Watching them nod in agreement, March 7th finally felt at ease. She turned and stepped out into the outdoors, where the morning mist had yet to scatter.
The country path beneath her feet was still damp with last night's dew. Mud clung to the soles of her boots, leaving a trail of shallow footprints behind her.
March 7th walked with a light step. Before long, she had crossed the fields of intertwined yellow and green and stepped onto a road paved with bluestone slabs. The stones had been worn smooth and warm by the passage of time, with tiny patches of moss embedded in the crevices. They let out a faint creak as she stepped on them. Following the winding path for about fifteen minutes, a towering city suddenly surged into view.
The city walls were constructed from deep-gray rock, their surfaces carved with ancient patterns that shimmered faintly whenever the wind blew—a sight that radiated the distinct atmosphere of a fantasy world. At the city gates, two soldiers in standard-issue armor stood tall with spears in hand, their sharp gazes scanning the passing travelers.
March 7th ducked behind a tree by the roadside, weighing whether she should shrink her size and slip inside while the soldiers weren't looking. Suddenly, a loud shout accompanied by the thunderous clatter-clatter of galloping hooves erupted from behind her. The momentum was so great it made the ground hum.
"Hyah! Hyah!"
March 7th spun around to see a luxuriously decorated carriage barreling toward her. The carriage body was crafted from high-quality red sandalwood, its surface inlaid with tiny sapphires. Gilded bells hung from its four corners, though the vehicle was moving so fast they only produced a blurred, metallic jangle.
The carriage was pulled by four stallions with coats as black as ink. Their manes were meticulously groomed, and their hooves were wrapped in anti-slip felt. Even though March 7th was less than ten meters ahead, the carriage showed no signs of slowing down; if anything, it seemed to accelerate.
March 7th's brow twitched. Not wanting to cause a scene just yet, she nimbly darted to the side. Her toes tapped against the bluestone for leverage as she vaulted into the air, landing steadily on a stone ledge two meters away.
A second later, the carriage rushed past where she had just been standing like a gale of wind. The gust tossed the stray hairs on her forehead, and mud splattered from the undercarriage against the walls, leaving mottled stains.
The gate guards had already stepped aside out of habit, not even blinking. Clearly, they were deeply wary of the carriage's owner.
However, just as the carriage was about to pass through the city gates, it came to a screeching halt. The stallions reared up on their hind legs with a long, piercing neigh.
Immediately after, the brocade curtain at the front of the carriage was swept aside by a slender yet aggressive hand, and a fiery red figure stepped out.
It was a girl who looked to be no more than fifteen or sixteen years old. Her fiery red hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall, the ends curling slightly. Her small face possessed skin as white as snow, yet her eyes were as sharp as blades, brimming with a condescending arrogance.
She wore a bright red noble gown embroidered with gold thread and a wide sash around her waist. In her hand, she gripped a long whip as thick as an arm, its length bristling with fine thorns that glinted coldly in the sunlight.
The girl's gaze, as cold as ice, swept over the surroundings before locking onto March 7th. Her red lips parted, spitting out words that were both biting and frigid: "Hmph! You wretched commoner, how dare you block my path!"
Crack!
Before her voice even faded, the long whip lashed out toward March 7th with a bone-chilling snap. The whip churned the air, its thorns flashing with a lethal light. It was clear she had put considerable strength into the strike.
If an ordinary civilian were to take this hit, the thorns would likely rip open gashes deep enough to show bone—even if they survived, they would be crippled for life.
March 7th's eyes narrowed. Shifting her weight, she moved like a ghost, retreating several steps in a blur. The whip grazed her hem and slammed into the ground, cracking the bluestone slabs.
"You actually dare to dodge?" Seeing this, the fire in the girl's eyes burned even hotter. Her voice rose an octave. "Seize her! I'm going to lash her face into a pulp! I'll teach her what happens when you offend me!"
At her command, four fully armed guards following the carriage immediately surrounded her. These men were clad in heavy armor and armed with longswords. Their steady steps marked them as well-trained warriors. They closed in, their cold gazes fixed on March 7th without a hint of hesitation.
"Hmph! You really think I'm a pushover!"
March 7th's temper flared at this unprovoked provocation. Bone-chilling cold instantly radiated from her body. The moisture in the air condensed into tiny ice crystals, pattering against the ground.
She slowly lifted her foot and then stomped down hard. A wave of pale blue frost erupted from her, surging toward the approaching guards like a tide.
Boom!
The moment the frost touched the guards' armor, it spread rapidly. In the blink of an eye, it encased their armor in a shell of ice and anchored their legs firmly to the ground. They couldn't move an inch, frozen in their sword-swinging stances, staring in shock at their own literal "deep-freeze."
"Huh?" Seeing this, the anger in the girl's eyes faded slightly, replaced by intense curiosity. She toyed with the whip in her hand, a playful, mocking smile curling the corners of her mouth. "Interesting, interesting. So you're a Mage. In that case, I'll overlook the crime of you blocking my way. Come back with me—my family just happens to be short a magic tutor."
"No thanks," March 7th replied coldly, crossing her arms. Her eyes were full of impatience. "I have zero interest in being a teacher for a spoiled, headstrong brat like you."
"You called me a brat?" The girl's eyes widened, her red hair fluttering slightly from her fury. Her eyes swirled with rage and disbelief. "Do you have any idea who I am? I am the young lady of the Greyrat family, the lords of this land! It is an honor for you to be my teacher, and you dare to refuse?! Guards, get—"
She was about to order her men to strike when her peripheral vision caught the four ice sculptures. Her words caught in her throat. She glared viciously at March 7th and threw out a parting threat: "Hmph! What's so great about being a Mage! You just wait, I'm going to get Ghillaine to catch you!"
With that, she turned and ducked back into the carriage. She raised her hand and lashed the back of the young coachman with her whip, her voice violent. "What are you standing around for? Enter the city!"
"Yes... yes! Milady!"
The coachman's face contorted in pain, cold sweat dripping from his brow, yet he didn't dare utter a single complaint. He hurriedly gripped the reins and drove the carriage into the city. The fabric on his back was torn, revealing bloody streaks, but he knew in his heart that a lashing was far better than losing his life before this young lady.
As for the guards frozen in place, they had already been tossed to the back of Eris's mind, like useless pieces of trash.
March 7th watched the back of the carriage disappear into the city gate and sighed helplessly. She waved her hand to dissipate the frost on the guards and whispered to herself, "How did she end up so tyrannical..."
The moment the words left her lips, she flickered and instantly returned to the interior of the apartment.
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