“So,” her voice was perfectly level, as if she were merely confirming a trivial fact, “you tried to kill me for this so-called ‘ritual’ of yours?”

  “…That’s right.” Dulles admitted, the words costing him.

  “But why me?” Pandora’s brow furrowed tightly. She didn't believe in coincidences this bad.

  “I didn't choose you.” A bitter smile, uglier than crying, twisted Dulles’s face. “The ritual chose you. Or rather, the one I needed to kill was the first person to accidentally intrude into the ‘Warden’s Base Core’—and that person happened to be you.”

  Pandora realized.

  “So, when all is said and done, I was just in the wrong pce at the wrong time. Is that it?”

  She thought for a second about what would have happened if she had brought Aurora. The one who would have walked into this area might have been her. If that had happened, the target he needed to kill would have become…

  No. Pandora shook her head, dismissing the useless thought. It was pointless to dwell on it now.

  She cut straight to the heart of the matter:

  “Since I was already chosen, can the target be changed? If it's someone else, can the ritual still succeed?”

  This time, it was Dulles’s turn to be silent. The excruciating pain from his severed arm, like a maggot burrowing into his bones, kept his mind, muddled from the failed advancement, strangely clear.

  He smiled bitterly and shook his head.

  “I’m not sure. I don’t know the answer.” His voice was hollow. Exhausted. Desperate. “But I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  Pandora said nothing.

  He really didn’t have a choice.

  And this, in a way, proved he… truly had no more tricks up his sleeve. Except for that so-called “insurance measure,” whose existence she couldn't even be sure of.

  Seeing that Pandora didn't speak, Dulles grew anxious. He knew he had to offer a better chip, or the girl would lose her patience.

  “Whatever it takes, I need your help!” he roared, his voice growing sharper in his agitation. “If the ritual fails, that’s on me! You can take everything I have, all the resources I've saved up, my connections in the Academy—they can all be yours!”

  He paused, a desperate, life-craving light gleaming in his eyes. “But if… if I survive…”

  “You will gain the backing of a second-rank senior apprentice!”

  “So, help me! Once you get to the Academy, you'll understand just how valuable the help of a second-rank senior apprentice is! You won’t be disappointed!” Dulles promised with all his might. Although the pain from his severed arm and leg made every word an effort, he still id out his advantages without reservation.

  However, Pandora wasn't interested.

  The backing of a second-rank apprentice? While she didn’t yet know what “second-rank” truly meant, the man’s current aura, despite its massive fluctuations, was generally on par with her own. If he really “advanced” successfully… he would probably be at the same level as that special zombie monster she had struggled with but ultimately killed?

  If that was the level, she wasn't really all that interested. She didn't believe she was that far from it herself. With the System, it probably wouldn't be difficult.

  What she cared about now was information. Warden. Demon Hunter Academy. Second-rank. Live Iron Golem. Orchard… There was so much she didn't understand. These unknowns made her, even in this position of overwhelming advantage, cautious. She had to avoid revealing too much and giving him an opening.

  Pandora thought for a moment, then said coldly:

  “How can I be sure you won’t burn the bridge after crossing it?”

  “Burn the bridge after crossing it?” Dulles wasn't familiar with the metaphor from another world, but he could instantly grasp the pin meaning behind her words.

  He answered immediately: “We can make a pact.”

  “A pact?” Pandora’s eyebrow arched slightly.

  Was it the kind of magic pact from novels, where breaking it would invoke the wrath of the heavens or some powerful punishment? She described her understanding of such a pact.

  Dulles paused, then shook his head firmly.

  “It’s not,” he denied. “But a pact is guaranteed by the Demon Hunter Academy. If I break it, you can submit an appeal to the Academy’s ‘Discipline Hall’ at any time. With the deterrent of the Discipline Hall, no apprentice would dare to break a pact they signed with their own hands, one with the Academy’s backing.”

  A flicker of disappointment crossed Pandora’s mind. She understood. This so-called “pact” was more like a “contract” from her past life. It didn’t have that mysterious, absolute power that could bind a soul. It was more like… a worldly rule where you had to file a compint to get justice. While the formidable “Discipline Hall” seemed to offer a certain degree of security, it wasn't as reassuring as a soul-bound magical pact.

  Just then, a pained groan suddenly came from Dulles in the second-floor monitoring room. His voice, hoarse and frantic from the pain and blood loss, was a raw whisper.

  “Hurry… I don’t have much time…”

  He stared fixedly at the slender figure downstairs, as if trying to burn her image into his colpsing soul.

  “If I die, you get nothing!”

  Pandora wasn't concerned. She remained perfectly calm and composed. She even looked up and asked with a tone of pure curiosity:

  “In your current state, can you even draft a pact?”

  “You’re not going to die halfway through writing it, are you?”

  She paused, as if seriously considering the problem. “If you die suddenly like that, what happens to the rewards?”

  Dulles almost choked on his own blood. He couldn't fathom her logic. At a time like this, she was worried about this?!

  But he endured, using his st shred of reason to answer hoarsely:

  “It’s fine… I can draft a provisional pact here first. You can go… and bring the person you’ve chosen. Don't tell me who it is, just bring them to the entrance of the cultivation room. Then, we can sign the pact. For a little while longer… I won’t die.”

  “How long is ‘a little while longer’?” Pandora pressed, her tone still ft. “Five minutes? Half an hour?”