Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System

A warm, early spring breeze drifted through the stone corridor, where the ivy clinging to the arched windows had begun to sprout tender green buds.

Princess Margaret strolled down the corridor, dressed in a light formal gown.

The silver Pearl Crown on her head glistened softly in the spring light.

Around her neck, she wore an Amethyst Necklace, its silver pendant resting perfectly between her delicate collarbones, shimmering against her snow-white skin.

Her pale purple silk robe fell to her ankles, the collar and cuffs exquisitely embroidered with Golden Threads to form the crest of a purple and gold Griffin.

White silk stockings clung to her slender legs, and her silver high heels clicked crisply on the stone floor.

When she entered the throne room, the sixty-eight-year-old King Henry was standing before an open arched window.

The old King turned, his Scepter thudding against the floor.

"Kneel!"

Margaret knelt as commanded on the smooth stone floor, the Pearl Crown on her head tilting slightly.

"The vassals of the Duval Territory are following orders like string puppets! Even a three-year-old can see this is the work of [Control Human]!" the King’s voice echoed in the hall. "Speak! Was this your doing?"

Margaret’s eyes glinted. She looked up, the corners of her lips curling slightly. "It was indeed my doing."

"Do you have any idea what the consequences will be?" the King demanded harshly, the Scepter in his hand trembling from the force of his grip.

"Consequences?" Margaret laughed lightly. "Hasn’t the Church Court long been dissatisfied with how ’peaceful’ the border has become? The great figures in the Shepherd Headquarter District have tacitly allowed ’Ghostly Touch’ to stir up trouble on the border. Isn’t it precisely because they yearn for a grander crusade against Heresy?"

She slowly rose to her feet, smoothing the folds of her robe. "Since both sides were waiting for a grander battlefield, I simply did the Church Court a small favor and gave this long-awaited grand crusade a legitimate reason to begin."

Just as the King was about to erupt in anger, a side door suddenly swung open.

A handsome middle-aged man in light hunting attire strode in, the dark river crest on his chest revealing his identity.

"Uncle," Margaret said with a slight nod.

Duke Douglas’s expression was grave. "Do you realize what chaos this will cause? If the scale of the war expands, the entire order of the Northern Territory will collapse! Trade routes will be cut off, and refugees will be everywhere. Is this the outcome you wanted?"

"Even if I hadn’t done it, the Church Court would have found another excuse." Margaret turned to the King, her gaze firm. "Archbishop John accompanied me to the border to collect taxes, but wasn’t he also looking for an opportunity to expand the conflict? Since someone has to light the fuse, why shouldn’t it be the Royal Family, so we can control the blaze? This way, we can even earn a favor from the Church Court."

The King was suddenly seized by a violent coughing fit, and an Attendant quickly handed him a cup of honeyed water.

The old King took a sip, then set the silver cup down heavily. "One month of confinement! You will go to the Holy Hall to repent every day!"

"Your Majesty, please calm your anger," Duke Douglas said, taking a step forward and bowing slightly. "What’s done is done. We should instead consider how to secure the greatest benefit from this turmoil. The expansion of the war is now a foregone conclusion. What’s important now is how to control the situation."

He walked over to a map of the border hanging on the wall and tapped a finger on the Duval Territory. "A border war was already happening; it has merely escalated in scale. The Church Court will certainly use this unusual event to claim the Duval Territory has been infiltrated by Heresy, and they will try to turn it into a diocese, using it as a springboard to expand the war."

The Duke turned to the King, his tone steady. "We should act first. Strip Baron Silvin of his title and directly appoint a new Lord. While this won’t stop the war from expanding, it will at least prevent the Church Court from seizing the territory."

The King pondered for a moment, then walked slowly toward his throne. "So, who do you think is suitable to take over this position?"

Duke Douglas stroked his beard in thought. "The new Lord must be fiercely loyal to the Royal Family and possess enough prestige to command respect on the border. Perhaps we could choose one from among your close ministers?"

"There are indeed a few suitable candidates among my ministers," the King said with a slight nod, "but they all have existing duties to attend to. I fear they would not have the time to manage a border territory."

Margaret interjected softly at the opportune moment, "I have a humble suggestion. What about Richard de Monte, the Captain of the Guard? He is fiercely loyal and has not yet been granted a fief. And..." She paused deliberately. "Since he must remain stationed at court, the actual governance of the territory could be entrusted to Uncle."

A look of approval flashed in Duke Douglas’s eyes. "A truly clever proposal. Richard’s status is enough to silence the Church Court, while the actual power of governance remains in our hands."

The King stroked the gemstone on his Scepter, lost in thought for a long moment. "Richard is indeed a suitable candidate. However, Duke, are you willing to take on this heavy responsibility?"

"For the good of the Kingdom, I will do my utmost," the Duke said, bowing solemnly.

"Then it is settled." The King’s tone was final. "Tomorrow, you shall issue the royal decree appointing Richard as the new Baron Duval."

Margaret curtsied gracefully. "You are wise, Father."

As she turned to leave, the warm spring sun flooded the throne room.

The clicking of her silver high heels on the stone floor faded into the distance, and her Pearl Crown glinted with intricate light in the sun.

Leaving the palace, Margaret stopped beneath a deserted colonnade, her gaze traveling past the many palace walls and toward the north.

Her slender fingers gently stroked the Amethyst Necklace at her throat, her fingertips tracing the delicate line of her collarbone, leaving a faint red mark on her snow-white skin.

A morbid flush crept onto her cheeks, and a twisted smile spread across her lips.

"Oh, Master, my Master, why must you be so clever? Clever enough to see through my hints, yet you still fell into my trap. If only you were a little dumber, you could have at least kept your territory and remained a Lord..."

The spring breeze, carrying the unique warmth of the season, caressed her face but could not dispel the fanaticism in her eyes.

She cast one last look to the north before turning and disappearing down the long corridor, a suppressed, triumphant chuckle escaping her lips and echoing faintly in the empty passageway.

...

In a hidden cave near the border between the Duval Territory and the White Maple Territory, a fire crackled softly in the hearth, filling the space with warmth.

The cave’s interior had been carefully modified, with stone walls dividing it into several rooms. In one of the more spacious alcoves, which was covered with thick animal hide rugs, Murphy sat leaning against the stone wall, his brow deeply furrowed.

Aurora pushed aside the animal hide curtain of an adjacent room and walked in.

She wore only a simple linen dress, her long golden hair cascading loosely over her shoulders. Her face, free of makeup, was still beautiful and captivating in the firelight.

Her azure eyes were like a clear mountain spring, and her slightly flushed cheeks held the languor of someone who had just woken.

She sat lightly on Murphy’s lap and rested her head on his shoulder. "What are you thinking about?"

Murphy instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulder, his gaze still fixed on the dancing flames. "Nothing, just thinking about some trivial things."

Aurora keenly sensed the odd note in his tone but didn’t press him, simply nestling quietly in his embrace.

She reached out to straighten Murphy’s slightly messy collar, her movements gentle and practiced.

Indeed, Murphy’s mind was far from as calm as he let on.

Ever since he received that letter from Margaret, a question had taken root in his mind.

’If even Margaret knew about Rosenia’s military operations in advance, did she also know about the existence of the organization known as ’Ghostly Touch’?’

’No, perhaps his doubts had started long before that.’

He recalled the interrogation of Saren.

When he had tried to probe for specific members of Ghostly Touch, a look of extreme agony had appeared on Saren’s face, far surpassing the torment from any of the previous tortures.

The Wizard Apprentice had cried out hoarsely, "It’s the power of a contract... It’s impossible to break without the proper knowledge... Don’t waste your energy..."

’What concerned him even more was that Archbishop John was clearly aware of Margaret’s status as a Wizard, yet he’d turned a blind eye to it.’

’This suggested that among the upper echelons of the Kingdom’s power structure, the existence of Wizards might be an open secret.’

’So, was Ghostly Touch a secret organization, or some semi-public faction?’

’And how much did the higher-ups in the Shepherd Headquarter District know about it?’

Initially, Murphy’s scorched-earth tactics had just been a precautionary plan.

But after realizing this invasion was fraught with suspicion, he had executed the plan without hesitation.

Murphy knew full well that if he directly ordered his officials to carry out such obviously abnormal policies, he would inevitably attract the Church Court’s attention.

Even without the restrictions of the "Noble Inheritance Technique," such actions would have undoubtedly led to a strict investigation.

But he had chosen to do so anyway, because he suddenly realized that the Duval Territory had likely become a powder keg. Furthermore, with the appearance of the system’s second option, it was clear that none of this was as simple as it seemed on the surface.

’Going by past patterns, there should have been no risk for someone with my power. In fact, there might not have been any risk even if I had no power at all.’

’He could have just been like the other Border Lords, sacrificing his people and holding the Baron’s Castle to complete the mission.’

’But it was precisely because he saw through this that he decided to light the powder keg himself.’

’Rather than passively waiting for the crisis to erupt, it was better to take this opportunity to retreat behind the scenes and observe the true movements of all parties from the shadows.’

’That included Margaret, whose loyalty was questionable.’

’And if possible, maybe even the second optional mission wasn’t something he had to complete...’

The deeper Murphy delved into his thoughts, the more the various threads of his thinking intertwined in his mind, causing his brow to furrow even more tightly and his breathing to grow heavy without him realizing it.

Seeing this, Aurora looked up and gently smoothed the wrinkles between his brows. "You always think too much. At least for now, we’re all by your side."

Murphy looked down into her concerned eyes and finally broke into a genuine smile.

He reached out and ruffled her golden hair, savoring the rare moment of peace, and couldn’t help but lower his head.

But Aurora gently pressed a hand against his chest, her cheeks flushing slightly. "The child is in the next room... This isn’t the castle. The soundproofing isn’t good."

Murphy chuckled softly and whispered in her ear, "The child is still young. What would they know?"

"Mmph..." Aurora wanted to say more, but she could no longer form the words, only able to let out a muffled whimper.