Chapter 40: A Reasonable Framework for Mana Recovery

Zohan had already left the Direwolf encampment. In his mind, beyond the memory of Talitha’s body—a perfect synthesis of savage wildness and feminine softness, capped by a beautiful, semi-beast-like face—he now held a wealth of critical information.

Mahait was representing a family named Clement to seize the mineral resources of Red Hazel Town. For many years, these resources had been monopolized by the Ordos family. With the rise of so-called "Magitech Industry," the minerals had gained far greater value, naturally attracting the greed of more powerful houses. The Clement family was the first to make a move. They were clearly far superior to the Ordos; the fact that they could support Mahait and Beaumarchais with over a hundred modified direwolves for this mission was proof enough. Had it not been for the anomaly that was Zohan, it would have been a classic case of using a sledgehammer to crack a nut. The assertiveness of Talitha Clement further confirmed that her family was not to be underestimated; even Mahait and Beaumarchais were forced to act as her subordinates. Though the family might be facing a crisis and desperately needed resources to bolster their wealth, their tactics were undeniably base.

Zohan could have acted while still in the tent, single-handedly resolving the crisis for Red Hazel Town and the Ordos family, but he chose not to. Why should he? His reasoning was ruthless, cold, and entirely logical: his relationship with Lady Ordos was transactional. Her body was excellent and provided him with much pleasure, but was a woman’s body truly so precious in the face of clan warfare, resource competition, and the lives of hundreds? Furthermore, their agreement was for him to help her consolidate control over the family; it did not include protecting her resources from foreign invasion. He was no cuckold—he wouldn't jump to solve every problem for someone before they even asked, wallowing in self-indulgent notions of "love."

Ultimately, it came down to the nature of human hearts. If Zohan were to quietly resolve the crisis, the Lady and the townspeople would certainly be grateful—but it would be a gratitude that required him to explain how important his actions were. Such gratitude was meaningless and fleeting. He would wait and see; should a true crisis point arrive, he would intervene. He still wished to continue his magical experiments with Lady Ordos and Nina, and Red Hazel Town served as his new base. He needed peace and quiet to help Yeye complete the creation of her blood thrall. Perhaps the abundance of direwolf blood could be harvested, or provide more possibilities for Celiade’s growth? Most importantly, he needed to wait for news from his teacher in undisturbed tranquility.

Zohan steered his staff, descending toward the manor.

His robes billowed and danced in the wind, like a raptor standing firm amidst a gale. The people gathered in the manor looked up. In the biting cold of winter, the sunlight offered little warmth, and the sight of the black-robed figure with that handsome, stern face was enough to make one tremble. Yet, everyone knew that the survival of Red Hazel Town now hinged on this young man. The varied expressions on their faces finally vanished; there was no more pointing or whispering.

The men, in particular, felt a sense of relief. In their eyes, since Zohan was a guest of the Ordos family, he would surely protect them as long as he stayed. But Zohan’s expression now caused some unease; the high-and-mighty mage seemed to be scrutinizing who was worth protecting and who could be sacrificed.

Zohan suppressed his surging magical aura as he landed. "My Lady, the first wave of the direwolves' attack will be a probe. Try your best to command everyone to hold the line," Zohan said, returning the magic bullet pistol to Lady Ordos. "If anyone refuses to follow orders, kill them."

His tone was bitingly cold—even Lady Ordos had never heard him speak this way before. She quickly took the pistol, a treasure held by the family. Holding it in public brought her one step closer to the position of House Head.

"I have just gathered some important intelligence and need time to formulate a defensive and counter-attack plan. My magical reserves are depleted, and I need to recover. Nina, come help me prepare some magical potions." Zohan walked toward the familiar living quarters without further discussion.

Nina hurried to follow, but Barbarov, having grown suspicious, lowered his voice and asked, "Since when do you know how to prepare magical potions? You don't know anything! Why is he calling you in there?"

Nina glanced at the white bandage wrapped around Barbarov's head—he had nearly died from a single iron ladle she had struck him with, yet he still looked down on her? "Just as you wish, perhaps he’s just calling me in to handle a different kind of 'work,'" Nina said with a flirtatious smirk, lowering her voice.

Barbarov flew into a rage and reached out to grab her. Nearby, Kagit, the owner of the town’s only brothel and casino, and Merk, the owner of the shipping company, grabbed him and pulled him back.

"Mayor, you aren't leading the situation as it is, and now you’re causing a scene? You begrudge Nina for helping out? You must make sacrifices!"

"Kagit, old Merk, why don't you sacrifice your own wives and daughters!" Barbarov struggled, but he couldn't break free. These two fat men, who usually panted after walking a few steps, now had hands like iron clamps.

"I’d be willing, but I don't think he’d have any interest in them," Kagit said with a grin on his chubby face, showing no sign of offense.

"What are you thinking? That mage has seen every kind of woman; do you think he’d look twice at your wife?" Merk dismissed the idea. He was one of the more worldly men in Red Hazel Town. Compared to the simple, shy country women of the town, city prostitutes were Merk’s preference. Their decadence and variety were why Merk frequently took his ships to the city to indulge himself.

Barbarov was helpless. He could only watch as Nina, like a puppy finding its master, wagged her tail—no, she was wagging her shameless, ample hips as she followed Zohan inside.

Once in the living quarters, Zohan first picked up a glass, let Nina take a sip of water, and then took a sip himself. After spending so long in the freezing wind, his body had lost a fair amount of moisture.

Sharing the same glass made Nina feel shy. But then, remembering that they had already shared much more intimate relations—and that he seemed to quite enjoy her small tongue—her heart began to race, and a wave of sweetness surged within her. My god, this was a feeling Nina had never experienced in her life, and it was merely from drinking a sip of water with him! No wonder Lady Ordos had spotted the opportunity in Nina the moment she saw it and rushed to send her to him; it was all to curry favor. Yes, as long as he was happy, that was all that mattered, Nina thought tenderly.

"My magical reserves aren't actually that low, but for an unknown battle, being at full capacity is a necessity," Zohan explained to Nina. "My mental power is very strong. One of the benefits of strong mental power is a faster rate of magical recovery."

"Then what do I need to do?" Nina asked, appearing extremely obedient and docile. She felt that even if he wanted to play some shocking, unheard-of, and jaw-dropping games, she would be willing to cooperate. Back when she used to read the serial novel *The Rules of Nobility* with Lady Ordos, the Lady would explain the scandalous stories between the nobles, which often left Nina in disbelief. She never imagined that one day, she would find herself willing to participate if the person she loved desired such things.

"Mental power recovers faster when the mind is calm or the soul feels pleasure," Zohan sat on the sofa and patted his thigh. "Come, sit on my lap, and I will embrace you while I close my eyes to rest."

This was not an excuse for lust; it was a principle recorded in various foundational magic texts. Just as when he stayed by his teacher’s side and breathed in her scent, his magical recovery would be accelerated.

Nina moved to his side, feeling a bit embarrassed and worried. "But my hips are so large, if I sit on you... will it be too heavy?"

"It's fine," Zohan shook his head. Wasn't this exactly what he wanted? If he were holding a little girl like Gwen or Yeye, he would be recovering his magic through sheer mental stillness.

"Should you sit on me instead, and I'll hold you?" Nina suggested, somewhat overestimating her own strength. In reality, while she was quite generously proportioned in certain areas, her waist, arms, and calves were relatively slender and delicate.

"How would that work?" Zohan had only been held by Jörmungandr when he was a child, and he couldn't help but laugh at her suggestion. "My robes alone weigh dozens of pounds—besides, don't you know by now if I have the strength?"

Nina certainly knew; she had experienced it deeply. A flush of charming, domestic shyness crossed her face. She gingerly tested sitting down, let out a few low, whimpering sounds, and as she leaned back, she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck.

Zohan maintained his state of magical perception, closed his eyes, relaxed his body, and let his hands move naturally, beginning the process of restoring his magic. Nina didn't feel bored; she quietly studied his handsome face, feeling as though she were in a dream. A country girl like her—no, a country woman—was actually enjoying such a dreamlike, luxurious experience.

Less than half an hour later, Zohan’s magic was nearly restored. He opened his cold eyes, and at that very moment, a pair of wolf claws with razor-sharp nails silently came to rest against his throat.