Chapter 38: The Unification Principle

Klein stood at the center of the teleportation platform, with Lia close behind.

Before activating the magic array, a faint magical aura flickered at his fingertips.

An invisible message instantly traversed space, vanishing into the void.

Lia, assuming he was merely performing a final calibration, paid it no mind.

The next second, a silvery-white radiance devoured their vision.

A sensation of weightlessness and spatial distortion assailed them simultaneously.

Lia felt as if she had been crammed into a narrow pipe, only to be abruptly expelled.

As the light receded, the reassuring sensation of solid ground returned.

Lia blinked, her eyes adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings.

Before them stretched an incredibly magnificent, pure white hall.

Its dome soared so high it seemed to vanish into the heavens, adorned with a slowly revolving star map.

The floor, paved with mirror-smooth white marble, reflected the starlight from the dome, creating the illusion of standing amidst the Milky Way.

The hall buzzed with activity; sorcerers in robes of various hues hurried to and fro, their hushed conversations coalescing into a low, continuous hum.

A faint scent of ozone permeated the air, a telltale sign of highly concentrated magical energy.

This, then, was the headquarters of the Royal Magic Association.

Lia felt utterly like a country bumpkin entering a grand city, finding novelty in every sight.

She even observed a spherical construct hovering in mid-air, methodically distributing scrolls to passing mages.

The surrounding mages noted the two figures materializing on the teleportation platform.

Upon recognizing Klein, many instinctively paused, casting gazes of awe or curiosity from a distance.

“It’s Master Klein.”

“Who is that young girl beside him? A new apprentice?”

“It appears so. What immense fortune, to be taken as an apprentice by Master Klein.”

Lia, however, remained oblivious to their whispers, her attention entirely captivated by this place teeming with magical wonders.

Klein, ignoring all gazes, guided Lia directly towards the reception area at the far end of the hall.

Behind a long row of obsidian counters sat over a dozen mages, each attending to different affairs.

Klein approached an unoccupied counter.

The young mage behind it immediately rose, his chest emblem identifying him as a Second-Circle Mage.

“Good day, Master Klein. How may I assist you?”

His demeanor was respectful, yet his eyes could not help but dart curiously towards Lia, who stood behind Klein.

“I am submitting a thesis for peer review and assessment.”

Klein placed the thick roll of parchment upon the counter.

“Certainly, Master.”

The reception mage quickly averted his gaze and began processing the request.

“To which journal are you submitting it?” he inquired.

“Arcana.”

The reception mage’s hand froze.

He looked up, double-checking to ensure he had not misheard.

Arcana, the most prestigious journal, which only published truly groundbreaking theories.

Hadn’t Master Klein published a paper in it not long ago?

He recalled hearing that particular thesis had introduced an entirely new mathematical tool.

“I… I understand.”

Despite his racing thoughts, the reception mage’s movements betrayed no hint of sluggishness.

“As per procedure, I shall first arrange a lounge for you and your apprentice.

“Then, I will immediately submit your thesis to the Theoretical Review Council, who will assign at least three committee members for a joint assessment.”

“Very well,” Klein assented with a nod.

“This way, please.”

The reception mage, not daring to delegate the task, personally emerged from behind the counter.

He led the two through a corridor flanking one side of the grand hall, stopping before a door inlaid with soundproofing runes.

He pushed open the door, revealing an elegantly appointed lounge within.

Soft carpets muffled their steps, comfortable sofas invited repose, and a table held steaming black tea alongside several plates of delicate pastries.

“Please make yourselves comfortable. I shall convey the message to the Council as swiftly as possible.”

Bowing respectfully, the reception mage hastily withdrew, carefully closing the door behind him.

An immediate silence descended upon the room.

Lia gazed around with curiosity.

On the walls hung not portraits or landscapes, but several dizzyingly complex structural diagrams of magical models.

The bookshelves, too, were laden with voluminous tomes bearing titles such as *Conjectures on the Origin of Mana* and *Eighteen Possibilities of Spatial Folds*.

The entire room exuded a profound academic atmosphere.

“Nervous?” Klein’s voice suddenly broke the silence.

Lia, who had been craning on her tiptoes to discern the details of a structural diagram, turned her head at his words.

“Why would I be nervous? My theory is impeccable.”

Though she spoke with confidence, a flicker of apprehension stirred within her.

‘This was akin to publishing a paper in *Nature* or *Science* in her previous life—one that fundamentally altered the very foundational framework of physics.’

Klein walked to a sofa and sat down, picking up a cup of black tea.

“Your theory is indeed flawless. However, the old men on the Review Council might not be so quick to grasp it.”

“They won’t understand it?”

“It’s not that they won’t understand,” Klein said, taking a sip of tea.

“It’s that they won’t be able to accept it. A completely new system implies that all their accumulated experience and authority could become utterly worthless overnight.”

Lia fell silent.

She knew Klein spoke the truth.

The entrenched barriers of academia, it seemed, were universal across all worlds.

Just then, a knock sounded at the lounge door.

*Knock, knock.*

Lia’s heart skipped a beat.

‘So soon? Had the Council members already arrived?’

Klein set down his teacup and spoke calmly.

“Enter.”

The door swung open, and a familiar figure stepped inside.

His hair was white, his deep purple, gold-trimmed mage’s robe draped elegantly, and his face bore kindly wrinkles.

“Master Laplace?” Lia exclaimed, a hint of surprise in her voice.

“Little one, we meet again.”

Laplace entered with a genial chuckle, no one following him.

“I happened to be conducting business at the Association and heard Klein brought a young lady to submit a thesis, so I naturally guessed it would be you.”

His gaze settled on Lia, openly conveying his admiration.

“I volunteered myself to be one of the reviewers for this assessment. I trust those old fossils on the Council have no objections?” he asked, turning to Klein.

“They wouldn’t dare,” Klein replied.

Laplace burst into hearty laughter.

He approached the table, unceremoniously picked up a pastry, and popped it into his mouth.

“Let’s see, what earth-shattering revelation have you brought us this time?”

He took the roll of parchment from the table and untied its string.

As his eyes fell upon the title, *Principles of the Unification of Celestial and Terrestrial Motion*, the smile on his face slowly faded, replaced by an expression of intense focus.

He did not sit but remained standing, turning the pages one by one.

The lounge grew so quiet that only the rustle of parchment could be heard.

Lia felt a slight dampness in her palms.

The last time Laplace had seen her work, it was merely the kinematics section; this time, it encompassed the complete core system of classical mechanics.

Laplace’s reading slowed progressively, and his breathing grew heavier.

When he encountered the definition and formula for “universal gravitation,” his body distinctly swayed.

“So this is it… this is truly it…” he murmured to himself.

“The laws governing the motion of stars, their very essence, are… gravity?”

He abruptly lifted his head, turning his gaze to Lia, his eyes brimming with shock and ecstasy.

“Child, you have…”

Before he could finish his sentence, the lounge door was pushed open once more, this time without a prior knock.

A slender, elderly man entered, a smile gracing his features.

“Laplace, you old rascal, you move quickly. I’d barely received the news before you’d already slipped in here.”

The elder man cast a glance at the thesis in Laplace’s hand, then shifted his gaze to Klein, his tone tinged with a hint of dissatisfaction.

“Klein, when you submitted your calculus, you came directly to me. Why, then, for something so crucial this time, have you chosen to follow protocol?”

The newcomer was none other than Horace, the Vice-Chairman of the Theoretical Review Council and a Ninth-Circle Archmage.