Full-Time Magister: The Calamity of Fire, the Emperor's Flame Burns the Heavens

Chapter 19 Salam's Disdain, the Arrival of the New Year!
After a night, Hua Yu finally stopped his uninterrupted alchemy.

Five jade bottles were neatly arranged on the table. Their crystal-clear surfaces were faintly visible in the morning light, and pale blue halos of medicinal pills flowed within them.

Hua Yu took out two sticky notes, carefully wrote down the effects of the meditation pill, and then stuck them on the jade bottle.

Hua Yu planned to send the two bottles of meditation pills to Nan Jue.

Nan Jue's talent in the original work is not bad, otherwise he would not have been able to reach the level of a super-class mage at such a young age.

Now, with Hua Yu's help, Nan Jue's cultivation can progress even further. By the time the National Government sets off for training, Nan Jue's magical cultivation is expected to reach the advanced level.

Hua Yu placed the two jade bottles into a box and then left the cultivation room.

Then, someone was sent to deliver the box containing the pills to the Western Military Region.

Hua Yu planned to use the remaining amount for his own meditation or as a reward for his well-performing military mages.

Exhausted, Hua Yu did not choose to rest, but instead used meditation to replace sleep. In these turbulent times, every bit of improvement in cultivation was precious.

In the days that followed, the Clock Tower Magic Association, in conjunction with the military district and the Hunter Alliance, launched a thorough investigation of the ancient capital.

Although the Black Vatican's stronghold was located, everyone inside had already been relocated.

"Damn it! There's definitely a mole within our ranks leaking information!" Han Ji roared at the numerous high-ranking officials during the meeting.

"The action plan was only formulated three days ago, but when we went to investigate today, the location was already deserted."

"If there were no inside informants, how could the Black Vatican always be able to predict the future?" Han Ji's sharp gaze swept over every mage in the conference room.

The meeting room was completely silent; no one dared to voice their opinions. Among them, Lingxi, disguised as Salang, remained calm, as if none of this concerned her.

Han Ji sat down in the chair, somewhat discouraged. He knew that as long as the traitor wasn't exposed, the Black Vatican would continue to operate with impunity in the ancient capital.

And among the high-ranking officials of the ancient capital present, which one wasn't a super-level mage? Getting them to cooperate was simply a pipe dream.

"Everyone, disperse!" Han Ji sighed helplessly, waved his hand, and said to the crowd.

The people in the conference room exchanged glances and then left, leaving Han Ji alone in the conference room.

Salang lagged behind, and when he glanced back, he saw Han Ji sitting at the intersection of light and shadow. A barely perceptible sneer appeared on his lips.

Not long after, Han Ji was walking alone on the street and unknowingly arrived at Zhang Long's residence again.

Zhang Long was sweeping fallen leaves in the courtyard, looking relaxed and content, like someone who had retired.

However, Zhang Long noticed Han Ji standing at the door early on, but he ignored Han Ji and continued sweeping the floor by himself.

"If you're asking about the Black Vatican, I'm really sorry, I only know they're in the ancient capital, but I don't know their exact location," Zhang Long's icy voice came from the courtyard.

Upon hearing Zhang Long's words, Han Ji knew that he wouldn't get any more information from Zhang Long, so he chose to leave.

The Clock Tower Magic Association's investigation ended in failure, but Han Ji already knew that there was a mole among them.

If the mole cannot be found, then every move they make will be known to the Black Vatican, allowing them to escape.

This feeling of having the strength but being unable to use it made Han Ji feel extremely uncomfortable.

-------

In a place unknown to anyone.

The sound of high heels clapping against the ten steps of a machine is especially crisp in a confined space, each step like a death knell tolling on one's heart.

Salon descended the steps gracefully, her scarlet skirt and the French-style steps gleaming with a blood-red sheen under the dim wall lamps.

Salang had now reverted to her original appearance, her stunning beauty now tinged with a hint of madness. "Tap, tap, tap—"

The motion-activated lights gradually illuminated the spiral staircase leading underground, following the footsteps.

On the walls on both sides, water droplets accumulated over the years reflected her swaying figure.

Mu He stood at the corner with his head down, the shadow swallowing half of his face. When those shiny patent leather high heels appeared on the last step, he immediately knelt on one knee, the hem of his black trench coat spreading out.

"Hu Jin, you acted just like a loyal dog this time," Salang's fingertips traced his epaulettes, her red lips curving into a dangerous smile.

Mu He pressed his forehead against the back of his clasped hands: "Your subordinate is terrified."

A soft laugh suddenly echoed through the empty underground hall. As Salang turned, her skirt swirled with vibrant flowers. She walked towards the bronze throne with its intricate carvings in the center, and wherever her high heels stepped, dark red magic circles lit up one after another.

"Han Ji's expression," she said, leaning lazily against the armrest, toying with a blood-red crystal between her fingertips, "is even more exciting than the successful alliance between Parthenon and the Holy Tribunal to kill Wen Tai back then."

Mu He remained kneeling, but a mocking smile, starkly different from his respectful tone, appeared on his lips: "They'll never imagine that the so-called mole is right there in every meeting."

"Shh—" Salang suddenly raised her index finger, and the crystal shattered into dust in her palm. "Letting the prey discover the clues themselves is the most fascinating part of the hunt, isn't it?"

The chandelier on the ceiling of the dark room began to sway, casting shifting shadows.

Among the interlacing spots of light, a replica of the ancient capital's defense map could be vaguely seen hanging on the wall, and a location marked with blood perfectly overlapped with the coordinates of the Clock Tower Magic Association.

-------

The north wind is like a knife, etching the marks of time on the ancient city walls.

Half a year passed quietly amidst the low growls of the dead and the glow of magic.

The wind was biting cold, and the military mages on the city wall wrapped themselves tightly in their heavy military coats, their breath condensing into frost in the cold air.

In the distant wilderness, the undead surged like a tide, their eerie green pupils gleaming in the darkness, as if they might break through the defenses at any moment and devour this ancient city.

However, the scene inside the city was quite different—

Brilliant fireworks exploded in the night sky, and golden streaks of light rained down, illuminating the brightly lit streets.

Children chased each other, laughing and playing. Firecrackers popped and popped, and warm lights shone from the windows of every household. The aroma of the New Year's Eve dinner filled the air.

Hua Yu stood on the city wall, his fingertips swiping across his phone screen. Nan Jue's message lay quietly in the chat box—

Happy New Year, Xiaoyu!

Those six simple words brought a slight smile to his lips. He quickly replied:
Happy New Year, Sister Nan!

Despite being separated by distance, this connection has never faded.

“Hua Juntong, it’s time for the shift change.” A clear voice came from behind. Hua Yu turned around and saw Zhang Xiaohou standing straight in the wind and snow, his eyes resolute.

A few months ago, Huayu got him from the head instructor of Flying Horn.

This young man, who survived the bloodbath in Bo City, has now shed his naivety and honed his composure and sharpness through countless battles with the undead.

"Okay, get ready for the handover." Hua Yu nodded, put on his military uniform, and strode towards the edge of the city wall.

The cold wind whipped up fine snow and lashed at his face. He squinted at the restless dead outside the city, still lingering in the darkness, the faint sound of clashing bones audible.

As fireworks burst across the sky, the ancient capital welcomed the new year. However, those who protect this city know that their battle will never end.

(End of this chapter)