Faerun: The arcane mage is still too imprisoned.

The third ring is a watershed moment—[Fireball], [Lightning Bolt], [Flight], [Teleport], [Dispel Magic]...

These spells are what truly allow him to gain a foothold in the elite and even the exemplary ranks.

Upgrading and learning spells requires experience.

"Quite a few gangs have been dealt with," Lance calculated.

"The remaining ones are either too small-scale or have already fled at the first sign of trouble. There aren't many left that are of decent size. We need to find new sources of experience in advance..."

He remembered Scarface mentioning the "Thirsty Hand".

This cult is clearly active in Rilder and is involved in child trafficking.

If we can follow the clues to find their hideout, we should be able to gain a lot of experience points.

More importantly—cleansing up cults is a righteous act, and Lance is upholding justice!

"You could go take a look at that old irrigation canal."

Although the transaction time has passed, there may still be clues left at the scene.

For example, the whereabouts of the Grey-Robed Man, or clues about other strongholds of the Thirsty Hand.

"I'll go tomorrow night."

Lance made a decision.

This organization has been able to operate in Rild City for so long, there must be some nobles or officials protecting it.

If we can gather evidence, we might be able to lure out an even bigger fish and gain more experience points.

"And the Silvershine family..." Lance turned to look out the window, towards the direction of the Silvershine Manor.

Arya Silvershine is no ordinary woman. A level 10 "Heart of Flame" warrior, such strength is rare among the nobles of the Kingdom of Ereland.

Even if most noble children become professionals, they are mostly first or second-level professionals who have been built up by resources, and their actual combat ability is limited.

But Arya was different—Lance could sense the aura emanating from her, an aura that could only be honed through life-or-death battles.

And the way she looked at him...

"Let nature take its course, and take it one step at a time."

Lance lay down, closed his eyes, and fell peacefully asleep.

Lance is resting tonight, and nothing is happening.

The gangs of Rilder City spent the night in trepidation.

It wasn't until the next day that they realized that the devil, the "mysterious man," the spellcaster who had been wiping out entire gangs, had actually not continued the previous night.

……

Morning light filtered through the gaps in the curtains, cutting a golden line across the oak floor.

Lance opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, and quickly woke up from the remnants of deep sleep.

He turned his head to the side, and there was Cielsa still curled up beside him, her long silver-gray hair spread out on the pillow, her breathing even and long.

The girl's eyelashes cast soft shadows in the morning light, and a faint smile lingered at the corners of her lips, as if she were having a beautiful dream.

Lance gently removed her arm from his waist and got out of bed.

Barefoot on the slightly cool floor, he walked to the window and opened it.

The morning air, carrying the fresh scent of grass and trees, wafted in, and the faint sounds of the morning market drifted from afar; a new day had begun.

"Mmm..." A lazy groan came from behind.

Lance turned around and saw that Cielsa was already awake, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand and looking at him sleepily.

"Good morning, Lord Lance..." Her voice was still hoarse from just waking up, and her purple eyes were half-open, like a kitten that hadn't had enough sleep.

"Good morning." Lance walked to the bedside, leaned down and gently kissed her forehead. "Sleep a little longer? It's still early."

Cielsa shook her head and propped herself up to sit up.

The thin silk blanket slipped off her shoulders, revealing her fair skin and a few faint red marks.

"I'm not going to sleep..." she quickly woke up, "Sleeping too much is bad for your health."

"I'll go prepare breakfast for you."

Lance watched her nimbly get out of bed, pick up the maid outfit that had fallen to the floor, and couldn't help but laugh: "Is this outfit really suitable for making breakfast?"

Cielsa glanced down at her disheveled attire, her face flushing slightly, but she still stubbornly insisted, "Of course it suits me! Besides, I'm a professional now, clothes don't matter, so of course I can wear whatever I want..."

She ran into the adjacent bathroom, leaving Lance standing there shaking his head and laughing.

Half an hour later, the two were sitting in the restaurant on the first floor.

Breakfast consisted of fried eggs, smoked meat, and white bread, along with fresh milk delivered by the milkman that morning. Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting warm dappled patterns on the table.

Sielsa seemed to remember something: "Oh right, you mentioned the City Lord's Mansion yesterday..."

"Lord Graham has already stated his position," Lance continued, "as long as I don't disrupt the city's basic order or attack the nobles again, I'll do whatever I want."

"So lenient?" Cielsa asked, somewhat surprised.

"It's less about tolerance and more about pragmatism." Lance rested his chin on his right hand, gently stabbing the meat with his fork. "You should also know that Lord Graham has always been pragmatic, not idealistic."

"My value is clearly greater than that of the scum, so it's only natural that he would favor me."

"According to Arya, they're all trash anyway, so what if they die?"

Sielsa chuckled. "That duchess really dares to say that..."

"She is indeed very direct," Lance nodded, "but this directness is much more endearing than those roundabout nobles."

"Oh~" Cielsa drawled, a sly glint in her eyes, "So Lord Lance prefers directness?"

Lance glanced at her, but didn't reply. He simply finished the last bite of his bread slowly.

After breakfast, Lance went up to his study on the second floor as usual to begin his scroll copying work for the day.

The large oak table was already cushioned, and the enchanted parchment, griffin quills, and deep-sea squid ink were neatly arranged.

Thanks to the [Quick Copy] feat, the arc cost of copying a first-circle spell scroll is now break-even.

However, second-circle spells require eight hours a day for three consecutive days, which is relatively slow.

……

In the afternoon, Arya personally greeted her at the door. Today, she was not wearing her sexy, tight-fitting hunting outfit, but instead wore a deep red off-the-shoulder evening gown. Her fiery red hair was styled into an exquisite updo, revealing her slender neck and collarbone.

The dress had a slit at the hem, and long legs covered in black stockings could be vaguely seen as she walked.

"Mr. Lance, please." She gestured invitingly, her gaze lingering on Lance for a moment longer.

Tea and refreshments had been prepared in the reception room. After the two were seated, the servants quietly withdrew, leaving them alone.

"You've taught very well," she said softly. "Lillian was so excited last night she couldn't sleep, she kept praising you, saying you were better than any teacher she'd ever met before."

"It mainly depends on her own efforts. It's not that she'll succeed just because I teach her well." Lance took a sip of tea.

Arya smiled, a smile with the unique charm of a mature woman: "You always speak so directly."

She stood up, walked to the liquor cabinet, and took out a bottle of amber liquid and two crystal glasses: "Would you like some? This is the Silver Glow family's treasured Flame Whisky, brewed with grains grown near volcanoes. It has a very unique taste."

"I don't drink often," Lance said.

"It's fine to do it once in a while." Arya had already poured two glasses and handed one of them to Lance.

Lance looked at the swirling liquid in the glass, then at Arya's expectant eyes, and finally took the glass.

"Then let's have some."

The two clinked glasses. Lance took a small sip, and the moment the liquid entered his throat, a burning sensation spread from his throat to his stomach, followed by a strange sweet aftertaste.

"How is it?" Arya asked. She had already finished half a glass, and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks.

"Not bad," Lance commented, "but the cup is too small."

He set down the crystal glass and looked at Arya: "I won't stand on ceremony, get a larger one!"

Arya paused for a moment, then burst out laughing: "Alright, let's get a bigger cup!"

She summoned a servant and had two large silver wine bowls brought out. Amber liquid was poured in, swirling within the bowls.

The two drank it all in one gulp.

The fire whisky has quite a strong aftertaste.

Arya swayed slightly as she put down her wine bowl, and had to hold onto the edge of the table for support.

"Are you alright?" Lance asked.

"It's nothing..." Arya took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "It's just that I haven't drunk this fast in a long time."

She sat down again, her fingers unconsciously tracing the rim of her wine glass. After a moment of silence, she suddenly spoke: "By the way, there's something I'd like to ask for your opinion on."

"Speaking."

"The city lord's mansion will be hosting a banquet in three days," Arya said. "It's mainly to celebrate the tenth anniversary of Graham's tenure as city lord. Most of the nobles of Rield will attend, and there may also be a few mages present."