Chapter 43: Pus's Fate

Chapter 43: Pus's Fate

The autumn wind carried a biting chill, heralding the approach of early winter.

As the first faint light of dawn broke in the east, Pus instinctively opened his eyes. His gaze was blank for a moment before he sprang up like a carp leaping from water.

Pushing open the worn-out door, he found steamed sweet potatoes already laid out on the dining table.

His mother sat beside the table, mending an old garment.

"Awake? Go wash your hair quickly. Look at how messy it is—like a bird’s nest. If the mage lords see you like this, they won’t be pleased."

"Huh? Messy again? I just washed it last night."

Grumbling, Pus dashed into the courtyard without pause, fetching water to wash up.

The late autumn water was icy, sending shivers down his spine as it splashed against his face and head. Yet Pus’s heart burned with excitement.

Because today was the day of his interview at the Magic Forest. If he could join the Magic Forest, as his mother put it, his fortune would be made.

From then on, he would be a "lord."

How could Pus not take this seriously?

After eating the steamed sweet potatoes, Pus put on the new clothes his mother had bought by selling her silver bracelet. His hands trembled with nervous energy, unsure where to place them.

Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted his mother to sell that silver bracelet.

He vividly remembered when he was a child—his father had once tried to sell it to buy alcohol. To stop him, his mother had bitten his father’s hand so hard that one of her molars had been knocked out in the ensuing struggle.

From that moment, he knew that silver bracelet was his mother’s most treasured possession.

Yet this time, she stubbornly sold it anyway, just to buy him a decent set of clothes.

As his mother had said: "Pus, remember this—a person doesn’t get many chances to change their fate in life. A woman might have one shot at it through marriage. But you’re a man. You have nothing. If you don’t fight for this opportunity, you might rot here for the rest of your life."

Those words silenced any further objections from Pus.

"Don’t pressure yourself. Just answer whatever the noble lords ask honestly. If a lord throws a sword at you and orders you to stab your heart, remember—don’t hesitate. Aim for the center of your chest. And make sure it’s the center, don’t miss."

Before he left, his mother whispered this lifetime’s most valuable lesson to him.

"I understand."

"Go on, then!"

Pus nodded, took a deep breath, and strode out of the house with his head held high.

The new clothes made him stand out starkly against the backdrop of the slums. All along the way, the neighbors stared at him in surprise.

Pus both reveled in their gazes and felt the weight of them.

As he neared the end of the alley, he instinctively glanced back—only to see his mother still standing at the doorway, watching him intently.

When she noticed him looking, she flicked the back of her hand outward, urging him, "Go on!"

Pus gritted his teeth and resolutely left the slums behind.

Morning in Willis was as lively as ever.

Young apprentices chased each other through the streets, their antics occasionally drawing scoldings.

Along the main road, breakfast stalls exuded tempting aromas that made mouths water.

Mercenaries on missions, clad in armor and armed to the teeth, escorted wagons covered in thick tarps as they headed out of the city.

And of course, there were the countless outsiders with unfamiliar accents flooding the streets in search of work.

Pus had never observed the long street with such attentiveness before.

In the past, he was always in a hurry, rushing about, afraid that his employers would dock his pay for being late.

It wasn’t until today that he suddenly realized—Willis City had changed.

It seemed livelier than before.

Well, that made sense. The Forum had mentioned how many country folk, after learning just Burning Hands, dared to call themselves mages and flocked to the city to seek their fortunes.

Little did they know, the recruitment standards for mercenary groups had risen several tiers.

"Envoy passing—clear the way!"

From the end of the street came a noble-style, drawn-out announcement.

Hearing this, Pus quickly stepped aside to make way.

Not just him—everyone on the street moved aside.

Even the mercenaries, who usually struggled to maneuver their carts, reined in their horses and wagons, pressing toward the roadside to clear the path.

Before long, a column of silver-armored unicorn cavalry marched forward in perfect formation, their rhythmic hoofbeats drumming against the cobblestones like a steady beat.

At the center of the cavalry, several sealed carriages were escorted—clearly the conveyances of important figures.

"Who are these people?"

The out-of-towners by the roadside watched the passing procession with a mix of envy and fear.

"You don’t know? See that harp emblem on the carriage? That’s the envoy from Vias!"

The citizens of Willis City answered the outsiders’ astonishment with haughty pride, flaunting their superior knowledge as denizens of the imperial capital.

"Vias? Where’s that?"

"You’ve never heard of it? The earthly realm of the Music Goddess Aphnora! Heard they’re all a bunch of lunatics who’d rather sing than eat."

"Ah, so divine realms really exist in this world?"

"Jealous? Want to go? Let me tell you—they only accept outsiders with exceptionally beautiful voices. Everyone else gets turned away."

"Huh?"

"Look at you, dreaming big. Forget about divine realms—it’s just a city-state, not even as big as our Willis!"

As Pus watched the slow-moving procession, he listened to the chatter around him and thought, The Empire has really gotten livelier lately.

Not long ago, the Empire had just announced the successful cultivation of cold-resistant, high-yield black grain, with plans for nationwide distribution this winter—a revelation that sent shockwaves through the realm.

Before people could even digest that staggering news, one Archmage after another in Willis City had set out with teams of a thousand, claiming they were off to build new cities and erect Magic Towers.

And now, foreign envoys had arrived. The Empire truly was changing, growing ever more vibrant.

Come to think of it, all of this seemed to have started after the internet appeared.

Or was it that, because of the internet, he had simply become aware of so much more?

Pus didn’t dwell on it. The delay from yielding to the procession gave him the illusion of being late.

He hurried off in a fluster toward his destination—the Felix Magic Academy.

When he arrived, a magic apprentice had already conjured a landmark stone pillar and was sitting atop it, waiting.

A large crowd had gathered, and upon closer inspection, it was all young men and women.

Among them were many noble youths dressed in fine silks, their necks, wrists, and fingers adorned with magic artifacts.

The slight confidence Pus had mustered from his new clothes suddenly withered, replaced by insecurity and nervousness—even the urge to flee.

But when he looked down at his brand-new linen clothes, still bearing creases, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay.

For his mother’s sake, he couldn’t leave!

A few days ago, the Magic Forest under Felix had suddenly announced the recruitment of research assistants.

The conditions were remarkably simple: literacy and being under 16 years old.

This news, announced through Felix and the Empire's official website, had almost overnight caused a sensation in Willis City.

Countless people had been so excited they rushed to apply immediately.

After all, this was the Magic Forest led by none other than Ajef, revered as the God of Agriculture!

Who wouldn’t want to enter and bask in his glory?

The cold-resistant, high-yield black grain he had developed had long shaken the Empire and earned fame across the land!

His assistant, Eileen, who had successfully researched non-toxic winter mallow, had become the dream sweetheart of countless young men nationwide—even if rumors said she was a bit dark-skinned.

Pus had been following the magic forum, where he learned that aside from crops, Ajef had also made history by developing a method to convert Thunder Magic into Light Magic.

Recently, the magic forum had been abuzz with discussions about this, with endless praise for Thunder Magic.

It had even made Pus, who hadn’t even taken a single step into cultivation, consider specializing in Thunder Magic in the future.

In short, Ajef had already become a figure comparable to the God of Magic of the Empire.

Being accepted under his tutelage would naturally be an immense honor.

Pus had only signed up on a whim, taking the exam just to see—who would have thought he’d actually pass the written test?

And so, that led to today’s scene.

"Internet God, bless me—let my interview succeed today!"

Pus silently prayed to the Internet God, his palms sweating profusely from nervousness.