Ian's gaze slightly tightened.
It seems the Gods cannot tolerate wild Wizards.
He turned around and left.
Deep within the alley, several ragged children were gathered around an injured Eagle Horse Beast. The creature, meant to soar in the sky, now lay with broken wings, gasping in pain.
"It's in so much pain..." a girl sobbed, "but we can't find a Healer. The people at the Divine Hall said Divine Art shouldn't be wasted on 'inferior creatures'..."
Ian stopped to watch for a moment, then suddenly squatted down. Under the surprised gazes of the children, he gently touched the Eagle Horse Beast's wound, and a silver-gray light flashed; the broken wings were restored to their original state.
"This..." The eldest boy's eyes widened, "Are you a Priest of the Gods?"
"No."
Ian stood up, his black cloak lightly flapping in the wind, "Just a traveler passing by."
He looked up at the towering Divine Hall in the city center, where golden light enveloped the city like the tangible presence of the Gods. But in this moment, in the depths of the alley, amidst the joyous cheers of the children, and the clear neighing of the reborn Eagle Horse Beast—the suffering and the forgotten also lived.
"The faster you live, the better."
Ian left the place.
He continued onward, eventually arriving at a quiet little tavern. Here, far from the city's center's noise, gathered various wanderers, mercenaries, fugitives, and those unwilling to be bound by the Gods.
He walked in, ordered a glass of wine, and quietly sat in the corner, observing his surroundings. There was, of course, a reason for choosing this place to linger.
Ian could sense that the guests here were all Wizards, clearly making it a gathering place for Wizards, seemingly all uneasy due to the recent decree issued by the Goddess.
A thin man quietly approached him.
"Friend, are you interested in an 'academic exchange'?" The man lowered his voice, his eyes flickering.
Ian raised an eyebrow: "What kind of exchange?"
"Informal," the man smiled slightly, "without the Divine Hall's permission."
Ian's heart stirred, and he nodded slightly.
Thus, led by the man, he passed through a narrow alley, circumvented a few dilapidated buildings, and finally arrived at the entrance of a narrow, abandoned alley.
At the end of the alley, a figure cloaked in brown cautiously looked around. The person held a copper coin engraved with runes, tapping it lightly against the wall three times.
Thud, thud, thud.
The wall rippled like water, revealing a hidden passage.
At the end of the passage was an abandoned barn. A few ghostly blue Magic Lamps hung from the rough wooden beams, lighting up a simple wooden table in the center. About a dozen figures sat around the table, some cloaked, some masked, with the air filled with the scent of herbs, sulfur, and parchment.
A damp and musty smell greeted them.
Although night-time illumination was a luxury in this era, the room was remarkably bright, with a dozen candles floating in the air, casting a ghostly blue light.
The walls were covered with ancient Scrolls, and complex Array patterns were laid out on the floor.
"Welcome, new friend." An older Wizard raised his head, his gaze deep as a well, "You don't look like a local."
"Indeed." Ian smiled, "I'm a traveler, very interested in your world."
"Then join us." The man gestured for him to sit, sensing a hint of Magic Power emanating from Ian, "Tonight's theme is 'Elemental Spirit and Soul Resonance.'"
Ian took a seat and began to listen to the Wizards' discussions.
"The trade will begin tonight."
A low female voice spoke, belonging to a woman wearing a crow mask, who seemed to host this gathering, "Old rules—knowledge exchange, information sharing, no direct combat allowed."
It appeared to be a very orderly Wizard gathering, and Ian watched with interest. The Wizards' levels were mixed, some with Magic fluctuations weak as candlelight, others barely passing as competent. Yet without exception, their eyes held a kind of secret fanaticism—the look of those who, in a world ruled by Gods, still desired to control their own destiny.
"I'll go first." A tall, thin man stood up, taking out a yellowed parchment from his bosom, "This is a 'Moonlight Potion' recipe, which can conceal your presence at night, avoiding the Divine Hall's hounds. I want to trade for a 'Flame Resistance' Spell."
Soon, an elder in a red cloak raised his hand in response, and after a few whispered words, the trade was completed.
Then, a veiled girl took out a ring set with Amethyst: "This ring can store a small amount of Magic Power, useful for emergencies. I want to exchange it for research notes on the 'essence of Divine Art.'"
The venue stirred slightly. Clearly, the topic of "Divine Art" was extremely sensitive.
"Are you crazy?" someone whispered a warning, "Researching Divine Art is a capital crime!"
The girl stubbornly pressed her lips together, unwilling to back down.
As the atmosphere became tense, a figure in the corner, who had remained silent, suddenly spoke: "I have what you want."
Everyone's eyes turned towards the voice's source—a man cloaked in deep blue, wearing a silver-white mask, only his piercing eyes visible. He took out a thin notebook from his bosom and pushed it to the center of the table.
"But be reminded, the more you know, the quicker you die."
The girl hesitated for a moment, finally gritting her teeth and picking up the notebook, handing over the ring.