Chapter 282: The Arrival of Some People

After the mage left, only Shaoke and the White-robed Cleric remained in the somewhat ruined manor. After a moment of silence, the White-robed Cleric suddenly invited Shaoke to take a walk with her around the estate. Of course, this walk was to the backyard, which had not yet been destroyed, where the maids had planted many grapevines.

"Perhaps you should talk to them," the two walked in silence for a while before the White-robed Cleric suddenly stopped and looked at Shaoke. "Perhaps with your strength, they won't make things too difficult for you." Saying this, the Cleric seemed to recall something and fell silent again, though her gaze lingered on Shaoke as if she could see something in him.

"Talk to them?" Shaoke raised his voice slightly in surprise. "They'll still demand payment for some items from me. That kind of thing simply won't happen to me." He frowned and added, "A mage should not be threatened by anyone. No matter who they are, they have no right to take anything from me for free, not even items I’ve discarded." The mage emphasized his tone.

"I feel you're being unreasonable now," the White-robed Cleric said with a slight smile. "They will surely attack us again. If they send more Seventh-order Practitioners next time, our situation could be dangerous." With that, a look of concern reappeared on her face. Based on her understanding, those who had just fought with Shaoke belonged to a mercenary group that controlled this street. They likely still had two more Seventh-order Practitioners. She then shared everything she knew with Shaoke in detail.

"I never acknowledge any reasoning," Shaoke said, spinning his staff in his hand and calmly watching the White-robed Cleric. "I recall the mages of ancient times—their thoughts were reason itself. Those who didn't follow their ways were deemed unreasonable." He thought of his previous life, where unreasonable people existed everywhere, often those with power.

Shaoke's remarks left the White-robed Cleric with no choice but to smile helplessly. "What use is it to talk about the glories of hundreds of thousands or millions of years ago now?" She gently smoothed her slightly disheveled long hair and continued, "Don't dwell on the past so much; it no longer suits the present." She sighed softly, her hands fidgeting over the golden spellbook as if lost in thought.

Shaoke paid little heed to the Cleric's words. Ever since he had sensed the presence of the Ancient spellcasters and Ancient Spellcasters from those magic scripts and the tattered spellbook, he had been deeply influenced by them. The innate arrogance, wisdom, and mystery of those Spellcasters made it impossible for him to forget.

Silence once again settled between the two mages. Finally, Shaoke suggested the Cleric return to rest, but she refused. The White-robed Cleric also expressed her wish for Shaoke to stay with her a while longer, as the recent battle had left her feeling unsettled, and she hoped that conversation with a companion might ease her discomfort.

Faced with the White-robed Cleric’s request, Shaoke hesitated before agreeing. If another battle were to occur, this cleric would be essential for eliminating large numbers of practitioners, as her Support Spells were unlike any regular mage could cast, and no ordinary spell could match their effectiveness.

The two mages stayed in the backyard for nearly two magic hours before the Cleric finally bid Shaoke farewell and returned to her room. Shaoke also went to comfort the maids before retiring to his own quarters. He now had to consider how to repair the ruined manor and, if possible, attempt to build a small castle here.

After some random thoughts, Shaoke quickly began writing down his spell records by candlelight. He meticulously recorded that day’s spellcasting insights for future reference during his leisure time, aiming to improve his abilities. He had never ceased this practice since casting his first spell, and to date, he had written over fifty rolls of paper. All these records were carefully stored in boxes and then placed inside the ring he carried.

After finishing this task, it was already dinner time. Following tradition, the mages dined in silence, then gathered in the living room around the fireplace, casually discussing various topics. The White-robed Cleric lounged lazily on the floor, which was covered with a thick rug, her elbow resting on a low stool as she sat close to Shaoke.

The other four mages discussed the day’s battle, hoping to attract Shaoke’s attention and gain some guidance from him. But Shaoke’s mind was elsewhere; he stared blankly at the fireplace, wondering why Mage Roman still hadn’t sent any news. Was she too busy with work to have time to write? Or had something gone wrong with the Blizzard Legion?

Dark thoughts swirled in Shaoke’s mind, and the White-robed Cleric, sensing his subtle shifts in mental energy, quickly deduced his state. After a brief hesitation, she asked the four discussing mages to leave, as Shaoke needed some peace.

The mages reluctantly departed.

"Can you tell me what’s bothering you?" the White-robed Cleric asked, poking the firewood in the fireplace. "Don’t keep things bottled up inside. If you do that for long, it could affect your mental energy." She turned her gaze to Shaoke, waiting for his response.

After a moment’s thought, Shaoke shared his concerns. Listening to him, the White-robed Cleric said uncertainly, "Perhaps the letters were delayed en route." She glanced at the mage with concern and then, biting her lip, added, "In this city, all correspondence is controlled by powerful organizations. If they deliberately withheld your letters, the results could be dire." She rubbed her forehead in frustration.

"Oh," Shaoke replied calmly, saying no more. He then found a low recliner, lay down, and began reading a book. The White-robed Cleric shifted position, grabbed a blanket to cover herself, curled up nearby, and closed her eyes to rest.

Throughout the night, the attack Shaoke had feared did not occur. Even those who had been spying on his residence the previous night had vanished completely, as if they had never existed.

Glancing at the Cleric, still curled up by the fireplace with her eyes closed, Shaoke approached and studied her familiar face. Her high nose, rosy lips, and flushed cheeks were captivating. Some strands of golden hair covered her face, giving Shaoke the urge to tidy them for her. Yet, knowing she was meditating, he refrained from acting.

Shaoke’s gaze soon caught the White-robed Cleric’s attention. She quickly finished her exercise, shot Shaoke a glance, then hugged her golden spellbook and hurried out. The male mage called out to ask her plans, but the Cleric only muttered something under her breath and left without responding.

In the following days, most of the practitioners who had been lingering around the manor disappeared, though occasionally some would still probe the area using various methods. Shaoke could even see ordinary people watching from beyond the broken walls. He had no hesitation in casting spells to destroy them utterly. He didn’t care about their reasons for spying or the trouble it might bring.

On the morning of the fourth day after the attack, after breakfast, the four mages informed Shaoke of their intention to leave. They needed to gather precious magic materials to trade with Shaoke for potions, which would accelerate their advancement.

After the mages left, the White-robed Cleric spent more time with Shaoke. Sometimes at night, if Shaoke wasn’t sleeping, she wouldn’t leave his room but would stay by his side, either sleeping or meditating. This delighted Shaoke.

Half a month after the mages’ departure, the maid who often accompanied Shaoke during bathing rushed into his room in panic, reporting her discovery with a fearful voice before standing aside anxiously, waiting for his decision.

The maid had seen a large group of black-robed men inquiring about the manor’s address while purchasing goods in the city, and they were heading this way. "Master, those men look terrifying," she added breathlessly.

This news put both Shaoke and the White-robed Cleric on alert. After a moment’s consideration, Shaoke told the maid, "Go to the rear house with the others, just like last time. No matter what happens outside, don’t come out." Seeing the maid still too frightened to leave, Shaoke, though somewhat displeased, patted her shoulder and comforted her further before she finally went to relay the warning to the others.