Chapter 2 Creed

This incident plunged him into sudden despondency. Hastily finishing his meal, he departed the dining hall. With a glance to the left, he suddenly observed a rivulet of blood trickling from the thicket. Venturing closer, he discovered the apprentice, previously curled up in agony, now sprawled in the mud, limbs outstretched, pupils unfocused. Blood gushed from a wound on her wrist like water from a turned spigot. Witnessing this scene, Panny's mood darkened further.

As a former surgeon, he was far more indifferent to the matters of life and death than most, yet paradoxically, he was also more sensitive, his emotions prone to subtle fluctuations. In essence, witnessing someone's demise before his eyes invariably cast a pall over his spirits.

If he were to turn away, this body might end up on Panny's dissection table the next day, transformed beyond recognition, serving as his anatomical specimen. Contemplating this, he felt a wave of nausea at the sight of the still convulsing form.

Peering beyond the thicket and seeing no other apprentices or mentors in the courtyard, he hastily tended to the unfortunate child's wound. Gently lifting her robes, he observed a young face framed by tangled, unkempt hair, no more than seven years old, unmistakably female. She was likely a newcomer struggling to endure the "wonderful" atmosphere here.

After all, for a child who had just begun to comprehend the complexities of life and had yet to experience much of it, entering the Red Robe Academy was a tremendous misfortune. Panny's mind entertained a sympathy that he had long sought to avoid, a feeling that left him disheartened. However, being one to avoid abandoning his endeavors midway, upon seeing that there was still no one around, he resolved to save her completely.

By the time the young female apprentice regained consciousness, it was already midnight. Clearly astonished by her survival, her expression then turned somber. Wordlessly, she climbed out of bed and walked barefoot towards the door. She cared little for who had spared her life, for someone who had lost the will to live, staying alive was merely postponing death.

"Awake? You're fortunate. If even one more person had seen, I wouldn't have intervened," came the weary voice, tinged with a yawn, from the corner of the room, reaching the apprentice's ears. She turned, astonished, to see the legendary figure huddled in the corner – although many were reluctant to admit it, numerous Red Robe apprentices held deep admiration for Panny Shawn, the oddity who had never become a formal mage nor turned into a specimen. Thus, especially this year, his appearance and name were widely known among the apprentices.

After all, within the academy, there was only this singular fourteen-year-old soul, glaringly evident.

Hence, a hint of curiosity finally blossomed in the young apprentice's heart: "Why?"

Although she had been in the apprentice academy for less than a year, the young apprentice already knew full well that indifference was the first mandatory lesson in the life of a Red Robe. She was no exception, and she doubted that this legendary senior would be an exception either. Therefore, she was highly suspicious of the intentions of this long-lived senior.

"For no reason at all." The reply from the corner was succinct, evidently Panny's reluctance to explain.

"Oh." The apprentice nodded and said no more, about to leave.

"So eager to depart, are you seeking death?" Panny's words struck directly at the apprentice's lingering thoughts, as if an arrow had precisely hit its mark, leaving her expression as if petrified by a sixth-level transmutation spell.

"You see, the recent focus of the academy has been on researching the feasibility of transforming the souls of the dying and converting them into vengeful spirits – although this sounds more like a necromantic subject, you know, our school of sorcery has an equally keen interest in both biology and the soul. So, there is a significant chance that your body will be dissected, your brain soaked in embalming fluid, and well, your soul might also be extracted for examination... Oh, are you frightened?"

Panny lifted his head, scratching his disheveled hair resembling a bird's nest. Seeing the apprentice collapsing at the door, trembling all over, his voice turned colder: "Hey, I thought someone who dared to be so reckless would be fearless, but now it seems you're just a fool who doesn't value your own life when your mind gets hot."

"I... I..." The young apprentice suddenly burst into tears. "I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"

Panny calmly stared at the huddled, weeping little girl, making no further movements. The impulse for suicide in ordinary individuals only lasts for a brief moment; with proper guidance, such impulses often transform into hysterical outbursts.

He had no intention of interrupting this release of emotion. In this cold environment, even a modicum of conscience and warmth was a luxury. What he had done today had greatly deviated from the Red Robes' principles, so he couldn't afford to be generous again. Tolerating the girl's tears until exhaustion, he felt a nerve-wracking tension: the sobbing gradually quieted down, yet after a long time without hearing the sound of opening or closing doors, Panny Sean impatiently raised his head and saw a pair of timid, bright eyes, shimmering with tears. "Sir, I, I, I... Can I survive?"

The gaze resembled that of a lamb waiting to be slaughtered, inadvertently softening Panny Sean's heart. However, the words that came out of his mouth could only be described as sharp: "Rest assured, someone like you, who appears easily bullied, will bring joy to many more foolish individuals who find pleasure in tormenting you. Perhaps you'll be trampled like a piece of excrement, but the chances of surviving are much higher than those fools'. At least they won't bother dealing with you too much. In the eyes of those mentors, if you prove to be somewhat useful, as long as you don't draw too much attention, your chances of surviving past six years aren't slim."

"Oh." The young girl's eyes brightened, wiping away her tears and nodding. "Thank you, thank you, sir."

"Once you're done crying, get out of here. I don't want to see your corpse on my dissecting table in a few days." Seeing the little girl no longer weeping, Panny waved his hand impatiently.

"Yes! Yes!" The apprentice nodded and bowed as she walked out, stumbling over the doorstep on her way out, rolling a few steps like a gourd, but still remembering to come back and close the door before her footsteps gradually faded away.

The room fell into darkness, Panny leaning against the backrest, his gaze fixed on the unseen ceiling.

You must be somewhat useful, but never too conspicuous.

This had been Panny's guiding principle for many years. He was somewhat surprised to have uttered these words just now; after eight years here, today marked the most he had spoken in a single day, to the extent that even this statement had slipped out. However, he didn't mind this feeling; pressure needed timely release, and the timing was just right with the little girl. Thus, receiving a rarely heard "thank you," even a mere "oh" was an unexpected delight.

However, to Panny, this incident would ultimately become a trivial episode in his apprenticeship. If that young girl apprentice didn't end up on his dissecting table in the future, she would quickly learn to wrap her indifference and cruelty in a cowardly shell, never again showing genuine gratitude. Panny was even too lazy to know her name, let alone pay attention to her appearance.

So, Panny quickly put the matter out of his mind and climbed onto the rickety little bed. It was time to sleep.