Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System

Duval Castle.

Now known as Monte Castle, its familiar stone walls stood silently outlined against the moonlight.

Murphy moved like a phantom through the familiar corridors, unnoticed by the guards.

He skillfully pushed open the carved oak door and stepped into what was once his bedroom.

The room’s arrangement was exactly as he had left it; not even the angle of the desk had been changed.

The only difference was the young woman kneeling in the center of the room.

Margaret wore a simple white robe, her jet-black hair cascading down like a waterfall.

More than a year had passed, yet she still looked to be fifteen or sixteen. Her delicate face was like a work of art exquisitely carved by a Divine Spirit.

Her bare feet were spotless, her toenails painted with a silvery-white dye that made them look like pearls solidified from moonlight. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

"Master, you’ve come." She raised her head, her ink-black pupils like the deepest night sky, and her voice carried an almost sacred reverence.

Murphy stood by the door, his voice calm. "What are you trying to do?"

"Master, Maggie missed you." A fanatical light gleamed in her eyes.

"Missing me doesn’t give you the right to harass me in my dreams all day."

Margaret tilted her head slightly, a naive smile on her face. "How could you call it harassment? That was just my longing and loyalty to you, crossing the barrier of space and time."

Murphy’s voice deepened. "Tell me. How exactly did you pinpoint my location?"

"Why don’t you take a guess, Master?" she said, winking slyly.

"Guess what?" Murphy’s voice held an unquestionable authority. "A slave like you is asking her master such questions now?"

Margaret immediately lowered her head and replied obediently, "It is the bond of fate. The bond of fate connects me to you, Master. It is the mark you left within me."

Murphy understood.

He had long ago made one-to-one copies of the leather-bound Wizard’s Scriptures Margaret had sent him, replacing them with his own versions printed on plain paper. The originals he had buried deep within the Twilight Mountain Range.

When studying those Magic Models, he hadn’t imprinted them directly into his mind. Instead, he had first used his Spiritual Power to simulate them outside his body, only proceeding with his Cultivation after confirming there were no issues.

"What’s really going on?" Murphy pressed.

"As an Enchanting Witch, it’s perfectly normal to be able to sense one’s master." Margaret’s tone suddenly grew excited, a morbid light appearing in her eyes. "Only with this connection can I always feel you with me, Master, and enjoy the pleasure of being enslaved..."

Her voice grew low and hoarse as she unconsciously placed her hands over her heart. "Listen. The moment I saw you, my heart started beating so fast. This is the best proof of my loyalty and my longing for you, Master."

Murphy’s expression was grim. "Enough of this nonsense. Tell me, why did you deliberately lure me here?"

Margaret rose slowly and walked over to Murphy with light steps.

She raised a hand, her silver-painted nails lightly grazing his sleeve. "Master, how do you think I’ve done this past year?"

"What are you talking about?" Murphy frowned slightly.

"The Duval Territory... or I suppose we should call it the Monte Territory now," she said, her fingertips brushing almost imperceptibly against his arm. "How do you think I’ve governed it?"

"Not very well," Murphy replied bluntly.

Margaret leaned close to his ear, her breath as fragrant as an orchid. "Master, really not very well? I know you’ve always cherished your subjects, which is why I took special care to keep this territory under my control. If I hadn’t, after you left, the subjects who were once loyal to you would have likely faced harsh scrutiny from the Church Court."

"You’re wrong." Murphy looked directly into her eyes, his tone calm. "I don’t cherish the subjects. I simply did what was within my power. If my life were threatened, I would never have done it."

"But your loyal slave would." Margaret’s fingertip tapped lightly on his chest, her voice tinged with pride.

Murphy’s gaze sharpened. "But from what I’ve seen, the subjects are not living well. In town, they are oppressed by soldiers, their goods are forcibly requisitioned, and they can’t even preserve their most basic dignity."

Margaret shook her head gently, a meaningful smile playing on her lips. "Master, are you sure they were your subjects? Of the people crying hardship in town, nine out of ten are just opportunists who flocked here from other places for profit. The real people of Duval Territory are living peacefully in the mountain villages, enjoying a more tranquil life than ever before."

She tilted her head slightly, her silver nails glinting coldly in the candlelight. "Besides, whether one is ’living well’ is relative, wouldn’t you agree, Master? Compared to being displaced by the flames of war, being able to live in a relatively stable environment is a rare stroke of luck. Since those outsiders chose to come here to chase profits, they must naturally bear the corresponding risks."

Murphy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and finally said in a low voice, "You’re right."

Margaret pressed even closer to Murphy. Her silver-painted fingertips traced the line of his collarbone beneath his shirt, her voice now a seductive whisper. "So, Master, could you offer your most loyal slave a little reward?"

Murphy slowly opened his eyes, his gaze as tranquil as a deep pool. "What reward do you want?"

"Master, you understand..." Margaret tilted her face up, her eyes shimmering with anticipation, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.

"Strengthen the bond of fate?" Murphy’s voice was devoid of any emotion.

Margaret’s cheeks instantly flushed a deeper crimson. She nodded lightly, like a devout believer praying for Divine Grace.

Murphy reached out and gently stroked the crown of her head, commanding with unquestionable authority, "Kneel."

Margaret immediately sank to her knees in obedience, her upturned gaze filled with piety and anticipation.

A faint silver light appeared at Murphy’s fingertips. The light, as pure as moonlight, slowly entered her slightly parted lips.

Margaret’s eyelashes trembled. Her lips parted and closed slightly of their own accord as she felt a warm power circulating in her mouth, as if the threads of fate were being rewoven.

"Feel this connection," Murphy’s voice was like a distant bell, steady and far-reaching. "It binds us together, like the stars and the night sky."

Margaret’s breathing grew ragged, and a rapturous expression appeared on her face.

She could clearly feel the thread of fate connecting her to her master growing clearer and stronger, as if it were becoming a tangible bond.

The silver light flowed between her lips and teeth, bringing with it strange, warm currents.

Half an hour later, Murphy withdrew his finger. The silver light gradually faded. "Remember this feeling. This is the reward you wanted."

Margaret slowly opened her eyes, which were glistening with moisture. Her voice held a contented tremor. "Thank you, Master... This connection makes Maggie feel even closer to you."

Murphy’s expression returned to its usual calm. "Now, it’s time to discuss the territory’s affairs."

Still kneeling, Margaret looked up and asked, "What would you like to ask, Master?"

"When will the war end?"

"It will certainly end before winter arrives, because the supply lines will be cut off by the snow and ice," she answered softly, her fingertips unconsciously tracing her lips as if still savoring the feeling from before.

Murphy frowned slightly. "Who will win, and who will lose?"

"Just like always, there will be no winner." Margaret lowered her eyes. "These border wars are always the same. They drain the strength of both sides, but neither can gain an advantage."

"How can we speed up the process?"

"Just cut off their supplies." Margaret shifted on her knees, moving closer to Murphy. "However, that will be very difficult. Rosenia’s supply lines are heavily guarded now, and there’s a Bishop from the Shepherd Headquarter District on patrol."

"What about assassination?" Murphy stroked her dark hair, his fingers tightening slightly.

"That would be difficult and would have severe repercussions." Margaret let out a faint whimper. "But if you are willing to go, Master, I am willing to help. I can also assist with the plan to cut off the supplies."

"I’ll consider it." Murphy turned to look at the moon outside the window.

Margaret suddenly remembered something and called out softly, "Oh, right. There’s one more thing."

"What is it?"

"It’s about the territory." She looked up, carefully observing Murphy’s expression. "I’ve noticed you care a great deal about the territory, Master. So, do you need this land?"

Murphy looked down at her as she puffed out her cheeks petulantly. "As I recall, Richard is the Lord of this territory, isn’t he?"

Margaret gave a mysterious smile. "You could be Richard, Master. That way, you could return to your territory legitimately, and..." Her voice turned seductive. "...you could be by my side at all times."