A couple of months later, inside the Wizard Academy—
Kaelan-two steps into the Life Laboratory.
Three students are already waiting inside: Lu Chen, and two newer apprentices—Tang Lina and Bu Shou.
They bow.
"Teacher."
Kaelan studies them a moment and asks calmly:
"Are the three of you certain you wish to continue the Life-Engineering course? If not, I can cancel your enrollment and return the academic points."
Lu Chen answers first—steady, clear, unhesitating:
"I am sure."
Tang Lina and Bu Shou exchange glances, doubt flickering across their faces—yet they also nod.
Kaelan allows himself the smallest hint of approval as he looks at Lu Chen again.
The shy child who once flinched at eye contact now stands taller—more focused. Wizard Academy had changed him. Talent recognised, difficulty overcome, confidence earned.
He is now one of the four who passed the first Material Science assessment and is only one step from becoming a Late-Stage Wizard Apprentice.
"Good," Kaelan says.
He walks to the wall. Rows of metal cages line it—organised, labelled, and sealed with faint runic locks.
He opens one and lifts out a small white rabbit.
The creature twitches nervously but doesn't resist—his mana pressure keeps it calm. He places it onto a secured rune-etched metal table.
Then he returns and retrieves a second animal—
—a horned rabbit, its small obsidian horn protruding from its forehead.
This one, too, is secured.
Kaelan turns back to his students.
"Life-engineering," he says, "is the study of reshaping life, altering an organism until it becomes what you require."
The three nod, suddenly more serious.
"But before one changes life, one must first understand it."
---
Kaelan removes a thin silver needle and draws a droplet of blood from the ordinary rabbit. The blood bead is placed onto a crystal slide and set beneath a peculiar device resembling a microscope—but covered in runic engravings.
He feeds mana into it.
Hum.
The device awakens. A soft glow rises, and a holographic projection forms above it—rotating slowly in the air.
The projection displays the rabbit's Life Structure—layers of energy lines, genetic matrices, and soul-threads.
Tang Lina gasps softly.
Bu Shou stares with wide, frozen eyes.
Lu Chen leans forward, absorbing every detail.
"This," Kaelan says, "is the blueprint of the life before you."
---
He repeats the process with the horned rabbit.
Another hologram appears beside the first. Similar structure—yet clearly different.
"This thread," Kaelan points out, "controls skeletal development."
He highlights another.
"And here is the variant responsible for the horn. Note how the structure reinforces the skull, modifies blood flow, and stabilises mana pathways."
The three watch every movement with held breath.
Then—under their gaze—Kaelan gathers the horned rabbit's relevant life-pattern, compresses it into a glowing rune-chain, and slowly grafts it onto the ordinary rabbit's life structure.
The hologram flickers, shifts, adjusts—and finally stabilises.
"That," Kaelan says quietly, "is life-engineering."
He marks the ordinary rabbit's cage with a glowing sigil.
"One week from now, during the next class, we will examine whether the altered rabbit survives—and whether the modification takes effect."
The students straighten, bowing with far more respect than before.
"Class dismissed."
They file out—silent, thoughtful, burning with a new kind of fear and ambition.
Kaelan-two stands in the quiet laboratory.
The rabbits breathe softly behind him, and shelves of runic instruments hum with muted mana. His gaze lingers on the glowing projection crystal storing today's lesson.
Not a true computer—not yet.
But the first step toward one.
He had tried to mimic Earth's machines: processors, logic gates, storage drives—but without microchips and without knowing how to craft silicon circuits, that dream was still distant. Arrays and runes could simulate logic, but *not yet fast enough* and not yet stable enough to calculate or process constantly changing values.
So instead, he refined a magic item that served a single purpose:
*Store data.*
A recording crystal patterned with layered runic weaves, capable of holding texts, diagrams, images, and most importantly, the evolving structures of life he was engineering.
Creating such specialised items pushed his craftsmanship forward—until he could now refine *second-stage transcendence weapons* without strain.
And while he worked here, Kaelan's main body and clone-one pursued a different breakthrough:
*Shared consciousness.*
Currently, messages are passed through crows—alive, loyal, and efficient, but limited.
What Kaelan envisioned was a network—mind to mind—instant, constant, seamless.
The first step toward that network would not be a technique.
It would be a *magic artifact.*
A satellite.
A signal node.
A consciousness relay floating above the world, receiving mental transmissions in real-time and distributing them back to every Kaelan.
Clone-two refines crops and teaches Life Engineering.
Clone-one handles theory, structure, and runology.
The main body refines arrays and cultivates.
Three minds—one will.
Soon, they would think as one.
---
He activates the storage crystal and projects a hologram of a crop's life structure—cells, spirit veins, and mana-channels rotating mid-air. His mind begins analysing:
*Which threads should thicken?
Which trait should be rewritten?
Which weakness can become a strength?*
His work continues—quiet, meticulous.
*
Meanwhile, far away in the *Chen Kingdom*, at a military training ground—
Kaelan walks beside *Chen Wei*, stopping before a table covered with several round bundles wrapped in cloth. Each has a short cotton fuse protruding from the top.
Gunpowder prototypes.
Kaelan picks one up.
He flicks his finger—and a thin flame springs from his fingertip.
He lights the fuse.
sssssss—
Then throws.
The cloth sphere arcs through the air, lands on packed dirt—
—and a heartbeat later, *explodes.*
BOOM.
The ground shudders.
Dust erupts outward in a violent shockwave. The explosion sends soil flying, rattling nearby shields and armour racks. A harsh pressure ripples through the training field; faint black scorch marks stain the dirt where the sphere detonated.
Some soldiers flinch.
Some curse.
Some stare… wide-eyed, stunned.
Chen Wei slowly turns—or rather, forces himself to turn—toward Kaelan.
His voice trembles between awe and disbelief:
"…Lord Kong… what is this?"
Kaelan watches the lingering smoke curl upward and answers calmly, as if discussing tea:
"A weapon."
His eyes narrow slightly.
"And the beginning of a new kind of war."
Chen Wei inhales sharply, excitement lighting his face.
"Master… marvellous. If it explodes inside a dense formation, it will kill many and cripple even more. It's perfect for the battlefield."
Kaelan nods.
"I'll teach you the method to produce them. After that, establish a workshop and begin large-scale manufacturing. Then—sell them to the Chen Kingdom."
Chen Wei freezes, stunned.
"Sell…? Not give?"
Kaelan glances at him.
"Why should we give them for free?"
Chen Wei hesitates, voice small.
"Aren't we… supporting them?"
"We are," Kaelan says, tone calm but firm. "But support does not mean servitude. We are not their fathers—we are allies. That means balance, not charity."
Understanding finally settles in Chen Wei's expression, and he bows.
"Yes, Master."
Kaelan turns to leave—then pauses.
"Also… one week from now, I expect you to reach Silver Wizard."
Chen Wei stiffens.
Kaelan's clone had already completed the second grand preaching in the Tang Kingdom, explaining the structure of the *Official Wizard Realm*—Bronze, Silver, and Gold—and how to build magic circuits to advance.
Chen Wei, being from Chen Village—the first village Kaelan guided—had access to that knowledge long before the wider world.
He even possessed a tailored meditation method:
*Dark-Fire Storm Meditation Technique.*
It was created specifically for his people.
So Kaelan's expectation was not a request.
It was an order.
Chen Wei bowed deeply, fist to palm.
"Yes, Master. I will not fail."
Kaelan walked away without looking back.
Behind him, Chen Wei lit another fuse—testing the next explosive, awe and resolve burning equally in his eyes.
---
A week later—
On the eastern front, in a nameless town swallowed by smoke and fear, a division of the Chen Army stands trapped.
They failed to retreat in time.
Now the town is surrounded.
The Ren Army forms a tightening ring of steel under the pale morning sun. Rows of soldiers march forward carrying ladders, siege hooks, and tower shields.
On the ramparts, the Chen commander grips the battlement—cloth armour torn, cheek smeared with dried blood. His gaze hardens.
Escape is impossible.
So there is only one choice left.
Hold.
"For every day we stand," he mutters to himself, voice low and ragged, "one more village farther from the slaughter."
Below, a Ren envoy cups his hands and shouts,
"Chen dogs! Surrender! You have nowhere left to run!"
The commander inhales, then turns, projecting his voice with every shred of strength remaining.
"Brothers! Beyond these walls are our families. Our lovers. Our children. Every breath we fight buys them another step toward safety."
He raises his sword.
"So tell me—do we surrender?"
A roar answers him:
"NO!"
The commander slashes downward.
"ARCHERS—FIRE!"
Arrows launch like black rain.
The Ren front line staggers—but does not break.
Closer.
Step by step.
Hundreds of ladders slam against stone.
Iron hooks bite the parapets.
Warriors climb like ants.
The battle slams into the walls.
Hours later—
Bodies carpet the courtyard. Smoke stings the air. The commander leans against a shattered merlon, ribs cracked, armour pierced.
Yet he stands.
Barely.
"Commander!"
His adjutant rushes up the steps—breathless, bloodied—carrying a wooden crate.
"A delivery crow arrived from the capital. The… the message says these were invented by the National Teacher."
The commander wipes blood from his eyes.
Inside the crate rest strange palm-sized clay spheres wrapped in coarse cloth, each with a short cord protruding from the top.
Crude. Ugly. Unfamiliar.
Deadly.
He picks one up, turning it in his palm.
"What in the heavens is this?"
The adjutant swallows.
"The crow's instructions were simple: light the fuse—with fire—and throw it into enemy ranks."
For a heartbeat, the commander just stares at the sphere.
Then—slowly—his lips curl into a grim, savage smile.
"Good."
He straightens, raises the device high enough for nearby soldiers to see—and shouts:
"MAKE WAY!"
The fuse hisses as flame catches.
The Ren soldiers climbing the nearest ladder pause—
—just long enough to see the death arc toward them.