knew this wasn't Helen Su's original intention; the impulsive Legendary Mage wasn't adept at social management, but the structure formed naturally. People also grew accustomed to stratified life; deviating from it would leave most feeling lost. The anonymous individuals forming Deepblue's foundation were actually quite content with this life. Like the subjects of a noble lord, contributing taxes while the lord undertook the duty of protection. On a continent rife with war, living under the wing of a Legendary Mage was itself a form of happiness.

  The seventeen Archmages gathered around the Legendary Mage were all qualified to offer her counsel. Contrary to what most might think, they were actually pleased to see this development. To them, the Legendary Mage's physical and mental pleasure was the most important thing. Among them, only the Gray Dwarf experienced intense emotional fluctuations regarding the matter.

  When he heard the Legendary Mage proudly announce her feat on the Day of Fate, the Gray Dwarf's first reaction was ecstasy, thinking Her Highness was brilliant enough to distribute "Pleasure" in this manner. Richard's recent acquisition of Pleasure had become a heavy stone weighing on the Gray Dwarf's heart. However, he then felt it unlikely, because while the "Pleasure" Richard received was a large sum for Deepblue, it was insignificant to the Legendary Mage's private purse; such meticulous calculation seemed unnecessary.

  But the Gray Dwarf firmly believed that since Her Highness had experienced physical and mental "Pleasure," there was no need for further "Pleasure" in gold coins, or at least it should be significantly reduced. On the other hand, that lucky Richard... the reason for bestowing the title of lucky upon Richard was also due to the Gray Dwarf's insistence.

  With his race's innate aesthetic sense, he only saw Richard's increasingly robust physique, faintly flowing mana, and the gradually revealing, sharp aura of his hidden bloodline. He simply couldn't see how Richard was "fresh and delicious." However, what made Blackgold special was his ability to set aside the stubbornness and persistence inherent in Gray Dwarf blood. He reasoned that since Richard had enjoyed such a distinct honor, there would be no psychological barrier in the future to acquiring Richard-made Rune Constructs at bargain prices.

  Richard's talent as a Construct Master grew increasingly astonishing. His ability to synthesize rune creation knowledge a year ahead of schedule could be explained as accumulated potential erupting. But after formally beginning construct courses, the stability and precision with which he inscribed composite magic circles became incomprehensible, describable perhaps only as divine inspiration.

  Great figures, or those striving for greatness, possess unique vision. While numerous Archmages saw Richard's bright future rising, Blackgold fixed his sights on the vast number of Rune Constructs Richard would inevitably create during his growth. Ordinary Construct Masters invariably experience numerous failures during their development, wasting large amounts of materials correspondingly, before gradually maturing. Richard's astounding precision and stability, however, led the Gray Dwarf to foresee that his success rate in inscribing Rune Constructs in the future would be similarly, astonishingly high. And the market price for Rune Constructs wasn't determined by Richard, but by the overall success rate of Construct Masters across the continent. A huge profit margin existed between these two different success rates, and the Gray Dwarf could already smell the thick scent of gold coins.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Because of the events of the Day of Fate, the Gray Dwarf had already mentally lowered his purchase price for Rune Constructs by another forty percent. In truth, the profit margin at this price wasn't exceptionally huge, merely 70% cheaper than the prevailing price across the continent. The Gray Dwarf consoled himself thus, simultaneously feeling exceptionally generous. Wasn't any additional profit margin dedicated to Her Highness Helen Su anyway?

  Therefore, in the days following the Day of Fate, the Gray Dwarf's heart was filled with sunshine. The events of that night had controlled expenditures on one hand, and increased future income on the other. There could be no happier situation.

  However, Blackgold's beautiful mood came to an abrupt end on the day Helen Su decided on the monthly bills, because the "Pleasure" Richard received hadn't decreased at all.

  The Gray Dwarf sat stunned for a long time. At least the prospect of increased future income offered some solace, though his mental purchase price for Rune Constructs was adjusted down by another ten percent.

  News, like ripples from a stone tossed into a lake, always spread outwards from the center. Sensitive individuals could gauge their distance from the core by the time they received the news.

  Stevenson was very sensitive, and the time he received the news was neither early nor late, just much later than he had expected. But now, he no longer had the energy to be angry about his truly low status within Deepblue, because the content of the news itself had already surpassed the limits of his imagination.

  Upon receiving the news, Stevenson appeared very calm; at least, no unnecessary sounds came from his residential area. He stood naked before a magic mirror, staring fixedly at himself for two full hours. Minnie stood behind him, before the floor-to-ceiling window, motionless, like a lifeless statue.

  Snow was still falling outside. It seemed the weather hadn't been good since the day they returned from the magical beast testing ground. Although spring in Floe Bay often brought snow, it had never been as heavy or persistent as this year.

  The residential area was supposed to be completely separated from the harsh world outside. Even with windows open, magical barriers were sufficient to keep any cold or gloom outside the tower. Yet now, that leaden oppression seeped through the floor-to-ceiling window, spreading into the residence as well. The air seemed to have solidified, the thick leaden color heavy enough to make breathing difficult. Minnie subconsciously hugged herself, realizing how thin her body felt beneath the magic robe, completely unable withstand the ravages of a storm.

  Floe Bay was magnificent, but not friendly. It was always exceptionally quiet before venting its fury in a blizzard, just like now. And the residential area was equally deathly silent.

  Stevenson's residence was large, very large. Space was beauty, a symbol of status and strength. Minnie had once been intoxicated by the beauty of this space, but now, she suddenly felt it was too large, unsettlingly so. Two people, standing in such a vast space, felt not only an inexplicable chill but also the fear of impending disorientation.

  Minnie felt the urge to flee, but she bit her lip hard, preventing herself from making any movement, any sound. She knew the longer the silence lasted, the more terrifying the arrival of the storm would be. Stevenson had stood silently for two hours already, and there was no telling how much longer he would stand. But with only her and Stevenson in such a large residence, it meant that when the storm truly began, she would be his sole target for anger and release.

  Stevenson finally moved. Before the magic mirror, he began displaying every part of his body, every muscle. Dragon blood endowed Stevenson with a strong physique, far more robust than ordinary mages. Being at a mature age, the young man in the magic mirror was tall, well-built, with hardly a trace of excess fat. The proportions of his limbs could almost be described as perfect, and he possessed a male symbol worthy of pride. In the magic mirror, the Dragon Blooded power manifested as a faint dark red light flowing over Stevenson's body, lending him an even more demonic male charm.

  Stevenson examined himself from a neutral third-person perspective, various evaluations naturally surfacing in his mind, the vast majority being praise—the same evaluations he received when he formally entered society two years ago upon turning fifteen. He could indeed take pride in his body and appearance. That damned Richard, due to his age, still inevitably showed some boyishness. In terms of masculine charm, at least for now, Stevenson could still firmly suppress Richard.

  However, among Stevenson's self-evaluations, while terms like handsome, resolute, robust, and powerful abounded, one crucial word was missing.

  He tilted his head slightly, asking in a sinister, damp, cold voice, "What does 'fresh and delicious' mean?"

  Minnie shuddered violently; the dreaded storm had finally arrived. She lowered her head, her body beginning to tremble uncontrollably, but didn't utter a single word. At times like this, any words would be like fresh blood thrown before a starving wolf, only inciting his even more ferocious bestiality.

  Bang! Stevenson shattered the magic mirror with one punch. His right hand burst open, flesh tearing, fresh blood gushing from over a dozen places simultaneously, dripping onto the floor. Stevenson seemed utterly oblivious to the pain in his right hand. Instead, he turned, fixing his bloodshot eyes fiercely on Minnie, roaring with all his might:

  "I'm asking you, what does 'fresh and delicious' mean?!"