Genius Senior Sister, Violet Star

The air was thick with the expensive scent of violet perfume, rich yet not cloying, carrying an aggressive superiority that instantly overpowered the faint odor of rot and preservatives lingering in the classroom.

Tyron's heart gave a sharp lurch, but he bowed his head even lower.

Violet Star.

That name thundered through Cain Wizard Tower and the entire Seven Towers Alliance apprentice circles like a clap of thunder.

She was a half-elf, a blend of high elf and human, possessing the elves' long lifespan and humanity's exceptional learning ability.

As Mentor Makley's most prized student, she had already advanced to a second-rank official wizard at the age of nineteen.

Unlike Tyron, who specialized in the Spirit Summoning Control Method, Violet Star had inherited another core path from Makley's legacy—the Spirit Weaving Method.

The former focused on the enslavement and domination of souls, walking the path of an undead legion;

the latter emphasized runology and micro-manipulation, its core being the use of spirit as a needle and mana as thread to weave, reshape, and even reconstruct all things.

A year ago, she represented Cain Wizard Tower in the Alliance's Rising Star Assessment.

With a stunning display of the "Living Flesh Weaving Technique," she secured fourth place, earning the tower a massive resource quota for the coming year.

It could be said that Makley's ability to hold his ground in the tower's faction-ridden environment relied not only on his own strength as a seventh-rank wizard but also on the presence of this genius disciple.

"Word travels fast."

Makley looked at his beloved student, a rare hint of doting smile breaking through his stern face.

"Of course."

Violet Star removed her exquisite purple pointed hat, casually smoothing her hair, which shimmered like a galaxy of black silk, her tone carrying a touch of careless arrogance:

"Other information might crawl like a snail in our wizard tower, but anything involving a struggle for bottom-tier resources, someone stirring up internal strife—that spreads faster than the wind."

With that, her pale violet eyes swept over Tyron once more.

This time, the curiosity had faded, replaced by a hint of scrutiny.

Tyron knew exactly what to do.

He stepped forward, crossed his hands over his chest, and executed a flawless apprentice salute, his voice calm and steady:

"Greetings, Senior Sister Violet Star. I am Tyron Arthas Magnus, Mentor's corpse-collecting apprentice."

"It is an honor to meet the legendary 'Violet Star' today."

Violet Star gave a soft "mm," not sparing him another glance for the flattery.

In the eyes of a second-rank wizard, a rank-zero apprentice was no different from a weed by the roadside.

She strode past Tyron and stopped before the two open corpse boxes.

Her slender fingers traced an arc in the air, and a faint ripple of mana swept over the runic framework on the severed limbs.

"Ian rune framework..."

Violet Star gave a slight nod, offering her assessment:

"The strokes are too soft, and the curves at the transitions lack finesse. But..."

She turned her head, glancing at Tyron:

"The attitude is earnest enough. Being able to reserve such a standard guiding interface on these low-quality corpses at least shows you have a clear head."

With that, she flicked her wrist, and a scroll exuding the distinct smell of parchment materialized out of thin air, drifting lightly toward Tyron.

"Since you're in charge of corpse collection, this works out perfectly."

"Find me three corpses according to the specifications on this list."

"The budget is 2,000 violet gold coins. Refund or supplement as needed. Do it well, and there's a reward. Screw it up..."

Violet Star didn't finish the sentence, merely curving her lips into a meaningful smile.

Then, she bowed gracefully to Makley: "Mentor, I won't disturb your lesson any longer."

"I'll visit your lab tonight. I have some questions about 'Spirit Reverse Weaving' I'd like to discuss."

"Go on." Makley waved his hand.

With a waft of fragrant breeze, the proud senior sister left the classroom with the same elegant steps she had entered, until the sound of her footsteps faded completely.

Only then did Tyron catch the parchment scroll floating in the air.

2,000 violet gold coins!

That was a fortune.

For context, the purchase price of an ordinary corpse was only a few dozen gold coins.

But he showed no greed, not even opening it immediately. Instead, he turned to Makley, his eyes carrying a question.

"Carry out your senior sister's request."

Makley said flatly, "She is my pride and the benchmark for all of you. Being able to work for her is your opportunity."

"Yes, Mentor." Tyron respectfully tucked the parchment into his robe.

When the clock's hand pointed straight at nine.

The corridor finally echoed with the clatter of footsteps and bursts of laughter.

Those young masters and ladies, born with silver spoons in their mouths, had finally arrived.

They wore meticulously tailored robes, held magic wands studded with gems, and clustered in twos and threes, as if this wasn't a class but a social tea party.

"Did you hear? Something went down at the Lucky Star Tavern yesterday."

A plump fellow in a deep crimson velvet robe said with animated glee: "That guy Kyle from our tower got into a fight with a fire apprentice from the Blazing Sun Wizard Tower over some dancer. Ended up on the dueling platform."

"And?" his companion asked.

"What else? Got blasted to charcoal by a 'Explosive Fireball'! Not even a full corpse left."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk."

A sharp female voice cut in—it was Jane.

She still wore her delicate makeup today, a new folding fan in hand, her face plastered with undisguised contempt:

"What a disgrace. That Kyle always looked like a pauper anyway, couldn't even afford a decent defensive magic tool, and he dared to pick a fight with someone from Blazing Sun Tower?"

"Serves him right. At least he won't drag down Cain Tower's average quality anymore."

"Exactly. No strength and still trying to compete over a woman—what a waste of air."

The girls nearby chimed in with silvery laughter.

Tylen stood in the corner, head lowered, expressionless.

This was the true face of the wizard world.

The death of a classmate was nothing more than idle chatter over tea for these people.

Weakness was the original sin; poverty was a capital offense.

No sympathy whatsoever—only naked worship of the strong and mockery of the fallen.

Just then, Jane's gaze swept across the front of the classroom and suddenly stopped.

Her brow furrowed instantly, as if she'd spotted a fly crawling on an exquisite cake.

"Why are you still here?"

Jane pointed her folding fan at Tylen, her voice sharp and grating:

"This is the Elite Rune Classroom! Who let this stinking corpse-handler in? He's polluting the air!"

The surrounding young masters and ladies cast disgusted looks his way.

In their eyes, a lowly menial like Tylen belonged in the sewers or the morgue.

Showing up in a refined, academic classroom like this was an insult to their class.

Tylen kept his head down, as if deaf, completely ignoring Jane's accusations.

Arguing with a stupid woman like her would only lower his own IQ.

Just as Jane was about to call someone to throw Tylen out, a crisp tapping sound came from the podium.

Tap, tap.

Makley's mithril teaching rod lightly struck the blackboard.

The sound wasn't loud, but it carried a mental pressure that made hearts shudder, instantly sweeping through the room.

The noisy classroom fell silent in an instant—so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Jane's face paled, and she immediately shut her mouth, shrinking back with some fear.

"Class begins."

Makley swept his cold gaze across the room, pausing on Jane for a second, then directly ignoring everyone's unspoken objections to Tylen's presence.

"Today we cover—Weaving Runes."

The moment those four words left his mouth, everyone understood.

That corpse-handling apprentice standing here had the instructor's tacit approval.

Though resentment simmered, no one dared to cross Makley at this juncture.