All Chapters of My Blood Wizard System : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Chapter 132 Luna making Pack Plans The request came out before breakfast, which was how Celeste preferred difficult conversations.The dean’s office was still dim when she stepped inside, the mountain light only just beginning to gather at the windows. Remy stayed near the door, hands in his pockets, quietly present without trying to take over the room. Celeste crossed to the desk, set down the folder she had brought, and looked up at the old dean sitting in the guest chair as if he had never fully left it.Dean Stormrider had that same weathered patience he always carried, the kind that made him seem carved out of the academy itself. His staff rested against the arm of the chair. His expression was calm, but not sleepy. Nothing ever quite got past him.Celeste folded her hands on the edge of the desk.“I need you to cover my position.”Stormrider’s brows lifted a fraction. “That direct, is it?”“Yes.”He studied her for a moment. “How long?”Celeste glanced once toward Remy, then ba

## Chapter 134 Return to the Ghostly Speakeasy Celeste packed lightly.That was unusual enough on its own that Remy kept glancing over at her while she folded a few changes of clothes into a travel bag near the foot of the bed. She had a practical rhythm to it now, efficient and quiet, though the expression on her face told him this was more than just a trip.This was return.She set a folded hoodie into the bag, then paused long enough to look around the room as if checking what she was leaving behind and what she was taking with her.Remy slung his own bag over one shoulder and watched her with a faint smile. “You’re really doing it.”Celeste glanced up. “Yes.”“Feels weird.”“It does.”She zipped the bag, reached for the small satchel with the travel wards, and then straightened. Her platinum-blonde hair was pulled back loosely, and she looked calm in the way she only did when the decision had already been made and the world could stop arguing with her about it.“Ready?” she asked

Chapter 136 Pack Reunion They poured everything into the kitchen. It was the sort of chaos that felt like warmth—pots clanking, voices overlapping, someone flipping pancakes with the same casual authority they used to govern neighborhood disputes. The long table in the main room filled in minutes, not from formality but because everyone wanted to be where the conversation was, where the laughter pooled and rippled outward. Celeste moved through it like she belonged to every corner. Aunts fussed with her coat; an uncle insisted she sit and eat before she spoke; cousins debated whether she still feared the old river in the back woods (yes, she did; no, she wouldn’t tell them why). Remy orbited her with an easy watchfulness, answering questions in his low, steady way and taking amused jabs from people who’d known him since before he learned to keep secrets. “You brought that one,” someone said, pointing at Remy with affectionate exasperation. “Thought you’d run off with the dean’s

Chapter 138 preparing for the pack run They came in waves: muddy boots and laughter, the scrape of chairs, a child’s high giggle braided with the low mutter of elders, until the common room smelled of pine smoke and stew and half a dozen different colognes. The pack house was bone-warm, lanterns guttering on iron hooks, long tables set end-to-end like a single unwieldy altar. Celeste stood at the head, the hem of her coat still wet where she’d walked the perimeter; the hush felt like a thing the room had to learn again.Remy moved beside her as if he belonged to the architecture—easy, unshowy, the kind of presence that made arguments soften by accident. He took her hand in a quick, familiar way; the grip steadied her more than it steadied him. Around them, the pack’s faces arranged into private maps: children clustered near Mircea and Ana, older hunters at the far table whispering about routes, and Laleh—always Laleh—eyes bright and alert as a sentinel at the doorway.“Thank you,” Ce

Chapter 140 — Candlelight Reading They waited until the house had settled into its quieter rhythms. The pack had drifted into sleep like embers falling—some room bright with the snore of contented boys, another room pricked by the soft tread of elders taking a late cup of tea. Celeste and Remy carried the charm into their bedroom by the small hearth, where the curtains kept the streetlight from bleaching the night. Remy set a single candle on the floor between them; the flame made both their faces into soft maps. He tucked the scrap of scarf that had wrapped the token into his palm, as if it might warm him against the awkwardness of secrets. Celeste seated herself cross‑legged on the woven rug, white fur folded into the shape she loved and knew—human posture leaned on animal familiarity. Her ruby eyes, even in candlelight, seemed like little inland fires; Remy, sitting opposite, watched them as if memorizing the exact way they reflected. He had that look again—part mischief, part pat