The Military Princess Won’t Fall in Love with a Magic Scientist

Chapter 211. Blood Lock

Logaris fell silent for a second, then raised a hand and pointed to the center of his own back.

“That night, while you were asleep. Right over the spinal column—the biomechanical center of the human body.” His tone was so earnest it made a person want to punch him. “From the perspective of spatial theory, that spot is the most stable origin point in the human body’s coordinate system. It is the safest and the most concealed.”

“...”

Sylvia drew in a deep breath, then ground out two words through clenched teeth. “You pervert.”

If looks could kill, Logaris would already have been hacked to pieces.

“All right. The process may have been a little roundabout, but the result was good. At the very least, it proves my spellwork is extremely stable.”

Logaris decisively changed the subject. His expression turned serious, and the scholarly authority that seemed carved into his bones instantly overwhelmed the awkwardness.

“Let’s talk business. Sylvia, that laboratory is no ordinary place. It was the life’s work of Mad King Maxim—the Tower of Inverted Truth. It may contain the most advanced Bio-Alchemy of that era, along with forbidden knowledge.”

At the sound of that name, Sylvia’s expression finally grew more solemn.

She took a deep breath. “You found Mad King Maxim’s laboratory? That lunatic from legend—the one who nearly destroyed the world?”

“That’s right. Deep inside the Great Rift.”

Logaris regained the calm of a true scholar. “There is an inverted tower there, and inside it lies Maxim’s lifetime of research. If we can get our hands on it, it will definitely be of enormous help to the Northern Territory as it is now.”

“No.”

Sylvia refused without hesitation. “It’s too dangerous. The records of every nation describe Maxim as a madman who would do anything for power. Who knows what he left inside his own ruin? Our situation is already excellent. There is no need to take this risk.”

That was how a normal person thought.

To the people of this world, the name Mad King Maxim itself represented taboo and catastrophe, like a Sword of Damocles hanging over their heads.

“Sylvia, use your brain.”

Logaris rose to his feet and walked over to her, looking down at her from above. “If that place truly contained nothing but curses, why would Second Prince Carlisle waste three years there?”

“Carlisle?” Sylvia frowned.

“I found an illusion he left at the entrance. He still cannot get inside for now, but if we do nothing and one day luck turns in his favor, what then?”

Logaris bent down and braced both hands on the sofa’s armrests, boxing Sylvia into his shadow.

“That is power capable of changing the course of a war. If it falls into the hands of that worthless second brother of yours, what do you think he will use it for?”

Sylvia fell silent.

She looked at Logaris, who was now close enough to touch.

Behind those lenses, there was no fanaticism in his eyes—only absolute reason and calculation.

“And besides...” Logaris let out a soft laugh, the corner of his lips curving into a wildly arrogant smile. “Mad King or not, he was nothing more than a failure from a bygone age. Do you really think I would lose to some old ghost who has been dead for a thousand years?”

That arrogant streak of his was truly irritating.

And yet it was also... undeniably compelling.

“Haa...”

Sylvia let out a long breath. The hesitation in her eyes faded, replaced by the resolve of a true governor.

She reached out, pushed Logaris away, and rose to her feet.

“Turn around.”

“What for?” Logaris blinked.

“I’m changing.”

Sylvia untied the sash of her bathrobe, her gaze sharpening. “If we’re going to a place out of legend, then I ought to dress for it.”

...

Ten minutes later.

The demiplane where the Mad King’s legacy lay.

The wind howled, and black mist surged and rolled.

Space twisted, and two figures appeared out of thin air upon the black floating island.

Sylvia wore a suit of silver-white light armor. Twin swords hung at her waist, and her cloak snapped loudly in the wind.

Logaris had described the place to her before they came, but when she truly lifted her head and saw the structure with her own eyes, her mind still suffered a shock unlike anything before.

“So this is... the Tower of Inverted Truth?”

A structure that defied both physical law and visual common sense carried with it a suffocating pressure.

The two of them walked up to the enormous black metal doors.

The line of glowing red text remained as striking as ever.

【Blood Lock】

【Only the blood of next of kin may knock upon the Door of Truth.】

“Go ahead.” Logaris stepped back. “I already tried my blood. The door took offense at me and refused to open.”

Sylvia did not hesitate. She drew the short dagger from her waist and lightly nicked her index finger.

A single bright-red drop of blood welled up and fell into the groove at the center of the door.

Hiss—

The blood was absorbed instantly.

The silent doors suddenly began to tremble. The intricate geometric patterns across their surface started spinning frantically, letting out a deep, resonant hum.

Then, a layered synthetic voice—neither male nor female, ancient with the weight of a thousand years—echoed through the empty space.

“Maxim cared only for those closest to him.”

The moment the voice fell silent, the massive metal doors slowly slid open to either side.

The two stepped through.

Beyond the doors stood a magnificent circular hall.

The floor was paved with seamless obsidian, polished so smoothly it reflected them like a mirror.

And in the very center of the hall stood an enormous statue nearly thirty meters tall.

It was a woman dressed in the robes of an ancient mage.

She was tall and slender, holding a stone book in her hands. A monocle rested over one eye, and her face bore a cold, proud beauty, as though she were looking down upon all the foolishness in the world.

Most importantly, the statue’s features bore a faint but unmistakable resemblance to Sylvia.

“This...” Sylvia stared at the statue, a strange feeling rising in her heart.

Logaris pushed up his glasses, his gaze shifting back and forth between the statue and Sylvia. His brows drew together slightly. He had clearly noticed it too.

“How strange.” Stroking his chin, Logaris spoke in a tone full of academic curiosity. “The histories say Mad King Maxim was a solitary tyrant who never married and loathed women to an extreme degree. Yet in the core of this place, instead of putting up his own statue, he left one of the women?”

He pointed at the statue’s cold, proud face, then at Sylvia.

“Could it be...” A gleam of scandal-hungry curiosity flashed in Logaris’s eyes. “When that old lunatic and your ancestor, Hero King Astrelia I, fought each other to the death back then, was it actually over a crime of passion? Or perhaps this woman was the one he kept hidden in the deepest chamber of his heart? Maybe she was even the wife erased from history?”

“Shut up.” Sylvia shot him an annoyed glare. “Stop making things up about my ancestors.”

“It is merely a reasonable academic hypothesis.” Logaris shrugged. “After all, history has never recorded this woman’s existence. If Maxim placed her here, then her status must have been anything but ordinary.”

Still, compared to the stunning statue steeped in mystery, the scene at its base was a spectacular eyesore.

Around what should have been a sacred and solemn obsidian pedestal, piles of daily refuse were scattered everywhere.

There was a long-dead campfire, empty wine bottles strewn across the ground, and several ragged tents bearing the crest of the Second Prince’s army.

Most absurd of all, someone had actually used a military dagger to carve several crooked lines of text into the statue’s thousand-year-old pedestal.

“Damn you, Maxim!”

“What truth? It’s all a lie!”

“I’m done with this!”

The handwriting was rough and jagged, gouged deep into the stone, radiating the helpless fury of someone seething in utter incompetence.

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