Chapter Sixty-Three: Extraordinary Wisdom and Courage

Before dawn on the 28th, Mulan arrived early at Digaud Station, where a train was already waiting in the quiet, reserved exclusively for the Sanctuary.

“Ahh—”

Standing alone in the shadowed corner of the station, Mulan stifled yet another yawn, finally spotting several carriages pulling up. A group of Sanctuary clerics alighted, among them Elvin. After stepping down, Elvin glanced back in the direction from which they’d come, as if waiting for someone.

“You’re looking the wrong way, Father Elvin!”

Mulan called out, striding from the shadow cast by the gaslight. He wore a long coat and a high-crowned hat, leaning on a cane, the sound of his polished shoes echoing rhythmically across the flagstone platform.

The clerics turned at the sound, Elvin among them.

“Did you think I wouldn’t show up?” Mulan teased, sharing a firm handshake with Elvin, their hands gripping tightly—an act a touch too familiar for the etiquette-bound Sanctuary clerics. Yet most present knew Mulan and understood his deep friendship with Elvin, greeting them with kindly smiles.

Indeed, many of Digaud Sanctuary’s clergy harbored some fondness for Mulan. It wasn’t only because of Elvin; they all believed Mulan Jonester to be a truly devout knight. Unlike many officials who merely went through the motions, in their eyes, Mulan Jonester came to the Sanctuary in genuine search of peace. Whenever he faced hardship or trouble, he would confide in the divine, his faith in the Light plain for all to see.

“You scoundrel, why didn’t you come to the Sanctuary to find me? I thought you’d overslept,” Elvin chided, prompting Mulan to grumble in return.

“This train runs far too early—it’s not even dawn yet. I suppose I can guess at the symbolism: the train moves toward the light. But such meanings are merely self-comfort. Those with true faith don’t require them.”

Within earshot, the bishop—though not Elvin’s tutor—couldn’t help but glance over in surprise at this remark. He had kept a certain distance from the younger clerics, preserving his own peace while allowing them to relax. He remembered, during a recent visit to the royal palace to conduct prayers for the Queen, hearing her mention Mulan Jonester. Even in the grand Sanctuary of Digaud, some bishops held Mulan in high esteem. Now, witnessing this firsthand, he understood why. Mulan’s words revealed a heart infused with the true spirit of the Light.

Noticing the bishop’s gaze, Mulan tipped his hat respectfully, receiving a smile and a nod in return. The bishop looked away, leaving the friends undisturbed.

Elvin glanced in the direction of the locomotive, still teasing Mulan about recent events.

“The youngest and most enigmatic Professor Jonester of the Black Castle—your reputation precedes you, even here in the Sanctuary.”

“Does it? That means the reforms at the Black Castle have been a success. The merger of the Ministry of Magic and the school is effectively cultivating new talent for the Empire’s special agencies, while revitalizing the Ministry itself. Soon, the Black Castle will no longer be a hollow shell upheld by a handful of unruly transcendents.”

“Oh, I’ve had some new ideas lately. Care to discuss them now?”

“Here?”

“Where else?”

As he spoke, Mulan produced a notebook from his coat pocket—the best feature of the garment being its roomy pockets. He headed to a bench along the platform, Elvin instinctively following.

“Look, regarding the students’ willpower and resistance to mental corruption, do you think your Sanctuary’s perspective offers something different? I know your research in this area is quite advanced.”

“Yes, that’s because of our unwavering faith. All right, let me explain my understanding.”

Seeing Mulan’s expectant look, Elvin instantly switched to a scholarly tone, and the two delved into an academic discussion—exactly what they would do in private, even in this moment of farewell.

Unnoticed, the sky had begun to lighten. Clerics from other Digaud Sanctuaries were arriving, not only from Digaud itself but from other regions of Dierga. They had come early, lodging at convenient Sanctuaries, and today would all take this exclusive train to the Holy Mountain.

The locomotive let out a long whistle, a signal that the train was about to depart. This was a Sanctuary special; there would be no unrelated passengers. Now that everyone had arrived, it was time to leave.

Most clerics had already boarded. Only Mulan and Elvin remained on the platform bench.

“Father Elvin, it’s time to board!” the bishop called from a carriage doorway. The conversation paused, and the two rose together.

“Sir Jonester, I truly wouldn’t mind you joining us on the journey to the Holy Mountain. The Order of Sacred Knights would welcome you!” The bishop’s words were half in jest, half in earnest, and Mulan could only thank him and politely decline.

The other clerics had no one to see them off and were already inside. Elvin, last to board, stood in the doorway as the train began to roll out, watching Mulan recede.

A silent blessing crossed Mulan’s mind: Safe travels, my friend. The Divine will surely watch over His most faithful.

He didn’t shout, nor did he proclaim his faith aloud, but the wish was sincere. With the sunrise now gilding the sky and the train receding into the distance, Mulan yawned, glanced eastward at the dawn, then at the station as more and more passengers arrived, muttering under his breath, “Whoever set the timetable for Digaud Station must be mad. Did they think only the Sanctuary would be up this early...”

...

The Black Castle’s teaching schedule was now firmly established. Not only had the curriculum been updated, but new departments were being created in the style of a true academy. The original castle staff were reassigned as junior personnel, with professors taking on supervisory roles.

Mulan himself was attached to the Academic Affairs Department. He had little to do besides helping to periodically arrange student timetables—a task largely handled by others, granting him a second salary for minimal effort, requiring only an occasional visit to the office.

Unlike other schools, however, there was no class division among students. The unpredictable nature of the mystical arts meant individual progress varied wildly, so courses were offered more freely. The department posted timetables outside the main hall, and students chose which lectures to attend.

Regular assessments were held for all students, evaluating their mental and physical health and comprehension. Three consecutive failures to make substantive progress, or anyone corrupted and deemed without hope of recovery, would be ruthlessly dismissed.

Mulan’s influence was evident throughout these regulations. He was the most attentive and responsible of all the professors, while others showed little interest in the details. The support of Walton and the royal family ensured the smooth implementation of these plans.

The more meticulous the rules became, the more efficiently everything progressed. At least in the nurturing of new members, the Black Castle was finally moving in the right direction.

Today, however, Mulan had neither class nor office duty. After leaving the station, he planned to visit one place before heading to the York District Police Station.

Hendel had already moved into the Black Castle, so Mulan no longer needed to keep him by his side at all times—though he still secretly provided him extra lessons.

A carriage carried Mulan through much of Digaud City, delivering him to a district on the eastern edge. After paying the fare, he wandered the narrow streets, following the signs until he reached his destination.

About twenty minutes later, clutching a paper-wrapped parcel, Mulan stood at the door of a small townhouse. It was still early, but he rang the bell without hesitation.

Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

Soon, footsteps approached from inside, and the door was answered by a bearded man with graying hair—Mole.

Though dressed for the day, Mole’s dark circles betrayed a sleepless night. Nonetheless, he brightened at the sight of Mulan.

“I thought it was the paperboy, not you, sir! Please, come in!”

Mulan smiled and nodded, handing over the parcel as he entered. “I brought you breakfast.”

“Thank you. Just what I needed!” Mole eagerly tore into the bread and hot sausages, closing the door behind them.

The two ascended to the second floor, entering Mole’s study. The gas lamp was still burning, the desk cluttered with drafts, the inkwell open and pen at the ready, a cup of coffee still steaming.

Clearly, Mole had worked through the night.

“You’re just in time! Take a look at my latest findings—you’ll understand them,” Mole exclaimed, bread in hand as he drew Mulan to a seat. Glancing at the grease stain on his coat, Mulan sat and began to leaf through the notes as Mole explained excitedly.

“After analyzing the past incidents, I’ve come to understand more deeply the true nature of the great capitalists and nobles. Yes, they’re powerful, but I also see their weakness. The workers may be weak, but I see their strength...”

He pulled a biology almanac and a basic history book from the shelf, growing more animated.

“History shows us, from primitive times to modern civilization, humanity has never lacked courage or the will to resist. No matter the era, society’s nature inevitably improves, because progress is our constant. A diseased society must either perish or give birth to a new order through reform. Dierga and other great nations have all undergone such change—but not enough!”

Mulan looked up into Mole’s shining eyes and asked quietly, “You mean, the time for change has come again?”

“Exactly! This is such a time. I’ve been to Bach in the south, to Basman in the north—their industries are booming, steam power replacing more and more labor. The machines, made by workers’ hands, are now devouring their livelihood. Without reform, many will die. No one wishes to perish, so unrest and resistance are inevitable...”

Mulan glanced at the manuscript on the desk, remarking, “Rebellion without correct guiding principles is mere riot—never destined to succeed.”

Smack!

Mole clapped his hands, his greasy palms gripping Mulan’s shoulders. “Sir, you’re absolutely right! I foresee the nobles and capitalists will become furious, will do everything to obstruct and destroy the hope of reform. They will fear, they will be forced to reflect. Even if we fail in the end, society will change, at least enough to keep the toiling masses alive!”

At this moment, Mole regarded Mulan as a true comrade—a kindred spirit—referring to them both as “we.”

“But we don’t wish for failure, and we cannot fail. We need calm, wisdom, and consideration for all that lies ahead. The privileged act out of self-interest, but so do the rebels. Only the radiant ideal of reform and struggle—only that true light—can drive away the darkness. I will dedicate the rest of my life to this cause!”

He clenched his fist, voice ringing with conviction, and for a moment Mulan felt as if he’d stepped into the epoch of fearless revolutionary pioneers.

Truthfully, Mulan was deeply moved. Here was a mere mortal, yet in this instant, his spirit shone with dazzling brilliance.

The manuscript in his hands barely needed reading; Mole’s words had already conveyed the essence, more concise and powerful than ever before. Mulan was both stirred and anxious.

“But Mr. Mole, the world is far more complex than you see. There are forces beyond human understanding...”

“I know what you mean—those legends, those stories—some may not be entirely false. But ideals must not retreat before difficulty. The nature of self-interest applies to everyone, but so too can the light of ideals shine from anyone. You, my friend, are proof of that!”

He didn’t even know Mulan’s real name, yet Mole already regarded him as a friend. His words filled Mulan with deep respect.

“Mr. Mole, you are a man of exceptional wisdom and courage!”

—

PS: A quick note—the book will be officially launched this Friday. The main theme is about to unfold, which may not be quite what many expect.