Chapter Forty-Eight: The Failed Creation

In this world, magicians hold respected positions, and even other professionals, though not as esteemed, still live comfortably enough. In contrast, the lives of ordinary people are far more monotonous and unremarkable; many of them may never leave the place of their birth throughout their entire lives.

They have long grown accustomed to the unchanging routine of day after day. Without compulsory education and lacking the means to hone their martial skills or study magic, commoners find it nearly impossible to break free from their social class or alter their fate.

Fortunately, faith offers a force that strengthens people's hearts. They place their hopes in the gods, believing that through devout prayers, they might enter the divine realm after death. Little do they know that even if they truly entered the gods’ kingdom, it would only mean serving a new master—if, indeed, they were qualified to enter at all.

Only those chosen by the gods—those with talent or great strength—are deemed worthy. When the gods occasionally select someone from among the common folk, it is always for their exceptional potential or unique abilities; steadfast faith is merely a baseline, never the deciding factor.

Even so, the masses still find spiritual solace in their various beliefs, allowing them to glimpse a sliver of hope amid hardship. Yet now, these very people are being told that their gods are dead, that their hopes have been shattered. They cannot accept this ending, much like certain ardent fans who cannot accept their idol’s defeat.

Some are thrown into confusion; some descend into depravity or even end their own lives, while many more continue their desperate prayers, still begging for a miracle.

The festival in three days’ time will be their final hope.

Under the weight of these complicated gazes, Chu Yun’s carriage finally arrived at Lysa’s alchemy workshop.

He instructed Paimon to stay put and remain vigilant, then followed the young girl Ella inside.

Compared to the neighboring houses, the workshop looked more refined. Whether for research safety or by necessity, the houses surrounding the workshop had seemingly all been vacated.

“Miss, miss, I’ve found the perfect material for you!” Ella burst into the workshop, her voice brimming with excitement.

Thinking back to the tiefling butler and Viscount Karl, for a split second Chu Yun wondered if he himself was the material in question.

Fortunately, the noble lady named Lysa seemed relatively normal. Though she bore some traces of soot from her experiments, it was clear she was a beautiful woman.

“And who is this?” Lysa was first delighted, but upon seeing Chu Yun, her demeanor turned guarded.

A second-tier magician—there weren’t many in Blackstone City. As a second-tier magician herself, she had at least glimpsed him at the Council of Magicians, even if she did not know him personally.

“Miss, this is Mr. Chu Yun. He just consigned the skin of a Thunderwater Ray at the auction house! It wasn’t easy, but I managed to persuade him to come,” Ella explained, her tone familiar and free of the usual servant’s formality.

At the mention of the Thunderwater Ray, Lysa’s previously calm demeanor shattered. She rushed up to Chu Yun, her eyes alight with excitement.

“Really? You actually have the skin of a Thunderwater Ray? The second-tier elite kind? You’re not mistaking it for a first-tier Lightning Ray, are you? Quick, let me see—where is it?”

Her rapid-fire questions betrayed her eagerness, but Chu Yun remained unperturbed, his gaze still wandering over the curious alchemical creations scattered throughout the workshop.

In truth, most alchemists care little for developing odd new things. The current market for magical equipment and tools far outstrips supply; if they want to make money, it suffices to produce the tried-and-tested wares. Developing new products demands enormous time and effort, often hindering their advancement in magical prowess.

For most magicians, alchemy is simply a means to earn a living. Only those whose progress has stalled—the elder magicians—take an interest in alchemy as a pastime. Their minds and creativity already ossified, their rare breakthroughs come more from refining existing designs than inventing anything truly new.

“Hey, are you going to answer or not?” Lysa stamped her foot impatiently.

“I can tell you’re someone with ideas. Yes, I do have some Thunderwater Ray skin, but most of it I’ve already consigned to the auction house,” Chu Yun replied with an unhurried smile.

Lysa grew anxious, quickly pleading, “Take it back! If you hand over such valuable material to the auction house, it’ll just end up as some useless noble’s ornament. Give it to me—if I can craft a set of flying wings, it’ll fetch a much better price!”

Chu Yun was not one to change his plans lightly. Besides, he had already signed a contract with the auction house; retrieving the goods now would not be easy, and the penalty for breach was more than he could afford.

“Don’t worry, I kept some as spares. If your product succeeds, I’m sure those who bought the Thunderwater Ray skin will be willing to collaborate with you,” Chu Yun replied.

This surprised Lysa. She hadn’t expected Chu Yun to place such faith in her creation. Though she was confident in her own abilities, buyers usually greeted her work with skepticism.

“The material is on my carriage. The auction house appraisers wouldn’t mistake Thunderwater Ray for anything else, so you needn’t worry. But if you want me to sell it to you, I’ll need to see your flying wings first.”

Lysa breathed a sigh of relief. Earning money was important, but what mattered most to her was completing her invention.

If she could just craft a true set of flying wings, perhaps her father would finally acknowledge her, and she could return to her family. Buying back the remaining Thunderwater Ray skin would be no obstacle.

Lysa had made a wager with Viscount Karl: she must complete a flawless, second-tier alchemical artifact within a year. If she failed, she would have to accept the family’s arrangement and marry the prince of the Kingdom of Aerno. But if she could prove her own worth, the viscount would no longer interfere in her marriage—she would have free rein, even if she chose to take a husband into her own household.

If not for this wager, Karl would have dragged her home long ago.

Truth be told, the wager had only come about because Lysa threatened, “If you force me to marry, I’ll see the prince castrated.”

Lysa took out her prized flying wings and handed them to Chu Yun. Most of the workshop’s products were designed to earn money for her experiments, but these wings were her true masterwork.

The quality of magic equipment is ranked as ordinary, excellent, flawless, epic…

To achieve flawless quality, one needs not only superb craftsmanship, vast knowledge, and skilled magical technique, but also the finest materials.

Strictly speaking, the wings before him were more like a glider than true flying wings. They could not achieve genuine powered flight, only slow a fall and allow for a gentle descent.

The main body was crafted from the hide and fur of a second-tier flying squirrel, with a frame made from some lightweight magical beast’s bones. Both bone and hide were inscribed with magical runes—some to aid flight, others to reduce weight and increase range.

“If I use the Thunderwater Ray’s skin, I can greatly reduce the number of weight-reducing magic circles. Then I could add a wind spell to let the wings actually ascend from flat ground…” Lysa excitedly explained her vision.

Unfortunately, when Chu Yun finished listening, his expression was not as impressed as she had hoped.

“It’s not enough—far from it.”

“To be honest, what you’ve made here is basically a glider, something easily built without magic at all. These steering spells could all be replaced with mechanical components, and the shape of your wings is terrible for aerodynamics—it’ll only make things harder for yourself!”

“This glider is a failure.”

Not only did Lysa fail to receive Chu Yun’s praise, she was even subjected to a stern critique.