One Night

After a good while of gritting his teeth, he began to reflect on the battle. He felt he hadn't made any significant tactical errors, using every advantage available. As for brilliant strategies or artistic command, he wasn't a military expert or war commander, so there was no need to be overly critical of himself.

What truly caused his severe injuries were those two individuals who had flanked and attacked him. He owed his ability to fend them off, despite his still-developing swordsmanship, to his excellent physical condition. Otherwise, his adventure would have ended right there.

The core issue was a lack of strength. Even with his teammates doing so much, he couldn't expect them to coddle him as a newcomer forever. Fortunately, after this ordeal, his previous lessons had integrated, allowing him to wield his skills with practiced ease. Faced with a similar attack now, he wouldn't need to gamble; a steady, methodical approach would be far more appropriate.

Tossing and turning in bed for a while, Zhang Yuan thought again about the spell he had failed to cast. Facing the charging gnolls, he had been forced to abandon his prepared Sleep spell because he lacked the confidence to finish casting it before they reached him.

It was a choice made out of necessity. If that spell had been cast successfully, the entire situation could have been turned around. But there were no "ifs," and he was merely an aspiring mage, not yet initiated.

Relying on his summons, he pretended to be someone with innate awakened abilities. He knew very well that while he could bully weaker opponents by proxy, if he encountered a tough adversary, or if his pawns were pinned down and he was forced into direct combat, his only recourse would be the sword in his hand.

Not having truly stepped into the halls of arcane knowledge, he understood that without meta-magic techniques like Quicken Spell, Still Spell, or Combat Casting, his application of magic was severely limited. He couldn't even shorten a single syllable of a spell.

Ultimately, he was a mage and a fighter, not merely a summoner of pawns.

His reasons for joining the Flaming Fist, for training so diligently, and for desperately seeking a magic tutor were, of course, to become stronger—strong enough to survive in this dangerous world.

But on the other hand, he also didn't want to become overly reliant on his cheat system.

It wasn't that the cheat system was bad or unreliable, but his own was merely an auxiliary, like a branch of a tree rather than the trunk. Abandoning the root for the branch was foolish.

Moreover, he didn't want to become the kind of person he disliked the most: someone who was nothing without their cheat system.

As a person, one must always do something, prove something.

One could call him idle, but according to Maslow's hierarchy of needs, after fulfilling basic survival and comfort, pursuing higher-level self-actualization was not wrong. Humans weren't pigs; after eating, they didn't just sleep.

I must be a bit better than a pig, right? he thought to himself.

With a spirit full of ambition and boundless anticipation, Zhang Yuan fell asleep on his bed.

The next morning, Skar sought him out, his expression grim. He began with an apology:

"I'm sorry, I was too optimistic. Grand Duke Iltan, he doesn't look favorably upon our plan, nor does he believe in the reliability of seers."

Although Skar's words were tactful, calling it "not looking favorably," his expression suggested the situation was far from that simple. In fact, Skar had clearly been thoroughly reprimanded.

"It's natural for the Grand Duke to have doubts. After all, sending troops into a place like the Sharp Tooth Forest without good reason would be truly irresponsible," Zhang Yuan said, not disheartened as he had expected this. "But what if we can prove it? Find evidence that the Grand Duke cannot deny or refute."

Skar was taken aback at first, but upon reflection, he realized it made sense. "The question is, can the seer you mentioned be trusted? And what kind of evidence would be considered credible? Highly private or important matters aren't really suitable."

"Don't worry about the seer; you've followed Grand Duke Iltan for so many years, why are you asking me about what's suitable?"

Skar lowered his head, his hands clasped together in deep thought. Zhang Yuan didn't rush him. After a long while, Skar looked up:

"I have an idea. Grand Duke Iltan once had a child who disappeared due to a political conspiracy when they were young. For years, the Grand Duke has poured countless resources into searching for them, but to no avail."

"They don't even know if the child is alive or dead. The Grand Duke has already given up hope." Skar sighed with some emotion. Although he hadn't experienced this event or witnessed it firsthand, as a trusted confidant who had followed the Grand Duke for many years, he knew the source of the Grand Duke's occasional melancholy and regret.

There's also this? The unscrupulous mage glanced at Skar. Could it be because of this that Iltan, who has no children of his own, treats Skar like a godson? he speculated maliciously.

"Don't worry, I won't be foolish enough to joke about such important information. You'll hear good news from me." Zhang Yuan's words were decisive.

As for why he had such confidence in that seer, it traced back to a story from a while ago.

More than a month prior, on the eighth day after a certain transmigrator arrived on the continent of Faerûn, which happened to be the day the great collector Sir Kist of Ferenno held his personal collection exhibition.

Zhang Yuan, still undergoing rigorous training at the Flaming Fist outpost, despite his exhaustion and a body that felt like it would crumble if he fell or the wind blew him over, clutched his Euro coins and dragged the penniless painter Wiles to the exhibition.

The exhibition was held at Sir Kist's mansion. Fortunately, with Wiles, who knew the way, guiding him, Zhang Yuan, who lacked an invitation, managed to slip in.

However, the influence of a certain impoverished painter only went so far. When the two attempted to approach Sir Kist to launch into a sales pitch, they were stopped by guards about ten feet away. Two individuals dressed in strange attire (Zhang Yuan) and tattered clothes (Wiles) hardly looked like people of status. Get lost!

With no other options, Zhang Yuan tried to peddle his coins to other attendees. Apart from a few jeers and people trying to take advantage with bargain-basement offers, he gained nothing.

Feeling disheartened, Zhang Yuan decided to leave. Wiles, however, was captivated and chose to stay to continue his artistic appreciation.

Stepping outside, Zhang Yuan looked around. The city center of Baldur's Gate was bustling with crowds and traffic. Looking at himself, with only a few coins to his name, he felt like he was watching beggars on the street, shedding tears of sorrow for them, and the heartbroken advising the heartbroken.

The beggar, seemingly moved, extended his hands in a friendly gesture.

"Get lost," Zhang Yuan said, turning away.

Wandering aimlessly through the noisy marketplace, the comings and goings of pedestrians and carriages, the calls of street vendors, and the performances of clowns at the open-air circus all felt like a separate world, unrelated to him.

With his get-rich-quick scheme thwarted, Zhang Yuan felt like roaring at the sky but feared being beaten by his own people, so he suppressed his frustration and quickened his pace.

Rounding a circus troupe performing a lion jumping through a hoop, a rather ornate tent appeared before him. Zhang Yuan, who had intended to walk past, accidentally noticed a sign: Fortune Teller.

Scoffing, he was about to leave but suddenly recalled the uncannily accurate seer from the game. Could it be this person? he wondered.

With a sliver of hope, Zhang Yuan entered. Upon entering, he felt it was quite something. This master fortune teller was incredibly professional, with tarot cards, crystal balls, wands, various small animals like toads and rats, skulls, and so on, all present.

The presentation screamed professionalism! He then asked for the master's name.

"You can call me Klein," he said.

Perfect. He didn't know how this person ended up working in Faerûn, but that didn't matter, did it?

Phew~ Featured on the fantasy channel's new release recommendations, my collection count has increased, ヽ(°▽°)ノ

Thank you all for your support, thank you to the readers who have accompanied me on this journey.

I also thank Ben Qiu Kabie, fy11766, and Wu Nai Zhi Yu for their tips.

P.S. Kabie, rest well and recover soon. I'm still waiting for your "I Am the Creator" to resume updates.