At noon, Erwin enjoyed a lavish farewell lunch at the Academy. It served as a fitting end to his trip, as he had essentially accomplished all his objectives.
In the afternoon, Sunny Finch approached him with a book. "Here's what you wanted," she said, handing it over. Erwin eagerly took it and began flipping through the pages. His eyes widened in shock.
"Wait," he said, looking up at her. "Are you sure you gave me the right one?"
"Of course," Sunny Finch replied, though she seemed a bit evasive. "With your previous condition, you couldn't practice at all. But now, you can at least begin cultivation."
Erwin scanned the introduction, and his stomach churned. This wasn't training—it was self-torture. The method required having someone physically strike his body while he used specific spells to temper his magical core. The beatings were meant to make the tempering process more thorough.
This felt horribly familiar.
He double-checked his memories—he had transmigrated into the world of Harry Potter, hadn't he? Not some brutal martial arts saga?
Erwin looked at Sunny Finch suspiciously. "You did this... back when you were training?"
A flicker of guilt crossed Sunny Finch's face. "Of course!"
She couldn't help but feel ashamed. She had never endured such hardship herself, always finding shortcuts and easier methods, which was why her foundation hadn't been properly tempered. But now, all of Kunlun's disciples underwent this training. It was a tradition passed down from ancient times. The process was excruciating, inflicting severe physical and mental torment. That was why Kunlun had modified it—though the effects were slightly diminished, it was far less painful.
But what she had given Erwin was the original, unmodified version. Once completed, it was supposed to produce incredible results, but it was also brutally arduous.
Sunny Finch had curiously asked her master why she had chosen this rigorous version for Erwin. Her master had simply replied that compared to what Erwin would face later, he needed to endure these hardships to overcome them. She wouldn't elaborate further.
Erwin sensed something was off, but he didn't let it trouble him. Hard work was hard work. As long as he could become stronger, he wouldn't hesitate. Only someone who had lived with a frail physique could truly understand the value of a strong body.
Having secured what he needed, Erwin decided not to linger. After resting for the night, he prepared to leave the next day.
Sunny Finch met him at the airport to see him off. The Cavendish private jet was already waiting. She was visibly reluctant to part ways. To her, Erwin was more than just an idol—he was a friend. At Kunlun, she was isolated. With her overwhelming strength, her peers kept their distance—out of fear, envy, or simple feelings of inadequacy. Those who matched her abilities were much younger and impossible to connect with. Her loneliness had been profound, and Erwin had been the one to break through it.
"I'll miss you," she said quietly, her eyes slightly red.
Erwin smiled gently. "Don't be sad. The holiday is only two months away. Come find me then! I'll take you shopping and we'll eat everything."
Sunny Finch nodded, wiping her eyes. "Promise you'll answer my calls! Don't ignore me!"
"I won't," Erwin laughed. "But you have to be mindful of the time difference. Don't call when I'm in class or sleeping, or I won't be able to answer."
"Okay, I know!"
"Then I'm leaving," Erwin said, turning toward the gate. "Take care!"
Sunny Finch waved, her voice trembling slightly. "Go on! Remember, I'm coming to find you!"
Erwin nodded and walked through the private boarding gate without looking back. Sunny Finch watched until his figure vanished into the distance, sighing deeply before turning away.
Inside the cabin, Erwin sat down and looked at the letter in his hand—the one Sunny Finch's Headmaster had asked him to deliver to Dumbledore. He hesitated for a moment, then set it aside unopened. It wasn't that he didn't trust Dumbledore, but he held a deep respect for the Kunlun Headmaster. This letter felt like a private matter between them, and he chose to honor that.
He leaned back as the plane taxied and ascended, climbing high into the clouds.
His time in the East had come to a close. It had been the happiest he'd been in years. He had learned much, and now he was returning to a familiar country, breathing the air of memories. The East had left a deep mark on him.
Looking down at the land fading beneath the clouds, Erwin made a silent vow: once everything was settled, he would return to live here. There would be no danger, no political intrigue. Of course, that depended on him surviving the coming storm.
He knew his enemy, and he knew the risks. He let out a weary sigh.
Erwin closed his eyes, savoring a rare moment of tranquility. He had chosen not to Apparate because he wanted to cling to these last two days of peace. He was truly exhausted—he hadn't had a moment's rest. He knew exactly what awaited him upon his return. The semester was almost over. By the time school resumed, he would be of legal age, and his bloodline would fully awaken. Then, the debts would be called in. These peaceful days would be gone forever.
He let himself drift, just for a moment.
The plane pierced through layer after layer of clouds. Day turned to night, then back to day. Erwin slept soundly, enjoying the comfort of the flight like any ordinary passenger. Ebony, curled up in the seat beside him, finally rested properly, free from the burden of guarding its master or strategizing how to utilize its abilities.
The plane touched down on British soil.
Erwin picked up Ebony. "We're back on the battlefield," he murmured. "Have you rested enough?"
Ebony licked his wrist, a silent affirmation.
Erwin smiled grimly. "Good. The real battle is about to begin."
As he stepped out of the cabin, the sky above London was overcast, heavy and gray—just like Erwin's mood, shrouded in thick, dark clouds.