At the end of the month, just one day before the wizard apprentice identity monthly rent was due, An Luo’s identity transformation finally completed thoroughly.
The name on the wizard apprentice credential had completely changed, with not a single trace of the original “Lanrian” remaining.
An Luo removed his mask and pulled his hood down a bit further before cautiously stepping out of the dormitory.
Although he was confident in the effects of his rune alteration, he still felt quite nervous before testing it.
He chose a time at night when there were fewer people and headed as discreetly as possible to John’s dormitory.
An Luo decided to select John as his first test subject.
This was the safest option.
Knock knock knock.
In the silent corridor, the sound of the knock echoed distantly.
John did not open the door immediately but first peered out vigilantly through the small peephole in the door.
Having spent a long time in the wizard tower, his vigilance had increased considerably.
“It’s me.” An Luo heard approaching footsteps and spoke in a lowered voice.
He tilted his head up slightly and lifted his hood a bit so John could see his face through the peephole.
“Come in quickly.” John opened the door to welcome him.
“Young Master An Luo.” After closing the door, John enthusiastically poured An Luo a glass of water. “What brings you here?”
As soon as John spoke, An Luo knew it had worked.
He had never told John his name before, yet John called it out so naturally and smoothly, even adding a honorific suffix just like he had with “Young Master Lanrian” in the past.
His mindset immediately relaxed.
“We even signed a contract before.” An Luo continued probing. “Do you remember the terms of the contract?”
John frowned at An Luo’s words. “I remember it was to keep one of your secrets, but…”
He thought for a long time but still couldn’t recall it, so he answered honestly. “I’ve forgotten exactly what secret it was.”
“It’s fine, that’s perfect.” An Luo said. “I just did something and wanted exactly this effect. I only came to confirm.”
“Really? That’s great!”
An Luo looked at John in bewilderment, his face full of delight.
An Luo had prepared for John to be angry, but not only was John not angry—he seemed happy?
An Luo: “You’re not angry?”
John shook his head. “No.”
An Luo: “Why?”
He hesitated slightly. “It’s like I erased a segment of your memory.”
Strictly speaking, An Luo hadn’t erased John’s memory, but from John’s perspective, that’s how it appeared.
“I know you did it for my own good.” John still looked quite happy. “I must have accidentally stumbled upon one of your secrets before, and you made a contract with me—that must have been a very important secret.”
“But now you’ve erased my memory of that secret, so I won’t have to worry about leaking it anymore. It lightens my burden.”
John added: “Even if someone asks, I truly don’t know, so I can avoid some trouble.”
“Moreover.” He looked at An Luo earnestly. “Carrying a secret you can’t tell anyone is a heavy burden. You’ve relieved me of that—I should be thanking you, not getting angry.”
An Luo: “…”
He was stunned for a moment before finding his voice. “You’re so open-minded.”
A pair of green puppy-dog eyes looked at An Luo sincerely, and John smiled a bit embarrassedly.
For some reason, seeing An Luo made him feel very close and at peace.
He was very willing to do what he could for An Luo.
Moreover, John instinctively felt that An Luo harbored a gentle goodwill toward him.
That was enough.
An Luo left with a complicated mood.
On the way back to the dormitory, he reflected deeply once more:
In the future, when writing novels, he absolutely had to stick to the principle that good people get good rewards!
It didn’t matter how miserable the bad guys’ ends were, but good people must have a good outcome.
Once he confirmed that his change was completely natural with no issues, An Luo fully set his mind at ease.
Having resolved this massive hidden danger, he no longer had to worry about his identity being exposed and getting dissected.
When paying the wizard apprentice identity monthly rent, Alden glanced at An Luo with slight surprise. “An Luo, your injury has healed?”
“Yeah.” An Luo kept most of his face hidden under his hood, but the exposed skin was now clean and smooth, no longer the charred and mutilated mess from before.
He handed the gold coins to Alden; even his outstretched hands were exceptionally fair and delicate.
“The previous injury was from a witch tool.” An Luo explained. “I was lucky—if it had been real witchcraft, I wouldn’t have been so fortunate.”
This reason was plausible; it was the same explanation he’d given John before.
With that, Alden understood and didn’t suspect anything. He subconsciously believed An Luo and laughed. “Indeed lucky.”
After paying the identity monthly rent, An Luo planned to head to the task reception area to take a look and wait for Meieruita along the way.
He had just taken two steps when his wrist was grabbed.
Looking back, he saw it was Meieruita.
Meieruita’s upper face was hidden under his hood, so An Luo couldn’t see his expression, but his grip on An Luo’s wrist was very tight.
The thinner skin around his wrist bones was squeezed, creating a strong sense of restraint—not painful, but impossible to break free from.
“Here.”
Getting the hang of it, An Luo pulled out his wizard apprentice credential and handed it to Meieruita.
Meieruita took it without hesitation. He released An Luo’s hand and headed toward the crowded task reception area.
“Wait here for me.”
“Okay.”
The tasks at the task reception area refreshed at the beginning of each month, at the same time as the wizard apprentice identity monthly rent was due. Most wizard apprentices chose to head straight to the task reception area after paying to pick tasks.
Thus, the task reception area was most crowded at this time—people shoving each other, pushing and pulling, occasionally erupting into loud arguments and fights over the same task.
Under these circumstances, the vast majority of wizard apprentices didn’t look very dignified.
An Luo was a bit curious about what Meieruita would do.
When writing the novel, An Luo had put a lot of emphasis on Meieruita’s aura, striving to make his protagonist seem strategizing and calmly composed.
But even someone with the most aura would struggle to maintain it amid such chaotic scrambling, right?
His gaze followed Meieruita, harboring a faint desire to see the protagonist make a fool of himself, full of anticipation.
However, he was disappointed. As soon as Meieruita approached the crowd, his figure blurred, like ink spreading out, with fuzzy edges and unclear outlines.
Yet no one noticed this bizarre sight.
The wizard apprentices shoving and arguing unconsciously parted a path for Meieruita, closing up again only after he passed.
Even Aogufusi, who managed task distribution at the reception area, seemed oblivious to Meieruita’s anomaly, mechanically and swiftly handing over the task Meieruita selected.
When Meieruita emerged afterward, the surrounding wizard apprentices again parted a path for him.
Even after he stood beside An Luo, those at the task reception area remained completely unaware of anything unusual.
An Luo: “…6”
Wasn’t this the soul witchcraft that affected others’ cognition?
If everything was normal, the protagonist should have developed this new witchcraft only after returning from the four-dimensional space with soul insights.
How did Meieruita have it now?
Was he cheating…?!
“It’s soul witchcraft that hasn’t been fully perfected yet.” Seemingly misunderstanding An Luo’s confusion, Meieruita explained simply. “It can only temporarily confuse their cognition.”
“Impressive.” An Luo was speechless.
He knew the data he’d given Meieruita was overpowered, but seeing its real-world application still shocked him.
“Let’s go back.” Meieruita glanced down at An Luo’s wizard apprentice credential before handing it back.
“How did you develop this soul witchcraft?”
Back at the dormitory, An Luo still couldn’t figure it out. “Normally, this should have happened much later.”
In the first map, the wizard tower; in the second, the wizard academy—Meieruita should have only gained the inspiration for soul witchcraft after reaching the peak of the wizard academy map and qualifying for the four-dimensional space.
But immediately, An Luo backtracked. “Wait, wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know at all. I was just sighing.”
A wizard’s independently researched witchcraft was their secret; prying into it was seen as a provocation.
Compared to other wizards, Meieruita had an even stronger possessiveness.
An Luo didn’t want to upset him.
The friendly facade had only just started to solidify after much effort—he couldn’t let a small thing tear it apart.
Meieruita parted his lips slightly, about to say something, but fell silent after hearing An Luo’s hurried words.
With him silent, An Luo grew anxious, worrying that Meieruita minded his earlier curiosity.
The air fell into silence.
Though on the surface they seemed able to coexist peacefully now, with Meieruita even showing some gentle consideration, what was An Luo?
He was the author, and he was quite clever.
He knew all this was just a paper-thin facade.
What Meieruita thought in his heart was completely different from what he showed on the surface.
If he let his guard down because Meieruita seemed more mellow, thinking he was safe, his end would be just like the villains An Luo had written—killed in one strike after relaxing vigilance.
If An Luo were still that ivory-tower university student with clear, foolish eyes, he might have actually been swayed.
But before transmigrating, he had already been a corporate drone beaten down by society, deeply aware of phrases like “honeyed words hiding murderous intent,” “smiling assassin,” and “knowing the face but not the heart.”
Even ordinary people raised in Earth’s relatively peaceful and stable society were like that—how much more so for Meieruita, grown under the wizard world’s dark laws? An Luo didn’t even dare imagine.
It was surely a super invincible enhanced version.
An Luo referenced the plot he’d written.
Meieruita disguised himself perfectly, without flaw from any angle, until he deemed the moment ripe to strike.
He wouldn’t reveal his true face even a second before acting.
The current situation was probably similar.
In short: don’t get delusions of grandeur, don’t overthink, absolutely don’t relax vigilance.
Don’t think you’re special enough to change Meieruita or that the protagonist sees you differently.
This was An Luo’s warning to himself every night before sleep.
Before working, maintaining such clear-headed vigilance might have been difficult for An Luo.
But he had worked.
He recognized he wasn’t special—just one of millions of ordinary people, not some prodigy.
So staying clear-headed and vigilant came easily.
Because of An Luo’s vigilance and their nearly month-long separation, the distance between them was especially obvious.
Not wanting an awkward silence to drag on, An Luo spoke first. “Now I don’t need to specifically do tasks at night anymore.”
“I know.”
Meieruita’s gray-green eyes gazed quietly at An Luo. “You replaced your identity.”
“Yes.”
Unlike John, Meieruita was unaffected.
It wasn’t surprising that Meieruita wasn’t influenced by the rune, given he’d developed soul witchcraft years ahead of schedule.
An Luo admitted frankly. “I used a rune.”
He took out the slip of paper with 【Gradual Change】 written on it and offered it to Meieruita. “Here, for you.”
“No need.”
Unlike usual, Meieruita didn’t take the slip. “I’m satisfied with my identity.”
Yes, he was very satisfied with his identity.
Both as Meieruita and as the “protagonist.”
He wouldn’t change his own identity, nor allow anyone to challenge his position.
