Mage Legend-Chapter 330 - 20 episodes Bluff_3

Lynch had his Magic Book spread out in front of him, with a pale golden mead and writing tools placed beside it. He was focusing his energy on translating the Spell. The knowledge he had acquired at the Mage Association was gradually being transformed into something that could operate under the Magic Origin Power. His spellcasting level had returned to the level he was at when facing the Mage Kuziman.

Moreover, having acquired an almost inexhaustible source of power and the reputedly strongest defense, the "Left Hand," Lynch’s strength had surpassed what it was back in Moon Harbor City.

However, in his heart, he was filled with more questions than ever. The magical principles that were once clear had now become entangled like a mess of threads. The longer he worked on the translation, the more confused Lynch became: the arcane, which should have originated from the same principles, why did they become unable to fuse under the driving forces of the Magic Network and Magic Origin? Even with the same Spell, they could produce the same effect but would repel each other due to different sources of power, ultimately causing an explosion.

"Could it be that these two are naturally enemies?" Lynch frowned tightly, not quite believing this conclusion. "Why did the Magic God design a Magic Network that is entirely different from the original Magic Origin Power, rather than simply limiting the strength of the Origin Power? What purpose does he have in being so roundabout?"

Yilinrui, feeling bored, watched the mage while her gaze occasionally fell on others in the little theater. Although she always wanted to attract the mage’s attention and often approached this human male, exhibiting her charm, Lynch always disregarded her actions. This was even more annoying to her than direct rejection. As Yilinrui recalled the scenes she had foreseen over and over again, a hint of doubt unconsciously crept into her mind.

"Is he really that person?"

Lynch closed his book, took a sip of mead, and the sweet, refreshing taste put him at ease. An elf approached, who was not carrying armor or weapons, but rather a flute decorated with feathers and shells. He bowed slightly to the mage and said, "Mr. Lynch, I have heard of you from my fellow elves, and I first want to thank you for standing with us elves at this time. May I ask you a question?"

’This is a bard,’ Lynch thought to himself, ’They are enthusiasts who treat poetry as their very life.’

"Please go ahead, elf friend." The mage noticed a few elves casting their gaze this way and said, "I happen to have some time now to answer questions from a friend."

"Is Heather safe? Is our Empress safe?"

Lynch stared at the elf bard in front of him and firmly said, "The Heather I know is a fortress that looks the least like a castle, yet it possesses qualities other constructions do not: it is impregnable."

The mage paused, seeing that he had captured the attention of everyone around, and said, "The reason it is impregnable is not because of this mountain, nor because of that Holy River outside; it is because Heather is built on the Holy Land in the hearts of all elves. As long as elves fight for her, she can never be breached."

The bard paused, then placed the flute in his hand to his lips. Lynch waved to temporarily stop his musical performance and said, "It is impolite to leave in the middle of someone else’s performance, but I have other matters to attend to and cannot stay to listen to your music."

With that, he picked up the limp Soka and walked towards the door. Yilinrui looked at the bard and then quickly followed.

"That was Heather’s best singer," the elf said to the mage, "It’s a shame you won’t stay and listen."

Lynch did not wish to bring up the mutual animosity that existed between mages and other arcane practitioners on this continent. Their relationships with bards and magicians were not friendly. Although Lynch did not label these spellcasters as frauds or thieves like some mages did, he still preferred not to associate with them too much.

So the mage didn’t answer Yilinrui’s question at all but instead said, "Princess, how are your archery skills?"

The elf seemed startled, stuttering twice before responding, "Me? Archery? My skills are quite good."

"Then could you teach Soka this skill? I think the little one should have a martial skill for self-defense."

"There’s no problem with that." Yilinrui was very pleased in her heart, finally capturing Lynch’s attention, recognizing her potential.

......

"How does this benefit me?" Fyyian said, "You drow want the elves to disappear from the surface, and at the same time, you want to retrieve the Undead Magic Bead; what you offer is merely some information and support I can get after I win. Dear lady, I think the scales of this deal are still far from balanced."

"Things in the world are not as simple as you think," Zilvra still displayed a confident demeanor. In her constant intrigues with her sisters, she had long honed her skills in deception. She said, "The powers the Underdark possesses are beyond your imagination; cooperation benefits both sides. If you attack Heather just to rule a mountain full of Undead, then you can ignore what I say. Know that the Undead Magic Bead now merely obeys your orders by force, those Undead can turn against you at any time. Only the matron of our first family knows all its secrets. When that day comes, without an ally or power, what would you have left?"

Zilvra relied on her vague memories of this bead to bluff Fyyian. Those skilled in deception can always speak at length, for what they say is all lies; whereas those who are honest appear hesitant and slow in speech, burdened by verifying their words’ accuracy in their mind. However, most people tend to believe that these fluent words are the truth.

Fyyian still couldn’t fully trust Zilvra’s proposal, but internally he was somewhat swayed. Conspirators always fear conspiracies, and those uncertain pieces of information left him hesitant. He invited Zilvra to stay temporarily at the Undead Tower and went alone to the polluted lands outside.

A Ghost drifted in front of him, handing a scroll to Fyyian. The Disfigurer curiously unrolled it, finding it densely filled with drow language. The complex symbols and diagrams he could not fully comprehend, but it was obviously a Magic Scroll.

The faded writings indicated that this scroll’s power was forcibly interrupted when in use, and the unlucky spellcaster failed to complete this complex spell. Fyyian reached his right hand into his pocket, continuously rubbing inside; the Ghost in front of him frantically twisted its transparent body, becoming more and more faint. Suddenly, as if struck by a Holy spell, the Ghost exploded and vanished without a trace. Fyyian nodded, looking at the tower behind him, and muttered to himself, "So that’s how it is. Now, things are finally going to start getting smooth and interesting."

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