On the third day after the catastrophe, the Sand Sea School finally regained relative tranquility.
Ramses’s injuries were stable now, and the huge body of the ancient beast resumed its slow cruise along the fixed track in the sand sea.
Underground magma veins, meticulously regulated by Salamanda, returned to a controllable range.
The magma columns that had erupted and solidified formed peculiar stone pillars in the desert, standing on the yellow sands like the remains of prehistoric giant beasts.
Ron sat on the balcony of his residence, sipping the morning tea prepared by Sarah while reviewing the gains of the past few days.
Although the unexpected geological disaster was fraught with danger, it enabled him to have a deeper understanding of his abilities.
Especially the newly acquired "Elemental Disturbance" trait, which demonstrated astonishing tactical value in bat.
"Master, what are your training plans for today?"
Sarah inquired softly, the silver bell at her waist ringing melodiously with her movement.
During these recent days of interaction, the Snake Woman had fully adapted to her new responsibilities, tending to Ron’s daily needs meticulously.
But Ron noticed that her eyes occasionally flashed with an indescribable sense of tension, like a small animal always ready to flee.
This subtle reaction piqued his keen interest.
Ron knew that deep within Sarah’s heart, she seemed to be suppressing something heavy.
That kind of suppressed emotion was like a volcano built up over many years, ready to erupt at any time.
And this psychological state often severely affects a person’s judgment and service quality.
"There will be no bat training today."
Ron took a sip of the tea, seemingly casually saying:
"Dean Salamanda said Ramses needs more recovery time, so the high-intensity magic practice is paused."
He paused for a moment, his gaze subtly sweeping over Sarah’s face:
"We could chat about other topics. How about your view on the Burning Scale Clan?"
Sarah’s hand, busy tidying the tea set, suddenly became stiff, and the silver bell at her waist trembled slightly.
Such trembling was extremely subtle and wouldn’t be noticed unless one was deliberately observing.
"Master, I... I’m just a humble maid and dare not discuss those big figures..."
Her voice carried evident tension, her snake tail instinctively pressing against the ground, a natural reflex of the Snake-man race when feeling threatened.
"Just some casual talk."
Ron’s tone remained gentle, like a spring breeze without the slightest sense of threat:
"I heard their bloodline purity is high? They’re considered a top Baojuns Seed Family in the Quicksand Lands, aren’t they?"
Sarah’s trembling hand worsened, and the crystal teapot nearly slipped from her grasp.
She instinctively raised her head to observe Ron’s expression.
Yet she found him focused on gazing at the distant sand dunes, seemingly engaged in casual chit-chat.
This contrast left her more confused and uneasy.
As a "gift" trained by the Burning Scale Clan, Sarah underwent specialized psychological training to keenly discern others’ true intentions.
But Ron’s behavior rendered her utterly baffled.
As if he knew something, yet appeared to genuinely inquire casually.
"Forget it, these topics aren’t suitable for casual conversation."
Just as Sarah was about to explain, Ron effortlessly changed the topic:
"This desert preserve tastes good, where was it bought?"
Sarah breathed a long sigh of relief, her tense muscles instantly relaxing.
Yet immediately, confusion began to spread within her heart.
This sense of "push and pull" made her extremely unfortable.
Like standing on the edge of a cliff but being gently pulled back.
She wasn’t sure what Ron ultimately wanted, and this unknown was more terrifying than a direct threat.
"It’s... it’s made by vendors in the oasis market, Master."
She tried to maintain calm, answering the question about the preserves, but a huge wave had already been stirred at the depths of her heart.
.........
The similar situation recurred the next evening.
While Sarah prepared dinner for Ron, their conversation inadvertently shifted to various forces in the Quicksand Lands.
"Crazy Witch Cecilia... such an interesting nickname."
Ron intentionally paused, slicing the roast on his plate while speaking as if pondering:
"Do you think she’s truly crazy?"
This remark struck Sarah’s nerves like a bolt from the blue.
Her pupils visibly contracted, her snake tail nervously coiled up, and her breathing became rapid.
Regarding the truth about Cecilia, she knew far too much.
The massive discrepancy between external rumors and reality, that woman’s true character and preferences...
"Master, regarding Lady Cecilia, I..."
Her voice trembled, clearly indicating her knowledge of numerous secrets, just about to say something when...
"Ha, I’m merely curious about rumors."
Ron once again released her casually, shifting the discussion to the flavor of the food on the table:
"After all, rumors are often unreliable, right? This stew’s spice blend is very unique, has an exotic flair."
Sarah was stunned.
She was already prepared for interrogation, for being coerced, but once again the other party let her off at the critical moment.
The sensation felt like a fully drawn bow suddenly losing its target.
Leaving her whole body in an inexplicable state of imbalance.
.........
In the subsequent days, this pattern persisted.
Each time Ron would in seemingly casual conversation, precisely touch on Sarah’s most sensitive topics.
Discussions about bloodline rank, reflections on the slave system, philosophical musings about beauty and destiny...
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