Chapter 186: Drawing Wings on a Dead Horse

Samuel’s face was contorted in the crystal ball, and the clamor in the background was loud enough to shatter the soundproofing wards of the mage tower.

“Stop!” Klein interrupted Samuel’s wailing.

He leisurely picked up a slice of apple, popped it into Lia’s mouth, and only then turned to look at the crystal ball.

“Are you saying that those mages specializing in the velocity school got themselves sent to the medical ward because they couldn’t figure out an addition problem?”

“What do you mean ‘couldn’t figure out an addition problem’!” Samuel roared from the other side, his voice hoarse. “This is a collapse of a worldview! A collapse, do you understand!”

He grabbed a stack of parchment beside him and slammed it down in front of the lens.

“According to classical kinematics, velocities can be added. If I throw a fireball from a moving carriage, the fireball’s speed is the carriage’s speed plus my throwing speed.”

“But your damn set of electromagnetic field equations predicts that the speed of light is a constant!”

“This means that whether I’m on a carriage or not, no matter how fast the carriage goes, the speed of that beam of light is always the same!”

Samuel clutched his head with both hands, painfully tearing at his already sparse hair.

“Yesterday, a Sixth-Circle Mage tried to construct a spell model for ‘light speed superposition.’ He wanted to use a wind-element acceleration array to make the speed of light break its constant.”

“And the result?” Lia asked indistinctly, chewing on her apple.

“The result was that his sea of consciousness exploded from the logical paradox! He’s still soaking in a potion pool right now, constantly muttering, ‘light is a liar’!”

Lia swallowed the fruit in her mouth, unsurprised.

This was the first head-on collision between classical mechanics and electromagnetic theory.

In a world of magic, this kind of collision would directly manifest in one’s mental strength and spell models.

If the logic was flawed, the spell would self-destruct.

“Send over the papers those mages wrote.”

Lia wiped her hands. “Let me see how they managed to drive themselves crazy.”

Samuel was quick to act.

The mage tower’s teleportation array flashed, and a thick stack of parchment appeared out of thin air, slamming onto the dining table and making the fork on the plate jump.

Klein waved his hand, and the pile of parchment flew up on its own, arranging itself neatly in the air in front of Lia.

Lia casually pulled one out.

The title was On the Viscosity of Aether and the False Constancy of the Speed of Light.

The author was a Seventh-Circle Mage from the Southern Tower.

Lia quickly scanned it.

The core argument of this paper was that the speed of light appeared constant because the measuring instruments underwent physical deformation while in motion, or because the aether produced a mysterious “viscous force” that counteracted the increase in velocity.

To prove this point, the author introduced three brand-new correction coefficients.

These three coefficients had no theoretical basis whatsoever; they were purely tacked on to make the calculation result fit the constancy of the speed of light.

“How ugly,” Lia tossed the paper aside.

She picked up another one.

The Fatigue Effect of Photons: Why High-Speed Motion Cannot Be Superimposed.

This one was even more absurd.

The author believed that photons “got tired” the moment they were emitted, so no matter how much you accelerated them, they couldn’t run any faster.

The entire paper was filled with subjective speculation, without a single decent formula.

The more Lia read, the more speechless she became.

These papers were a motley collection, some claiming that space was filled with an invisible “deceleration glue,” others saying that time was deceiving the eyes.

They all had one thing in common.

They were all desperately trying to preserve the old system of classical kinematics.

In order to hold onto the old concept that “velocity can be infinitely superimposed,” this group of mages did not hesitate to create all sorts of ugly, complex, and even ridiculous patch formulas.

“How does it feel?” Klein sat on the armrest of the sofa next to her, playing with a lock of her long hair.

The golden strands twined around his slender fingertips—black, white, and gold interwoven, a very pleasing sight.

“Like watching a group of clumsy tailors,” Lia sighed, leaning back in her chair. “There’s a hole in the clothes, but instead of mending the hole, they sew a bunch of colorful patches on top of it.”

She pointed to the papers floating in the air.

“Look at this formula. To explain the constancy of the speed of light, he forcibly defined a spatial contraction coefficient, but then said this coefficient only affects light.”

“That’s like drawing a pair of wings on a dead horse and expecting it to fly.”

Lia’s assessment was sharp and precise.

Samuel, on the other end of the crystal ball, was completely stunned.

“A dead horse… drawing wings?”

“That’s right.”

Lia stood up and walked over to the row of papers. “Classical kinematics is that dead horse right now. At low speeds, it still looks alive, running quite fast.”

“But as soon as it involves the speed of light, as soon as it involves electromagnetic waves, it’s already dead.”

“These people are unwilling to admit it’s dead, so they desperately pile all kinds of complex theories onto the corpse, trying to make it look like it can still move.”

With a casual wave of her hand, several parchments filled with complicated formulas burst into flames and turned to ash.

“This stuff is all garbage.”

“Not only do they fail to explain the problem, but they will also lead future researchers astray.”

Klein watched the falling ashes, his eyes growing somewhat deep.

His fingertips tapped gently on the tabletop.

“The problem is not just about garbage papers.”

His voice was calm but carried a chill.

“Lia, look at this one.”

Klein picked out a manuscript from the pile.

It was written by a senior professor from the Royal Magic Academy, densely covered with diagrams for constructing magic circuits.

“He tried to forcibly embed your electromagnetic equations into the framework of classical mechanics.”

“To resolve the conflict, he added a ‘logical buffer valve’ at the core of the spell model.”

Lia leaned over for a look and instantly felt her scalp tingle.

This so-called “buffer valve” was essentially forcing the magical power to take a detour whenever it encountered a logical conflict.

This was practically planting a landmine in the spell model.

“If a young apprentice were to practice according to this…” Lia murmured to herself.

“They would die,” Klein gave the conclusion. “The magic circuit would collapse under high-load operation. At best, they’d become an idiot; at worst, they’d die on the spot.”

He looked up at Samuel in the crystal ball.

“Samuel, confiscate all these papers immediately.”

“In the name of the Council of Truth, prohibit any teaching activity that attempts to forcibly explain the speed of light problem using correction coefficients.”

Samuel’s face soured. “Confiscate? The entire academic community is discussing this right now! If I don’t let them publish their papers, they’ll just circulate them privately. You know how stubborn mages can be about this.”

“Then find the right answer.”

Klein stood up, walked to Lia’s side, and very naturally wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Since the old house is already crumbling, there’s no point in patching it up.”

Lia finished his thought.

“Exactly. So, let’s tear it down.”

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