Faerun: The arcane mage is still too imprisoned.

"Are you... interested?"

"Go." Lance nodded.

Arya's eyes lit up:

"That's wonderful! I'll have the invitation delivered to your residence. The banquet is a formal occasion, so formal attire is required... If you don't have a suitable one, I can have one custom-made for you by the family tailor."

"No need for that," Lance said. "I don't think anyone will find fault with my clothes."

"Alright then." Arya was a little disappointed, but she didn't insist.

She stood up, walked to the desk, took out a gold-embossed invitation, and handed it to Lance personally.

The invitation was on fine parchment with gilded edges and the front printed with the city lord's coat of arms—an iron fist and a longsword crossed, symbolizing Graham Ironfist's warrior origins.

The inner pages are written with the time and place in elegant cursive script, and the city lord's autograph is at the end.

"The banquet will begin at seven o'clock in the evening in the main hall of the city lord's mansion," Arya said. "I will be waiting for you at the entrance."

Lance carefully put away the invitation: "It's getting late, Lillian must be getting impatient."

"You're right." Arya stood up, straightened her dress, and said, "I'll take you to the training gym."

On the second floor of the training hall, Lillian was already waiting in the classroom.

Today she was wearing a light blue training outfit that was easy to move in, and her bright red long hair was tied in a high ponytail, making her look much more energetic.

"Teacher Lance!" She immediately stood up when she saw Lance come in.

"Sit down." Lance sat down opposite her. "How's your meditation practice going, the one I taught you yesterday?"

"I practiced for a while before bed," Lillian said somewhat shyly. "I think I felt something... but then again, I didn't."

"Very good," Lance encouraged. "This means your connection is deepening. Over the next few days, all you need to do is solidify this feeling, make it a part of your perception—as natural as breathing."

"Yes!" Lillian nodded vigorously. "I'll try my best!"

"Today I'll explain the spell model of the [Light] spell to you..."

Lance raised his hand, and a soft white light shone from his fingertips, illuminating the entire room.

"This is one of the most basic zero-ring tricks; its model structure is the simplest."

He gestured with his other hand in the air, white light flowing from his fingertips, outlining intricate geometric lines. "Look here—this is a standard energy node, responsible for energy absorption; this is the shaping structure, determining the range and intensity of the light; and here…"

Lillian opened her eyes wide, trying to track the trails of light.

Her cute little face was slightly flushed from focus, and the faint light of the spell model was reflected in her amber pupils.

"Professor Lance," she suddenly said with a pained expression, "Are all spell models this complicated?"

"Of course." Lance dispersed the light.

He paused, observing Lillian's expression: "You find it difficult?"

"A bit..." the girl honestly admitted, "It's much more difficult than the swordplay diagrams I learned."

"That's normal," Lance laughed. "But you're so smart, you'll definitely be able to learn it."

"Now, give it a try," Lance said. "Close your eyes and visualize this model in your mind. Don't rush, we have plenty of time."

……

"Alright, that's enough for today." Lance glanced at the hourglass and decided to leave work.

"Um...um..." Lillian tugged at her skirt, asking hesitantly, "Teacher, will you continue targeting the gangs tonight?"

"...Probably, what's wrong?" Lance frowned. "Don't tell me a noble lady like you has gotten involved in a gang!"

"How could that be!" Lillian retorted angrily.

She walked in front of Lance, her amber eyes sparkling, her hands nervously clasped together.

"Teacher Lance... I... I want to go with you." She said softly but firmly, "Since I was little, I've only fought people arranged by my family. I want to see with my own eyes... what a real battle is like, and I want to participate in a real battle myself."

"That's not appropriate."

"What's wrong with that! I'm already a level 4 professional. Is there anyone in the guild with a higher level than me? I'm sure I can play really well!"

"That won't work either."

"Then...can I pay you a thousand gold coins?"

"Ah, this..." Lance hesitated. A thousand gold coins was indeed a lot, but...

"Teacher Lance..." Lillian's eyes were filled with hope.

"Have you ever killed anyone?" Lance asked calmly.

"No...no..." Lillian said awkwardly.

"Then your practical experience is zero, and it's still unknown how much of your strength you can actually unleash."

"Just in case... I mean just in case,"

Lance said with a serious expression, "What if you accidentally get captured and then accidentally trigger the defeat CG? How am I supposed to explain that to your mother?!"

"What is a defeat CG?" Lillian asked innocently.

"Hmm... don't ask that. In any case, you should ask your mother for her opinion first."

"By the way, does your mother know about this?"

Lillian's cheeks flushed slightly: "I haven't told her yet... but if you agree, I'll try to persuade her."

Lance leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. He sized up the red-haired girl before him—a level four "Heart of Flame" warrior, guaranteed to be stronger than over 70% of the professionals in Rield City.

Yet he has never experienced a real battle.

Arya protected her too well.

"This isn't a game, Lillian." Lance patted her head. "People will die. You'll see blood, corpses, hear screams and pleas for mercy. Are you really ready?"

Lillian bit her lower lip, but her eyes didn't waver: "I know. Mom said that soldiers can't live on the training field forever."

Lance remained silent for a moment.

"Eight o'clock tonight, in the old warehouse district in the south of the city," he finally said. "You can come if your mother agrees."

"But remember—stay behind me and follow my instructions. If I find you acting on your own, I will immediately send you home and never take you out again."

Lillian's eyes lit up instantly: "Thank you, teacher! I'll go find my mom right now!"

She lifted her skirt and practically ran out of the study. Lance listened to the hurried footsteps on the stairs and shook his head.

"I hope Arya doesn't mistake me for a weird uncle who's corrupting her daughter," he thought.

Arya did not answer her daughter's request immediately.

She leaned against the window, her fiery red hair blazing like a burning flame in the afternoon sun.

"Do you know what this means, Lillian?" she asked softly. "This isn't training, this isn't a duel. This is killing."

"I know, Mom." Lillian stood before her mother, her back ramrod straight.

"But I don't want to live under your wing forever. I'm already a level four warrior, but I've never really fought a battle."