Chapter 450: The Sudden War of the Witch Clans

The wizard's soul floated lightly out of the lounge and headed toward the control room to connect to the magical network.

The alloy door slid shut silently, leaving only Clark, Viola, and Jemin alone in the room.

Almost the instant the door closed, Jemin keenly sensed a subtle yet distinct shift in the room's atmosphere.

It wasn't hostility or tension, but rather a kind of… stillness.

A stillness that follows after discussing relatively "private" or "technical" matters, now turning toward something more serious.

The air itself seemed to grow heavier.

Jemin instinctively straightened his back, his gaze unconsciously flickering toward Master Clark, who was still sipping his hot drink calmly, then to Viola beside him.

Senior Viola had clearly noticed it too—her lively expressions, born from playfully teasing Starfall, vanished instantly; her brows furrowed slightly, her eyes sharpening with focused intensity.

"Cough."

Master Clark gently set down the metal cup in his hand; the bottom tapped lightly against the table with a crisp, soft sound.

He raised his eyes, calmly scanning his two students, and spoke in a tone so ordinary it sent a jolt through any member of the Noren Workshop:

"Prepare in advance. Not long from now, the Noren Workshop will go to war with the Tower of Oblivion and the Cult of Chaos."

Jemin's heart leapt; stunned, he blurted out: "War? With the Tower of Oblivion and the Cult of Chaos? Why?"

In his understanding and experience, the Noren Workshop has always maintained a harmonious, even intimate, partnership with these two other wizard factions under the Star Ring Federation.

The most direct evidence was the "Crosspoint."

A massive, interdimensional transit hub jointly funded, constructed, and maintained by all three factions.

Its very existence is to provide a stable, secure, and fully functional initial base for wizards from all three factions participating in the plane war.

Jemin had conducted the preliminary preparations and troop musters for multiple interdimensional wars at the Crosspoint.

On the battlefield, wizards from these three different factions routinely fight side by side and support each other.

Jemin himself has previously collaborated with wizards from the Tower of Oblivion.

Although cooperation among the three factions occasionally encounters friction, the overall atmosphere remains rational and efficient, united by the shared goal of acquiring plane resources and expanding wizarding civilization.

How could close allies suddenly become mortal enemies?

Viola's reaction was calmer than Jemin's, but her frown deepened; she turned to Clark and spoke with solemn gravity: "They… couldn't wait any longer?"

At this, Clark's face broke into a faint, almost mocking smile.

He said slowly: "Originally, each of our three factions had only one Level-8 wizard stationed. Although each had varying levels of accumulated strength and organizational scale, from the perspective of top-tier, decisive strategic power, a fragile balance was maintained. Disagreements could be discussed; interests could be divided. The benefits of cooperative win-win far outweighed any gains from mutual confrontation."

He paused, his gaze deepening beneath his gray robe: "But now, the situation has changed."

Master Clark's words acted like a key, instantly unlocking a forgotten corner of Jemin's mind.

Anton Buchanan!

Master Clark's own master—Jemin's mentor's mentor!

Bujiuqianwanchenglefazeguhua ， Jinshengweinuolungongfangdedierweibajiwushi ！

Jemin had been present at the scene, overwhelmed by the vast manifestation of cosmic laws and the torrent of knowledge.

He had simply assumed the Workshop's strength had grown immensely and its future was bright, never considering how violently this would disrupt the surrounding political landscape.

For so long, the wars he'd participated in had been external—expanding against alien civilizations, plundering interdimensional resources.

This led him to unconsciously equate "war" with "external conflict," inadvertently overlooking the equally rational, cold competition and struggle that exists within wizarding civilization itself, between different wizard factions.

Now, looking back, it was only natural.

On the plane battlefield, temporary wizard squads discovering priceless resources that could drive one mad may, after evaluating risks and rewards, commit "rational betrayal" by attacking their own allies.

Even individual wizards behave this way.

How could wizard factions—vast collections of intertwined interests—ever remain in perpetual peace?

Past cooperation had merely been the optimal solution built upon the foundation of "equal strength."

The cake of cooperation was large enough that everyone was satisfied with their share—far more profitable than tearing each other apart and suffering mutual ruin.

But now, the balance had been shattered.

Anton Buchanan's successful ascension to eighth rank meant the Noren Workshop's top strategic power had shifted from "one" to "two!"

In wizarding civilization, high-level wizards, especially those at Level 7 or 8, represent over 90% of a faction's deterrent power and actual combat capability.

The emergence of a newly ascended Level-8 wizard, without exaggeration, nearly doubled the Noren Workshop's overall combat strength!

How could the Tower of Oblivion and the Cult of Chaos not panic? How could they not rush?

How could one allow a rival to snore peacefully beside one's own bed?

Especially when that rival had suddenly grown a massive arm capable of crushing them effortlessly.

As Jemin rapidly pieced together this brutal political logic, Master Clark's calm voice continued, confirming his thoughts:

"From a purely rational standpoint, their choice is not wrong. By striking now, while Master Anton has just ascended and has not yet fully mastered or fully converted this new power into the Workshop's strategic advantage, it is their only possible window to contain us—or even seize the upper hand. The sooner they act, the better it is for them."

Jemin's heart tightened: "So… does that mean war could break out immediately?"

Jemin had no doubt that, given the wizards' decisiveness, once they grasped this point, they might immediately launch a war.

Viola shook her head beside him, picking up the thread with a touch of sarcasm: "It won't happen that fast—because the Star Ring Federation won't allow it."

"The Star Ring Federation?" Jemin turned to Master Clark.

Clark nodded, explaining: "The Noren Workshop, the Tower of Oblivion, and the Cult of Chaos are all subordinate factions of the Star Ring Federation. The Federation typically refrains from interfering in internal affairs, granting high autonomy. But if large-scale armed conflict erupts between its member factions, the Federation has both the right and the duty to mediate."

Viola, as if recalling something, smirked and added: "After all, if we allow a group of wizards to act freely, the scope of this incident will inevitably keep expanding."

"But coordination doesn't mean forcibly ordering a ceasefire—that violates the wizards' core principles of 'equivalent exchange' and 'power supremacy,' and risks planting deeper hazards," Clark said, as if stating an objective law.

"The Federation's mediation usually involves defining a specific timeframe and a designated region based on the conflicting parties' demands, power comparisons, and points of contention, requiring them to commit their main forces to a 'confrontation' within that period."

"The victor gains the disputed resources or influence; the loser must pay a corresponding price—such as ceding part of their interests or being 'exiled' to more dangerous frontier civilizations to carve out new territories as compensation."

He glanced at Jemin: "Of course, one could choose to ignore the Federation's coordination and wage war privately, escalating the conflict. But the consequence would be violating Federation rules while provoking other factions wary of the war's spread, inviting joint sanctions from the entire Star Ring Federation system—and possibly even the Star Track Arbitration Court. The cost is one no wizard faction can afford."

Jemin immediately understood: "So… the Workshop's leadership is using the Federation's mediation mechanism to delay the outbreak of war?"

"Precisely," Clark's faint smile vanished, replaced by a trace of regret. "Though it has bought us precious time to prepare… the delay isn't very long."

He lifted his head, his gaze seeming to pierce through the ship's walls, gazing toward the invisible future—or perhaps truly seeing some unknowable thread of fate.

"According to the rumors circulating and the progress of internal Federation negotiations," Clark's voice remained calm, yet each word struck like a bell in Jemin and Viola's hearts, "this war can be delayed at most until eighty years from now!"

"Within eighty years, the Workshop will concentrate all resources to enhance our strength and unify our forces. But…"

He paused, his eyes sweeping toward the direction where Starfall had departed, and shook his head slightly.

"It seems Starfall won't make it to this war."

As Jemin listened to Master Clark's declaration, a lingering doubt remained in his mind.

Why was his master so certain Starfall wouldn't make it to the war eighty years from now?

Was it merely because she had lost her body?

For wizards, especially high-level ones, physical destruction is a severe setback, but far from an irreversible catastrophe.

The technology to reshape the body and adapt it to the soul is not a secret in wizarding civilization; in fact, it is quite widespread.

With some resources and a few days' time, a new body can be rebuilt.

Once the new body is connected to the soul, the wizard can be "reborn" and regain most of their combat power.

Starfall suffered heavy losses, but she also gained much—surely she wouldn't miss this war?

As Jemin pondered silently, the alloy door of the lounge slid open again.

Starfall's soul drifted back in.

Yet, unlike her previous departure—full of eagerness and energy—

now she appeared… strangely detached.

Though her soul was naturally ethereal, this "detachment" wasn't inherent to her spectral form; it was the disoriented, unfocused state of a mind shattered by profound shock.

Her movement as she "floated" in was much slower than usual; the flow of her soul's radiance appeared sluggish and chaotic.

Her semi-transparent eyes had lost focus, as if still trapped in an unimaginable, staggering revelation.

(End of Chapter)