Chapter 676
Chapter 676
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 676
Chapter Title: Turning Point
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From time immemorial, Eastern culture had been a symbol of mystery and luxury.
Since most inheritors were witches spanning the Western cultural sphere, this perception extended to witches as well.
Visiting the mansions of wealthy witches, one would find at least one Eastern painting adorning the walls, along with a dedicated 'China room' for storing fine porcelain—all in the same vein.
In that sense, the tea room of Fragrant Moon Pavilion, though modest in scale, boasted a serene charm and picturesque scenery, making it the perfect spot for a special and mystical experience.
It pursued an aesthetic of harmony with nature rather than ostentatious splendor.
A separate world where one could step away from the secular bustle and discover abundance in tranquility.
Even its profound artistry, inscrutable at a glance.
Anyone encountering such a mystical tea room would crave a taste of its tea, but the witches willing to venture into Fragrant Moon Pavilion's tea room could be counted on one hand.
This was due to the scarcity of witches with ties to the place, compounded by the widespread unease toward Rinne among both the meritorious and the exiled.
In the public eye, the Witch of the Sword was a venomous outlier that struck fatally once embedded, and an eccentric among eccentrics who had challenged Tiferet Duke multiple times purely in pursuit of strength.
Thus, after relocating to Hexennacht, the tea room had seen no visitors except Si-woo.
Now, before Rinne, who knelt without a hint of disarray, sat a rare guest.
The master of the Solidus Merchant Association, whose influence had snowballed since Hexennacht's emergence, and a key figure in the moderate faction—the Witch of Gold, 'Lydia Magnus.'
Rinne, clad in a kimono with an archaic hairstyle, sat facing Lydia, who wore a refined dress; the scene evoked images of a cultural exchange event.
"What a lovely aroma."
Even to this light compliment, Rinne offered no reply.
She merely stirred the tea and placed it before her guest.
Lydia, with her resplendent golden hair and eyes befitting her epithet, knelt in kind and accepted the teacup.
She rotated it lightly to show respect, then sipped three times.
Though Rinne might nitpick the finer details, overall, it was impeccably polished etiquette.
"It's exquisite... or so I'd love to say, but it's still too astringent for my taste."
With her frank assessment, Lydia set down the cup, and Rinne finally spoke.
"What do you want?"
"I heard an intriguing rumor. Once I did, I couldn't help but wonder what you might be thinking."
So saying, Lydia stared straight at Rinne's face.
Her piercing gaze, as if probing intentions or appraising value, left Rinne's expressionless mask utterly unshaken.
Lydia hadn't expected to read the Witch of the Sword so easily.
With information gathered from all quarters and much pondering yielding no answers, she had come in person.
"You've taken a male witch as your disciple, haven't you?"
"Indeed."
Rinne's admission without the slightest hesitation narrowed Lydia's eyes.
"What on earth are you thinking?"
"He is my spoils of war."
"Fair enough. But you've not forgotten that bringing him here was solely to lure Tiferet Duke, right?"
"......"
"Taking the bait as a disciple? That's downright odd."
Hexennacht's emergence had been a monumental turning point in witch history.
And great turning points always spawned diverse factions and ideologies.
After the Oracle Agency's prophecy rendered Keter Duke immobile,
the early days of Hexennacht had ignited ambition and zeal in many meritorious witches.
The oppression and humiliations of the past, the absolute ruler who had curtailed their freedom—all gone.
In a mere half-year, meritorious witches and exiles rivaling Gehenna's forces had converged in one city.
So, shouldn't they pay them back?
To the witches of Gehenna, who had manipulated world order from Keter's shadow.
To those who had forgotten witches' true nature, deluded by notions of coexistence and complacency, persecuting their own—shouldn't they show that the era had changed?
Thus, Hexennacht's infancy had seethed with aspirations for hegemony and thirst for war.
It was only natural that the hawks and radicals, rallied around Clipport's remnants, took the lead in city policy.
They used Hexennacht as a base to raid location points worldwide.
They gathered intelligence for war preparations and plotted to eliminate Tiferet Duke, the greatest obstacle.
The 'Rabbit Hunt,' deploying the Witch of Whispers and the Witch of the Sword, had been conceived in that turbulent era.
Plan A: Kill Tiferet Duke outright.
If impossible, use her disciple as bait to draw the Duke to Hexennacht.
No matter how strong the Duke, she couldn't face the city's witches alone.
Blinded by rage to rescue her disciple, she would meet her end at the hands of hundreds—but...
"Things have changed since then."
Things had changed.
As more exiles poured into Hexennacht and systematic structures took root, the city of the meritorious naturally rode a tailwind of prosperity.
Abundance granted to witches excluded from Gehenna.
Concentrated conveniences, entertainments, and safety guaranteed by orderly rules—these sufficed to calm witches intoxicated by the thrill of liberation.
The delusion seeping into hearts aflame with militancy was...
'Do we really need to start a war?'
'Isn't sharing hegemony like this enough?'
'Aren't we still unprepared?'
Such moderate, somewhat lukewarm stances.
Peace and plenty led them to choose pragmatic stability over emotional fury.
As a result, the moderate faction, led by the Solidus Merchant Association, rose anew, leaving Hexennacht's fate balanced on the knife-edge rivalry between moderates and radicals.
The radicals anticipated that eliminating Tiferet Duke would dismantle Location Point's unity and preempt a formidable foe.
Conversely, the moderates foresaw that rash action could shatter peace and provoke outrage from Gehenna's witches.
Thus, the 'Rabbit Hunt' to herald war remained indefinitely on hold.
In this situation, all eyes naturally turned to 'Shin Si-woo,' Tiferet Duke's disciple and the bait.
How he was used could steer events regardless of the opposing camp's will.
If radicals butchered him and framed it as Hexennacht's collective decision to lure the Duke, war would erupt.
The moderates, meanwhile, had to prevent that at all costs.
And now, Rinne—who had maintained strict neutrality without declaring allegiance—had abruptly taken him as her disciple.
A bewildering choice for both radicals and moderates.
A long silence stretched without a word exchanged.
Lydia sighed.
Rinne held the knife's hilt.
Scrimping on words to negotiate from strength would be futile.
"Alright, I'll state my terms. Hand Shin Si-woo over to our Solidus Merchant Association."
"I refuse."
"We'll compensate generously. First..."
"I said I refuse."
Lydia fell silent.
The possibility that had first crossed her mind upon hearing of the disciple.
"...Did the other side make the same offer?"
"......"
The radicals proposing the same as Lydia.
Coldly speaking, Rinne had made a shrewd move.
In the factional chaos, by quietly sequestering the pivotal figure, she positioned herself to extract the maximum concessions from both sides.
Even if somewhat forced, declaring him her 'disciple' meant they now had to pay far more than for mere bait to claim him.
And that wasn't all.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing."
By showing zero intent to negotiate, she induced even greater yields.
Lydia felt a bitter taste on her tongue.
"I'll be frank. The Solidus Merchant Association has made secret contact with Duke Erelim's faction."
"......"
"If you hand over Shin Si-woo, they'll push for a peace treaty between Gehenna and Hexennacht on equal footing. Even if not, Duke Erelim seems disinclined toward witch-on-witch war."
"......"
"If our negotiations broker a compromise, my position and the Association's will solidify further. Even then, I won't forget your cooperation."
The Solidus Merchant Association boasted dozens of great witches.
They could crush with force if needed.
But no one would willingly stake their life against the Witch of the Sword.
Moreover, for self-proclaimed moderates Solidus to defy Hexennacht's rules would undermine their legitimacy utterly.
"I've already answered."
"......"
"I refuse."
Rinne was raising the stakes, accounting for even that.
Infuriating, yet impeccably handled—worthy of praise.
"Fine. We'll end here for today. Take this as notice that next time, I'll come with a better offer."
Lydia departed the tea room alone, without escort, grinding her teeth.
An opponent she couldn't force or deceive.
She needed a turning point.
A pretext to break the impasse.
The hem of her flowing dress fluttered in the biting winter wind.