Finally, Gwen was left alone to try to measure the short stick that Lady Fortuna had handed her.

So she's a spy now.

Gwen Song, a woman, Marta Harry's fame.

Shouldn't she find Marlinger a red dress and a chaise longue so she can smoldering with ashes, jazz blues, and listless smoke at the same time?

She doesn't have a recliner, she just has stainless steel protruding walls and foam mattresses that make her sweat.

Gwen glanced at the stainless steel throne embedded in the floor, attached to the water dispenser.

Is anyone watching? Are there any guards watching her through the lumen recorder right now? If she answers nature's call, will anyone break in?

Gwen frantically tries to activate her storage ring, but the damper even steals the magic thimble she needs to achieve the spatial effect.

"Is anyone there?" she announced to the people near the cell.

No one will come. Of course.

But this silence is not reassuring.

There was no electric screen for her to turn around, and there was no corner of the room where she could take her out of sight.

Life gives you lemons, isn't that an old idiom?

She looked at the stainless steel water throne again.

Fuck it. Gwen muttered to herself. Why torture yourself?

She'd watched enough reruns of "McGover by Day" that she could do it.

Gwen tore the sheet from the steel frame of the foam mattress and wrapped it around her upper body. She then proceeds to perform a pantomime, a woman's tent, trying to find a viable way to protect her privacy while also meeting her needs.

The problem is that she needs two hands to prop up the cotton canvas of her "tent". Maybe she could wrap it around her lower body?

She groaned inwardly. Why didn't she pick a dress to wear!

Gwen sighed.

Damn Monday

"Cut off the feed. All of them. ”

Colonel Song Guo, a senior official of the Ministry of National Defense, deputy secretary of the Department of Internal Security and Counterreconnaissance, and director of the Confidential Communications Committee, leaned back in his chair.

The lumen monitor embedded in the wall of his office stopped the incantation broadcast to the cell.

He had always wondered what his granddaughter would do, what she would do, whether she would risk running away, perhaps by pretending to be sick, or using her temptation to blind a guard.

He's not curious now.

If there's anything that would convince him that the girl isn't a spy, it's watching her spend two minutes on the spot tidying up a foam mattress and using it as a bathroom stall. Doesn't she know how divination works? It's not like there's a wizard's eye looking from up high. Divination can pass through walls, concrete, any non-magical containers, and a piece of cotton cloth will certainly not help.

In a way, he was happy.

Unless Gwen and their experience in chess is smart enough.

Guo flipped through a dozen Manila envelopes, pulled out Gwen's file from a pile of letters, and reread it.

As soon as Wei and Joey Yung arrived, they submitted a report that interpreted Wen's life in detail, as can be seen from the materials in the Singapore Building.

Her biometrics are within acceptable deviations.

Her talent is simply to read lightning (3), summoning (3), and magic (3), which is a blatant lie.

Mother: Helena Huang.

A nobody of a nobody's family, a long-lost descendant of glory, banished from the verdant colony of the Indonesian island, long mixed with the blood of European conquerors, has an affinity and summoning power for fire – an unimportant ordinary mage.

Father: Song Jasmine.

A traitor, a desert fleeing the continent, abandoning his parents, his family, his future, all for the sake of some ridiculous Western notions of freedom, a coward who evades the duties he was born to fulfill.

Curiously, the Singapore Tower is also missing any data. There is no mention of the son, the Percy's song, no mention of Gwen's master, and no mention of her status.

Is there someone deliberately criticizing her data? Singapore Tower is supposed to be from Sydney. To have such a minimalist erudition, the source should be someone that Singapore Tower trusts enough.

If so, who are his granddaughter's supporters in Sydney? Only a few people can give such a treasure to others.

What's even stranger is how Gwen got so many magic schools?

Frontier cities are not like capitals, they do not have the resources to wake up and train their own children. Gwen woke up at the age of fourteen or fifteen, which meant that she had accomplished an impossible feat in the space of a year and a half—a feat that only those with a long lineage and an ancient house could achieve, something that the Song clan could not achieve.

In order to reach her level of proficiency, this means that she must have access to abundant resources, teachers of the highest calibre, safe training and learning places, and especially access to larger cognitive rooms.

That means, of course, the Sydney Tower, which was once one of the most extensive facilities in Oceania.

The late Master there, Henry Kilroy, was a well-known mage in the circle of mages in the Commonwealth, who served under the rule of English mages. He is a survivor of a modern school of magic, more than an ancient school of magic.

A week ago, Guo's crisis assessment report flooded Sydney's fringes. There are reports of a fading black sun blooming over the city, a strategic class ritual of the Void element. There are also some unreliable reports that a mythical snake swallowed a ritual, which in itself is an almost ridiculous idea. It's no surprise that there are merfolk invaders. The merfolk see the assault on the border city as a rite of passage for their infantry, eliminating the weak and streamlining their ranks to vent their stress. This was one thing that the early Chinese emperors knew all too well – that before it could attack the dynasty itself, one had to divert the pent-up aggression of the masses elsewhere.

The short report ended in Singapore, where he was accompanied by a high-ranking mage escorted by the Crimson Witch Alesia de Botton. However, when questioned, his granddaughter refused to tell them about the connection and did not provide any knowledge about her connection to the leading militants of the Coral Sea. Gwen is hiding her "Guan Xi", but it's not difficult for someone like Guo to do so. The girl was too naïve to be a spy, even if her demeanor and calmness made him very suspicious.

Guo closed his eyes for a moment, and came to his guess that Gwen was somehow attached to the upper level of the Sydney Tower, and they would soon come knocking on the door.

But Sidney was nervous when she spoke, so it was likely that "soon" would be greatly delayed.

Then there's Gwen's unusual talent, her affinity for the Void – a rare and dangerous element that has been recognized as a Level 4 disaster by the Politburo Magic Committee.

Guo's fingers tapped on the thick wood on the mahogany table.

Elizabeth Sobel, Henry Kilroy's wife as a war hero, was a void mage. There is news that she is not dead, but part of the tassel mage.

Is there a connection? Who taught his granddaughter Void magic? Did she learn it herself? How did his granddaughter get connected to the now-deceased Chancellor, and is there a connection between Gwen and the Void Sun that appeared over Sydney?

Dangerous question, dangerous answer, Guo thought to himself.

His tea was cold.

"Hot. ”

The water began to steam slowly.

Pu-erh tea is heated to a precise 80 degrees with a flat pole, which requires a lot of skill.

He turned his attention to another matter at hand.

Percy Song.

Grandson.

His legacy.

His wife gave birth to three children, and later he became barren due to his relationship with Yin.

Song Nen, harvest.

Song Hai, the sea.

Song Jun, militants.

The youngest, Xiaojun, is everything a man can ask for his son, but his huge affinity for yin has also made him unfortunate infertile since he was a child. By the time they know why, it's already too late.

Nen inherited her mother's talent for yang. She gave birth to two children, Tao and Mina, but they will not inherit his name.

Guo Yuan thought that this line of Song poetry would end in Jun, but now the sea is back. Not only that, but he also gave birth to two children, a boy and a girl.

Most importantly, a boy with the surname Song.

Guo Shengkun felt a sense of comfort in his heart, and he couldn't help but burst out with a strong sigh. A person should have an inheritance! A family needs to be inherited! There is a grandson with the surname Song, and the surname of this family can survive. This is a consolation that Guo can take to the grave. What a windfall fortune his wayward son had given birth to in this catastrophe! Finally, he could visit the temple of his ancestors and tell them that the line would be preserved, and that they would not have to adopt a branch family member to fill the vacancy. In the end, Guo Jingming can face the grave calmly, because he knows that he has left something tangible in this world.

But Guo had to act quickly.

Just like himself, the yin energy of the elemental salt took possession of the boy.

This meant that they had to get the boy back as soon as possible and put him in training. He must learn to control his strength and learn to minimize the damage to his body. Percy must undergo extensive rituals under Young's blessing to strengthen his defenses and prevent him from running out of energy.

Guo Jingming clenched his hands and clenched his fists.

"Ancestors, thank you for your blessings," he shouted. "I won't let the Song family down!"

A polite knock was heard.

Mr. Guo relaxed, returning to his usual calm appearance.

"Come in. ”

"Colonel. "It's Captain Fu. "Captain Song has just entered the compound. Shall I bring him?"

"Did he say his purpose?" Mr. Guo furrowed his thick eyebrows and wrinkled his chin unhappily.

"He has informed the administrative officer's office that he will take prisoner number 1403 and put her under house arrest. The order came from the office of the Deputy Chairman of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, Secretary Li. ”

Mr. Guo sighed, he had expected interference. Personally, he preferred to observe his "granddaughter" for a few more days, arranging a lot of opportunities to lure her into revealing any other hidden abilities.

"Good. Oh, Fu, remember, you can't say a word. ”

"Yes, sir. ”

Mr. Guo took a sip of tea and pursed his thin lips. His gaze fell on the report in his hand.

The girl is troublesome, but she is also his granddaughter.

It is impossible to dispose of her, it is ruthless and, above all, it is a huge waste of potential.

It was also impossible to send her back to Sydney. Americans and British, hell, and even the EU, if they can get a teenage mage with a yin and yang affinity, they will have an exciting day.

No, for this girl to survive, she needs supporters. It means proving and recognizing her worth – a fiery test in itself, like a little koi trying to jump over a dragon gate, which can cost her her life. For the unicorn, which soars above the land of slavery and servitude, must be able to harness strong winds, for it is a sad sight to see such a noble beast, scarred by mortals and tied to the saddle.

What a wonderful thing for the sea. What an irresponsible father his son was. What a burden for an old man and an old woman. If that's the case, what if Guo can't use Gwen to fight for his own cause? What if she wants to bite her hand?

The more dangerous questions and dangerous answers, ticking like an emergency spell is placed on a timed spell.

"Fu, I'm going back to the compound. Tell Corporal Bao to drive the car over. ”

"Yes, sir!"

If he knew his wife, the banquet would have been ready.

All that's left is to see how honest Gwen is willing to be.

"Hmm...... May I ask if Colonel Song will be back in the near future? Gwen asked the corporal who had come to China to deliver her first meal, and she pounded her eyelashes to squeeze a response from the stone-faced guards.

She may have wrung blood out of the stone.

The young man avoided Gwen's gaze as if she were the mythical Medusa.

She was sure it was a test.

The diminutive, 5-foot-4" corporal looked as if he had never heard of a dangerous void mage, and he opened a short section of the door to place the tray in her cell.

There are two steamers on the plate, a bowl of soup and a square box of rice. In addition, she was given Western-style metal cutlery — knives, spoons and forks.

Of course, she has no magic, but if she were a real spy agent, she could surely roll the dice on this person in various ways and use his opportunity to escape somehow.

The corporal inadvertently withdrew his hands and left the cell, still avoiding her gaze.

"Thank you!" shouted Gwen.

The corporal fled.

Gwen sighed.

She opened a steamer. Inside were small pork buns, like the juicy ones she had eaten in the old world. At the end of the 10s of the 20th century, they became very popular and almost ubiquitous, especially in places where the Chinese in Australia gathered.

Could it be food poisoning or drugged?

Of course, there is no need to do that. Colonel grandfather was not short of mages with brains.

She picked one up and put it in her mouth.

Hot, hot, hot!

Gwen almost threw up. The juice inside boiled. Is there a microwave in this world? The hot pain in her mouth is a disaster in her pizza pocket, and the inside of the bread is the temperature of the sun.

There is more bread on the plate below, this time for the vegan option. Gwen guessed that the fact that her meals weren't moldy bread and grey water was enough proof that grandfather had at least acknowledged her existence.

You're not going to be hurt, he's already told her, though his tone is hardly reassuring.

Gwen wonders if Gunther got the news and tries to find a way to get her back. Does her brother think that Percy will also be targeted, since Moyer himself is also targeted? Does Gunther feel responsible for keeping Moyer and Gwen together? Is their kidnapping completely out of Sydney's sphere of influence, especially now that the tower is in ruins?

She didn't know the answers to those questions.

She could only drink salted pork bone soup and mash the hot steamed buns with a spoon and eat them in an empty bowl.

Gwen sat cross-legged on the icy floor, just like they had when they ate Bushtak. She makes a hole in the bread, mixes the juice with the meat and dough, and puts the bland food in her mouth to taste.

It is the food of the savages, greasy and empty, without an ounce of recovered mana.

But Gwen was very, very hungry.

She was still trying to chew on a rubber bun, her delicate lips glistening with oil, when her father's face suddenly appeared on the plexiglass plate, smiling from ear to ear.

"Pufut!"

The ghost was so frightened that he spat out the dumplings that had been gritting between his teeth, and a stream of pink minced meat and fatty lard sprayed all over it.

"Oh, you're eating!" exclaimed her father's ghost. "Shall I come back later?"

Gwen was stunned.

There were no cheers from the guards.

How could her father have come? Wasn't he covered in blood? Was he cured, cured, recovered? Was he free? When he had just told her that she would be free soon, did he mean that? Why didn't he just tell her? If so, why was there an ambiguous communiqué?!