Two days had passed since the farce that could only be described as "violent therapy."
During those two days, a subtle, peculiar atmosphere hung over the mansion in Ranoa.
Nanahoshi no longer looked like a walking corpse. At least a trace of life had returned to her eyes, though it consisted mostly of confusion, grievance, and undisguised wariness toward Alice.
She began eating normally and even left her room to stroll slowly down the corridors, but she still rarely spoke.
The redness and swelling on her face had faded considerably, but the despair that had sunk into her bones clearly could not be banished by a few slaps. It had merely been suppressed for the moment, like a dormant volcano that could erupt again at any time.
Alice, meanwhile, had returned to her usual straightforward routine.
She practiced her swordplay, ate, and occasionally shot Nanahoshi a challenging glare, as if to say, "Look that lifeless again, and I'll beat you up again."
A strange balance formed between them. They stayed out of each other's way, but a faint whiff of hostility always lingered.
Cui Ciyou saw it all and considered it a good sign.
Any emotion, even anger or hostility, was far better than lifeless stagnation.
But he knew it was not enough.
The root of Nanahoshi's problem lay in that "unsolvable" magic circle.
Until that knot in her heart was untied, outside intervention could only treat the symptoms, not the cause.
And so, on the morning of the third day, Cui Ciyou decided it was time to pool everyone's wisdom.
As the saying went, "Two heads are better than one."
There was also the saying, "Three humble cobblers can outwit even Zhuge Liang."
Behind these sayings lay a simple but profound truth: an individual's thinking always had its limits,