Surviving the Magic Academy With Just Intelligence Stats-Chapter 135: It Was A Success

Marcus, Adelaide, and Meihua raced toward the royal estate, their footsteps pounding against cobblestones already slick with blood. The path before them told a grim story—bodies of royal knights and black-cloaked attackers lay strewn across the ground like discarded puppets, their final expressions frozen in eternal combat.

Marcus's trained eye surveyed the carnage as they ran. The aftermath of the chairman's battle was evident in the structural damage that surrounded them—collapsed walls, cratered streets, and scorch marks. He wondered briefly who had emerged victorious from that titanic clash, but quickly pushed the thought aside. There would be time for such questions later; right now, finding Ambrose took priority above all else.

As they approached the princess's residence, an ominous sight greeted them. The building's elegant facade was marred by a massive rupture—not merely a broken window or damaged door, but an enormous gaping hole torn through solid stone as though the wall had been paper. The jagged edges of the breach revealed the thickness of what should have been impenetrable royal defenses, now rendered meaningless by whatever catastrophic force had been unleashed.

Marcus paused at the sight, an inexplicable chill crawling up his spine. The destruction here felt different somehow—more deliberate, more precise than the chaotic devastation they'd witnessed at the chairman's battleground.

Without exchanging words, the three companions approached the massive opening. With practiced movements, they scaled the rubble and climbed through the breach, stepping carefully over chunks of shattered stone as they entered the princess's private chambers.

…

From the shattered floor of the princess's chambers, Minghua watched helplessly as Ambrose disappeared into the distance, his unconscious form slung carelessly over the rat-masked figure's shoulder. Her body refused to cooperate, muscles screaming in protest as she struggled to stand. Hualing's frantic voice echoed through their shared consciousness, a storm of rage and desperation that threatened to overwhelm them both.

"Calm down, do you think I don't know that already?" Minghua snapped internally, her patience fracturing under the weight of Hualing's relentless screaming. When the primal fury continued unabated, she mentally partitioned their consciousness, pushing Hualing's rage into a corner of their shared mind where it could rage without disrupting her focus.

Minghua turned her attention inward. The masked man's strike had been deceptively gentle, yet devastatingly effective—rupturing organs and severing blood vessels throughout her body. Though no blood spilled externally, her internal landscape was a catastrophe of hemorrhaging tissue.

She concentrated on the damaged areas, exerting her blood manipulation with surgical delicacy. Under her command, droplets of spilled blood reversed their chaotic paths, flowing back into torn vessels. She directed the crimson fluid to form microscopic sutures—living threads that stitched together lacerated organs, providing temporary scaffolding until her accelerated healing could complete its work.

The process demanded absolute concentration. Each heartbeat threatened to undo her meticulous repairs, requiring constant adjustments to maintain the fragile equilibrium. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as she reconstructed her shattered internal architecture, cell by cell and vessel by vessel.

By the time her body had stabilized enough to attempt standing, Hualing's fury had finally exhausted itself into silence. The momentary mental quiet allowed Minghua to evaluate their situation with clarity, weighing their limited options with cold calculation.

Her first instinct was to repeat their previous desperate measure—suicide followed by revival through Ambrose's blood oath ability. The thought evaporated as quickly as it formed. Even if Ambrose regained consciousness, the Blood Revival skill would still be on cooldown, rendering this approach impossible. Moreover, without knowing his condition, such a gamble could prove catastrophic for them both.

A long, weary sigh escaped her lips as she accepted the only viable course of action. Their blood oath connection remained intact despite the distance, providing a faint but unmistakable tether to Ambrose's location. The kidnappers appeared to be moving cautiously, likely attempting to avoid detection as they retreated from the capital with their prizes.

This presented an opportunity. She would track them through the blood oath, maintaining enough distance to avoid detection while practicing the deployment of her authority—that precious, dangerous power she had acquired at such great cost. By the time she caught up with the kidnappers, she would have mastered using it efficiently within this body.

"I can't fight them directly," she acknowledged to herself, recalling the casual ease with which the rat-masked figure had incapacitated both her and Princess Athena simultaneously. "And if he's working with the Rooster-mask..." The thought sent a chill through her newly-repaired organs. One such opponent would be nearly impossible; two would be certain death.

No, direct confrontation would be suicide without the possibility of revival. Her strategy would need to focus exclusively on extraction—a precision rescue operation followed by immediate escape. With her blood manipulation abilities and tracking skills, she was confident they would never detect her presence until the moment she struck.

As she mentally finalized her approach, the sound of movement near the ruined wall caught her attention. Her muscles tensed instinctively, blood pooling in her palms in preparation for combat. Had the masked figure returned to finish what he'd started?

The tension eased marginally as Marcus, Adelaide, and Meihua climbed through the gaping hole in the wall. While not enemies, their appearance complicated her plans. She had no intention of explaining herself or negotiating with them—every moment spent here was another moment Ambrose slipped further from reach.

"You're here," Marcus acknowledged, his eyes quickly scanning the devastated chamber before settling on her with visible confusion. "Where is the young master?"

"Gone!" she replied curtly, already moving toward the exit.

"What do you mean, 'gone'?" Marcus pressed, stepping into her path.

"He was taken away," she explained with barely concealed impatience. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go find him." She attempted to sidestep the swordsman, but he shifted to block her again.

"Wait!" Marcus insisted, earning a flash of irritation across her features.

"What now?" The question emerged like a blade drawn from its sheath.

"If he was able to take the young master and the princess, then that means he's stronger than you," Marcus reasoned, his tone equal parts concern and caution.

Minghua's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And... your point is?"

The swordsman faltered momentarily, clearly surprised by her response. And something in her demeanor also struck him as unusual—although she seemed impatient, it wasn't to the point of unrestrained aggression typical of Hualing. Nevertheless, he persisted.

"Since he's stronger, how are you going to get the young master back?" he asked, genuine concern evident beneath his practicality.

"I have my own ways," she answered dismissively.

"Why don't you—" he began, but she cut him off.

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"Do what? Train in the mountains until I'm strong enough to go get the master?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"That's not what I—" Marcus attempted to clarify, only to be interrupted again.

"You might as well have," she snapped, patience completely exhausted. "I have no interest in playing house with you kids."

Without warning, crimson wings erupted from her back—living constructs of crystallized blood that unfurled with elegant, lethal beauty. The sudden manifestation caught Marcus off-guard, the pressure from their expansion sending him stumbling backward until he landed unceremoniously on the floor.

Minghua didn't spare him another glance. With a powerful leap and a single beat of her blood-forged wings, she launched herself through the shattered wall and into the open air beyond. The crimson appendages caught the wind with surprising efficiency, carrying her swiftly away from the royal estate and toward the faint pulse of her blood oath connection.

Behind her, Marcus and the others stared in stunned silence at her rapidly diminishing silhouette against the darkening sky.

…

In a dimly lit room in the Xia Empire's, Dragon sat with perfect posture, his ornate dragon mask catching the flickering lamplight as he studied the crystal communication orb before him. The orb pulsed with ethereal energy, its surface swirling with images from distant Lumina Crown.

"Confirmed," he announced, satisfaction evident despite his mask concealing his expression. "Both targets secured. The princess and the Rothschild heir are en route to the rendezvous point."

Rabbit stood at attention nearby, her slim figure motionless save for the slight tilt of her rabbit-masked head. "So our operation was a success," she observed, her voice carefully neutral. "The Rat has performed admirably."

Dragon nodded once, the gesture deliberate and measured. "As expected. Though we lost several operatives, the primary objectives were achieved."

A moment of contemplative silence passed between them before Rabbit voiced the question that had been troubling her. "If I may ask, why didn't you instruct them to return immediately with the targets? Wouldn't that be more efficient than this circuitous extraction route?"

Dragon's fingers tapped rhythmically against the table's polished surface, a rare sign of his amusement. "Think, Rabbit. If they used a spatial transportation circle to return instantly, what would happen?"

"Friedrich Rothschild would detect the spatial fluctuations," she replied after careful consideration. "His Time talent would allow him to trace the signature back to us."

"Precisely."

"But won't he know either way?" Rabbit pressed, her practical mind seeking the logical conclusion. "Once he discovers his son is missing?"

Dragon leaned back in his ornate chair, the wood creaking slightly beneath his weight. "You think too much, yet not enough," he chided, though without malice. "Consider the larger picture. What happens when it becomes known that the heir of House Rothschild was taken right under the royal family's watch?"

Rabbit's posture straightened as understanding dawned. "It would demonstrate that the royal family lacks true power. Other noble houses might begin to view them as vulnerable, weakening the kingdom's internal cohesion." Her voice grew more confident as she followed the strategic thread. "And Friedrich Rothschild would come to the capital demanding explanations, creating further friction within their power structure."

"Exactly right," Dragon confirmed, satisfaction evident in his tone. "And that's precisely why the royal family will cover for us. They cannot afford to let this abduction become public knowledge. They will deploy all their resources to recover the heir quietly while maintaining the illusion that nothing is amiss."

He spread his hands in a gesture of theatrical triumph. "Their own pride and self-preservation will buy us the time we need. Aren't I a genius?"

Rabbit responded by bringing her hands together in a slow, deliberate clap, her mask remaining expressionless throughout the performance.

Dragon's shoulders slumped slightly. "That doesn't make me feel good. Stop it,"