Chapter Five: How Could That Be Called Stealing?

…When Han Shuo awoke, he found himself lying on the small wooden bed in the storeroom, his entire body drenched with cold water. Opposite him, the chubby Jack was gripping a small wooden bucket, precariously balanced on a rickety stool, clearly intending to pour the remaining water over him.

The weather was already cold, and Han Shuo, soaked through, was shivering uncontrollably. Seeing the second bucket about to come down, he shouted, “Jack, what are you doing?”

Startled by his sudden yell, Jack lost his balance on the wobbly stool. His heart leaped, his feet slipped, and his hands trembled; the bucket of water splashed down over Han Shuo’s head again, and the bucket itself flew from Jack’s grasp, landing squarely on Han Shuo’s chest.

“Oof… Jack, are you trying to kill me?” Han Shuo howled in pain, his body now frozen and his chest throbbing where he’d been hit.

“Sorry, Bryan! The first bucket didn’t wake you, and this stool is so unsteady… Then you shouted, and I got scared and lost my grip. The water and the bucket—sorry!” Jack apologized profusely, his face red with embarrassment. He grabbed a nearby rag and moved to wipe the water from Han Shuo’s neck.

But as soon as the rag touched him, Han Shuo let out another shriek, stumbling away in panic. “Jack, the rag you’re holding is covered with bone dust left over from necromancy experiments! That stuff pricks like tiny needles—you trying to kill me?”

“Ah—sorry, Bryan! I didn’t mean it, really, I didn’t!” Jack stammered, hurriedly tossing the rag far away, relieved to see the side he’d grabbed was clean of the dust.

“Achoo… achoo… Never mind. Jack, why am I here? Last I remember, Buck used me as a human shield and I got hit by Lisa’s Soul Pain spell.”

Han Shuo was sneezing, his neck red, fumbling out of his wet clothes and grabbing Bryan’s black towel to dry himself off.

“Bryan, you have so many scars!” Jack exclaimed.

Hearing this, Han Shuo looked himself over for the first time. Everywhere he could see was covered in old wounds. He sighed inwardly, feeling a surge of sympathy for Bryan’s suffering.

“Scars are a man’s memories and medals. What do you know? Now, tell me—what happened after I fainted?”

“You were knocked out by Soul Pain, and then class started at Dark Academy. Lisa said a few words and rushed off to class. I called Uncle Sharu, and the two of us carried you back.”

“So it was Uncle Sharu who came. What did Lisa say before she left?” Han Shuo asked, wiping himself down.

Uncle Sharu was the oldest servant in the necromancy department, in his fifties, always kind to Bryan and Jack. He’d been a servant at Babylon Academy for more than a decade, even before Bryan arrived.

“She said you were unlucky. If Buck had taken the Soul Pain, he’s a magic apprentice, so with his mental strength, the pain would only last three days. But you’re not a necromancy student, you have no mental strength, so you’ll suffer for about a month. She said you interrupted her sleep yesterday and put stones in your pants, hurting her foot, so she wouldn’t lift the spell for you!”

“Damn that Lisa! One day I’ll get back at her!” Han Shuo’s face darkened and he cursed loudly, startling Jack, who thought Lisa had tormented him for years and he’d never managed to do anything about it.

After venting, Han Shuo mused, “Buck is a magic apprentice and only suffers for three days because he has mental strength. I have to suffer for a month. But if I’m gifted enough to learn necromancy, maybe I can be rid of it in three days.”

“Bryan, you’re just a servant—how could you learn magic?”

“How do magic students learn magic, then?”

“They start with meditation to sense magical elements. Once they gain mental strength, they study the spellbooks and practice magic according to the incantations. If they don’t understand, they ask the teacher,” Jack explained.

“Exactly! I can meditate too. When I gain mental strength, I can use a spellbook to learn magic.”

“But you don’t have any spellbooks!”

At this, Han Shuo sidled up to Jack, threw his arm around him, and grinned, “But I have you, don’t I? Don’t you clean the library?”

Jack recoiled nervously, “Bryan, you want me to steal books for you?”

“How crude! It’s not stealing—I’m just borrowing them, and you can return them when I’m done. Nobody reads those basic magic books anyway. No one will know. Jack, all my bad luck today was because I helped you out—you owe me one, right?”

Jack hesitated, but under Han Shuo’s emotional persuasion, finally agreed—albeit reluctantly—to “borrow” magic books for him.

That night, Jack sneaked over to Han Shuo, furtively pulling a copy of “Basics of Necromancy” and a “Magic Dictionary” from his plump belly and handing them over, along with many whispered warnings before slipping away.

Bryan, as a servant, wasn’t supposed to learn to read or write. But because his duties required it, over the past six years he’d picked up quite a bit of literacy. All that knowledge now belonged to Han Shuo, so he could read the books just fine.

After Jack left, Han Shuo shut the storeroom door, opened the first yellowed page of “Basics of Necromancy,” and began reading with great interest.

Magic was a means of using mental strength to communicate with magical elements in the world. There were four ways to use magic: through incantations, scrolls (primers), gestures, and magic circles.

Necromancy had once been exceedingly prosperous. When it was at its height, all dark magic was considered a branch of necromancy. But with its decline, necromancy had become just one branch of the dark arts. It had started as magic controlling souls and bones; through countless experiments and improvements, practitioners developed a myriad of spells, forming a system that became the representative of dark magic.

The foundation of all magic is mental strength, and to gain this, one must meditate, sensing the magical elements imperceptible to ordinary people. Only those who generate mental strength through meditation are considered magic apprentices.

So as Han Shuo studied the “Basics of Necromancy,” the first thing he tried was meditation, hoping to sense mental strength. Yet after seven days of effort, he achieved nothing—not the faintest trace of mental power.

Over those seven days, Han Shuo only practiced meditation at night; by day, he diligently played Bryan’s role, doing all the cleaning, pest control, and garbage disposal as usual. Without this, as a servant, he’d have no food and wouldn’t survive at Babylon Academy.

Because of Soul Pain, every day Han Shuo’s head would suddenly ache several times. The first two times, he blacked out immediately; after that, though the pain still struck at random, he managed to stay conscious, perhaps having grown used to it.

During this period, Han Shuo’s reputation as half-mad and half-wit spread. Yet, despite his seemingly foolish behavior, he still completed all his tasks every day. Seeing this, the academy did not expel him.

Necromancy students all agreed that Han Shuo’s strange persistence was simply habit, ingrained from six years of routine—mad or not, he kept working.

During these days, any students who tried to use Han Shuo for magic experiments found that he would “suddenly” develop a headache at just the right moment, becoming even more deranged, sometimes ruining their experiments. Since everyone knew he was under Lisa’s Soul Pain spell and a bit crazy, they didn’t dare press him.

No one yet knew why Lisa had beaten Buck, but Buck himself was in a foul mood and would take it out on Han Shuo whenever he could. Buck was a magic apprentice and physically stronger, so even Han Shuo’s feigned madness couldn’t protect him; he was beaten badly every time.

One night, returning to the storeroom, Han Shuo cursed aloud, “Buck, you bastard, just wait—one day I’ll beat you so badly your own parents won’t recognize you!”

That day, he had been beaten by Buck and a little skeleton. His body was covered in bruises. Yet lately, Han Shuo noticed he was getting stronger and hungrier, never having enough to eat and pestering Jack for more food.

And after each beating, though the pain was severe, as long as Han Shuo practiced his inner cultivation method he called the “solid body technique” upon returning to the storeroom, the next day he’d wake up pain-free, refreshed and energetic. Even when Buck hit him again, he found the blows hurt less and less.

Thus, every time Han Shuo was beaten, he would immediately return and train. The magical energy within him grew, little by little, from the size of a fingernail to that of a thumb.

This made Han Shuo both excited and uneasy—excited that his magical power was increasing and his body and mind growing stronger; uneasy because, as his power grew, he found his temper harder to control and himself prone to actions he’d later regret.

He pulled “Basics of Necromancy” from under his bed, read for a while, and then, by habit, began to meditate. The magical energy in his body wandered without pattern, bringing relief to anywhere it passed, especially the sore spots.

During meditation, the thread of magical energy drifted from his neck to his head. At that moment, the familiar pain of Soul Pain erupted in his mind—Lisa’s curse flaring up again.

Suddenly, as his head throbbed, the magical energy seemed to enter the very center of the pain. For the first time during an attack, the energy was in his mind. Han Shuo felt an explosion like fireworks in his brain, a searing pain—and once again, he lost consciousness.