Chapter 92: The Storm of Discovery

In another corner of the living room, Horace watched his wife and Lia Farrien engaged in an animated conversation, their faces glowing with enthusiasm.

Klein met his gaze with an impassive expression for a moment before finally conceding defeat. He let out an almost imperceptible sigh and turned towards the door first.

“I still have some matters to attend to.”

Having uttered these words, his figure vanished beyond the doorway.

“Oh, wait for me!”

Horace immediately seized upon the excuse, shooting forward to follow him. Passing Alberte, who stood still in a daze, he casually pulled her along.

“Little Alberte, you come too. Don’t disturb them while they discuss important matters!”

The heavy wooden door closed behind them, isolating the two worlds. Inside, new theories were being passed down and exchanged; outside, however, lay a scene of starkly contrasting hell.

A terrifying storm, centered around the four words ‘electricity generates magnetism,’ was raging furiously through the entire circle of high-ranking mages.

***

At the Lightning School’s stronghold, the air was thick with the strange scent of ozone mingled with blood.

A six-ring scholar of the old magic, who had miraculously avoided a complete mental breakdown on the spot during the debate, now had bloodshot eyes and chaotic, uncontrolled magical fluctuations, like a beast trapped in a cage.

He seized every passing member of the school, roaring desperately:

“A scam! That is absolutely a scam!”

“She must have hidden some alchemical device on the experimental bench that we don’t know about! That magnetic needle was controlled by another spell of hers!

Electricity is pure energy, magnetism is the affinity of matter! How could they possibly transform? It’s utterly impossible!”

He attempted to forcefully explain it using the ancient ‘Aether Theory,’ yet with each word he uttered, his own chain of logic risked further collapse, veins throbbing on his face, his expression growing increasingly distorted.

His only response was the gazes of the school members, a mixture of fear and pity. They scattered, as if fleeing a plague.

No one dared refute him, for no one could guarantee they wouldn’t be the next to suffer a mental implosion from logical contradiction.

***

In another dark alley, several young mages, clad in the attire of the Magnetic School, gathered. Their faces showed no sorrow, only ignited hatred and madness.

“My mentor, Master Manes, is dead! All because of that woman’s words, a ridiculous experiment!”

The young man leading them was named Simon. He clenched his teeth tightly, his fingernails digging deep into his palms, his voice squeezed out as if through a narrow gap.

He had personally witnessed his mentor collapse with a smile before the experimental bench, blood flowing from his eyes, muttering, ‘So that’s how it is…’ after replicating the experiment.

“No! Mentor didn’t accept it! He was bewitched by that evil knowledge!”

Simon’s voice trembled with agitation as he gripped his companion’s shoulder, his eyes bloodshot.

“That was the devil’s whisper, a curse! It led a venerable Archmage to smile as he embraced death! We cannot let this stand! We must find that witch, Lia Farrien! She must use her blood to purify our mentor’s defiled soul!”

“We cannot let this stand! Find her! Find that witch, Lia Farrien! She must pay the price for all of this!”

Rumors, moreover, rode the chaotic gale, festering in every corner of the royal capital.

“I heard that Lia Farrien is no genius at all; she’s a demon crawled out from the abyss, and the knowledge she brings is cursed!”

“Exactly! Look, as soon as her theory emerged, so many people died! And she specifically targeted high-ranking mages! What else could it be but a curse? She wants to use this to subvert the kingdom’s order!”

The entire royal capital was gripped by paranoia, with undercurrents of turmoil surging beneath the surface.

While high-ranking mages either collapsed or perished, the younger mages, whose minds had not yet fully rigidified, found themselves plunged into immense confusion and division.

Some followed their masters, viewing Lia Farrien as a destructive force; others were consumed by hatred, clamoring for revenge; yet still others hid in their rooms, poring over that slender thesis, repeatedly struggling between fear and curiosity.

***

In a clean, tidy room within the Magnetic School’s apprentice dormitory, a young man named Michael Faraday was among them. But in his eyes, there was no confusion, only fire.

He sat at his desk, two parchment scrolls spread before him.

One was the publicly circulated ‘Treatise on Magical Guidance,’ featuring Charles Coulomb’s ‘On the Fundamental Laws of Electrostatic Interaction.’

The other was a manuscript he had painstakingly copied, at great expense, from a mage who had attended the debate.

Its title boldly declared: Lia Farrien’s ‘On the Magnetic Effects of Electric Current and Preliminary Conjectures on Its Applications.’

Unlike the chaos and fervor outside, Faraday’s face showed only an almost ravenous focus and contemplation.

He had long grown weary of the school’s anthropomorphic theories, which described magnets as ‘souls enamored with steel.’ He firmly believed that all forces should adhere to some universal, mathematically describable law.

Lia Farrien’s thesis, to him, was not an overthrow, but a revelation!

The interaction force of electric charges… the magnetic effect of electric current…

He repeatedly read both treatises, a completely new worldview forming in his mind.

Lia Farrien’s thesis had declared the fact that ‘electricity generates magnetism’ to the world.

However, Faraday’s brow furrowed deeper and deeper. This thesis only provided a qualitative conclusion: ‘Either it exists, or it does not.’

‘But if it exists, to what extent?’

‘How would the strength of the electric current affect the magnitude of the magnetic force?’

‘And how would this influence change?’

‘Why did this influence occur?’

Lia Farrien’s final conjecture in the thesis—coils—could they truly enhance magnetic force? And by how much?

Countless questions swirled in his mind.

He set down the parchment in his hand, stood up, and paced back and forth across the room.

A moment later, he stopped. ‘Idle speculation is useless; only experimentation matters!’

He dragged a wooden box from the corner of his bed, filled with various alchemical materials he had accumulated over time.

Several alchemical batteries, crafted by his own hands, capable of providing a stable current. A coil of gleaming brass wire.

A magnetic needle he had modified, with a protractor affixed to its base. A wooden ruler with clear markings, and a simple stand to hold the wire in place.

He meticulously arranged these rudimentary tools on the table; his experiment had officially begun.

He fixed the wire to the iron stand, adjusted the position of the magnetic needle, and then connected the alchemical battery.

The magnetic needle, just as described in the treatise, sharply deflected by an angle.

Faraday’s face remained utterly calm; he merely nodded solemnly. ‘This phenomenon is real. Therefore, the next step is to quantify it.’

He began to explore the relationship between the magnetic field and electric current.

He moved the scale and the magnetic compass needle, carefully measuring with the wooden ruler, ensuring the perpendicular distance from the needle to the straight wire was precisely five centimeters, and recorded this distance.

He connected one alchemical battery.

Once the magnetic needle stabilized, the pointer deflected. He leaned down, carefully read the degree on the protractor, and then recorded the number on a parchment.

He disconnected the circuit, connected a second alchemical battery in series, and reconnected it. The current increased. The deflection angle of the magnetic needle visibly increased.

He recorded the new angle again, his heart subtly quickening with excitement.

A third, a fourth… until all ten alchemical batteries were connected.

On the clean parchment, two neat columns of numbers quickly appeared. On the left was ‘Number of Current Sources,’ from one to ten.

On the right was ‘Deflection Angle,’ a sequence that steadily increased as the number on the left grew. A beautiful pattern was already vaguely emerging on the paper.

For the second step, he prepared to investigate the relationship between the magnetic field and distance.

He disconnected five batteries, fixing the current strength. This time, he began to move the position of the magnetic needle.

When the distance was three centimeters, the magnetic needle’s deflection angle was extremely large. He recorded it. When the distance was five centimeters, the angle decreased.

He continuously moved the magnetic needle farther away: seven centimeters, ten centimeters, fifteen centimeters… The deflection angle became progressively smaller, eventually becoming almost imperceptible.

The second parchment was also quickly filled with two columns of data—’Distance’ and ‘Deflection Angle.’

Step three: verifying the influence of wire shape.

He kept the number of current sources and the distance constant, then took a longer wire. He carefully bent the wire into a single-turn coil, positioning the magnetic needle at its center. He connected the current.

The magnetic needle’s deflection angle was significantly greater than when using a straight wire!

“Indeed!” A flash of wild joy appeared in his eyes, his breathing quickened, and he continued his work.

A three-turn coil. The deflection angle increased once more!

Five turns, eight turns, ten turns… When the coil reached its tenth turn, the black magnetic needle almost deflected to a position perpendicular to its initial direction.

‘Coils…’ he murmured, his voice trembling slightly with excitement, ‘they can concentrate this force.’

He recorded the third set of data—’Number of Coil Turns’ and ‘Deflection Angle’—on the third parchment.

Finally, to ensure absolute certainty, he performed a repeatability verification.

He randomly selected two sets of parameters: three power sources and a distance of eight centimeters. He measured the deflection angle once and recorded it. Then he disassembled all the apparatus, reassembled it, and measured again.

The angles from the three measurements were almost perfectly consistent, with an error so small it could be ignored. ‘His data was reliable.’

As night deepened, the faint footsteps of passing patrols and distant, stifled wails could still be heard from outside the window, but in the room, only Faraday’s calm breathing remained.

He gazed at the three parchments before him, filled with numbers—only raw, authentic data. Yet, in his eyes, these very data were composing a poem more magnificent and grand than any epic, a poem about the laws of the universe.

He slowly picked up his quill, dipping it generously in ink.

Lia Farrien had opened a door to a new world, and he now held the wrench to construct a magnificent temple.