With his mind made up, Murphy no longer hesitated.

He held his palm upward, and a cluster of True Flame—pitch-black, deep, and seemingly capable of swallowing all light—leapt out without a sound. It hovered quietly in mid-air, slowly rotating to form a miniature Force Field vortex.

The very air in the secret chamber seemed to twist from its presence, and the light dimmed.

He picked up a fist-sized piece of Thunder Steel Ore, the one with the densest patterns, and placed it into the pitch-black flame.

The ore did not melt quickly like ordinary metal.

As if held aloft by an unseen force, it hovered and slowly rotated within the core of the black flame.

The grayish-blue hue on the ore’s surface began to deepen. The lightning-like scorch marks seemed to come alive, wriggling slightly and emitting an incredibly faint BUZZING, like thousands of insects beating their wings.

The ore’s volume slowly shrank, the change visible to the naked eye. A deeper, violet-blue hue began to shine from within, like compressed thunder.

Grayish-black flecks of metal flaked off like an old shell, trickling down to form a pile of ash on the platform.

Meanwhile, the ore itself gradually coalesced into a small ball of liquid metal, about the size of a pigeon’s egg. Inside, faint arcs of electricity seemed to flicker in and out of existence.

This was the initially refined Thunder Marrow, the essence of thunder—Thunder Marrow.

Murphy was fully focused, preparing to guide this nascent Thunder Marrow. He was attempting to fuse it with the waiting Flying Sword to begin outlining a new combination of Dao Patterns.

Just then, in a corner of the secret chamber, the air above a cedar table used for sundries suddenly rippled like the surface of water.

The ripple was silent and undetectable. It didn’t even cause a flicker of Energy, as if it were merely a small trick of the light.

However, Murphy’s perception, which far surpassed that of an ordinary person, caught the anomaly the instant it appeared.

His brow furrowed slightly, but the True Flame in his hand and the hovering Spiritual Material remained rock-steady, not trembling in the slightest.

He diverted a sliver of his consciousness, casting it warily toward the corner.

At the center of the ripple, a faint mote of light appeared. It quickly expanded, transforming into an unsigned letter that materialized silently on the tabletop.

The letter was made of a strange material, neither paper nor silk. It was a soft, pearlescent white, its edges shimmering with a faint, almost imperceptible emerald halo.

Murphy knew that halo all too well.

It was Margaret.

It was the mark of her power.

Murphy’s gaze turned solemn.

He did not immediately stop the refinement. Instead, he split his focus, one part maintaining the True Flame to temper and stabilize the Thunder Marrow, the other reaching out with an unseen force.

As if carried by an invisible hand, the pearlescent letter flew steadily toward him. It stopped, hovering in mid-air, and unfolded itself.

The script was Margaret’s own—elegant, with a slightly sharp edge to the strokes.

"To my most esteemed and trusted master:

"When your eyes fall upon this letter, I will have already departed the halls and gardens of Taymer Palace, and all the lands of the Vilt Kingdom familiar to you."

The letter’s opening was so direct.

Murphy’s gaze lingered for a moment on the word "departed." A dark undercurrent swirled in the depths of his pupils, but his expression remained as placid as still water as he continued to read.

"No doubt some rumors concerning the uproar at the Iron Ridge Mountain Range have reached your ears. But allow me to report that the blossoming of those ’fireworks’ and the appearance of the crimson rift were no accident. The injuries sustained by Saint Cyril and the Valkendu Metropolitan Bishop were a welcome price to pay. The eyes and strength of the Church Court are now fixated upon that unignorable wound. The barrier that has long shrouded certain matters has finally shown a crack.

"I must embark on a long-foretold journey to retrieve certain things that belong to our bloodline and heritage. They relate to the true source of ’Dominion’ and ’Artifice,’ and to whether we can truly break free from the invisible shackles this world has placed upon us. The journey will be long, my return is uncertain, and the path will not be without its storms and perils.

"As for our Little Eleanor, I have made the most thorough arrangements. Leia and Annabelle will guard her with their loyalty and their lives. The daily affairs of Taymer Palace and the Southern Territory have been temporarily entrusted to several reliable old retainers to manage jointly; there should be no turmoil in the short term. However, the situation in the Kingdom will inevitably grow more complex due to the incident at the Iron Ridge Mountain Range. The East, the Royal Capital, the Holy City... the machinations of the various powers will only intensify. The Monte Territory, though located in the remote Northern Territory, is already an unignorable piece on the board in the eyes of many. I implore you to be cautious, to use the power you have already mastered wisely, and to protect our foundations.

"The stance of the Douglas Clan is critical; they are the true shield of the Northern Territory. Count Laura in the South might offer aid, but be wary of his schemes. As for the Peric Clan in the Eastern Territory... their intentions are as murky as mountain fog. Cooperation is possible, but do not grant them your trust lightly. If Archbishop John of the Crescent District delivers the promised Starlight Healing, it may be of use to you. But never forget, gifts from the Holy City often carry a price hidden beneath their brilliance.

"On this journey, things may go smoothly, or... I may never be able to return to you. Should fate choose the latter, please do not grieve for me. For Maggie, to have been able to serve by your side in this life, to have received your guidance and been allowed to glimpse a corner of the world’s true nature, has been more fulfilling than I could ever say. I have no regrets. My only plea is that you watch over Eleanor.

"May the stars guide my path. And I pray that when I return, I will find you have reached even greater heights, with nothing left to bind your soaring wings.

"Your eternally loyal slave,

"Maggie."

There, the letter ended.

The emerald halo on the letter began to fade. Its pearlescent texture grew transparent, and finally, like morning dew in the sun, it dissipated completely into the air, leaving no trace.

Murphy stood in silence, every word of the letter echoing in his mind.

’The truth behind the Iron Ridge Mountain Range, Margaret’s departure, the ’origin’ and ’shackles’ she pursued, entrusting Eleanor to my care, her assessment of the situation and her warnings...’

After a long moment, he slowly raised his eyes. His gaze returned to the orb of Thunder Marrow rotating slowly in the black True Flame, faint arcs of electricity still flickering in and out of existence within it.

All the roiling emotions in his profound gaze were suppressed, settling until his eyes were like pools of water, deeper and darker than ever before.

He said nothing. His control over the True Flame merely grew steadier, more precise.

The temperature in the chamber seemed to drop further. Only the nascent Thunder Essence, cradled in the black flame on his palm, pulsed with a dark, violet light.

The path ahead was unknown. A storm was coming.

And all he could do was forge the sword he held—to make it faster, sharper, and utterly unstoppable.