“Turbid Dust Gale— is that a school name or a gang name?” Marg peered at the squad of members crouched before her, curiosity in her gaze.

“It seems there isn’t much difference here,” Xavier counted heads and jotted notes in his booklet.

“Many of these groups don’t have fixed locations, so they’ve gang-ified, or you could say some gangs and small schools are practically the same thing.”

“From what they said, Turbid Dust Gale originally was a small faction researching air currents and gales, with only scattered members. Later a shaman from another region joined and invented a secret art that combined rune branding with shaman totems, and that’s how they gradually grew.”

“I checked their advancement method. It only needs a bottle of Third Tier totem potion and a small amount of Third Tier beast blood to complete, allowing you to inscribe three to five runes on the body.”

“The inscribed runes function similarly to the normal mages’ Spell Frontispiece. They can drive the runes on them to form spells, and because they use shamanic knowledge, they can directly tap into Bloodline Aspect power to drive the runes, no longer limited to the Secret Word Aspect.”

“In a sense, it’s actually rather breakthrough.”

“No wonder small factions do the brutal stuff,” some apprentices murmured, impressed.

Large established schools usually must consider severe side effects and future development potential for advancement methods, so their processes are more complex and difficult.

Small factions don’t bother with that. Side effects? Future prospects? As long as you can advance today and gain power, someone will learn and try it. Getting stronger to survive is the hard truth.

“The orthodox Spell Frontispiece can gain more pages after reaching Fourth Tier, enhancing the runes and granting extra abilities. But once someone brands totems on their body like this, it’s hard to change later.”

After figuring out how Turbid Dust Gale had raised so many Third Tier members, the group discussed the pros and cons of the faction’s secret art.

“All right, we’ve asked about everything we need to. Go ask the Chief how to handle these people.” An apprentice stood and looked toward the black-haired silhouette a short distance away.

Sylutia hugged a book and studied the big bald man leaning against the wall. He had received some treatment and wouldn’t die, but his injuries were severe and he remained unconscious.

The girl copied the totem brands on his body into her notebook, occasionally pausing to think.

Despite many flaws, this advancement method was novel and seemed to have research potential. She suddenly thought of the large groups of beastmen in the Mage Alliance.

Those beastmen struggle with complex rune studies, but if they could use shamanic totem branding to gain power, it would better suit their temperament. Those runes could also be driven by the Bloodline Aspect. Among the beastman groups, members practicing the Beast Fang Bloodline Aspect are the most numerous; most of them have inherently stronger Bloodline aspects.

After jotting down this rare secret art and advancement method, Sylutia closed her pen and recalled the Steel Shadow Magic Hand she had just used.

This was her first time casting that secret art before outsiders. Although it appeared successful, she knew clearly her Steel Shadow Magic Hand was far from complete.

According to that professor, if a Fifth Tier mage used this art, its power would be on another level. The magic hands would be larger and extremely flexible, sometimes solid steel, sometimes ripping across like phantasms. They could switch forms—fist, palm, claw—at will. Even a frail mage could use this secret art to tear and beat same-tier powerful magical beasts into pulp.

Right now, her constructed Steel Shadow Magic Hand only had the steel framework and partial power—hardly flexible. Facing a nimble opponent, it would be difficult to handle.

There were still many details to learn; perhaps she’d need to visit Rorik College and see that professor again when she had time.

Hearing approaching footsteps, Maranya gathered her thoughts and turned.

“What is it?”

“Chief, we’ve asked everything we needed to. The spoils and gear are mostly gathered. How should we deal with these people?” Muwaya bowed in proper etiquette as he asked.

“Think about it…” Maranya touched the hair near her ear with a languid finger and answered in a soft, steady voice.

Let them go? That would be the most gracious outcome. But this district is lawless—before they suddenly got stronger, those people would probably be left with nothing.

Give them a chance to live.

Maranya walked forward and had the apprentices gather those men. Dusk was falling; orange-red clouds bloomed on the horizon.

“It’s late. I originally wanted to kill you all; that would save a lot of trouble.” Her voice was calm, but it sent chills through everyone present.

“Luckily I’m in a good mood—maybe I’ve seen something interesting and new.”

“I’ll spare you, but in return you must serve me from now on. There must be no doubt or resistance. Can you do that?”

As she spoke, strands of hair behind her whipped and writhed. In the evening breeze, the black threads surged, spreading through the alley and wrapping around everyone’s necks piece by piece, tightening until the hair completely covered the alley sky, blocking it out and leaving only a thin, faint sliver of light.

At the sight, every Turbid Dust Gale member there trembled in terror and nodded repeatedly.

“Yes. We will. We will obey your orders.”

“That’s good.” As she finished, the black hair that had blanketed the alley vanished in an instant, leaving only the girl’s smiling face in the evening wind, as if the whole spectacle had been an illusion.

Sylutia tore a page from her notebook and handed it to the nearby apprentices afterwards.

“This will be your code of conduct from now on. Obey it well.” She handed them the set of rules she’d used with the Asra District’s underground gangs.

“I want capable, useful subordinates, so these rules stress unity and cooperation. I hope you understand.” Her voice was soft and pleasant—if heard in a grand theater, someone might mistake her for a famed songstress.

But after seeing her fierce side, no one dared think that. They only nodded, though none had yet read the paper.

Seeing their obedience, Sylutia nodded.

“Give them those,” she told them. “Also, drag that passed-out guy over here.”

“Yes.” Og strode forward, using his strong physique to drag the heavy bald man over.

As they hauled him, the man gradually regained consciousness. When his eyes opened and saw the black-haired girl, panic flitted across his face. He fumbled at the ground, trying to crawl away.

But his body had multiple fractures; movement sent pain shooting through him, and that pain brought back recent memories. Fear crept over him again.

“You’re awake. I’ve explained many things to your companions. They’ll tell you later,” Sylutia—Ti Ya—said, calming him somewhat with her tone.

“Right, I haven’t asked your name yet.”

“I-I’m Mengjous,” he stammered.

“Mengjous…” Ti Ya wrote the name down.

“Do you remember what you said earlier?”

“What? Which line? I mean, which one do you want to ask about?” His tone eased.

“The line about maintaining balance in this area—‘we, Turbid Dust Gale, must step out to stop and punish’.” Sylutia swept up her sleeve, opened her hand, and a ripple of soundwaves reproduced Mengjous’s earlier words.

“Y—you’re right, I said that. But I blamed you all wrongly at the time… I’m truly sorry. Please spare us.” Mengjous pressed his head to the ground, desperate to escape punishment.

“Raise your head. I won’t kill you today.” The girl’s voice in his ear was so beautiful it sounded heavenly.

“Thank you, my lady.” He felt sincere relief. Seeing the huge contrast, the apprentices beside Sylutia almost laughed, but restrained themselves—any lapse might earn them the Chief’s wrath later.

“Though your strength is poor, you tried to maintain local balance and have a sense of justice. I actually like that,” the girl said. Her words were humbling in a way that made people sweat.

“As for specifics, I want you to change how you do it—be gentler and more polite.”

“Yes, we’ll change,” Mengjous cried loudly, fearing she would change her mind.

“All right. Read what I’ve given you carefully and follow it exactly from now on, understood?”

“No problem. I’ll do exactly as instructed.” He didn’t even know the contents—he just wanted to stay alive.

“You’re weak now; I’m afraid you won’t survive long. If you die soon, all my speech will be for nothing.” As she spoke, a golden sphere the size of a fist flew from her sleeve and drifted toward the bald man.

“This is a device I made. It can grant you a certain power. If you follow the rules well, it will reward you.”

The golden orb opened to reveal an eye that rotated and scanned the surroundings.

The object startled many. Mengjous, more worldly, recognized it as something related to Astral Plane creatures.

[Scarcegold Eyeball] (Third Tier·Rare), a special orb made from Eyeball Flower, Scarcegold, and Astral Plane creature flesh. It can be used for reconnaissance and combat. Its embedded synesthesia array can transmit visual information to distant locations.

Sylutia originally made this to put in Black Rose Palace as a surveillance guard, but now it was used here.

“I know your secret art’s power is decent, but has many flaws. If your future behavior pleases me, I’ll help you improve and teach better advancement methods.” She knew fear alone wouldn’t secure long-term obedience; you must offer benefits.

“If you think I’m lying, let’s start with you.” Her finger pointed at Mengjous. He panicked—the thought of being a guinea pig terrifies any mage.

He had no choice. Four thick magic hands gripped his shoulders and arms, pinning him to the ground.

Sylutia then took out a bottle of White Moon Potion and poured its liquid out. It turned into a flowing, luminous stream that drifted toward the bald man.

The Turbid Dust Gale members watched tensely and curiously, and even the Tetis apprentices at her side felt eager and intrigued.

The potion seeped into the man’s back and chest. Under Sylutia’s manipulation, the stream slowly washed the totem brands, making them fade.

This potion was meant to purify Distortion corruption and could remove residual Aspect powers if handled by an apothecary who knew how to activate its properties. The core secret art of advancement won’t disappear so easily; Mengjous’s totem branding would reemerge after a few days.

Sylutia didn’t intend to completely remove it—only to remove parts to proceed with her next steps.

She didn’t understand shaman totem secret arts fully, but she was adept at rune inscription. To her, the runes Mengjous had branded on her earlier were crude and full of unnecessary, irrational marks. Today she intended to refine those details to improve their effects.

Under her control, his flesh was cut open again and re-stitched. Though still far from perfect, the runes of previously “Good” quality could be raised to “Superior.”

After this process, Mengjous’s strength should rise by about fifty percent, but the price was agony—he screamed like a pig being slaughtered, since Sylutia had no anesthetic.

Half an hour later, the light in Sylutia’s eyes faded. Mengjous’s hoarse cries grew quiet—not because he no longer hurt, but because he had no strength left to scream.

When she finished, Sylutia’s companions gave him healing potions and helped him recover.

Only then did he slowly wake.

After that torture, he feared the seemingly frail girl even more, viewing her as some terrifying demon queen.

“Now you can test your ability. I think it has improved a lot.”

Half in doubt, half believing, Mengjous reactivated the branded runes. A mild pain and cool sensation came through—strange but real. Indeed, he felt significantly stronger, as if a wave of gale would obey his beckon.

“This… is just as you said.” He now felt both fear and worship.

“Yes, so you see I wasn’t lying.” The girl blinked.

“I won’t repeat my instructions. Do as I said. I hope you can settle in this area and don’t forget to uphold justice and balance.”

“All right. It’s late. I hope we meet again.” With that, Sylutia waved and led her people away.