“No invitation.” Chris spread his hands. “I’m here to invite you, but I’m also here to talk you out of it.”
“What do you mean?” Lily’s tone turned cold.
Chris raised a hand to cut her off. “Hey, don’t direct your hostility at me. There’s disagreement within the association about whether to invite you. It has nothing to do with me—I don’t have that kind of influence.”
The academy wasn’t a place where status alone determined everything. Chris was just a freshman who’d just joined the association—how could he possibly have a say in recruitment?
Of course, if he were determined to use his influence as Prince Ryan, others might be willing to do him a favor. But that kind of influence diminished the more you used it—why would he waste it on something so trivial?
Chris was impulsive, not brain-damaged.
“Didn’t your mentor tell you that you’re not suited to join the association?”
Lily shook her head. “According to Teacher Aaron, within the bounds of school rules, there’s nothing I’m ‘not suited’ to do—only things I ‘don’t want’ to do.”
Chris was momentarily stumped.
Even someone as confident as he was felt outdone when faced with this mentor-student duo.
After a long silence, he finally spoke. “You… should learn less of that from your mentor. He’s a huge disaster. Anyway, forget that. What I’m saying is—more than half of the association’s affiliated mentors have grudges against Aaron.”
Avery had warned Lily that Aaron had enemies in the association, but she hadn’t gone into detail. She probably didn’t know much more herself. But Chris was in the association—he knew the full story.
Back then, the association had invited Aaron to become an affiliated mentor. He’d shot them down directly: he had no interest in this childish game of playing house—just a bunch of fame-chasing mentors leading students to pad papers with superficial fluff. Anyone who wanted to go could go.
That remark had offended those mentors deeply. They’d come to confront him. Aaron ignored them and instead found the flaws in their research, then published them in a journal.
Now that… was truly embarrassing.
Outmatched in skill, those mentors quickly backed down. Otherwise, they’d only lose more face.
This wasn’t just a war of words. The more magnanimous ones might think Aaron had done them a favor by pointing out their flaws. But could everyone have such a good attitude?
Absolutely not.
This was humiliation! This was defiling the magic they took most pride in!
“Your mentor didn’t tell you any of this—maybe because he ‘doesn’t hold grudges,’ since he settles them on the spot. But the ones holding grudges are other people.” Chris’s tone carried a hint of schadenfreude.
Now you’re down on your luck, Aaron? Your student wants to join the association? Have you forgotten your own bold words from back then?
Lily hadn’t expected this backstory. Well, it wasn’t exactly surprising. It was totally something Aaron would do.
Still, Lily wasn’t particularly flustered. She simply said, “But if the association refuses to let me join, won’t that just make people question its authority and fairness?”
The Magical Research Association was the most authoritative club in the First Academy when it came to magical research. It might not get involved in every little thing like the Student Council, but its influence was no less.
And Lily was no nobody. She was the fastest freshman to publish in a prestigious journal.
If the association wouldn’t even accept a student like that, could it really still call itself the Magical Research Association?
The academy didn’t really police private cliques—it was actually a way to encourage competition. But if you made it too obvious while also occupying so many of the academy’s important resources, did you really think no one could reign you in?
If the association dared to do that, Lily wouldn’t join anyway—she’d just go straight to Aaron and tattle, and maybe they could squeeze out some extra resources. Aaron was exactly short on those right now.
“You’re right. If you insist on joining, no one will stop you—that wouldn’t be in line with the association’s rules. So some within the association proposed inviting you in, and then recommending you to challenge the Magic Discourse Tower.”
The Magic Discourse Tower wasn’t in the First Academy—it was at the very center of the Magic Holy City. Lily had seen it on her very first day here.
This was an exceptionally special and important opportunity. Each year, every academy could only recommend six students to challenge the tower—two each from the beginner, intermediate, and advanced levels. Half of those slots were decided by the Magical Research Association.
One could only imagine how much power the association wielded!
“Clearing ten floors counts as passing. If you can’t even clear ten, you’ll owe the association a hundred credits upon your return. This isn’t targeted at you—it’s always been the rule. The association recommending you does mean they’re fronting resources on your behalf.”
That said, almost no one who received a recommendation ever failed.
“If you can outperform the other academies’ challengers in the same cohort, both the academy and the association will be generous with rewards. But there’s not much point in telling you this.”
Lily was speechless: Kid, you’ve already learned your lesson—how dare you still look down on people?
Well, actually, she understood what Chris meant: Recommending her in her current state was a form of “praise to the point of destruction.”
She’d be taking a slot that could have gone to someone else. If she could pass—better yet, outperform the others—fine. But if not, plenty of people would resent her, and there’d be no end of trouble ahead.
And if she failed, she’d be saddled with a hundred credits of debt!
Sigh—everyone knew she was broke, knew her mentor lacked resources, so they were using exactly those things to pin her down.
“Those who don’t want you in the association aren’t necessarily trying to make things hard for you,” Chris shrugged.
They didn’t want to hassle Lily, nor did they care to use such tactics against her. If she didn’t join, everyone could save themselves the trouble.
Lily stared at Chris for a moment.
At this point, she realized Chris’s stance was rather intriguing.
If Chris wanted to see her fail, there was no reason for him to spill so much information. Wouldn’t it be better to let her stumble into the trap step by step?
Yet he’d told her everything…
Chris grew uncomfortable under her gaze. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing. I’m just a bit surprised—it seems like you’re trying to help me?”
“Hah, don’t flatter yourself.” Chris instinctively crossed his arms, striking a proud pose that screamed, “Woman, I’m out of your league.”
“Are you for me joining? Or against it?”
“Why are you asking? Does it matter what I think?”
“It matters a lot,” Lily replied casually.
Chris seemed to connect that to something else entirely—he suddenly bristled, stepping back two paces with a faint flush creeping onto his face.
“You! I’m telling you, that routine of yours might work on Ray, but don’t think you can use it on me!”
Lily: ?
What routine?
What the hell was this guy imagining?
Lily was at a loss.
“Your Highness Prince Ryan, I’m not using any ‘routine.’ If you’re reading something into this, I suggest you wash out your brain.”
Chris kept his mouth shut, but inwardly he was scoffing: Hah, you said I “matter a lot.” You know exactly what that means—don’t even try to deny it!
Lily, meanwhile, felt completely innocent: If someone might be showing you goodwill, and you want to confirm their stance, shouldn’t you at least be polite? Should she say “you don’t matter at all”? That would kill the conversation right there.
Chris reiterated, “Whether you join the association or not, I couldn’t care less. I’m not the least bit concerned. Don’t get the wrong idea.”
Lily nodded perfunctorily: Sure, sure, no misunderstanding.
“I’m telling you all this simply because I despise these underhanded tricks. If I’m going to get back at you, I’ll do it fair and square, with real strength—not schemes and plots!”
Lily was a bit surprised, then silently chuckled: Poor kid—that’s because you don’t know how useful schemes and plots can be yet. What if being “fair and square” never lets you win?
Of course, Lily wouldn’t say that out loud. She didn’t want to turn him dark and have it come back to bite her.
Keep that integrity, kid!
Chris had no idea what Lily was thinking—otherwise, he might very well have turned dark from sheer frustration.
He continued, “And I heard… you’re allowing everyone to study your ideas, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“The ideas Chris was referring to were the ones Lily had written during her theoretical assessment.
After the freshman assessment ended, many mentors had made copies of Lily’s exam paper. Because by then, everyone knew that those seemingly nonsensical ramblings might actually contain some groundbreaking insights.
Chris’s tone grew more complicated. “Do you realize that if others beat you to the punch in their research, things that could have made your name and fortune might end up belonging to someone else?”
Lily had said many things that hadn’t yet been proven. Whoever proved them first would claim the credit.
“I know. So what?” Lily said candidly.
Aaron had already asked for Lily’s opinion, and her stance was: she welcomed everyone to study her ideas.
The knowledge in her head couldn’t possibly be covered by a single exam paper. Why would she worry about others walking her path and leaving her with nowhere to go?
By the same logic, she hadn’t been a researcher in the modern world either—how could she possibly single-handedly build the entire framework of scientific magic? The fact that more and more people were getting interested in these ideas and expanding or deepening them on her behalf was a good thing.
“Magic has no boundaries, doesn’t it?”
“Even if it’s people who don’t get along with you—you don’t mind?”
“Mind what? Shouldn’t that count as my success?” Lily smiled. “Even my enemies have to walk the path I’ve laid out!”
Chris was stunned for a long while.
Of course, he didn’t agree with Lily’s view. He was a supporter of magical elitism—a philosophy that inherently carried the notion that “magic has boundaries.”
But he couldn’t refute Lily the way he could refute Ray.
He could call Ray a hypocrite. He could say the New Federation’s push for magical populism was just a way to recruit more cannon fodder. But Lily was different.
Chris felt somewhat shaken.
But soon, he masked his loss of composure, gave a light snort, and said:
“I don’t know whether this mindset of yours is foolish or arrogant. Anyway, some mentors in the association are planning to research your ideas. I just figure—since they’re drawing inspiration from you, they owe you that much. Even if they have grudges against Mentor Aaron, they shouldn’t take it out on you.”
It was for these reasons that Chris had spilled the association’s secrets.
Some people thought that since he and Lily didn’t get along, he’d play along with the association’s plans. All Chris could say was—they underestimated him.
He had his own principles.
“Or… have you considered serving Ryan?”
Chris said in a subdued voice:
“You’re Ryan-born to begin with. After graduation, you can come back and serve the kingdom. Everything in the past is water under the bridge. You can apprentice under my mentor, and naturally, the association won’t bother you anymore.”
“Thank you, but no thanks.”
Lily smiled, and before Chris could have a royal tantrum, she pressed on with her inquiries. “What exactly is the tower challenge mode like?”
“You’re really planning to walk into their trap?”
“I’m just asking.” Lily gave her usual slippery non-answer.
“I’ve never been, so I can’t give you a definitive answer. It’s a magic tower jointly built by multiple legendary mages—there, anything is possible.”
“From what I know, it’s not purely about combat strength. It comprehensively evaluates your magical knowledge, spellcasting, innovation, critical thinking, and so on. So the challenges each person faces might be completely different.”
“Your chances of clearing the whole thing with just your Light Breeze Technique are almost zero. And if you try to copy someone else’s answers, you’ll probably be eliminated the fastest…”
Lily fell into thought.
Chris’s description brought many possibilities to mind.
For example, the tower might be a massive question bank where everyone draws different questions randomly. Or it could be a powerful magical AI model with “intelligent” responses.
Lily was genuinely intrigued.
She didn’t want to jump to conclusions about the specifics without knowing more.
She looked at Chris with a smile. “Want to play bigger?”
Seeing that expression, Chris felt inexplicably uneasy. “What do you mean?”