The guard delivered the second “meal,” which, much like the initial lunch, contained no solid matter.
Lin Yu, likewise, did not partake; she simply emptied its contents, then used the now-vacant plate to request some water from the guard.
Even with the gruel thoroughly discarded, an indescribably foul odor lingered in the plate, tainting the cool water within it to an unpalatable degree.
Yet, she couldn’t afford to go without a single sip of water; judging by the meal delivery schedule, evening had surely descended.
Having gone without water since morning, her throat felt utterly parched, and her lips were on the verge of cracking.
The icy liquid, once swallowed, stirred a faint sensation of nausea.
Lin Yu, suppressing her discomfort, wiped the corners of her mouth and returned to the corner where she had first squatted.
‘How much longer will this last…’
‘Never mind, I’ll continue meditating.’
During these hours of waiting, she had meticulously prepared the arguments for her future defense, leaving her free to relax with a clear conscience.
Since she was simply sitting anyway, she might as well seize this opportunity to diligently practice her magic-related abilities.
Perhaps, after enduring a beating, she could secretly heal herself.
Clearing her mind, she began to sense the magic, allowing it to slowly coalesce within her body.
As a novice, her meditation speed was remarkably slow, and without Nangong guiding her this time, the efficiency of her magic recovery fell short of her previous session.
Nevertheless, it was recovering; the magical reserves within her body were slowly but surely increasing, a tangible change she could genuinely perceive.
After one minute, then two, and countless more minutes passed, Lin Yu finally managed to accumulate just enough magic for a single healing spell, which she then cast without a moment’s hesitation.
She wasn’t casting it to heal a bruised future self, but rather to hone her magical abilities; how else could she improve her skill proficiency by merely meditating to restore mana without actually casting spells?
A mist and points of light, emblematic of healing, diffused outwards from her palm, casting a faint glow upon the otherwise pitch-black solitary confinement room.
Upon successfully casting the spell, Lin Yu then attempted to manipulate the shape of the magical energy.
Nangong had also instructed her that concentrating the released magic in specific locations could lead to more effective healing: for superficial wounds, it should gather in the dermis, while for ruptured blood vessels, the priority was to mend the vessel walls.
Blatantly flooding a wound indiscriminately was the foolish act of a mere beginner.
The only exception was when a casualty was teetering on the brink of death, necessitating a drastic increase in dosage to sustain their fragile life.
Since she had no injuries requiring healing at present, she could only manipulate the magic, constantly altering its form to enhance her control over it.
The mist and points of light began to twist erratically, eventually coalescing into her desired shape.
Serving as her sole diversion within the dreary confinement cell, she began to manipulate the swirling mist as if it were a toy.
‘A little cat…’
‘How hideous…’
‘Perhaps an object instead? A lantern?’
The mist emanated a faint glow, transforming into the semblance of a small lantern.
The luminous points contained within it provided the only illumination in the darkness, effectively serving the purpose of a lantern.
‘If Nangong ever found out I was using a healing spell as a mere illumination spell, she would probably scold me relentlessly.’
Since it wasn’t applied to a wound to exert its healing effect, the mist dissipated at an exceedingly slow pace, taking approximately four or five minutes to vanish completely.
Lin Yu mentally kneaded the ethereal mass as if it were clay, shaping it into numerous forms beyond just the lantern.
‘Hmm, one more time.’
After meditating for a considerable time once more, she accumulated enough magic for another healing spell, and a second swirl of mist emerged from her palm.
She had heard that mere decades ago, mages still required staffs to aid in constructing spell formations, and even earlier, they were constrained by spell slot limitations.
‘If I had transmigrated a few decades earlier, would I have experienced the authentic Western fantasy style… No, if I had arrived decades earlier, I would likely have been cultivating immortal energy right here.’
‘Before the Great Collapse, this fertile land of Diacla was, after all, a realm dominated by cultivators.’
The mist in her hand coalesced into a humanoid figure—a flowing silhouette of an immortal gracefully treading upon a long sword—before swiftly transforming into the shape of a witch’s hat and a mage’s robe, a tangible manifestation of her fantasies.
Finally, the mist solidified into the figure of a soldier donning a steel helmet, holding a bayonet-fixed rifle in a charging stance.
Whether tales of immortal heroes and mythical beasts, or Western fantasy and magic, all had long since receded into the annals of time.
Magitech propelled the era slowly forward, leaving no room in the world for such antiquated relics.
Once magical surgical scalpels equipped with innate healing magic were invented, even individuals like her would cease to be considered “rare.”
‘A third cast.’
‘A fourth…’
‘By the way, does continuous magic usage lead to kidney deficiency? Uh, not necessarily kidney deficiency, but… could it cause other physical issues?’
‘Hmph… surely not.’
After all, each unit of magic was painstakingly acquired through her own meditation, not restored by consuming secret elixirs or crushing magic stones.
‘According to Nangong, meditation is the optimal method for recovery, isn’t it?’
The mist before her eyes materialized into Nangong’s face, and Lin Yu, unable to resist, reached out and flicked her middle finger towards Nangong’s brow.
The fixed shape instantly dispersed, then re-coalesced into another face—that of the senior who had once playfully flicked her own forehead.
‘That’s for flicking me.’
The disturbed mist dissipated much faster, and just like that, time swiftly elapsed through repeated spellcasting, repeated shaping of figures, and repeated meditation.
It wasn’t until she heard the guard outside her door knock for the third time that she realized she had been engrossed in her magical play for the entire night.
She still retained enough magical energy for two-thirds of a healing spell, and her meditation speed had already surpassed the level she achieved when Nangong first taught her to cast.
As for her control, after a night of diligent practice, Lin Yu felt her precision had reached the centimeter level.
‘Quite a fruitful session.’
Just as she was about to conclude her assessment and offer a satisfied smile, her expression suddenly stiffened.
‘Blast, I’ve forgotten half of what I’d planned yesterday…’
‘Truly, I’ve picked up sesame seeds only to lose the watermelon.’
This time, it wasn’t the small hatch on the iron door that opened, but the entire door itself.
The guard stood silhouetted against the light in the doorway, beckoning her out, and briefly stating the purpose of her summons.
“Prepare to be interrogated.”
Following the black-clad figure, uncertain of their destination, Lin Yu dragged her heavy feet forward with a mechanical gait.
While a mage’s meditation bore a resemblance to sleep, its quality ultimately paled in comparison to a proper, restful night’s slumber.
Her head felt heavy and muddled, and she remained in a daze even after being pushed into a seated position.
“Private Lin Yu, I presume?”
“Mmm…”
“You currently face two charges: firstly, acting as a spy for the Lanfors Republic, gathering intelligence on our Diacla Imperial Army; secondly, providing intelligence to the Lanfors Republic’s forces, which led to the demise of His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince.
Regarding these… do you have anything to say?”
“Yes, may I please have paper and a pen?”
The man seated across the table wore attire distinctly different from the Diacla Imperial Army uniforms Lin Yu had observed in recent days; its style was noticeably more classical, possessing a hint of ornate splendor.
His collar bore no military insignia, suggesting he belonged to a different system than the army… perhaps an organization akin to the Jinyiwei (TL Note: A Ming Dynasty secret police and intelligence agency, known for its elaborate uniforms and broad powers.)?
Lin Yu possessed no knowledge whatsoever of the state apparatus in this current life, knowing only of a supreme emperor reigning over her and her parents, alongside several immensely powerful princes.
Any further information was beyond the grasp of a mere village girl like herself, and her days spent learning medicine and magic alongside Nangong had similarly required no such knowledge.
Lin Yu began to write on the paper, meticulously listing the information she knew, line by line, using simplified Chinese characters.
In truth, she hadn’t systematically learned how to write traditional characters; otherwise, she would never have resorted to such a method—writing in a script alien to Diacla would, without a doubt, only heighten suspicions of her being a “non-national.”
“What are you writing?”
“It’s the story of how I, an ordinary civilian of Diacla, was forcibly conscripted and became a private, crouching in the trenches.”