Surviving the Magic Academy With Just Intelligence Stats-Chapter 88: Just Like A Cat

Within the northern region of the Xia Empire, a territory notorious for its biting cold, General Winter made her way deep underground where the planet’s scorching core defied the surface’s frigid climate. The massive bathhouse she entered was carved directly into the bedrock, a sanctuary of warmth in her otherwise frozen domain.

Few knew that the northern region hadn’t always been a wasteland of ice and snow. Before General Winter claimed it as her territory, it had been largely unremarkable—perhaps slightly cooler than other provinces, but still green and hospitable. The transformation to its current state of perpetual winter had come with her arrival and the manifestation of her power.

Steam rose in lazy spirals from the natural hot spring’s surface as General Winter disrobed methodically. Her pale skin slowly revealed itself as layers of military regalia fell away—first the heavy fur-lined coat emblazoned with the imperial insignia, then the armored breastplate that had witnessed countless battles, followed by the rest of her garments until she stood completely nude beside the steaming pool.

Without hesitation, she dove directly into the scalding water, barely flinching as the extreme heat enveloped her. The temperature would have blistered ordinary skin, but she merely closed her eyes, floating on her back as tension visibly melted from her normally rigid posture. A deep breath escaped her lips, the first sign of relaxation she had permitted herself in weeks.

After several moments of silence, she reached toward a space beside the pool, her fingers seemingly grasping at empty air before a subtle ripple revealed the spatial ring she wore. From within this dimensional pocket, she withdrew a photograph—a rarity in this world of magical communication.

The image captured two figures: Ambrose Rothschild, the young heir to the most powerful noble house in Avaloria Kingdom, and beside him, Sun Hualing, his ever-present guardian. General Winter’s typically emotionless face softened almost imperceptibly as she studied the photograph, particularly the image of Hualing.

"Does this mean I owe that crazy woman another favor?" she murmured, her voice echoing softly against the stone walls. A resigned sigh followed as her thoughts drifted to her earlier conversation with General Spring regarding the…

Before she could further contemplate this train of thought, she noticed something alarming—her body had become unnaturally still, locked in position. Glancing down, she discovered the cause: the previously steaming hot spring had transformed into a massive block of crystalline ice, entrapping her within its frozen embrace.

There was no panic in her expression, only mild annoyance as she exhaled audibly. With a series of powerful movements, she shattered her icy prison, the frozen chunks breaking away with loud cracks that reverberated throughout the underground chamber. Ice fragments scattered across the stone floor as she pulled herself free.

"Thirty seconds this time," General Winter observed clinically, reaching for her discarded clothing with methodical precision. The unnatural freezing of her surroundings—even sources of extreme heat—had become a recurring phenomenon, one that appeared to be accelerating.

She pulled on her undergarments first, then the heavier outer layers designed to protect against the cold she herself generated. "I’m running out of time," she continued, her voice betraying no emotion despite the ominous declaration.

As she slipped on her gloves—the final piece of her ensemble—she paused, her gaze returning briefly to the photograph still lying beside the now-frozen pool. "And so is Xiao Ling," she added softly.

…

In the tiered seating section of Crono Academy’s grand arena, Ambrose and his party had claimed a corner for themselves, yet they were far from inconspicuous. Despite the ongoing second-round matches that filled the massive colosseum with flashes of magic and clashing weapons, an unusual number of eyes kept drifting toward their group. The cause of this persistent attention was clear—their match had concluded in a mere two minutes, a brutally efficient display that had left spectators stunned.

More specifically, those furtive glances were directed at Sun Hualing, whose combat prowess had transcended expectation and ventured into the realm of the terrifying. The speed and ruthlessness with which she had dismantled their opponents lingered in the minds of all who witnessed it. Yet the feared combatant herself seemed entirely oblivious to the stir she had caused.

Hualing lay stretched across the bench with her head resting comfortably in Ambrose’s lap, her expression one of pure contentment as he gently ran his fingers through her fiery red hair, catching hints of silver where the light revealed its subtle metallic tinge. The transformation was striking—from the predatory fighter who had nearly continued her assault beyond the match’s conclusion to this picture of docility. Her eyes were half-closed in bliss, occasionally emitting soft sounds of satisfaction that weren’t quite audible over the arena’s ambient roar.

Ambrose couldn’t suppress a smile as he observed her. Just like a cat, he thought, the comparison unavoidable. Though he had never owned pets during his sickly childhood, books had taught him about their behaviors. He had often wondered why people would willingly keep creatures described as "mischievous" and "troublemakers" in their homes. The standard answer—"it’s in their nature, but they calm down when properly petted"—had seemed insufficient until this moment.1

Now, experiencing firsthand the transformation that gentle attention could produce, Ambrose found himself appreciating the wisdom of pet owners throughout history. Hualing had indeed calmed completely under his ministrations, her earlier bloodlust entirely absent as she nuzzled against his hand whenever he slowed his rhythmic strokes through her hair.

I should definitely continue this approach, he concluded, mentally filing away this effective tactic for future implementation—at least until he discovered a more permanent solution to her concerning behavior.

His expression darkened slightly as a more immediate problem made itself known. The pressure on his thighs was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Despite Hualing’s slender frame, his "Weak Body" physique was ill-equipped for supporting even her modest weight for extended periods. Already, after just a few minutes, pins and needles were spreading through his legs, the sensation approaching genuine pain. Yet he maintained his calm exterior, unwilling to disrupt the peaceful moment when considering the alternative.

Across the bench, Marcus observed the pair with contemplative eyes. He couldn’t deny Hualing’s exceptional strength—she had dispatched opponents that would have given even him pause—but something about her continued to unsettle him. This Hualing was practically unrecognizable compared to the woman he had met in his previous life.

Did I even encounter her during my academy days before? he wondered, searching his memories and finding no trace of her. The Hualing he had known—the one he’d encountered some time after leaving the academy—had been serious, composed, and methodical in her violence. This version was impulsive, emotional, and seemed to fluctuate between extremes of behavior.

More disturbing was the expression he had witnessed during the match’s final moments—a look of empty bloodlust that transcended mere combat fervor. That expression had transported him back to a pivotal moment from his previous life, when she had taken his talent through methods he still didn’t fully comprehend. The similarity was undeniable, raising uncomfortable questions.

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Is she actually in control? The thought formed unbidden in his mind. Could she be possessed by something? He continued observing, filing away these observations for future consideration. If she really was possessed, it would explain why Hualing had suddenly turned on him, but was that really the case? And if it was, when did it happen?

Liu Meihua, seated on Ambrose’s other side, was engaged in her own careful study of Hualing. As someone with knowledge of the original story, she knew more about the situation than others. To her, Hualing was just a disaster waiting to happen.

What have I gotten myself into? she thought, a flicker of concern crossing her features. Having already committed to Ambrose’s group, she was inextricably tied to whatever fate awaited them. Her Calculation talent ran countless probability scenarios, none of them particularly reassuring when it came to Hualing’s stability.

All Meihua could do now was ensure her own strength developed sufficiently to weather the coming storm when—not if—Hualing’s control finally slipped entirely. Whatever bond existed between Ambrose and his blood knight seemed effective for now, but Meihua recognized it as a temporary solution at best.

A/N - Dont ask me, I’m not a cat expert