Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System

Of the Holy City’s three mountain peaks, the heart of the one on the left, named "Iscent," had long been hollowed out. It now formed a vast, magnificent, domed space brimming with modern industry.

This was the site of the Holy City’s core workshops and research institute.

Bright, steady electric lights ran along the towering rock walls and steel framework, illuminating this mountain Kingdom as if it were day.

The passageways were wide enough for several small steam locomotives to travel abreast. On either side were laboratories, assembly workshops, and materials warehouses, each separated by reinforced glass or metal grilles.

People in various uniforms bustled about, moving with purpose and order.

In this space filled entirely with adults, one figure was particularly conspicuous.

It was a girl of about eight, slightly taller than her peers, dressed in a small, well-tailored black clerical robe with silver trim.

She had long, ink-black hair and delicate features, bearing a striking resemblance to Pope Vesta I, Elizabeth.

With her hands clasped behind her back like a little adult, she strolled down a main passageway. Her gaze swept over the experiments and calibrations underway in the laboratories on either side. Occasionally, she would pause to watch intently for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her little face.

"Good day, Your Highness."

"Your Highness."

"Here for another inspection, Your Highness?"

Whether they were scholars, artisans, or Cultivators, everyone she passed would stop their work or their stride, bow slightly, and greet her with respect.

Sometimes she would give a slight nod; other times, she would respond in a crisp yet placid voice, "Good day. Please continue your work."

At other times, she would simply wave a hand, signaling that there was no need for such formalities.

Her identity was no secret here.

Her Highness Ailivier, the daughter of Pope Vesta I.

WHOOSH!

A streak of Dark Gold light shot down from a high shaft connecting to the outside, landing gracefully on the wide floor of the main passageway. The light receded to reveal the figures of Murphy and Mo Ling.

"The Holy Sword!"

"Your Holiness!"

A wave of solemn, reverent, and excited exclamations erupted from the surrounding crowd.

Many people even bowed deeply out of instinct. Even the scholars, who had been immersed in their experiments, looked up to gaze at Murphy with reverence.

Murphy, long accustomed to this, merely gave a slight nod.

Mo Ling, meanwhile, curiously took in the magnificent subterranean world, her eyes sparkling.

Ailivier had already stopped walking the moment she saw the flash of the sword.

She came to a halt three paces before Murphy, folded her hands in front of her, and performed a standard, elegant curtsy.

"Good day, Your Holiness the Sword of Divinity. Good day, Miss Mo Ling. The Holy Throne has been informed that you would be coming to use the Mind Furnace today and has tasked me with receiving you and showing you the way."

A flicker of warmth crossed Murphy’s eyes as he looked at her. He nodded. "Thank you, Ailivier."

"It is my duty, Your Holiness." Ailivier straightened up and gestured to the side. "This way, please. The Mind Furnace’s core chamber is in Sector B-1."

She then turned and began to lead the way, walking slightly ahead of them. Murphy held Mo Ling’s hand and followed at a leisurely pace.

They crossed several busy thoroughfares before turning into a relatively quiet corridor.

Seeing that they were temporarily alone, Mo Ling, who had been quietly following beside her father, suddenly blinked. She leaned in close to Ailivier and, with a sly little smile, called out in a soft voice that only the two of them could hear:

"Little sister~"

Ailivier’s small, straight shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. She didn’t stop walking or turn around, simply replying in her usual placid tone, "Miss Mo Ling, the Holy Throne has taught that in a professional setting, we should address one another according to our positions and responsibilities. My current responsibility is to be your guide."

Mo Ling was not discouraged. She leaned in even closer, her voice a near-whisper by Ailivier’s ear, laced with amusement. "But, Father saaaid—"

She deliberately drew out the word. "At home, or when there are no outsiders, observing the proper etiquette between older and younger is more important. Besides..."

She declared in a mock-serious tone, "’Kinship is a vital tether for anchoring the self and resisting the void.’ That’s a very important part of our ’Cultivation,’ you know. Mo Weiwei, hurry up and call me ’Big Sister’~"

Ailivier finally stopped.

Or rather, Mo Weiwei stopped. She turned, tilting her little face upward. Her dark eyes, which she had been trying so hard to keep calm and impassive, were now slightly wide, clearly reflecting Mo Ling’s mischievous, expectant grin.

A faint blush slowly spread across her fair little face.

She shot a quick glance at Murphy, her lips pressing together tightly.

Finally, she deflated, forcing out two words in a stiff, almost inaudible voice:

"Sis... Sister."

After saying it, she immediately dropped her gaze to the floor, as if she had found something incredibly fascinating there.

But a second later, she lifted her head to look at Murphy. Her voice was a little clearer this time, though still very quiet:

"F... Father."

After this, her little face turned completely crimson, even the tips of her ears flushing pink. No longer daring to look at either of them, she whirled around and said, in a much faster cadence than before:

"Sector B-1 is just ahead! We... we should get going!"

With that, she practically broke into a trot down the corridor, her retreating back clearly showing signs of a hasty escape.

Mo Ling watched her sister’s flustered retreat and couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter. She then smugly tightened her grip on her father’s hand, giving it a little swing.

"See? Mo Weiwei ran even faster than that clockwork mouse I gave her!"