Faerun: The arcane mage is still too imprisoned.

He stretched out his hand, his fingertips shimmering with a faint pink light.

[Bewitching humans!]

The gentle light entered the woman's eyes.

Her body stiffened, her expression gradually relaxed, and her eyes became empty and submissive.

"Now," Lance repeated the question, "answer me."

The woman opened her mouth, her voice mechanical and monotonous: "We...in the city...have fifty-seven official believers...and about twenty peripheral assistants..."

"Will you be holding your 'ascension ceremony' here?"

"I don't know. We have many outposts and many altars. The bishop decides where to hold the ceremony."

Where are the other outposts?

"have no idea."

"How could you know nothing... That was too hasty," Lance reflected.

"We should have left that lantern-bearer behind... Do you know what the bishop's name was?"

"The bishop called... called..."

Her voice suddenly stopped, and a look of struggle appeared on her face.

Immediately afterwards, black, viscous blood began to seep from her eyes, nose, and ears.

Lance's expression changed, and he immediately cast the [Healing Mantra] to try to save her.

But it was too late.

The woman's body convulsed violently, then suddenly froze, her pupils dilated, and she stopped breathing.

The stone chamber returned to deathly silence.

Upon seeing this, Cielsa gasped in shock: "Lord Lance, this...this is..."

"Anti-reconnaissance curse." Lance stood up, his eyelids slightly lowered. "It's at least at the level of a third-circle spell... Once someone tries to leak certain information, the curse will be triggered, directly destroying the brain and internal organs."

He crouched back down beside the corpse and gently lifted the woman's eyelids.

His pupils were completely cloudy, and his eye sockets were filled with congealed black blood.

"The caster is very professional," Lance whispered. "This isn't something an ordinary cult priest could do. This bishop... seems to be at least a level 5 elite caster, maybe even higher."

Cielsa gripped her scimitar tightly: "My lady, should we...?"

"Walk."

Lance turned around. "Let's go back first. I'll go see Arya tomorrow—the Silvershine family is a local noble family, they might be interested in dealing with the cult."

"And these three corpses..."

"Burn it."

Lance raised his hand, and orange-red flames ignited at his fingertips.

[Flame Arrow!]

The arrow struck the area where grease remained, and flames erupted, quickly engulfing the three gray-robed corpses. A stench of burning flesh filled the air.

The two left the stone chamber and quickly walked away along the way they had come.

It was already past midnight when I walked out of the old irrigation canal.

Cielsa followed half a step behind Lance.

"My lady," she said softly, "do you really think the Silvershine family would help? Cults are something that nobles usually don't want to get involved with."

Lance continued walking: "I'm also curious, is she willing to help, or...?"

As the two turned the corner, the outline of the riverside villas came into view.

The light was still on in the second-floor window; it was left by Cielsa before she left.

Lance went home, got into bed, and decided to go straight to sleep today.

……

the next morning.

"ha--"

Lance groggily opened his eyes, yawned widely, stretched out his arms, and kicked twice on the bed.

Sielsa was still curled up beside him, fast asleep, her long silver-gray hair scattered on the pillow, her sleeping face serene.

Both of them were a little tired after returning from the old irrigation canal last night.

Lance recalled his discoveries from the previous night: the altar, the three gray-robed corpses, and the woman's strange reaction before she died.

"The Thirsty Hand..." Lance's expression was serious. "Fifty-seven formal believers, at least one elite-level priest or bishop, and the ability to plant a counter-surveillance curse in the minds of believers..."

"Tonight, an evil ritual will be held to create another elite-level being. It's just unknown whether it will be an elite physical damage dealer or a magic damage dealer."

Among the dozen or so officially registered mages currently residing in Rild City, there might not even be one elite-level mage.

Clearly, this is no longer an ordinary cult, and we must take strong measures against it!

"Lord Lance..." came Cielsa's languid voice from the side.

She rubbed her eyes and sat up, revealing a large expanse of white skin. "You're awake..."

"Just woke up." Lance turned around. "How was your first battle as a professional?"

"It's alright..." Cielsa yawned. "Actually, there's not much difference. It's just that it's easier to fight now."

Lance sat up and reached out to ruffle her hair.

Cecilia leaned closer, nestled in Lance's arms: "Are you going to see Lady Arya today?"

"Yes." Lance got up and walked towards the wardrobe. "Since the City Lord's Mansion is unwilling to get involved, the Silver Glow family might be a breakthrough."

"Arya is very powerful, and she doesn't seem like the kind of noble who would turn a blind eye to this kind of thing."

"Besides, it would be great if she were willing to help me, but it wouldn't matter if she weren't. It would just mean adjusting our future action plan."

"I actually think..." Cielsa also got out of bed and began to make the bed, "that duchess, although... well, she was a little too enthusiastic towards you, she didn't give off a bad impression."

Lance raised an eyebrow: "Too enthusiastic?"

"You know perfectly well," Cielsa pouted, but quickly smiled again. "But it doesn't matter, since Lord Lance is mine anyway."

"Alright, stop joking around." Lance changed into a dark blue silk robe. "Prepare breakfast, and then I'll head to Silvershine Manor."

I want to go too.

"Then let's do it together."

At 10:00 AM, Lance and Celsa arrived at Silvershine Manor.

Old Bert was still waiting at the door, making one wonder if he spent 24 hours a day there.

Upon seeing Lance, he bowed respectfully: "Good day, Lord Lance. Your wife is waiting for you in the study."

"She knew I was coming?" Lance was somewhat surprised.

"Madam instructed this morning that you might come to visit today," old Bert said with a smile. "Please follow me."

In the study, Arya was standing by the window, watching Lillian practice her sword in the courtyard.

Today she was wearing a deep purple loungewear dress, her fiery red hair loosely draped over her shoulders, giving her a more languid beauty than her usual sharpness.

Hearing the door open, she turned around, her amber eyes lingering on Lance for a moment, a smile playing on her lips: "I knew you'd come today."

"Oh?" Lance raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Intuition." Arya walked to the wine cabinet, took out a bottle of red wine and two crystal glasses, "And there were fires in the south of the city last night—isn't that your style? I don't know why you're so keen on arson."

She sat down in the chair at the desk and pushed a glass of wine toward Lance: "Sit down. How was it taking Lillian out last night?"

Lance took the glass and sat down opposite her: "She's very talented, but lacks practical experience. However, it's quite remarkable that she could remain calm after her first murder."