Chapter 489

When Harry stepped back onto London soil and gazed at the old, desolate Diagon Alley, a deep pessimism settled in his heart. But soon he adjusted his mindset and, as planned, headed for the Ministry of Magic first.

“Long time no see, Harry,” Mr. Weasley greeted him in the familiar conference room, where various bureaucrats and Senior Deputy Minister Snape sat alongside him.

“Long time no see, gentlemen,” Harry greeted them, then got straight to the point: “I’ve seen a lot lately—truly shocking. If we don’t act now, the consequences down the line may be unbearable.”

“Tell me in detail,” Arthur said, his expression growing serious.

“First, the strength of the Great Ming—they far surpass our wildest imagination in both magical and Muggle technology,” Harry said, placing the suitcase he’d been carrying on the table. “For some reason, they’re willing to share partial principles of their floating city technology. We need to build our own floating city—or if we lack the capacity, consider cooperating with the Magical Congress.”

“Second, their attitude: they’ve decided to change their official diplomatic designation from ‘Great Ming’ to ‘Ming Empire,’ and their diplomatic posture will grow more expansionist,” Harry recalled his recent observations. “Their nationalism is intense—they may display xenophobia and militarism, which would be terrifying for Asian nations. Still, it won’t reach us on the other side of the continent.”

“That’s fine—let the Prime Minister study it,” Arthur said, unconcerned. “So what should we do?”

“Build our own floating city,” Harry explained. “Perhaps they intend to spark an arms race to drain Yanayev’s economy—or perhaps the technology they’ve given us contains critical bottlenecks Yanayev alone cannot overcome? Either way, their target is Yanayev.”

“Due to cultural and historical differences, it’s hard to guess their intentions,” Snape shook his head. “But from our own interests alone, a floating city may be worth pursuing.”

Arthur opened the suitcase and skimmed the documents inside, then hesitated: “Are we really going to pursue this project? It looks enormously expensive, and many aspects seem tied to Muggle technology.”

“A floating city—if it’s what I think it is—this is a symbol,” Snape picked up a page. “Nations without floating cities will be judged as magical backwaters, losing their voice in the international community.”

“And it can exert far greater influence in the Muggle world,” Harry said seriously.

“This isn’t something our Ministry can decide alone,” Arthur put the documents back in the suitcase. “We need to contact the Prime Minister.”

The ascension of Shuntian City caused significant ripples in the Muggle world too. But due to the West’s extremely limited understanding of the Great Ming, two entirely opposing factions emerged: one dismissed it as “mysterious Eastern technology,” the other called it “a deceptive optical illusion.”

These comments led the Prime Minister to take little notice—he kept postponing the Ministry’s meeting invitation, finally scheduling it for next Friday, leaving many enlightened figures in the magical community frustrated.

So it wasn’t until Tuesday afternoon, while Harry was on a date with Zhang Qiu at the tea house, that she brought up another matter: “Since your Prime Minister isn’t rushing to address the floating city, I think we should continue investigating the earlier lead—perhaps we should find a chance to visit the author of that book.”

Harry had experienced too many shocks in the Great Ming in his final days that he’d nearly forgotten his original purpose for going there. Now, reminded by Zhang Qiu, he remembered.

“Good point—but who is the author of that book, and where is he? We’d still need to ask Ron,” Harry said, his mind only partly on the book as they sat in Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop.

“I did a quick investigation these past two days,” Zhang Qiu summarized her preliminary findings. “The author was originally a writer of sci-fi and fantasy short stories, but recently suddenly began writing this dark fantasy novel. He then received strong backing from Donald Fontroy—the book, labeled ‘too dark, too adult,’ was published without obstruction by his publisher.”

“In truth, beyond hardcore fantasy readers who’ve grown weary of traditional fantasy’s idealized narratives, most people aren’t interested in this work—it got critical praise but poor sales. From a commercial standpoint, I believe Donald’s investment in this book was a complete failure,” Zhang Qiu crossed her arms, her expression grave. “Yet Donald isn’t known as a deep fantasy reader—so this is deeply puzzling.”

“Deeply puzzling?” Harry frowned. “What if it was just a failed investment?”

“That’s precisely what makes it puzzling,” Zhang Qiu leaned forward, speaking in a hushed tone. “Donald has never lost on a Muggle investment. I even suspect he secretly divines the stock market.”

“Can divination do that?” Harry jolted.

“Typically, no—divination cannot affect Muggle affairs, because the power of Death cannot reach the Muggle world,” Zhang Qiu said, then suddenly chuckled. “By the way, do you know why your Chong Huang Shi Wang lost to the obscure Chi Qi?”

Unpleasant memories surged again; Harry’s expression grew complex.

“Because Chi Qi’s transfigurer is a Muggle—fate’s power has no effect on him,” Zhang Qiu said seriously. “So divination cannot influence the Muggle world. Since Martin is a Muggle, neither Xuan Jun nor Donald can use divination to read his novel.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. If he shifted focus to the Great Ming’s technology enabling Muggle transfiguration, it wouldn’t be surprising—after all, the floating city manual mentioned an advanced magical storage technique: embedding spells into alchemical devices via fixed incantations, usable for building floating city foundations or creating transfiguration devices for Muggles. Of course, the Weasley twins usually used this for prank products.

Returning to the point: Martin’s writing truly couldn’t be read by divination. Beyond that, there was Donald’s uncanny record of never losing an investment. Common logic suggested they’d discovered some extraordinary, beyond-nature form of divination.

Before Harry could speak, Zhang Qiu had already voiced her theory: “I have a bold idea—could they be time travelers?”

“Huh?” Harry admitted he’d never considered this direction—perhaps because he himself had made no changes to history during his time travel, leaving his understanding of it incomplete.

“Master has said more than once: if you alter history, you create a parallel world,” Zhang Qiu said earnestly. “And parallel worlds happen to be his favorite research topic—he regrets our need to freeze time. Based on this, I suspect he’s a time traveler who altered history. It’s very likely.”

“You’ve noticed too: the Ming Empire’s development far outpaces any other nation. We have no institutional or cultural advantages—we’re still exploring and reforming our systems, and our culture doesn’t encourage new technologies. So once we’ve thoroughly examined this novel, I think it’s time to abandon the lost civilization hypothesis and test the time travel hypothesis instead.”

“But from another angle, the lost civilization theory still has strong arguments—like the Masked Rider system, which is vastly superior to current wizarding technology,” Harry said. “If we consider politics, military, and technology, the Ming Empire may be advanced—but its lead over other nations is nowhere near as extreme as the Masked Rider system’s superiority over wizarding spells.”

“Exactly,” Harry gestured. “If we assume human development across all fields is relatively balanced, then if Xuan Jun is a time traveler, he likely didn’t come from too far in the future. But the Rider system suggests he might have come from far, far later.”

“Hmm… true,” Zhang Qiu nodded. “And there’s the Tianming Organization and Kaslanova’s story—I find it hard to imagine two completely unrelated people would independently say the same thing. Unless we suppose the future Death has grown even more insane, and wizards formed Tianming to fight him, and that struggle caused magic to leap far ahead of Muggle development…”

“We need more investigation,” Harry concluded. “And I’ve got another idea—investigate Donald.”

“What?”

“Your master is experienced and calculating—he’s left only one clue: a novel he wrote under a pseudonym in his youth,” Harry said. “But Donald is young and impulsive—his actions leave far more traces. If we can uncover Donald’s background, we might make a more accurate guess about Xuan Jun’s origins.”