Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System-Chapter 108 - 102: Dispute

Princess Margaret’s voice, carrying a strange rhythm, echoed softly in the corridor. "Tell me, how exactly did you break the curse left by Othilia?"

Murphy’s gaze was somewhat unfocused. "It was Viscount Hans... He provided a special restorative elixir..."

"Oh?" The Princess leaned forward slightly, a green light flickering in her eyes. "Then, the fact that you lost your fertility—was that also because of Viscount Hans’s elixir?"

"Yes... The elixir cured the curse, but the price was... the inability to ever have an heir..." Murphy’s voice suddenly grew agitated. "That damned Hans! He knew the elixir would have such a side effect, yet he never warned me! He stole the Duval Clan’s hope for continuation, that despicable villain!"

Princess Margaret scoffed. "An elixir from Viscount Hans? From those second-rate Alchemists of his?" Her voice was laced with obvious suspicion. "A country noble whose men can’t even master basic formulas... you expect me to believe he could concoct an Antidote for a curse that even a Wizard Apprentice would struggle to break?" 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"It was Viscount Hans’s elixir..." Murphy repeated mechanically before his tone turned resentful again. "He pretended to help me cure the curse, but in reality, he wanted to control the entire Duval Territory to seize the Northern Trade Route! I hate him so much I could... I could..."

A sharp glint flashed in the Princess’s eyes. She began to speak, her voice like the cold wind on a winter’s night. "In that case... to verify the truth of your words, end your own life with your sword. Now."

Without hesitation, Murphy’s hand gripped the hilt of his sword. The Longsword slid from its scabbard, carving a cold arc of light in the darkness.

His movements were swift and decisive, the tip of the blade aimed straight at his own heart, without the slightest hesitation.

"Stop!"

A soft white light flashed past. The Longsword in Murphy’s hand suddenly became incredibly heavy, as if an invisible force were stopping his movement.

Archbishop John’s figure emerged from the shadows of a pillar, stepping forward slowly. The Moonlight Stone on his Scepter emitted a pure glow.

His gaze swept over the dazed Murphy before finally settling on the Princess.

"Her Highness the Princess," the Archbishop’s voice was low and frigid. "Are you trying to plunge this border territory into chaos? If you eliminate him now, who will maintain order here?"

Princess Margaret elegantly adjusted a lock of hair at her temple and said nonchalantly, "I was merely testing his loyalty."

"And what if there had been an accident?" the Archbishop asked, his tone clearly displeased.

The Princess smiled dismissively. "That wouldn’t have happened. I would have stopped him at the last moment."

"Your Cultivation of the [Control Human] Magic is still amateurish," the Archbishop said coldly. "To control a Lord to the point his mind becomes this scattered... I have little faith in your skill."

"But nothing went wrong, did it?" The Princess arched an eyebrow, her tone still light. "Besides, weren’t you right here watching, Archbishop?"

Their gazes met in the dim corridor, and the air seemed to freeze. Only the Moonlight Stone on the Scepter continued to emit its pure glow.

Meanwhile, Murphy stood stiffly, his eyes still vacant. The Longsword in his hand remained steadily aimed at his heart, as if he were completely oblivious to everything that had just transpired.

Finally, the Princess sighed softly, the first to break the stalemate. "Fine. I admit I was a bit reckless just now. But you saw it, too. There’s something suspicious about this Baron. I just wanted to probe for the truth."

Archbishop John’s expression softened slightly. "Regardless, our purpose here is to unify the border forces of the Vilt Kingdom to fight against the heretics from the Rosenia Kingdom. Do not do anything that might result in a loss of strength on the border."

The Princess muttered under her breath, "Then why were you so aggressive at the banquet? Wasn’t it because you want to turn the Duval Territory into a Church diocese?"

The Archbishop’s voice instantly turned as cold as steel. "Her Highness the Princess, to arbitrarily manipulate another’s will, witnessed by the God of Truth... I’m afraid that violates Church doctrine, does it not?"

"Alright, alright." The Princess waved her hand, her tone dismissive. "I won’t use Magic on him again. But..." Her gaze returned to the motionless Murphy. "We will get to the bottom of this Baron’s secrets, sooner or later."

Archbishop John gave a slight nod as the glow on his Scepter gradually dimmed. "Remember your promise."

He gave the Princess one last, deep look, then turned and left, quickly disappearing around a corner of the corridor.

Princess Margaret watched the Archbishop depart, then turned to the still-vacant Murphy.

A green light glowed in her eyes once more. "Listen to me. From now on, you will feel a great fondness and adoration for me, but you will not be aware of the source of these emotions. Now, forget everything that just happened." She paused, then added, "Oh, and before I return you to normal, put your Knight’s Sword away and straighten your clothes."

Murphy mechanically sheathed his Longsword, then carefully smoothed the wrinkles on his formal clothes.

Once Princess Margaret confirmed everything was in order, the green glow in her eyes gradually faded, and she released her control over Murphy.

Murphy snapped back to his senses, blinking. A look of confusion crossed his face. "Her Highness the Princess, just now... what happened? I think my mind must have wandered..."

Princess Margaret had already lost interest. "It was nothing," she said dismissively. "We were just discussing matters concerning the territory."

But Murphy suddenly became unusually fervent. His gaze drifted involuntarily to the Princess’s slender calves, clad in black silk stockings. His nostrils flared slightly, as if savoring the faint, alluring scent that drifted from her. His voice was filled with a concern he could not hide:

"If Your Highness is tired, perhaps... perhaps you would care to rest in my chambers for a while? I have some of the finest wine, and..."

A flicker of disdain crossed the Princess’s mind. ’This "Swordless" man thinks he’s worthy of inviting me?’

But then she had another thought. ’The very fact that he’s "Swordless" makes him that much easier to control.’

She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Some other time. I’m tired tonight."

A look of mixed disappointment and anticipation immediately appeared on Murphy’s face. "Then tomorrow? I shall await Your Highness in my study tomorrow afternoon?"

"We’ll see," Princess Margaret replied coolly, turning to leave. The hem of her gown traced an elegant arc across the stone floor.

Murphy gazed adoringly at the Princess’s retreating figure until her dark blue silhouette vanished completely at the far end of the corridor.

He returned to his own bedroom, the fervent look still in his eyes.

CLICK!

The very instant the door clicked shut, the fanatical adoration in his eyes vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, icy coldness.