Chapter 275

Chapter 275

Strangely enough, after hearing Eve's arrangements for Louis, all of Gu Zhaoxi's accumulated grievances against Eve inexplicably vanished.

*How could a perfectly normal child turn out like this after a trip to the Divine Realm?* Gu Zhaoxi's lips twitched, but in the end, she agreed to send the hard drive to the Imperial Research Institute.

She was skeptical of the Empire's technological prowess. If this were the Alliance, they might indeed be capable of producing potions with alchemical efficacy. But so far, the Empire's research institute had only managed to create some ordinary recovery elixirs. As for advanced potions that could promote a secondary evolution of the spiritual state, Gu Zhaoxi truly didn't believe they could invent such a thing.

But whether they could produce it or not—what did that have to do with her?

This was Eve’s idea. Even if it failed, she wouldn’t suffer any loss. There was no need to argue with Eve over such a trivial matter.

Gu Zhaoxi felt a sense of relief, then heard Eve’s voice: “Mind lending me a car?”

“You’re really that broke, aren’t you? Can’t even afford a taxi.”

Gu Zhaoxi pulled open a cabinet with a look of disdain, counted out five hundred-dollar bills, and tossed them to her: “Take it. The extra is your allowance. Buy some food—don’t let the child go hungry.”

Eve: “…”

It was the first time she’d been treated like a beggar, and she felt a peculiar mix of emotions.

“I don’t need money. I need you to arrange a car with the Alchemist Association’s emblem to take me back,” Eve said, rubbing her temples, unable to fathom why Gu Zhaoxi could be so sharp at times and so utterly baffling at others. “I’ve been missing for so long—I can’t just suddenly show up at the doorstep, knock on the door, and say, ‘Hello, long time no see,’ can I?”

The mental image was bizarrely humorous. Gu Zhaoxi’s lips trembled, but she refrained from voicing the thought aloud.

Eve made the final decision: “Send a car. Just say the Alchemist Association found me. It’s time you all earned some goodwill with the Medici family anyway.”

There was no reason to pass up the benefits of currying favor with the Medicis. Gu Zhaoxi quickly made a call and arranged everything Eve needed. To make the act convincing, she even found a tattered, bloodstained garment from who-knows-where. When Eve took it, she couldn’t help but sniff it.

*Damn, that was real blood!*

Unsurprisingly, Eve rejected this absurd idea. She coolly raised the car window, shutting out the eagerly attentive Five-Star Grand Alchemist.

The sunlight on the capital planet was always bright and splendid, with a pleasant temperature and barely perceptible seasonal changes. Information streams and traffic flows, shaped like jellyfish, intertwined—a sight entirely different from the perpetually green Swan Galaxy. This was the unique, polished sophistication of the Empire’s capital, much like the upper-class residents of this planet, who always wore polite smiles while socializing, appearing intimate yet never truly close.

Eve leaned her head against the car window, watching elegantly dressed pedestrians stroll leisurely under acacia trees. Floating info-screens displayed the latest news. Thanks to her exceptionally high spiritual energy, when she focused, she could capture every bit of information that passed before her eyes. Even with just a glance, Eve saw the latest battle report:

*The great Imperial Commander Frigga Cavendish has taken out three Royal Zerg on the front lines and will soon return to the capital planet to report.*

It seemed Frigga was alive and well. The fact that she was returning to report rather than continuing to support other fronts suggested that, even if the Zerg War wasn’t completely over, at least the most difficult threats had been dealt with. The remaining scattered Royal Zerg and swarms could be handled by the legions.

It had only been a week and a half since Eve left the Swan Galaxy. For the front lines to be cleared so quickly meant the conflict between the Fourth and Second Legions had been suppressed rapidly, without even alerting the capital planet.

Clearly, it had all been a farce, a performance. More than the predictable outcome, Eve was curious about the true purpose behind it all.

“Miss Medici, we’ve arrived.”

The Alchemist Association’s car didn’t dare enter the Medici estate. Because of the Louis incident, they had endured plenty of hostility from the Medicis over the past month. The car stopped at the gate, and the driver, half-afraid and half-resentful, glared at the gate carved with clematis designs before opening the door for Eve.

“Thank you,” Eve said politely. “Won’t you come in for some tea?”

The driver shook his head vigorously, as if the stunning white mansion before him were a den of demons rather than a luxurious home. His reluctance was palpable.

Eve: “…”

She was genuinely curious about what kind of reputation her family now held among the Alchemist Association.

The Second Steward had already received word that Eve had been found. He was still dressed in his exaggeratedly intricate gentleman’s attire, leaning on an ivory-headed cane as he stood on the high steps at the entrance, watching the black-clad young woman approach.

Only when Eve stood before him did Sandro withdraw his scrutinizing gaze. Lifting his hat with his free hand, he smiled and bowed. “Long time no see, my remarkable Little Forbidden Fruit. I should have greeted you sooner, but recently some annoying impostors impersonated you and tried to sneak into the estate. It took some time to verify things.”

“Long time no see, Lord Second Steward,” Eve replied. She wasn’t wearing a skirt, so she couldn’t curtsy. Knowing the Second Steward’s near-obsessive emphasis on etiquette, she lifted the hem of her short coat instead as a makeshift greeting. “I thought you’d be overjoyed to see me.”

The Second Steward chuckled. “I cried all my tears out when you ran away from the family for the first time at sixteen. Although this situation seemed far more dangerous, everyone in the Medici family has learned one thing—never count our cunning Miss Eve out until we see a body.”

As they chatted and walked inside, Eve, who had initially treated returning home as a mere task, found herself feeling unexpectedly nostalgic as her elder’s words stirred long-buried memories.

The meticulously cultivated clematis climbing the pillars, the exquisitely detailed brick carvings—distant recollections resurfaced. The Second Steward continued calmly, conveying Sparti’s message: “Young Master Cecil has been unconscious since the tournament. Even the Association’s experts were powerless. Now that you’ve returned safely, the heir’s crown is destined for you. Rest in your room for a while, then go see the Medici Patriarch in his study. He misses you too.”

“Since the Medici Patriarch is eager to see me, let’s go to him first,” Eve said. “As for Cecil, have you considered asking the Imperial Research Institute to examine him?”

“The Imperial Research Institute?”

The Second Steward was surprised that Eve would suggest this. After all, everyone living on the capital planet was well aware of the Institute’s capabilities and limitations. Wealthy folks with health issues typically sought out alchemists directly.

But Eve never said anything without cause. If she suggested it, the Second Steward would certainly arrange for the Institute to take a look. He frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then suddenly chuckled.

Eve: “What’s so funny?”

“I’m laughing because our Little Forbidden Fruit has grown up and learned to care for her family,” the Second Steward said fondly. “I still remember how mean you used to be with Cecil. Whenever he fought with Grace, if Cecil was winning, you’d immediately call me over to intervene. But if Grace was winning, you’d wait until you felt they’d fought enough before calling me. Did you think you were being subtle? I always knew.”

Eve awkwardly rubbed her nose. “…No need to bring up the past.”

She was too embarrassed to admit that the reason she wanted Cecil sent to the Institute was because there weren’t many people on the capital planet infected with Zerg venom. Since she’d just delivered the formula to the Institute that day, she figured she might as well get a two-for-one deal by sending a lab rat for testing.

The Second Steward had underestimated Eve’s ruthlessness.

It was Sunday, so the Medici Patriarch didn’t have to attend cabinet meetings. He was in his study, reviewing the family’s assets.

Sometimes having too much money was a burden. Year-end was always the busiest time, with settling the previous year’s accounts and planning for the next. The Medici family’s matriarch had passed away early, and the Patriarch had refused to remarry, leaving him without a trusted partner to share the burden.

No wonder Sparti, though still in his prime, was so eager to find an heir—he was just looking for someone to share the grind.

The walk with Eve was also a brief respite from his duties. The Second Steward couldn’t stay with her for long, as his frustrated colleagues soon pulled him back to work. Everyone along the way seemed incredibly busy. Though their manners toward Eve remained perfectly polite, their faces showed no excitement at the young lady’s return.

*Why was no one thrilled to see her? Not even a hint of surprise?*

…Eve began to doubt herself. Had she overestimated her importance to the Medici family?

Logically, Frank and Luo Lin should have returned home by now, but Eve didn’t see any sign of them. It was unlikely they’d avoid her if they knew she was back. She wondered if they were still in the Swan Galaxy or if they’d been placed under house arrest after their secret actions were discovered.

With these thoughts swirling in her mind, Eve stepped into the Medici Patriarch’s study. In the vast, elegantly furnished room, Sparti sat behind his desk, reviewing reports without looking up. The First Steward, cloaked in silver-gray, stood like a ghost not far behind him.

Seeing the First Steward back safely on the capital planet, Eve raised an eyebrow, thinking this steward’s capabilities were truly beyond her expectations.

The door’s movement cast long, shifting shadows. The Medici Patriarch had already noticed Eve’s arrival. He sighed, set down the endless stack of documents, and said, “You’re finally back?”

Eve: “Yes.”

The first exchange between this nominal father and daughter after such a long separation was surprisingly barren, a far cry from the eloquence both were known for.

Even the First Steward couldn’t help but glance over in surprise.

The Medici Patriarch began by asking about Eve’s experiences over the past period. The events in the Divine Realm were strictly off-limits—such matters were secrets even among alchemists and absolutely not to be shared with ordinary people. But everyone had witnessed the giant hand tearing through the sky, so she couldn’t deny that. Her alias “Lu Qing” wasn’t a secret within the family either; at least Sparti knew she had connections to Alchemy.

Fortunately, Eve had already prepared this part of her story on the way over. She claimed to possess an extremely powerful Alchemical Tool that allowed instant teleportation anywhere in the universe, followed by a chance encounter with the Alchemist Association. After her injuries were treated, the Association had sent her home.

As she spoke, she carefully observed Sparti and the First Steward’s reactions. Though her story was full of fabrications, her earnest and sincere delivery, combined with the First Steward—the only one who knew the truth—not exposing her, led Sparti to briefly assess the plausibility of her tale before dropping the subject.

“Since you’re back now, the past doesn’t matter anymore,” Sparti mused for a moment before asking, “Did Sandro tell you about Cecil’s condition?”

Eve nodded: “So it still counts as me winning the succession struggle, right?”

“Yes. Although it wasn’t your direct doing, the Medici family doesn’t need an heir who can’t even take care of themselves.”

Sparti pulled a file from the drawer beside him, seemingly prepared long ago, waiting only for Eve’s return to hand it over: “You have experience handling official duties, but you’re too reclusive socially. Memorize everyone in this booklet, then prepare to attend the royal New Year’s Glory Ball with me as the Medici family heir.”

His tone was utterly flat as he spoke, as if he felt no surprise at Eve ultimately securing the heir position. But considering this man also rose to power by killing his own siblings, Eve found it unsurprising. She and Cecil weren't even blood-related siblings; in terms of ruthlessness, Sparti was definitely more vicious.

Eve casually flipped through the booklet. It included all senior cabinet officials and their families, nobles of the capital planet, and others who, though not officials, were still qualified to attend the New Year's Glory Ball—such as the president of the Alchemy Association. The details were exhaustive, recording everything from these people's appearances, personal preferences, to allergens, listed in order of importance from highest to lowest. Flipping through the first two pages, she saw many familiar faces.

For example, on the first page was family head Oliver: blond with blue eyes, deep and refined features, with the word "peanuts" noted beside allergens.

Eve silently recalled and was shocked to realize that, despite having stayed with the Oliver Family for so long, she had never actually seen peanut dishes on their dining table.

She snapped the booklet shut, feeling as though she held a death note in her hands. With such detailed information, and at a mixed-event like the New Year's Glory Ball, it wouldn’t be impossible to orchestrate one or two untraceable deaths.

The Medici family's power was truly unfathomable.

Eve was already eagerly looking forward to the day the family head died and she succeeded him.

She set the booklet aside: "There's still a week until the Ball—more than enough time to memorize this. Besides, there are a few things I want to ask you."

Sparti waved his hand, signaling her to speak quickly.

"Nothing major, really," Eve said with a smile. "Probably just a personal matter between me and... the First Steward."

The moment she mentioned the First Steward, the Medici Patriarch quickly realized what she intended to do. But at his age, he was no match in agility for a young girl who had just emerged from the Divine Realm at the peak of her physical abilities.

Eve's body bent flexibly, then sprang up like a coil. Her toes lightly touched the study's desk, walls, and even the ceiling, her figure fast as a bullet. Before the First Steward could react, Eve had already snatched off the mask from her face.

Beneath the cloak was not Zuo Li, but the Medici family's Seventh Steward.

The Seventh Steward herself probably never expected to be exposed so quickly. She stood frozen for a moment before gasping and quickly kneeling before the Medici Patriarch: "I am incompetent, please forgive me, Family Head. I... I didn't expect..."

"Enough, it's not your fault," Sparti waved his hand, sighing deeply—the most weary sigh he'd breathed in recent times. "You may withdraw."

"......"

The Seventh Steward looked flustered, opening and closing her mouth several times before obediently exiting the study. As she left, she glanced at Eve with a mix of shock and wariness.

She was a new steward who'd been recently transferred from a lower planet to the main family. Previously, she had only heard rumors about this Miss Eve. After today, she truly understood the terrifying caliber of heir the Medici family aimed to cultivate.

Though only in her early twenties, with a youthful face still bearing traces of immaturity, beneath that delicate, porcelain-doll appearance lay such sharp observation and agile reflexes—decisive and ruthless.

Truly... the heir the family head had favored from the start.

"Where is the First Steward?"

Once the room was finally free of others, Eve asked directly.

"Why do you ask?" The Medici Patriarch didn't answer. "She's my personal attendant, sent out on business. It has nothing to do with you."

Children are burdens—who would have thought an adopted daughter could come to collect? Sparti appeared calm, but his head was already pounding with pain.

Eve said, "No family keeps secrets between the family head and the heir."

Hearing this, Sparti lifted his eyelids, looking at her with a faint smile. "Why don't you go out and see how filial other families' heirs are? Enough. Our family doesn't follow that custom. Heir permissions are already granted to you. If you have the ability, look into it yourself."

There's endless joy in competing with others. Eve was happy to have the freedom, especially since Sparti told her to investigate herself—it was tacit permission to oppose him.

Eve pursed her lips, then took off a plain ring from her hand. With a light flick of her finger, she tossed and caught it neatly in her pale palm.

"This is the Space Button for the mythological mecha *Isis*."

Holding the mecha's Space Button, she felt conflicted. As a top-tier mythological mecha, *Isis*'s performance was in no way inferior to her *Artemis*. The former emphasized defense and endurance, while the latter's advantage was its terrifyingly powerful Lunar Bow. If possible, Eve really didn't want to return this treasure. "I heard that because you didn't want to compensate for the mecha, you arranged a marriage alliance with the Oliver Family. Now that I've brought the mecha back, you don't need to compensate anymore, and you certainly don't need to use my marriage contract to pay for it."

"Who told you... that I used your marriage contract to compensate for a mecha?"

Sparti's expression was strange at that moment—like a wealthy man in disguise who, having nothing better to do, pretended the family was poor to train his child, only to find his daughter had actually dropped out to work and support the family. His voice trembled—purely from anger: "In your eyes, am I really that casual and shortsighted?"

Certainly not, but Lorca had said it himself. If it were anyone else, Eve would have at least doubted it out of courtesy.

"So how did you compensate for the mecha?" Eve asked.

Sparti: "Paid with a person."

Eve: "Who?"

Sparti: "Your birth father."

Eve: "......"

Eve: "........................"

She rarely felt her brain short-circuiting like this.