Hearing the news, Ron wasn't surprised.
Trissy had the worst background among the three of them back home—but the best affinity with spiritual power. He remembered the first time he met that thin girl, her long brown hair casually tied with hemp rope, her patched clothing barely masking her poverty. According to the well-informed Andre, she was the daughter of an ordinary mountain hunter. Lord White Robe Wizards found her in some mountain gully, and astonishingly, she tested at Three‑Star spiritual power aptitude.
In their ranking system—the Star Grade, based on astronomical concepts—One‑Star is the highest and Six‑Star the lowest. Ron barely scraped through at Six‑Star, whereas Andre was slightly better at Five‑Star. Each step up meant spiritual power increased by 2.5×, making One‑Star a hundred times stronger than Six‑Star. Three‑Star was the threshold between mediocrity and genius: those above it had a real chance at formal Wizardship. Six‑Star? Even becoming a High Apprentice was a stretch—just a bit stronger than a Muggle, often called a "squash."
Ron mocked himself quietly as he added the precious Black Nettle leaves into his cup, then pulled out a thermos to make one for Andre.
"Here," he offered, trying to sound casual. "Thought you might like some of this."
"Not bad—you're in a generous mood today," Andre observed, examining the earthenware cup. In the rising steam, fine black particles drifted. His rough, calloused fingers traced the rim, and a faint smile curved his lips. "Hardly anyone gets a sip of Black Nettle brew these days."
Ron chuckled inwardly. This tea invigorates the spirit but tastes awful—a stinging sharpness at first, then bitter nausea, ending with throat-numbing discomfort. But it's exactly this that keeps apprentices sharp during long study sessions.
"If you like it, I can bring more," Ron offered.
"Stop," Andre said softly, his tone cautious now. "Your odd behavior worries me. Tell me—what's really on your mind?"
Ron laughed. He'd always known this Prince had a keen edge to him. In Wangdu, Andre's subtle sharpness made several older brothers wary—so much so that they conveniently sent him here.
"Alright," Ron said, straightening. "I'll be direct—I want to buy the Corona Breathing Method from you."
Andre nearly spat out his tea. His elegant facade cracked, surprise flashing across his face. "What did you say?"
"The Corona Breathing Method," Ron repeated firmly. "I know it's a core heritage of the Faruk Royal Family—and arguably the best breathing method in the kingdom."
Andre's demeanor soured instantly. The polite grace vanished, replaced by a cold sharpness. "You want to buy it?"
"Yes." Ron reached into his cloak and pulled out a cloth bag. He emptied its contents—a pile of clear, faintly glowing crystal fragments—onto the table. Magic‑stone shards. In Black Mist Forest, these were the hard currency among apprentices: one shard could buy a feast in a mortal market; twenty could buy a skilled Orc slave. The official price for the basic meditation method from the White Robe Wizards was a single shard.
"Thirty shards," Ron said deliberately.
Andre sneered without even looking at the pile. "You think this will buy it?"
Ron produced more shards. "Thirty is too little. Here—forty." He quietly added until forty lay on the table.
Still, Andre remained unmoved, watching him with narrowed eyes.
Time to play his trump card. "You know my aptitude is pathetic—just Six‑Star. A promotion in three months? Impossible. Without it, I'm either test material or exiled. I won't die—at least not without dignity."
Andre's expression softened a fraction—only to harden again. "So?"
"I need the Corona Breathing Method." Ron locked eyes. "Of all the methods I know, that one is the strongest and most promising." He added another ten shards. "Fifty—that's all I can offer."
Andre studied the small glowing pile in silence. Ron understood the hesitation; these royal inheritances were more valuable than gold to Wizards. Even the Wizards didn't touch them—they were Faruk family's foundation, their rule over mortals, their very capital.
"You know," Andre finally said, voice heavy, "this isn't just about money."
"I understand," Ron replied firmly. "I promise you—this method will never be passed to a third party. And…" He paused meaningfully. "I've noticed you've been studying other Wizard techniques lately. You might need some extra resources."
He'd hit the mark. Andre's eyes flickered; a helpless smile appeared. "You're slyer than I expected." He sighed. "Indeed."
Straightening, he resumed his elegant composure. "If I teach you—if I walk you through the Corona Breathing Method—it must begin from the very basics."