"Game Rules": Mrs. Allen Transformed

Andre's expression shifted subtly. A trace of wariness flashed through his eyes before they quickly returned to calm.

As a prince who had grown up in the royal court and was accustomed to political intrigue, he instantly understood the true meaning behind Ron's words.

"You want to get in touch with the black market?" Andre lowered his voice slightly. "That isn't a wise choice, especially under the current circumstances."

Ron did not answer directly. Instead, he patiently waited for Andre to continue.

Andre sighed. "If it's only for potion research, I can give you some advice."

He walked to the window and confirmed that there were no suspicious energy fluctuations nearby before continuing:

"Underground trading in the Black Mist Forest mainly takes place in three locations.

"The safest is the special exchange at the Sunset Tavern. The guards there ensure the privacy of every transaction.

"Next is Lizard Alley. Although it offers no additional protection, it has a much wider variety of goods than the Sunset Tavern.

"Finally, there's Blackwater Bay. That's the most dangerous place. They say that even powerful Formal Wizards occasionally go there to find things that interest them."

Ron carefully memorized the information while also noting how familiar Andre was with these places. Clearly, he had not merely heard about them from others.

"There are several things you need to pay special attention to when trading." Andre continued, his tone carrying the air of someone speaking from experience.

"First, never reveal your true identity. Second, bring enough Magic Stone Fragments, but don't carry them all on your person. Third, it's best to find a trustworthy intermediary to introduce you. Your first transaction is the most dangerous."

He paused, then said with utmost seriousness, "Most importantly, don't be greedy. Only buy what you truly need, then leave immediately."

Ron nodded. "You sound very familiar with all this."

Andre revealed a complicated smile. "In the Black Mist Forest, surviving sometimes requires a few... rather special channels."

He did not explain further, but Ron already understood.

In this cruel world, everyone had their own way of surviving. Even the noble Thirteenth Prince was no exception.

"Thank you for the advice," Ron said sincerely. "I'll be careful."

The two chatted a little longer about recent events before Andre took his leave.

Alone, Ron began organizing everything he had seen and heard.

Oliver's sudden visit, the changes in the black-market potions, and Marcus's malicious gaze all seemed to point toward some kind of ominous premonition.

But he was no longer the frail Candidate Apprentice he had once been.

The qualitative transformation of his spiritual power had given him the ability to contend with higher-level apprentices, while the Career Linkage System within his body had given him a powerful trump card.

"No matter what Oliver is plotting." Ron clenched his fists, feeling little fear in his heart. "As long as I'm given time to grow, everything will resolve itself."

Still, the black-market channels Andre had just mentioned reminded him of something.

Ron spread open the quarterly School newsletter he had happened to obtain recently. It recorded the School's major events from the past three months.

When he turned to the section on the "Mentor Council," he found some interesting information.

The mentors evaluated the apprentices in the School every quarter, and those who performed exceptionally well often received additional resources and more opportunities for guidance.

Yet, puzzlingly, the next page of the newsletter listed apprentices who had recently been punished for violating the rules.

Several of them had even undergone mutations after taking prohibited potions, ultimately being executed or sent to laboratories.

"Locke, Emily, Darund..." Ron's gaze lingered on those familiar names, and a trace of doubt rose in his heart.

If the mentors truly valued apprentices with potential so highly, why were these prohibited potions able to circulate so easily? Why did apprentices keep taking such dangerous risks?

He flipped through older newsletters and discovered that this was not uncommon. Almost every quarter featured similar cases, and the circulation of prohibited potions seemed to have become part of the Black Mist Forest itself.

"Is there some logic here that I haven't seen?" Ron knitted his brows and thought carefully.

If those powerful Formal Wizards genuinely wanted to eradicate the circulation of prohibited potions, they could absolutely do so with their abilities and authority.

But in reality, these potions not only existed; to some extent, they even seemed to be tacitly permitted.

Ron remembered Andre mentioning earlier that even people at the Formal Wizard level visited the dangerous black market in Blackwater Bay.

"Could it be..." A bold idea surfaced in Ron's mind. "Could the circulation of these prohibited potions be tacitly permitted, or even encouraged, by the Formal Wizards to some extent?"

Though the idea was insane, it explained many things.

Perhaps in the mentors' eyes, this was a method of selection. Apprentices with true talent and self-discipline would choose a steady path of growth, while those without talent who sought quick results and lacked patience would be tempted by prohibited potions and ultimately bring about their own destruction.

"It's like a game." Ron summarized inwardly. "A Promotion Elimination Game whose rules were set by the mentors."

They wanted talented newcomers to emerge within the School, but they also did not want an overly comfortable environment to deprive the apprentices of a sense of danger.

A moderate degree of danger and competition could instead inspire a stronger will to survive and a greater drive to improve.

Ron had previously viewed it too simply as the strong oppressing the weak. Now, it seemed the situation was far more complicated.

If that was the case, then the risk of being captured and turned into an experimental subject might not be as high as he had imagined, especially if he displayed sufficient potential and self-discipline.

Those wizards would much rather see him grow into a future colleague than become an experimental material stripped of the ability to think.

Taking out Darund's notebook, Ron prepared to examine the Conception of the Sonic Spell first.

Since Oliver had shown interest in it, the spell might well become crucial to resisting him in the future.

His focused research continued for several hours, and the sky had gradually darkened.

Ron rubbed his eyes and stood up. In the end, he decided to make a trip to the Herb Shop.

For one thing, he wanted to inform Mrs. Allen that he had been released from confinement ahead of schedule. For another, he wanted to ask the experienced old apothecary a few questions, especially about Oliver and higher-level Meditation Methods.

The faintly reddened evening clouds cast a strange halo over the Black Mist Forest, and the crowds in the market had thinned considerably.

When Ron reached the entrance of the Herb Shop, he found the door tightly shut. The movable vines on it twisted and coiled into the words: "The shop is closed."

Ron found it strange. Mrs. Allen's Herb Shop normally should not have closed yet.

He had just turned to leave when he suddenly stopped.

The keen perception brought by being an Advanced Apprentice allowed him to clearly detect unusually active magic behind the door.

It was not a dangerous fluctuation, but it was definitely not the calm that should exist after the shop had closed.

After hesitating for a moment, Ron gently knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" An old voice came from inside, carrying a hint of fatigue. It was unmistakably Mrs. Allen's familiar voice.

"It's me, Ron," he replied softly.

There was a brief silence behind the door, followed by an almost inaudible sigh.

"I'm very busy right now. Come back tomorrow morning if you need something."

Ron could hear the carefully concealed irritation in Mrs. Allen's voice. As someone with basic emotional intelligence, he did not want to trouble her.

"I understand, ma'am. Then I'll come visit again tomorrow morning," Ron said tactfully, already turning to leave.

"Wait..." Mrs. Allen suddenly changed her mind, a trace of hesitation in her voice. "Come in after all. Since you're already here."

Amid the sound of metal scraping against metal, the tightly shut shop door opened by itself.

Ron cautiously stepped inside. The familiar scent of medicinal herbs rushed over him, mixed with a peculiar fragrance he had never smelled before. It resembled Night-blooming Jasmine, but was even richer and sweeter.

The shop was also much darker than usual. Only a few faint Magic Crystal Lamps flickered, filling the space with a hazy atmosphere.

The moment Ron entered, his eyes were drawn to the figure behind the counter. A young woman stood there, organizing the account books.

She had long, astonishingly beautiful pinkish-purple curls that cascaded down like a waterfall, gleaming with a dreamlike radiance beneath the lamplight.

The woman's profile was gorgeous and delicate. Her porcelain-white skin glowed with a healthy, lustrous sheen, while her large, bright eyes resembled gemstones.

Most striking of all was her high, straight nose, whose proud and elegant curve blended perfectly with the rest of her face, making her beauty seem almost unbelievable.

"You are..." Ron asked hesitantly, his gaze searching the shop for Mrs. Allen.

The woman wore nothing but a loose silk nightdress. The collar and cuffs had slipped down slightly, revealing large areas of fair skin and breathtaking curves.

That casual, unconscious posture was more lethal than deliberate seduction. It was utterly different from the image in Ron's memory of the old witch with a face full of wrinkles, a hooked nose, and a hunched back.

"What's wrong, little fellow? You don't recognize me?" The woman turned her face halfway and spoke in a familiar tone that sent chills down his spine.

Those deep green eyes—there was no mistaking them. They were Mrs. Allen's distinctive eyes.

"Mrs. Allen?!" Ron could hardly believe his own judgment, but those eyes could not be mistaken.

The other woman let out a light laugh, producing the slightly hoarse, aged chuckle that belonged entirely to Mrs. Allen.

Yet coming from the mouth of this young woman who looked no older than eighteen or nineteen, it created an intensely jarring sensation.

"Looks like my transformation gave you quite a shock." She set down the account book and braced both hands against the counter, leaning forward. The unconscious movement caused the collar of her nightdress to slip even lower.

The inspiration for Mrs. Allen's character came from Granny Genkai in Yu Yu Hakusho. I wonder how many old-timers still remember that character.

Also, this book may not have a heroine in the strict sense. After all, wizards are long-lived species, so there's really no need to cling to that sort of thing.