Chapter 972: Love Bravely

Mo De was completely stunned.

What? What’s going on? Did Big Sister become my dad or mom?

Before this, the City Spirit had always held a favorable impression of Big Sister; ever since their first meeting at the Dragon Roar Arena, she’d felt an inexplicable warmth toward this young little witch, her gaze constantly drawn to her.

Their shared experience building ships in the shipyard only deepened her affection for Big Sister—this was truly a gifted, capable person.

So when Lady Lancelot and Lady Guinevere said they’d introduce her to Big Sister, Mo De had been quietly delighted.

Sure, it felt a bit like an arranged meeting set up by elders, but the knight girl didn’t mind—she thought even becoming friends with Big Sister would be fine.

Her friends were truly few.

But now.

Friend turned into dad or mom.

No way, I’m over two hundred years old—suddenly I get a teenage mom? Tell me that’s reasonable.

“Auntie, what are you talking about? That’s impossible!”

At once, Mo De snapped. She shouted at Guinevere.

Then she glanced at Big Sister, hoping the other would join her in angrily denouncing this nonsense—but.

Mo De saw the young little witch’s pupils shrink sharply, her expression shifting: first shock, then doubt, then struggle, finally resignation.

After a long silence, she saw Big Sister exhale slowly, then look at her with serious intent.

“I’ll take full responsibility for you.”

Big Sister spoke with solemnity, as if swearing an oath.

Mo De: “...”

No, Big Sister, you’re serious? Who asked you to take responsibility? We didn’t even know each other before! And you, a teenage little witch, actually dare claim me—a few-hundred-year-old—as your daughter? Where did you get the nerve?

The City Spirit almost laughed in anger.

But she quickly stopped laughing.

“Isn’t your main cannon always a bit sluggish when charging? Doesn’t your transformation system always feel delayed? And your defense shield has a persistent flaw—its exact coordinates are...”

Dorothy sighed, seeing Mo De still didn’t believe her.

Her own emotions were complicated—did she really want to be a mom at sixteen? But if Guinevere had already confirmed this girl was the Spirit of Longshan City, then the Zhaimonv wasn’t so heartless as to shirk responsibility.

What she now listed were all the original flaws built into Longshan City—during the Witch Night, the Magic Republic’s arcane technology was still immature; many designs were compromised by limitations, forcing unavoidable concessions.

Though the Nibelungen shadow she’d just seen in the arena had changed drastically, far surpassing the old Longshan City in scale and power—likely strengthened over centuries after Witch Night—she didn’t know which flaws had been fixed and which remained. So she listed every single flaw from her original design, to prove her identity.

Ugh, it was like recognizing a child by revealing a birthmark only they’d know—though these “birthmarks” were a bit odd, the logic was the same.

“Yes, when I designed you, these were all the flaws. But they were due to the era’s limitations. Later, I redesigned a perfect version—originally just to fulfill a dream’s regret, thinking I’d never need it again. But since the dream has come true, here it is.”

The Zhaimonv spoke, then waved her hand—a surge of magic containing the perfect Longshan City blueprint flew toward Mo De.

The rebellious Round Table knight girl had wanted to refuse—she didn’t want a teenage mom! She already had both parents; why need a third party?

But the moment Big Sister listed those flaws, Mo De froze—her spirit shaken.

No one understood herself better than the City Spirit. Though many of those flaws were ancient history, long repaired and optimized by the Round Table, repairs didn’t erase them—they still existed. And some core issues remained unfixable.

Those problems were like congenital diseases carried from the womb—nearly impossible to cure. Even with multiple expert consultations by Long Wang and the Round Table, they weren’t the original designers; some issues were beyond them.

Or rather, they knew how to fix them—but not without radically altering Longshan City. Only the original creator could do it perfectly.

Anyone who’s restored ancient architecture knows: sometimes tearing it down and rebuilding is easier than perfect restoration. The Round Table could make her perfect—but could they guarantee the final perfect city was still Longshan City?

But clearly, the Round Table needed Longshan City—not just some “perfect city.”

So even when Longshan City was destroyed and its ruins rebuilt into the Land of the Dead, Nibelungen, its core structure remained unchanged—the original foundation stayed intact.

But whether Longshan City’s structure or Nibelungen’s framework, both were the highest secrets of the Witch World, known only to a handful. It was clearly impossible for a teenage girl like Big Sister to know them.

Yet every flaw she’d just listed matched perfectly.

Mo De couldn’t help but waver.

Dammit, could Big Sister really be my original designer?

She could only guess—though the idea was absurd.

But recalling how professionally Big Sister had handled every step in the shipyard—even though the chief engineer was the Forest Witch, and Big Sister was merely her representative—her expertise was undeniable.

If this were any other teenage witch, Mo De might doubt her capability. But if it were Big Sister...

After internal struggle, Mo De didn’t reject the magic flying toward her. When it merged into her body, a complex, exquisite blueprint appeared in her mind.

The rebellious knight girl trembled—once, twice, thrice...

Suddenly her face paled, she staggered backward several steps, and no matter how much she resisted, she had to accept the truth.

“You’re really my original mother?”

She looked at the young witch with complicated emotions, her voice hoarse.

Dorothy looked back, equally conflicted.

“If you’re willing to call me ‘Dad,’ I might accept it more easily.”

The Zhaimonv said.

Inside, she silently cursed her good sister.

“Dinah, look at the mess you’ve created.”

Though neither had spoken outright, Dorothy wasn’t stupid—she knew the special nature of Witch Night, understood that the dreamlike trial had become reality, and knew the culprit behind all this was that good sister.

She’d accepted the fourth sun in the sky, Pandora City in the Underworld, the Mechanical Church—all of it. But none of it hit her as hard as this sudden, two-hundred-year-old “son.”

She suddenly lost all interest in shipgirls.

Only now did she realize: if she built warships, the resulting shipgirls wouldn’t become her wife—they’d become her daughters.

Damn. Her dream shattered.

Realizing this, the light vanished from Dorothy’s eyes. She became a lifeless, dreamless fish.

What’s the point of building ships in reality? This civilization is terrible. I should just go back to playing “Warship World”—only in games are the ships real wives.

The Zhaimonv wasn’t some creepy father who enjoyed raising Yangchengxi characters—she couldn’t do it with someone she knew too well.

Waaah, this is tragic—wife turned daughter? What kind of twist is this?

Reality really is cruel. The beautiful anime world only exists in fantasy.

Of course, she wasn’t the only one collapsing—Mo De was the one truly shattered.

Why? This was her first time falling in love at first sight, her first time summoning courage to approach someone and become friends—but why? Why did it turn like this?

The rebellious knight girl grew more and more heartbroken, then burst into tears and ran off.

Dorothy: “...”

The Zhaimonv stood frozen, hand outstretched—she’d instinctively wanted to chase after her, but stopped.

What a mess. Fine, let the child have some space. This kind of thing isn’t easy to accept.

And more importantly, compared to crying Mo De, Dorothy now had to figure out how to explain this to her sisters.

Stare.

The Zhaimonv felt the death glares from her sisters—she broke into a cold sweat.

Meanwhile, on Long Wang’s flagship, Eitla.

Mo De ran straight here.

It was her old habit: whenever she achieved something but failed to earn Father Arthur’s approval, she’d come here, seeking comfort from her mother.

Sure, Arthur wasn’t a good father—but Morgan was a perfect mother.

Morgan’s flaw was indulgence, but that wasn’t a big issue in a mother—what mother doesn’t spoil her child?

Well, excessive indulgence wasn’t good—it spoiled children—but wasn’t Arthur the strict father who balanced it out?

So when the Round Table chose them as Mo De’s parents, they’d carefully considered it—their traits complemented each other perfectly.

Unfortunately, raising a child wasn’t just theory.

Still, Morgan had given Mo De enough maternal warmth. Though the rebellious knight girl’s relationship with Arthur had grown colder over the years, with Morgan she’d always been the obedient, well-behaved daughter—their bond remained deep and stable.

So when Mo De appeared near this top-tier warship, tear-streaked, a figure in an elegant court gown—resembling Long Wang Nidhogg in appearance but radiating gentler grace, more like a noble princess than a stern monarch—appeared on the deck.

Naturally, it was Morgan.

The shipgirl sister approached her tearful daughter—she’d already received Lancelot’s message and knew what had happened.

But she didn’t immediately comfort her daughter, still struggling to accept reality—she simply held her close, letting her feel the warmth of her mother’s embrace.

Mo De, held gently by her mother, gradually calmed. She rubbed against Morgan’s chest twice, smearing tears and snot across the beautiful gown—but Morgan didn’t mind, only softly patted her back.

After a long while, the rebellious knight wiped her tears and looked up at her mother, pitifully.

“Mother, is Big Sister—Dorothy—really also my mother?”

Well, Mo De was already certain—she’d just begun using Nibelungen to upgrade herself according to the perfect blueprint.

The few “congenital diseases” the Round Table’s experts had failed to cure were now effortlessly resolved. The upgrade naturally left the rebellious knight feeling refreshed, her condition better than ever.

But the better her body felt, the worse her mental state became.

Because it confirmed it: Big Sister really was her original designer.

Damn, what an embarrassing twist—I wanted to fall in love for the first time, and it turns out she’s my...

The rebellious knight, mortified, buried her face in her mother’s chest, trying to suffocate herself in her mother’s embrace.

I can’t live anymore. Goodbye, world.

Seeing her daughter calm down, Morgan finally spoke.

“I know what happened, Mo De—but you have nothing to be ashamed of. I experienced something similar when I was young.”

She said.

“Huh?”

The rebellious knight raised her head in confusion, gazing at her mother Bujiedi .

Meanwhile, Morgan sank into memory.

Hmm, her first meeting with Arthur actually predates the Round Table—back then, she was already a powerful lord ruling over her own territory in the Spirit Realm: Avalon.

To be honest, she really did fall in love with Arthur at first sight, and even gave her a sword as a token of affection.

Hmm, she was in fact the true Lady of the Lake; Guinevere’s evolutionary template was modeled after her—a pure Spirit Realm being, a Dragoness Fairy—and yet that unreliable woman later forged her own path, becoming a Fate Weaver, uniquely rare among fairies.

Even though Morgan later realized her infatuation with Arthur stemmed from the attraction between Dragon Heads, she had indeed been troubled by it for a time.

Now that she thought about it, that was downright narcissistic—falling in love with oneself, really?

Speaking of which, Guinevere and Lancelot were much the same; she didn’t know if this was the Lady of the Lake’s fate or simply the Juhexiaoyong of Dragon Heads, but it nearly caused a Dragon Head tangle.

Of course, such secrets between Dragon Heads weren’t suitable to tell her daughter, yet Morgan still encouraged her to be brave.

“Who says a creation can’t be with its creator? You’re merely her creation—you’re not truly her daughter.”

“Huh?”

Morgause immediately widened her eyes.

She understood.

In the midst of mother-daughter conversation.