Annie's Muddled Memory

“Hey, young lady, I know this might sound rude, but please, exercise some self-control!”

Du Chen jumped, hastily snatching his hand from Annie’s grasp, then eyed her with a baffled expression.

What in the blazes was she doing? Clinging to his hand, trying to proposition him, molest *him*?!

Could it be that Helen’s Soul-Ensnaring Art had scrambled this girl’s brains last time? Why else would she immediately grab a strange man’s hand? Even the notoriously liberal Professor Mina on Battle God Isle wouldn’t pull such a brazen stunt!

A closer look at Annie revealed her golden, shoulder-length hair dancing in the breeze, her Azure Eyes brimming with a captivating softness. She shyly bowed her head, her hands nervously plucking at the ribbons of her white dress. This demeanor hardly fit the image of a wanton maiden!

By all appearances, she was a pure, innocent maiden, just awakening to the stirrings of affection!

Harry stood by the door, cradling Beibei. Upon witnessing the scene, Beibei patted Shieb’s head and, with the air of a seasoned adult, declared, “Daddy will be quite busy soon, Harry. Let’s go inside! We shouldn’t disturb him!”

“Indeed, my wise young mistress,” Harry affirmed, “Harry believes your words to be profoundly correct!” With that, he swiftly carried Beibei into the house.

Annie gazed at Du Chen, her heart a tumultuous mess, unsure how to begin.

Du Chen, utterly bewildered, eyed Annie with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Annie, my apologies! Did I perhaps speak too harshly?” Seeing her flustered state, he felt his words might indeed have been too severe, and quickly revised, “Erm, is there something you needed to speak to me about?”

Annie lowered her head, hesitating for a good while before she finally began to speak in a soft, halting voice: “Lately… lately my head has felt a bit off, my memories are somewhat hazy. I, I had wanted to visit you sooner, but the instructors at the Sacrificial Institute insisted I be hospitalized for observation. I was only discharged today and returned to my dorm…”

“And what does that have to do with this old man?” Du Chen pouted, reiterating his original question. “So, why are you here to see me?”

Indeed, why had she come to see him?

Annie’s mind was a fog. She could only recall drinking a cup of mead, a very sweet mead, on the day she reported to Battle God Isle, and then everything in her mind became indistinct. She clearly remembered registering, attending classes, and meeting many fellow students and instructors...

Yet, Annie persistently felt a void in her memory—beyond the ordinary student life, there was something else she ought to have experienced, but it remained utterly beyond her recollection.

Believing something was amiss with her mind, Annie specifically sought examination at the Sacrificial Institute. However, the priests concluded that the excessive pressure from her Intensive Training had induced hallucinations—a phenomenon that had occurred before, and incidentally, one of the primary reasons Dean Ricardo had earned his moniker, the “Black-faced Devil.”

Trusting the Sacrificial Institute of Battle God Isle, Annie accepted their diagnosis, but a fresh wave of confusion immediately washed over her.

“Among these hazy recollections, why are my memories of Francis so exceptionally vivid?” Annie mused silently. “The Virtue of Saint John City, the savior of Antwerp Port, the paragon of Battle God Academy students, the very embodiment of perfect character, and his golden long hair, his Azure Eyes—every single detail I remember with pristine clarity!”

“Why is my impression of Francis so profoundly etched? It’s as if I deliberately investigated him, imprinting every facet of his being upon my heart!”

Annie had once confided these sentiments to a few of her closest confidantes. Those “wretched girls” had then offered their ambiguous, knowing remarks: “Beautiful Annie, when you engrave every detail of a man deeply upon your heart, it signifies that you’ve fallen for him. And it’s Francis, a man as perfect as he is good! Not just you, but even we… Oh, and by the way, I heard that during Francis’s Battle God examination, a female student actually abandoned her match just because of one of Francis’s exquisitely elegant smiles. Your feelings are hardly difficult to comprehend, but precisely because Francis is so utterly exceptional, you must remain strong…”

Could it be that during this period of muddled memory, she had genuinely developed feelings for Francis? Heavens, was it really true? Why could she not recall it clearly?

Yet, everything about Francis was so utterly flawless… Even now, she harbored a deep, almost uncanny feeling towards him.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have instinctively rushed forward upon seeing Francis leave today!

Had she truly fallen for him? His demeanor just now was so refined and reasonable, so poised and gracious. Even in rejecting her, he maintained such a dignified bearing—truly captivating… What was she even thinking? I mustn’t be so transparent; Lord Francis will be repulsed!

Annie continued to stare blankly at Du Chen, utterly silent. This sparked a flicker of dark annoyance in Young Master Du. “If you have nothing further, then I shall take my leave!”

Du Chen had always maintained a cool distance from women, particularly beauties like Annie. He strode back into the courtyard, only to find Beibei perched on Harry’s round head, peeking through the crack in the door hinge, observing everything. “Daddy, why are you back so soon? That elder sister was so pretty! Why didn’t you chat with her for a bit longer?”

“Beibei, don’t babble nonsense!”

Only after uttering these words did Du Chen recall his original intention to visit Sherine, a plan that had been sidetracked by Arthur’s recent predicament.

Du Chen turned and stepped out the door once more, casting a brief, frowning glance at the still-frozen Annie. After a perfunctory nod, he departed. “Harry, look after the young mistress; I may return quite late!”

Little Beibei, however, paid no heed to Du Chen’s words. She nudged Shieb to follow her outside, then looked at the bewildered Annie standing by the door and suddenly beamed. “Elder sister, you’re so pretty! My name is Beibei, and I’m Daddy’s adopted daughter!”

Annie chuckled. How could she possibly mind? Lord Francis’s demeanor had been so perfectly appropriate, so courteously refined; it was *she* who had lost her composure just moments ago! She affectionately patted little Beibei’s cheek and smiled, “My little darling, you’re truly adorable! Is Francis your adoptive father? Then, he, he…”

“Hehe, whatever Elder Sister wishes to know, Beibei will tell you everything, no lies, I promise!” The little one unhesitatingly “sold out” Du Chen. “Daddy is very handsome, and Daddy is super rich! Lots and lots of people say Daddy is a good person, and Daddy even has a super, super beautiful boat…”

Annie shot an embarrassed glance at Shieb. Harry, with admirable wisdom, had closed his eyes and plugged his ears, feigning utter ignorance. This somewhat alleviated Annie’s lingering shyness. “Beibei, do you happen to know anything about what transpired between your adoptive father and me?”

“Beibei doesn’t know!” The little one tilted her head, tugged at her skyward-pointing pigtail, and pondered. “Oh my! Elder Sister, you look so peculiar right now!”

Annie scooped up Beibei, softly inquiring about what might have transpired between herself and Francis. Before long, Harry reappeared, holding the very painting Beibei had pointed to.

“This… this is…” Annie’s pretty face flushed crimson. The painting was precisely the one Jamis had drawn of Du Chen and Helen during Jason’s previous dinner. In it, against a backdrop of the azure seaside glimpsed through a window, a young man and woman sat intimately, appearing to gaze into each other’s eyes, or perhaps sharing tender whispers.

Heavens, she had such an intimate photo with Francis! Wait, she vaguely recalled the circumstances then: it was precisely because Francis resided in Dormitory Number Eighteen that she had specifically asked Professor Jemison to arrange for her to be his neighbor!

What did this signify? Annie’s face burned scarlet!

“Elder Sister!” little Beibei chirped loudly, “The painting is for you! You must come visit Beibei often, okay?”

After Annie departed, Beibei’s innocent smile vanished, replaced by a knowing, mischievous grin. “Harry, remember this: if that Elder Sister comes asking about Daddy again, tell her Daddy is good. You are *not* to say anything bad about him!”

Harry stared, dumbfounded. *‘My esteemed young mistress,’* he thought to himself, *‘you are truly formidable. How old are you, yet you already know how to help your master court beautiful women!’*

“Indeed, young mistress. The Master has always been a truly benevolent soul!”

Little Beibei nodded in satisfaction, then suddenly tilted her head and murmured, “Elder Sister Annie is so odd… it seems as if something strange has been left within her spiritual essence?”

Du Chen was oblivious to his daughter’s “betrayal,” and even more so to the fact that a flaw in Helen’s Soul-Ensnaring Art had imprinted Annie’s mind with Helen’s own profound sentiments towards him—a blind, unshakeable adoration for a peerless powerhouse.

He arrived at the library, where he found Sherine engrossed in a book. Smiling, he said, “Auntie, I’ve run into a minor predicament and hoped to seek your counsel! A few days ago, you mentioned I was best suited for sword-type sacred artifacts, but I find myself at a loss as to where one might procure such a treasure!”

Sherine looked up from her towering stack of books, a hint of surprise in her eyes. “Oh my, that was my oversight. I assumed, since you didn’t inquire further that day, that you had your own means of acquisition!”

*‘Didn’t I possess a Cloud Mist Chains in my hand that very day?’* Du Chen mused internally. *‘But only today have I realized that such a high-grade item as the Cloud Mist Chains is utterly beyond my current capabilities!’*

Sherine explained, “To acquire a sacred artifact, two distinct scenarios exist. The first is when your desired sacred artifact already claims a master. In such a case, a sacred bond unites the artifact and its wielder. You would require truly immense power to compel the sacred artifact to acknowledge you as its new master. This particular method… is not quite suitable for you.” Sherine’s words subtly conveyed the meaning: *‘Your current strength is insufficient.’*

“The second scenario involves a masterless sacred artifact. For these, the process of gaining its recognition is comparatively simpler, as it doesn’t demand exceptional power to sever a pre-existing sacred bond. However, it presents its own complexities, primarily hinging on the compatibility between your bloodline, your battle qi attributes, and the sacred artifact itself. If the congruence is sufficiently high, you can attempt to communicate with the artifact; successful communication then bestows mastery upon you.”

Sherine offered a small smile. “Therefore, you should seek out low-tier, masterless sacred artifacts of the water-elemental sword type and endeavor to communicate with them. Given your Heaven-Bestowed Hydro-Body, your compatibility with water-aligned sacred artifacts is bound to be exceptionally high.”

Observing Du Chen’s opulent robes, Sherine chuckled. “While sacred artifacts are blessings that appear unexpectedly and are often beyond reach—and high-tier sacred artifacts are veritable treasures of heaven and earth, some Battle Gods never even laying eyes upon one in their entire lives—low-tier, masterless sacred artifacts are still relatively abundant. With your financial might, provided you’re willing to pay a premium, acquiring one should prove quite feasible!”

Du Chen diligently absorbed Sherine’s advice, then revealed his true objective: how to master the “Cloud Mist” Soul Artifact.

“Auntie, I aim to achieve this in one decisive step,” he stated, “by directly offering a substantial bounty for a high-tier sacred artifact, level six or above. Do you believe that is within my grasp…?”

Before Du Chen could even finish his sentence, Sherine shook her head. “That is impossible. Sacred artifacts of level six and higher are also known as Soul Artifacts; they possess unique artifact spirits. Without a Battle Soul, you possess no means of communicating with them whatsoever!”

It seemed, then, that he would have to wait until he had successfully cultivated his Battle Soul before he could even hope to wield the Cloud Mist Chains.

“Oh, wait a moment!” Sherine interjected. “Francis, if you truly manage to acquire a Soul Artifact but temporarily lack a Battle Soul to communicate with it… Auntie herself doesn’t know how to resolve such a predicament, but there is one individual who might!”

Du Chen’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “Who? Auntie, please tell me at once!” This was surely another prominent figure on Battle God Isle!

“This individual is the most learned on Battle God Isle, and arguably the most profoundly adept in the understanding of sacred artifacts. His grasp of these relics rivals Philip’s mastery of alchemy!”

Du Chen’s interest was instantly piqued, a flicker of impatience stirring in his heart. Had Auntie Sherine, too, learned the art of suspense?

Sherine’s brow furrowed slightly. “However, this person possesses an exceptionally eccentric temperament. I fear you may find it quite challenging to secure his assistance.”

Du Chen hastily declared, “I can pay a hefty price! Any amount of gold coins is acceptable! Auntie, please just tell me outright!”

“Gold coins may not be enough to sway him, alas, I’m truly unsure what might persuade him!” Sherine suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth. “Hehe, Auntie is being a bit garrulous, but Francis, I’ve said all this to impress upon you that this individual’s identity is exceptionally sensitive, and I cannot openly disclose it. However, if you do seek him out, regardless of whether he agrees to assist you, do not, under any circumstances, offend him!”

“I understand perfectly, Auntie. Thank you for the timely warning!”

“Very well then. The individual in question is named Bovin!”

*Bovin?* Du Chen’s mind immediately conjured the image of that old vagabond with the gap-toothed grin, constantly toting a large burlap sack, who perpetually loitered outside his door, seemingly there only to cadge a meal…