Pride, Sitana's pride.
If one were to examine the entire grand life of the Wolf Empress of the Azure Sky, it would become clear that this sense of pride, this savage heart from a border region village, was the most powerful force that aided her ascend to the pinnacle.
Unyielding to any hardship, unbowed by any pain, and absolutely indomitable by any force, this resilient spirit allowed Sitana to overcome one desperate situation after another, achieving ultimate strength.
Yet, only Anselm possessed the insight to recognize this.
At this current stage, Sitana's pride had not yet transformed into the unwavering will that is more steadfast than the mountains and the earth. Her pride was more a misapprehension of her own strength and status, combined with recklessness and foolishness, manifesting as... a childish temper.
Only after experiencing the successive overwhelming despair would she be able to extract the power of awakening from the destruction that nearly drove her to the brink of madness and collapse.
Nevertheless, Anselm was not going to provide her with such an opportunity.
Despair or awakening... everything about this girl would be bestowed by him personally.
On the cold and windy streets, Anselm pondered the next phase of his training plan.
Precisely because Sitana's current pride was more akin to a "childish temper," her pride would yield to the concrete rather than the abstract—to use the previous example, she was unwilling to be paralyzed and manipulated by Anselm. She feared that Anselm might come up with some humiliating play involving incontinence, so she chose to call him "master" and temporarily submit to the more superficial and immediate threats.
Simply put, it's about saving face.
Extending from this point, Anselm could come up with many ways to ‘play’ with the situation, but he had no intention of focusing his efforts on this.
Quite simply, because Anselm Hydra required a formidable warrior, a loyal Contract Head, instead of a mere plaything at his disposal.
Simply toying with and humiliating Sitana held no meaning for him—all training ultimately had to lead to something of value, either fostering growth in Sitana or bringing her closer to obedience and loyalty.
As for why he was now contemplating how to handle this unruly girl, it wasn't that Anselm was thinking on the fly. The entire training plan for Sitana had been perfected to the utmost a year ago.
However, Miss Young Wolf's overly reckless behavior just now made Anselm realize that under the dual influence of human unpredictability and the vicissitudes of fate, his plan must constantly be adjusted to cope with any situation, otherwise unforeseen "accidents" could occur at any time.
All the ease and mastery that Anselm displayed in front of Sitana were the results of such frequent thinking and repeated planning.
"So this time, for Sitana's proper growth..."
The golden-haired young man murmured softly, and a chill flickered in his dreamy sea-blue eyes.
"Unstable factors must be dealt with thoroughly."
Anselm, who had told Sitana he was going to the streets to find a random restaurant, now inexplicably found himself at a very simple clock shop.
He pushed the door open, and as the crisp sound of a wind chime rang out, the middle-aged man behind the counter looked up. The moment he saw Anselm, he displayed a very evident sense of inferiority and fear.
A commoner's reverence for the nobility was fully shown here.
"...My Lord, is there anything I can assist you with?"
The man forced a smile, his tone extremely cautious.
"How much did the Grand Duke of Greytower pay you?" Anselm strolled around the shop, looking at the various clocks on display, speaking in a calm tone.
The shop owner looked puzzled, "I'm not quite sure... you mean, the Grand Duke of Greytower? Isn't he one of the two great dukes of our Northern region? How could I possibly—"
"You've made a mistake."
Anselm interrupted the man's words, casually picking up a clock on display on the shelf and carefully examining the dial.
"That is, in Scarletfrost, especially among the common folk, everyone is well aware of the physical traits of Hydra."
"And all the commoner of Scarletfrost, when they see me—"
He smiled as he looked at the ordinary clock shop owner, "They would only cheer for my good deeds and sing praises of my greatness, not tremble with fear like you do."
“......”
The clock shop owner was silent for a moment, then rubbed his forehead and sighed, "So that's what it is, but it still doesn't make sense, Lord Hydra."
"You've only been here for half a day."
The man spread his hands, and all the clocks in the entire clock shop... began to spin wildly at different speeds.
"While half a day is already very, very long for me."
He walked behind the counter and poured himself a cup of hot water, but the process of the water pouring from the kettle into the cup... seemed extremely slow.
"But for you, for the young master who only brought a butler and a maid team to the Northern region."
The man flipped the cup upwards, allowing the water to surge slowly, and continued to speak in an incredulous tone:
"How could it possibly be enough for you to discover my identity?"
"Am I to understand that you are underestimating Hydra?" Anselm asked with a grin.
"No, no, no... I wouldn't dare." The man vigorously shook his head, "Even my mentor says I have boundless potential and am destined to reach the fifth stage and achieve Royal Crown. Why would I throw my life away on something as foolish as 'underestimating Hydra'?"
"I'm just genuinely curious, and if you could enlighten me..."
He smiled as he placed the cup down, and all the clocks ceased their spinning. Time within the cup returned to its regular pace, and the water was perfectly still.
"No extra payment is needed, and I'm willing to provide you with some additional information regarding this assassination attempt—because honestly, I don't like the old fox of Greytower either."
The man exuded arrogance and confidence, but he possessed the power to back it up.
Reaching the final stage of Imperial Throne while on the verge of ascending to Scepter, he possessed an unimaginable talent for Time Arcane Art. Once he ascended to Scepter, he would become the youngest mentor in the Order of Time.
And the Order of Time is the most prestigious assassin organization across the entire continent, abiding by ancient principles that are indifferent to notions of justice or evil, light or darkness. They seek only the most potent forces to attain the most peerless killing prowess, aspiring to become assassins that can stand equal to time itself... the most unstoppable killers.
So, why would such a promising and powerful individual... be involved in the assassination of those two ordinary viscounts?
"I don't need anything, my friend, I don't need you to provide any information."
Anselm smiled leniently, "Because to me, the schemes and plots of the Grand Duke of Greytower are simply too crude,"
The man raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised, "That's a rare assessment. Everyone knows the cunning reputation of the 'Grey Fox,' but in your eyes, he's worthless?"
If one were to examine the entire grand life of the Wolf Empress of the Azure Sky, it would become clear that this sense of pride, this savage heart from a border region village, was the most powerful force that aided her ascend to the pinnacle.
Unyielding to any hardship, unbowed by any pain, and absolutely indomitable by any force, this resilient spirit allowed Sitana to overcome one desperate situation after another, achieving ultimate strength.
Yet, only Anselm possessed the insight to recognize this.
At this current stage, Sitana's pride had not yet transformed into the unwavering will that is more steadfast than the mountains and the earth. Her pride was more a misapprehension of her own strength and status, combined with recklessness and foolishness, manifesting as... a childish temper.
Only after experiencing the successive overwhelming despair would she be able to extract the power of awakening from the destruction that nearly drove her to the brink of madness and collapse.
Nevertheless, Anselm was not going to provide her with such an opportunity.
Despair or awakening... everything about this girl would be bestowed by him personally.
On the cold and windy streets, Anselm pondered the next phase of his training plan.
Precisely because Sitana's current pride was more akin to a "childish temper," her pride would yield to the concrete rather than the abstract—to use the previous example, she was unwilling to be paralyzed and manipulated by Anselm. She feared that Anselm might come up with some humiliating play involving incontinence, so she chose to call him "master" and temporarily submit to the more superficial and immediate threats.
Simply put, it's about saving face.
Extending from this point, Anselm could come up with many ways to ‘play’ with the situation, but he had no intention of focusing his efforts on this.
Quite simply, because Anselm Hydra required a formidable warrior, a loyal Contract Head, instead of a mere plaything at his disposal.
Simply toying with and humiliating Sitana held no meaning for him—all training ultimately had to lead to something of value, either fostering growth in Sitana or bringing her closer to obedience and loyalty.
As for why he was now contemplating how to handle this unruly girl, it wasn't that Anselm was thinking on the fly. The entire training plan for Sitana had been perfected to the utmost a year ago.
However, Miss Young Wolf's overly reckless behavior just now made Anselm realize that under the dual influence of human unpredictability and the vicissitudes of fate, his plan must constantly be adjusted to cope with any situation, otherwise unforeseen "accidents" could occur at any time.
All the ease and mastery that Anselm displayed in front of Sitana were the results of such frequent thinking and repeated planning.
"So this time, for Sitana's proper growth..."
The golden-haired young man murmured softly, and a chill flickered in his dreamy sea-blue eyes.
"Unstable factors must be dealt with thoroughly."
Anselm, who had told Sitana he was going to the streets to find a random restaurant, now inexplicably found himself at a very simple clock shop.
He pushed the door open, and as the crisp sound of a wind chime rang out, the middle-aged man behind the counter looked up. The moment he saw Anselm, he displayed a very evident sense of inferiority and fear.
A commoner's reverence for the nobility was fully shown here.
"...My Lord, is there anything I can assist you with?"
The man forced a smile, his tone extremely cautious.
"How much did the Grand Duke of Greytower pay you?" Anselm strolled around the shop, looking at the various clocks on display, speaking in a calm tone.
The shop owner looked puzzled, "I'm not quite sure... you mean, the Grand Duke of Greytower? Isn't he one of the two great dukes of our Northern region? How could I possibly—"
"You've made a mistake."
Anselm interrupted the man's words, casually picking up a clock on display on the shelf and carefully examining the dial.
"That is, in Scarletfrost, especially among the common folk, everyone is well aware of the physical traits of Hydra."
"And all the commoner of Scarletfrost, when they see me—"
He smiled as he looked at the ordinary clock shop owner, "They would only cheer for my good deeds and sing praises of my greatness, not tremble with fear like you do."
“......”
The clock shop owner was silent for a moment, then rubbed his forehead and sighed, "So that's what it is, but it still doesn't make sense, Lord Hydra."
"You've only been here for half a day."
The man spread his hands, and all the clocks in the entire clock shop... began to spin wildly at different speeds.
"While half a day is already very, very long for me."
He walked behind the counter and poured himself a cup of hot water, but the process of the water pouring from the kettle into the cup... seemed extremely slow.
"But for you, for the young master who only brought a butler and a maid team to the Northern region."
The man flipped the cup upwards, allowing the water to surge slowly, and continued to speak in an incredulous tone:
"How could it possibly be enough for you to discover my identity?"
"Am I to understand that you are underestimating Hydra?" Anselm asked with a grin.
"No, no, no... I wouldn't dare." The man vigorously shook his head, "Even my mentor says I have boundless potential and am destined to reach the fifth stage and achieve Royal Crown. Why would I throw my life away on something as foolish as 'underestimating Hydra'?"
"I'm just genuinely curious, and if you could enlighten me..."
He smiled as he placed the cup down, and all the clocks ceased their spinning. Time within the cup returned to its regular pace, and the water was perfectly still.
"No extra payment is needed, and I'm willing to provide you with some additional information regarding this assassination attempt—because honestly, I don't like the old fox of Greytower either."
The man exuded arrogance and confidence, but he possessed the power to back it up.
Reaching the final stage of Imperial Throne while on the verge of ascending to Scepter, he possessed an unimaginable talent for Time Arcane Art. Once he ascended to Scepter, he would become the youngest mentor in the Order of Time.
And the Order of Time is the most prestigious assassin organization across the entire continent, abiding by ancient principles that are indifferent to notions of justice or evil, light or darkness. They seek only the most potent forces to attain the most peerless killing prowess, aspiring to become assassins that can stand equal to time itself... the most unstoppable killers.
So, why would such a promising and powerful individual... be involved in the assassination of those two ordinary viscounts?
"I don't need anything, my friend, I don't need you to provide any information."
Anselm smiled leniently, "Because to me, the schemes and plots of the Grand Duke of Greytower are simply too crude,"
The man raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised, "That's a rare assessment. Everyone knows the cunning reputation of the 'Grey Fox,' but in your eyes, he's worthless?"
"And what do you think is the most important thing in the so-called game of strategy and calculation, Mr. Assassin?"
The young man twirled his cane playfully, inquiring curiously, "Is it wisdom? Is it heritage? Is it power? Is it those... elusive and intangible elements?"
"No, it's none of those. It's something you're also well aware of."
"No, it's none of those. It's something you're also well aware of."
"What ultimately decides everything is merely the disparity in information."
"Just the fact that 'I know what you don't know' is enough to destroy countless calculations."
"So, take a guess..." The young Hydra, who had not yet acquired any Contract Heads, smiled, "What exactly is it that the Grand Duke of Greytower doesn't know?"
The cane lightly tapped the ground.
The gifted assassin from the Order of Time, with a promising future and the ability to manipulate time, appeared curious, "Are you willing to tell me?"
"I've already told you," Anselm said with a smile, pointing to his own chest.
The assassin was a bit confused and also subconsciously looked down at his own chest.
Then, he saw a silver snake-shaped dagger emerging from it.
"A truly great assassin."
Anselm's voice echoed softly, "No one would know his name, his abilities, his appearance. His greatness lies in the fact that he doesn't exist. In the eyes of all those who attempt to observe him, he is merely... nothingness."
"You have witnessed such greatness, then... do you wish to glimpse the same truth that would allow you to achieve this greatness as well?"
The devil whispered into the ear of the bewildered powerful assassin:
"I can take you to witness the spectacle known as infinity."
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