“I just saved your life, and I’m practically your mentor. Is this how you talk to me?” Director Oli said with a smile, not even a hint of anger.
“Don’t get familiar with me. I have no attachment to your Academy. If you give me one spark of fire, I won’t hesitate to burn you all to ashes.” Samimi said coldly.
“You’d better only say that to me and not in front of others, or you might end up fighting the Five Great Elemental Factions.” Director Oli still wore a smile, even joking lightly.
“Fight the Five Great Elemental Factions? You don’t think I’m incapable of that, do you?” Samimi smiled faintly.
“You’ve already angered everyone. Last time, three factions allied to come after you, and you still don’t know when to restrain yourself?” Director Oli asked.
“Restrict myself?” Samimi pointed to the Sinner’s Blindfold on her face and said, “If I knew how to restrain myself even a little, I wouldn’t be wearing this. I wear it precisely because I refuse to bow my head. I never did before, don’t now, and won’t in the future.”
Bemore, her face ashen, propped herself up on the table and stood. Hearing those words, she felt an indescribable emotion stirring within, her palm burning painfully from where she’d slapped herself.
“If you promise not to cause trouble in the future, I can protect your friends.” Director Oli said.
The arrogant Samimi suddenly stiffened.
“Those four Heretical Magician sisters are truly rare talents. I’ll personally be their mentor and help them further their research in magic. Is that condition good enough?” Director Oli asked.
“Then return the Moon Pavilion to us,” Samimi said.
“Fine, but your dormitory will need a new name.” Director Oli smiled.
“What do you mean?” Samimi frowned.
“Add the name of your faction. That way, they won’t be outsiders or Heretical Magicians anymore, but apprentices with their own school and status, just like everyone else.” Director Oli explained.
“Thank you, Director. I was a bit loud and rude earlier. I sincerely apologize and hope you can forgive me.” Samimi apologized quickly, though she had just been berating them moments ago.
“Don’t tell anyone else I was here.” Director Oli said once.
Then, as if time had stopped for half a second, before Samimi and Bemore could react, Director Oli disappeared without a trace.
“Magic is truly profound. Looks like I still have a lot to learn.” Samimi sighed.
With that, she prepared to leave the conference room to find her companions.
“Wait.” Bemore called after her.
“If you jump off a building again, I won’t save you next time.” Samimi stopped at the conference room door and said without looking back.
“Then why did you save me this time?” Bemore asked.
“I told you—if you died from falling, that blame would fall on me.” Samimi’s tone was cold and indifferent.
“Do you think that excuse will fool me?” Bemore said.
“Don’t get me wrong…” Samimi turned her head slightly, giving her a sidelong glance. “You don’t think I still have feelings for you, do you?”
“If you don’t have feelings, why save me?” Bemore pressed, almost hypnotized.
“You want to know why?” Samimi turned her face away.
“I want to know why.” Bemore repeated immediately.
“Because I want you alive. It would be far too easy if you just died. I want you to suffer, to live in agony. You can’t just die so simply. I want to watch you struggle painfully in this world.” Samimi’s answer was like a cold blade, extinguishing the last flicker of hope inside Bemore.
She had thought she could go back. It seemed she had been too naive.
“So, Bemore, you better live well, cultivate well, and improve well. Remember what I said: your life was saved by me, and I won’t allow you to die easily. The next time we meet, the next time we face off, I’m going to slap the other side of your face as well.”
After delivering this brutally magical speech, Samimi left the conference room without a trace of hesitation, leaving only an invincible silhouette behind.
“I hope you won’t disappoint me next time. I hope that next time you’re qualified to be my nemesis, not just some stray dog I slap down on the roadside.”
“The final battle between traitor and sinner—I’m looking forward to it.”
“Live on, Clown King.”
Despite the harsh words, they reignited the White-haired Witch’s reason to live.
That kind of talk was effective—so insulting, it left no room for thoughts of death. It was truly infuriating, a godlike provocation.
Bemore had lost everything and gained new life.
Dragging her battered body, she quietly slipped out the back door of the conference room alone.
“Milady Samimi, are you alright?”
From the far end of the corridor came the sharp, annoying voice of Priestess Rebecca, piercing and unpleasant.
Recalling the recent duel with Samimi, Bemore thought that without Rebecca’s incessant yelling nearby, she wouldn’t have lost so embarrassingly. It was all Rebecca’s fault.
Bemore’s heart began replaying the battle, her sharpness returning. It seemed her mindset was indeed recovering.
Of course, she was a Fire Mage, but also a Heretical Magician.
The thousand-year-old traditional knowledge of Fire Magic was useless to her. She had already created a completely new compressed Fire Magic.
What she lacked most now was practical combat experience. That was why she had been made to look like a clown, suffering under Samimi’s Substitution Technique.
“Clown King, just wait. You’re my nemesis.”
Today, the White-haired Witch graduated from the Continental Magic Academy.
Everything had finally settled.
The final result shocked the entire school.
The eight members of the Heretical Magician and School of Healing factions had truly wiped out the Flame School, even Lion King Andy was carried off to the infirmary.
Shirley William, who witnessed the entire match firsthand, never again wore that arrogant, overconfident smile and had recently been practicing much more diligently.
Though Samimi left with flair and style, she lay bedridden for several days after returning to the Moon Pavilion.
Her magic was completely exhausted, drained, and broken down, suffering from magical backlash—but these were minor problems.
The major issue was that a certain impish Priest liked to overload her with power, flying around recklessly, right?
The end result was pulled muscles and aching pain all over her body, turning her into a bedridden wreck.
Even going to the bath or using the bathroom required the help of Niubao and Rebecca. It was miserable.
“Stop scrubbing already! Do you really have to wash between my toes this many times? I didn’t step in cow dung or anything. Are you seriously sick? My feet are about to peel from all this scrubbing.” During her daily bath, Samimi scolded Rebecca as she washed her feet.
“Shut your mouth. This is my exclusive massage technique, meant to help Milady Samimi recover soon.” Rebecca smiled foolishly.
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