Chapter 120: Mentor and Apprentice
After obtaining the research results he desired, Punk left Nielan Town. He noticed Tisha Xia’er’s movements were growing increasingly conspicuous, and all her followers showed a tendency to converge toward Doleiz City.
All signs indicated that Tisha Xia’er’s grand scheme was imminent. Time was of the essence—he needed to swiftly secure an ally and gather a group of pawns in Doleiz City.
Unaccustomed to riding mounts, Punk simply cast Swiftness Spell on himself and sprinted toward Doleiz City, followed closely by the fully repaired Golem Number One.
The travel speed of a Formal-Level Mage was remarkable. Punk departed at noon and arrived at the gates of Doleiz City by afternoon.
Just as he was about to enter the city directly, he suddenly detected a familiar magical fluctuation.
“It’s that little girl Bilan. Is she still alive?”
Only when he spotted Bilan staring fearfully in his direction from afar did Punk remember he still had such an apprentice.
Punk no longer intended to turn Bilan into a modified soul. With no recent contact, his current skills were insufficient to alter a professional’s soul. Moreover, to rally allies, a decent reputation was necessary.
“Since I plan to pose as a mage who’s ‘eccentric but kind-hearted,’ neglecting my apprentice would be unconvincing. I might as well make some casual arrangements for this girl.”
Punk pondered silently. The impression he had left on Doleiz City’s residents was previously poor. Under such circumstances, any cooperation would likely be met with suspicion, hindering his schemes. Thus, it was best to feign the demeanor of a stern yet compassionate mage, ensuring those meddling priests couldn’t scrutinize his plans.
Additionally, as long as there was no evidence of evil alignment, even if the priests despised him, they would have to assist earnestly. (Without concrete proof, Lawful-aligned deities and their priests cannot act on personal bias).
With this in mind, Punk slowed his pace and redirected his steps toward Bilan’s tent. Through Divination Spell, he knew Bilan and Dichiduo were deeply in love—she wouldn’t dare reveal what happened in the White Tower.
Although Punk had significantly reduced his speed, to Bilan and Dichiduo, the Formal-Level Mage’s figure still materialized as a black blur in the clearing before their tent.
Dichiduo stared wide-eyed at Punk, who had almost suddenly appeared before them. Though he instinctively shielded the trembling Bilan, Dichiduo—who had never encountered a Formal-Level professional—was intimidated by the aura of such a powerful figure.
As a bard, Dichiduo had read many tales of professionals in stories, but he was still just a youth who had never ventured beyond Doleiz City. His first and only close exposure to a professional—Bilan—had always presented a harmless image, leading him to somewhat believe “professionals aren’t all that impressive.”However, when facing Punk who stood as tall as himself, Dichiduo felt as though he had fallen into an icy cavern—the chilling, dreadful sensation seemed to be his only perception. Especially those frigid pupils, paired with the mysteriously eerie black Mage Robe… that silent horror appeared capable of extinguishing all hope and beauty.
Only at this moment did Dichiduo understand why merely mentioning the name of this Formal-Level mage was enough to make Bilan tremble uncontrollably. It wasn’t just the terror of his aura, but a soul-crushing suppression on an existential level.
Punk coldly watched the trembling little boy before him. Bilan was clutching tightly to the youth’s clothes, the young couple huddling together and shivering, making him feel like a big bad wolf cornering little rabbits in their burrow.
Punk looked somewhat speechlessly at Bilan. He couldn’t comprehend why this apprentice who’d had the nerve to cause trouble for him was now so terrified, but this didn’t prevent Punk from putting on his performance.
The priests assisting refugees nearby were all watching this “suddenly appeared” Formal-Level powerhouse from a distance, while several soldiers had hurried off to notify Kaiskaser. Punk knew that if he appeared friendly now, leaning as much as possible toward the good alignment, the Church priests wouldn’t be able to refuse when he presented evidence from the Tisha Xia’er Church and requested assistance. So he spoke in the gentlest voice he could muster:
“Hello, my apprentice. We meet again.”
Due to his usual reticence, what Punk considered a gentle voice actually remained largely devoid of emotion, sounding cold and lifeless.
To Bilan, this likely meant Punk was furious—not only had she abandoned the White Tower by “running away,” but she’d also messed up the Experiment Table while searching for medicine. Tampering with a mage’s Experiment Table without permission could be considered a declaration of war. Thus, Bilan was utterly terrified—afraid of being killed by Punk, afraid of being dissected as an experimental subject, afraid of ending up like those slaves with their souls altered.
She was even more afraid of implicating Dichiduo!
“At least… at least I must save Dichiduo.”
This single thought dominated Bilan’s mind in that moment.
“Master, I’m deeply sorry! I left the White Tower without permission and disturbed your Experiment Table—these are unforgivable sins. I’ll accept any punishment without complaint, but please spare Dichiduo, I beg you… This has nothing to do with him! It’s entirely my fault!”
Bilan’s eyes were red, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. The young girl pleaded loudly with Punk, her delicate hands gripping her skirt tightly to control her trembling, though her clothes were already soaked with sweat, the dress clinging to her body and outlining her graceful curves.
“No, Bilan! What are you saying? You were just trying to save someone! What wrong is there in that? Should we have stood by and let that child die?”
After a moment of stunned silence, Dichiduo came to his senses. The moment he saw Punk, he’d keenly sensed that this Formal-Level mage was absolutely not the kind of benevolent practitioner Bilan was.No matter how he asked, Bilan refused to tell Dichiduo what she had experienced inside the White Tower that made her frequently wake from nightmares. But Dichiduo had already realized that everything in the White Tower must have been extremely, extremely terrifying, and the official mage before them must be equally, equally horrifying.
So horrifying… that it reduced the usually calm and serene Bilan to desperate sobbing and pleading!
Dichiduo was not just a youth—he was a man determined to protect Bilan. He couldn’t let her bear this alone, so he resolutely spoke up.
“Dichiduo… you…”
Hearing his words, Bilan grew frantic with worry. She truly feared Dichiduo would provoke the “mad and evil” Punk and be struck dead by a fireball.
But Dichiduo gently pressed his index finger to Bilan’s lips, stopping her from continuing.
“Enough, Bilan. Didn’t we promise to face everything together, no matter what?”
Under the setting sun, Dichiduo’s hair shimmered with brilliant golden light.
“Dichiduo…”
At that moment, Bilan felt that as long as she was with Dichiduo, nothing else mattered. Even death or something more terrifying—as long as… Dichiduo was by her side…
Watching this foolish couple enact a life-and-death farewell before him, Punk truly didn’t know what to say. The word “speechless” couldn’t even begin to describe his current mood.
Punk felt he had merely offered an ordinary greeting. Were these two really necessary to make such a “fuss,” treating him like some irredeemable villain?
Faced with a group of wide-eyed priests and the sobbing, clinging pair of Bilan and Dichiduo, Punk felt the urge to turn and leave, pretending not to know them, for the first time.
But impulse aside, the show had to go on.
In the end, the helpless official mage could only force a stiff smile by twitching the corner of his lips, step forward, and give each of them a light flick on the forehead. Then, adopting the most resigned tone he could muster, he said:
“You two idiots, how much more embarrassing do you need to be?”
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(Today was military training with 40°C heat in the south. Though I couldn’t participate due to a cut on my foot, I still had to observe and got roasted like a dog. My clothes weren’t breathable, and sweat dripped from my chin.
The instructor didn’t allow phone use. Returning to the dorm, I was too exhausted and had no time, so I could only manage one update. Please forgive me. Tomorrow I’ll try to negotiate with the instructor (maybe gift her a pack of Zhonghua cigarettes) to use observation time for phone typing, aiming for two updates if possible. Thank you.)
(End of Chapter)