Her four existences could truly be considered an exceptionally rare and miraculous replication Arts.
Because every single memory and sensory experience gathered by the duplicates ultimately flowed back into Flandre's core consciousness, her rate of learning was effectively quadrupled.
Under ordinary circumstances, such fourfold studying wouldn't even be necessary; four Flandres had no reason to read the exact same book simultaneously, nor was there any real point in tearing a single volume into four pieces to digest it in parallel. But this time was fundamentally different: the four distinct clones matched the four dense volumes perfectly. On top of that, Patchouli had imposed a strict seven-day deadline, leaving her zero room to slack off.
Don't be fooled by the fact that two of her clones were currently button-mashing on arcade sticks—in reality, they were simply taking time to process and solidify the complex theoretical models they had just absorbed.
Flandre knew all too well that one couldn't grow fat off a single bite; mastering four massive academic works in a single day was physically impossible. Thus, she had methodically divided the contents of each book into six equal modules. After completing one module, she rotated to a short break while mentally reviewing the concepts—that was the only way to lock the knowledge securely into long-term memory.
As for that business about "studying while playing to reduce stress" she had spun to Beatrice... anyone with a discerning eye could tell Flandre was just teasing her.
And why, out of a seven-day window, had Flandre set a strict target to finish all reading in six?
Naturally, because she needed to reserve a full, uninterrupted day for comprehensive review and synthesis.
Although Patchouli had promised that the test questions would be drawn strictly from those four books, Flandre—having been tested by her countless times back at the estate—knew better. If Patchouli hadn't made that promise, the exam might have contained broad, unpredictable concepts. But since she had explicitly restricted the scope, the content would definitely remain within those pages—and the difficulty of the questions would be absurdly deep.
If she merely skimmed through the pages and showed up for the test, there was a ninety-nine percent chance she would fail outright.
And what would happen if she failed?
Patchouli naturally wouldn't slap her own palm, but she would hand the failing test paper straight to her elder sister. And upon seeing those atrocious marks, Remilia would undoubtedly throw a fit and spank her.
Flandre had no desire to get spanked, so she was thoroughly determined to master every single formula and theoretical proof within this short week.
Fortunately, the volumes all revolved around Incantation mechanics and Arts matrix composition—subjects she genuinely enjoyed. Reading through them didn't feel like a chore at all.
Just then, Patchouli stepped out from the library portal into the living room.
Upon entering, she caught sight of the four Flandres sitting together and gently rubbed her brow. She had made a slight miscalculation—she had underestimated Flandre's resourcefulness.
Patchouli's original blueprint was simple: give Flandre four heavy books to occupy her for seven days, then draft a standard examination paper. With Flandre's raw talent, passing would be a breeze, and everyone would walk away happy.
What she had forgotten, however, was that the little girl possessed the Fourfold Existence trick, allowing her to process four separate volumes at once. In the exact same seven-day window, Flandre's depth of comprehension would vastly exceed her initial predictions.
Which means... this exam paper has to be crafted with extreme difficulty.
Otherwise, if Flandre strolled out with four perfect scores, wouldn't she, the esteemed examiner and grand scholar, look completely incompetent?
"Not bad at all, Flandre," Patchouli remarked, a gentle, serene smile gracing her features. "How is the reading coming along today?"
Her expression was as elegant and soft as polished jade, giving away absolute zero hints of the terrifying exam paper she was already drafting in her head.
"Mm-hmm! These books are super hard, but Flandre thinks it's no problem at all! I'll definitely understand everything within seven days!" Flandre beamed proudly, her eyes shining with confidence.
"Very good." Patchouli nodded in approval before turning and gliding gracefully into her room.
Meanwhile, Hong Meiling, who was still sprawled across the sofa, lifted her sleep mask slightly and cast a deeply suspicious glance in the direction Patchouli had vanished.
"Hiss... why did my scalp suddenly feel all cold and prickly just now? Is it because I've been sleeping too long, or is something sinister brewing over there?"
Pondering this, Meiling sat up all at once, stretched her limbs like a lazy cat, and glanced toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Goodness me, is it evening already?"
Turning her head, she caught the scent of hot food as the estate maids began setting the dining table with dinner.
"Food time, food time!" Meiling called out cheerfully.
Flandre closed her books, took a deep breath, and folded her four forms back into one, returning to her normal single self. Done with her transformation, she hopped and skipped straight into the bathroom to wash her hands.
After the household enjoyed a quiet dinner together, everyone gathered in the living room to watch a evening broadcast.
Midway through the show, Flandre happened to glance out the window and blinked in surprise. "Is it snowing outside?"
Hearing her words, everyone turned their heads toward the glass.
Tiny white flakes were drifting softly down from the dark night sky, fluttering against the windowpane and melting into transparent ice crystals.
Flandre immediately hovered off the couch, flew over to the front door, and pulled it open. A brisk, refreshing gust of cold winter air swept inside, carrying a few scattered snowflakes with it.
With a burst of silvery laughter, the little vampire darted out into the crisp night air. Smiling, the rest of the group followed her outside.
"Hee-hee-hee! Ha-ha-ha!"
Flandre tumbled and pirouetted through the sky like a brilliant, crimson-winged butterfly. Below her, Beatrice and Meiling stood on the snow-dusted ground, reaching out with open palms to catch the falling flakes, watching them melt into tiny droplets against their skin.
"There's only about half a month left before the New Year," Beatrice remarked softly, her voice filled with gentle wonder. "I really didn't expect to see snow in Lungmen this year."
"Does it rarely snow in Lungmen?" Meiling asked casually, wrapping her coat a bit tighter.
"Hardly ever!" Beatrice explained. "Toward the end of every year, Lungmen usually migrates south to avoid the harsh weather fronts. While it still gets chilly, we rarely experience heavy winds or snowstorms like this. I've lived in Lungmen my whole life, and I can count the number of snowfalls I've seen on one hand!"
Beatrice gently exhaled a breath into the cold air, blowing a long, thick white plume of mist that stretched over a meter before dispersing.
Flying past above, Flandre caught sight of the trick and found it utterly fascinating. She swooped down, landed next to Beatrice, puffed out her cheeks, and mimicked her. "Ah~!"
Her warm breath dissolved into thin air before it even traveled half a meter.
Seeing her eager attempts fail so miserably, the others couldn't help but burst into warm laughter.
Flandre's competitive pride instantly flared. She refused to accept defeat, opening her mouth wide once more. "Ah~!"
The mist still petered out at half a meter.
"What's going on?!" Flandre huffed, resting her hands on her hips with an adorable scowl. "Sister Beatrice's breath clearly flew super far!"
"Don't open your mouth so wide—it's not spitting, it's blowing," Meiling coached her with a hearty chuckle. "Think of it like blowing up a balloon! Open your lips just a tiny sliver, then push the air out with steady force!"
Flandre carefully followed her instructions, pursing her lips tightly before blowing out a smooth, focused stream. Sure enough, a long white trail of vapor surged forward, stretching over a meter through the chilly air.
"Hehehe! That's so fun!"
Taking a massive gulp of crisp winter air, Flandre kicked off the ground and rocketed straight into the sky, turned a sharp loop, and swooped down toward the snow-dusted lawn. When she was just a little over a meter above the grass, she leveled out, flew parallel to the ground, and began forcefully venting white mist from her lips like a tiny engine.
"Hoo~!"
Watching her zoom along the ground blowing steam like a runaway train, Meiling almost doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach. "Good grief, Flandre! Are you cosplaying as a Draco?!"
During her weeks spent on Terra, Meiling had taken the time to absorb quite a bit of local culture and terminology. At the very least, when speaking around locals.
"Hehe!" Flandre touched down lightly beside her, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold. "Sister Meiling, how far can you blow in one breath?"
Hearing the question, Meiling offered a smug, self-assured grin. "Three zhang, minimum!"
"Three... that's ten whole meters!" Flandre calculated quickly, eyeing her with a look that clearly screamed, You're making stuff up again! "I don't believe you!"
"You don't believe me?" Meiling huffed playfully, rolling up her sleeves. "I am a master martial artist! My internal body is a blazing furnace—venting true qi across ten meters is standard practice, okay?"
With that, Hong Meiling took a deep, resonant breath, settled into a firm stance, and let out a smooth, steady exhale.
To Flandre's utter shock, a brilliant, dense white streak of concentrated qi surged forth from Meiling's lips, cutting straight through the falling snow and extending over ten meters into the dark courtyard before softly dissipating!