Chapter 362: Harvest and Death by Old Age

Inside Mentor Clark’s laboratory, Jie Ming was buried in processing a set of complex energy flux data.

From the corner of his eye he noticed Viola beside him sighing dramatically over a pile of rune structure diagrams, her usually playful or languidly beautiful face now scrunched up like a bitter gourd of bitterness.

“Senior Sister, what’s wrong this time? The war is over, isn’t it?” Unable to resist, Jie Ming paused his work and asked curiously.

Viola jerked her head up and glared at him as though she had finally found an outlet for her frustration.

“Over? Yes, it’s over! And what did I get out of it? Absolutely nothing!”

The more she spoke, the angrier she grew. She jabbed viciously at the data on her virtual screen as if it were her mortal enemy.

“All I did was waste several years in that damned place, living in constant fear, and then got forcibly put on recovery leave! To shorten that cursed recovery period I even poured in a bunch of high-tier military merits! And the result? Resources? Knowledge? The scraps I brought back aren’t even enough to fill the gaps between my teeth! The worst part—I was already drowning in debt! Now I’m completely bankrupt!”

She grew more agitated with every word, finally roaring, all traces of her usual elegance and composure gone.

Mentor Clark, carefully adding a powder that glimmered like starlight into a miniature reaction core, didn’t even look up.

He interjected coolly, “Unstable foundation, rushing for quick success. I told you long ago to accumulate more knowledge before acting. If you had prepared sufficiently, would you be in this state?”

The words struck like a needle, instantly deflating Viola’s fury.

She faltered, then muttered in feeble defense, “But… but this time even a bunch of Rank-7 wizards fell in… you can’t blame me entirely for being unprepared…”

Mentor Clark finally stopped his delicate operation and slowly turned his head. Those ancient-well eyes regarded Viola calmly.

He said nothing, released no pressure.

Yet Viola instantly froze like a cat seized by the scruff, went rigid, shut her mouth, and forced a smile uglier than crying. She swiftly changed the subject and turned to Jie Ming.

“Right! Jie Ming! You little punk! The expeditionary force rewards must have been issued by now, right? You earned the greatest merit! Hurry and check—let me see it, soothe my wounded soul!”

Jie Ming blinked.

He had been so busy helping his mentor clear the backlog of experiments that he had genuinely forgotten about rewards.

Urged on by Viola’s repeated prodding and curious gaze, Jie Ming opened his Magic Net terminal, logged into his personal account, and found the post-war summary and merit reward notice issued directly by expeditionary headquarters regarding the plane codenamed “Justice.”

The very first entry, listed separately and marked “Primary Intelligence Contribution & Key to Victory,” was his reward:

High-tier Military Merits: 1,000,000 units

“One million?! High-tier?!” Viola’s eyes bulged. Her voice shot up eight octaves.

She stared at the number in disbelief, then at Jie Ming, and suddenly all strength seemed to leave her body—or perhaps all her grievances ignited at once.

With a thud she collapsed dramatically to the floor and began kicking her heels against the smooth surface, wailing with genuine tears:

“Wahhh—there’s no justice! I slaved away, nearly died, lost everything—while you strolled in, died once, came back, and got one million high-tier merits?! One million! High-tier! I don’t wanna live anymore—!”

Jie Ming rubbed his temples helplessly at the sight of Viola rolling on the ground like a child. “Senior Sister, calm down. The Substitute Death Doll I used was worth far more than this. This reward doesn’t even cover a fraction—I’m the one truly bankrupt here.”

He ignored Viola’s continued fake-crying-real-tantrum and turned back to the post-war report.

The intelligence analysis section matched what he knew, but when his gaze reached the “Casualty and Return Statistics” column, he paused.

Return rate of trapped personnel this operation: approximately 87%

“Only eighty-seven percent returned?” Jie Ming looked in puzzlement at Viola, who had finally been silenced by a single glance from Mentor Clark and was now sheepishly climbing to her feet. “Wasn’t there supposed to be no combat? Why didn’t everyone come back?”

Viola brushed off non-existent dust, leaned over to glance at the screen, and let out a cold, knowing sneer tinged with mockery.

“Casualties? Only two poor bastards are confirmed KIA this time. The rest… hmph, they chose to stay behind themselves.”

“They chose to stay?” Jie Ming was stunned. “The Star Ring Federation… allows that?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Viola countered, her tone carrying the indifference of someone who had seen through the world. “The Star Ring Federation—or rather, the upper echelons of wizard civilization—never care about the individual choices of wizards.

“Every trial and adventure we undergo is essentially a brutal screening process designed to forge the true elites capable of carrying the future of our civilization. Those who cannot bear the pressure and risk of the wizard’s path and would rather sink into a false but ‘happy’ life—well, that only proves their will has reached its limit.”

She paused, the corner of her mouth curling into an icy arc. “So what if they stay? Outstanding wizard-aptitude individuals left behind in that transformed plane can serve as high-quality studs, breeding generation after generation to raise the probability of wizard apprentices being born there in the future. For the civilization as a whole, it’s not a bad deal—waste recycling.”

Jie Ming fell silent for a moment, digesting the cold logic.

He continued scrolling and suddenly found a brief note in the appendix under “Background Information Supplement”:

[Regarding the civilization of Justice’s creator: The ‘Enlightenment Era’ civilization has been confirmed to have completely perished 730,000 standard years ago due to unknown causes. No direct inheritors discovered.]

Seeing this line, something stirred in Jie Ming’s heart. He looked up at Viola.

“What about the sage himself? The Rank-9 sage who created Justice—any news of his whereabouts?”

At the question, the mockery on Viola’s face faded.

She was quiet for a moment before answering in a complicated tone, “Before I left, I heard some unconfirmed rumors circulating from headquarters… They say the sage died of old age.”

“Died… of old age?” Jie Ming was dumbfounded.

For a Rank-9 being, that death felt absurdly mundane, almost comical.

Even Mentor Clark, who had been completely focused on his experiment, paused almost imperceptibly.

Viola nodded in confirmation. “Yes, old age. It’s said he adhered to his ideals to the very end. In the world created by Justice where all transcendent power is suppressed, he never once released his own strength. He lived and died like the most ordinary mortal—peacefully reaching the end of his lifespan.”

The laboratory fell into a brief, heavy silence.

Jie Ming opened his mouth, but his throat felt dry; he didn’t know what to say.

The sage who harbored utopian dreams, who exhausted the strength of an entire civilization to create “Justice” and build an absolutely fair world, had ultimately met such an… ordinary end inside his own ideal nation.

The outcome was steeped in an indescribable irony and melancholy, yet it also carried a strange, perfectly consistent harmony.

Mentor Clark slowly shook his head as though wanting to deny something, then gave a faint nod instead.

In the end he said nothing at all. He simply lowered his head again, pouring all his attention back into the faintly glowing reaction core in his hand, resuming the alchemical experiment he had never truly paused.