Alora Town

Experienced friends all know that being wanted is no easy life.

Money is secondary; the main issue is having to sneak around everywhere, making everything inconvenient.

He was currently a walking bounty of 500,000. In this era, 500,000 was enough to buy a luxurious villa. What kind-hearted citizen could resist such temptation?

A Witch Potion could solve this problem. It wasn't necessary to change gender; altering his physique and appearance would suffice. However, Witch Potions were advanced alchemical elixirs, not cheap, and long-term use would also require a significant sum of money.

He was caught in a vicious cycle.

The Floris Family was truly furious this time, escalating things directly.

The Witch Hunt combined with a B-class wanted notice would fundamentally squeeze his living space smaller and smaller, forcing him to reveal his whereabouts.

Sean had previously thought the buzz from his book signing events would allow him to sell more books, perhaps earning a good amount of money. But the reality proved that one shouldn't harbor any illusions about enemies; the methods of capital were far more unscrupulous than he had imagined.

He had only guessed half of it right.

In the three days Sean slept, his books had indeed sold like hotcakes. Many bookstores even experienced stockouts; demand far outstripped supply. The publisher was working day and night, printing extra copies, because the wanted notice wasn't just for the bounty; it was also a gimmick—

What drove a talented writer, one who could make a living with his looks, to become a terrorist and embark on this path of betraying his beliefs and committing crimes?

The answer might lie within the book.

Some said his writing was incredibly satisfying, with the protagonist getting whatever he wanted, indicating that in reality, he had nothing. It was the final fantasy of a shut-in writer before going mad, wishing society would bend to his will, his extreme personality already showing signs.

Others said he depicted a beautiful utopia where everyone strived for their ideals, and knowledge was power. This suggested the author was highly educated and hoped to change his destiny through knowledge. Unfortunately, reality was the opposite. Through this "utopian" creative method, the author imbued the work with profound meaning, subtly satirizing the foolishness and injustice of modern society, and further pushing himself down the path of anti-social behavior, ultimately leading to disaster.

Sean: "..."

Honestly, he didn't even know his own stories were so profound.

He figured that if the Floris Family ever caught and killed him, they would announce his death to the public, forge a letter of confession, and use it to generate more buzz, allowing his books to sell even more.

In short, the money was indeed earned, but it had nothing to do with Sean himself.

Quill's death had not stopped the enemy from exploiting him; instead, it had intensified.

They wanted to kill him, use him to lure out other Wizards, and also make money off him.

If Sean could tolerate this, he wouldn't be Sean.

He could tolerate it for a while, at most.

Once he formulated a meticulous plan.

"I want to go for a walk," Sean said.

He liked to think while walking. Psychologically, he always felt that his steps could drive his thoughts, making his mind spin faster and preventing him from being confined by his current predicament.

Iris teased, "Is your body up to it?"

This was a classic case of asking what one already knew.

She and Elvily had both seen Sean's physical examination report. Apart from "cellular fatigue," a Wizard-specific term equivalent to "overwork" in modern language, there wasn't a single other issue.

This was truly incredible. Judging by the Magic Sean had unleashed that night, he must have used some secret spell that overdrawn his physical functions. At the very least, he should have lost a kidney, yet Sean was like a man unfazed, only needing to rest for a night—the next morning, before Sean had even woken up, his body had already recovered.

Clearly, this man was far from as simple as they had thought.

He definitely had a secret.

Elvily and Iris stared intently at Sean, seemingly waiting for an explanation.

They wouldn't ask directly, but if Sean was willing to volunteer information, they would certainly want to hear it.

Sean pretended not to understand the implication behind Iris's words and huffed, "Whether my body is up to it or not, we'll know if we try, won't we?"

Iris's eyes curved, "Oh really? Then I might just have to find an opportunity to try."

They were all adults, and she didn't mind making a few jokes with this mysterious and handsome writer occasionally.

Elvily glared at him, annoyed, "If you fall later, no one will help you up."

Her curiosity about Sean was actually greater than Iris's. It wasn't just Sean's incredibly unscientific physique, but also the spells he used in the hospital that night. Those characters gave her a strong sense of familiarity; she felt like she had seen them a long, long time ago, but couldn't recall where.

But it didn't matter.

If she couldn't remember today, it didn't mean she wouldn't remember tomorrow.

For a Reconstructor like her, past memories would gradually return with time.

Besides, she wasn't foolish. If Iris could see it, how could she, as the person involved, not notice?

Elvily didn't believe that a "friend" she had only met a few times was worth Sean risking his life to save. This guy, what he wanted to do with her was likely more than just friendship.

Her standards would naturally rise accordingly. She didn't like dishonest people.

A few minutes later.

Sean removed the IV drip and, accompanied by Elvily, went outside the hospital.

Iris received a phone call and left, saying she had something to attend to, though it was unclear if it was true.

Elvily didn't stop her this time. Once was fine, but twice would seem deliberate, as if she were afraid of being alone with Sean. She and Sean were innocent; there was nothing to fear.

The two strolled on the grass.

The scene before them was completely different from what Sean had envisioned.

This is a vast farm, the air is fresh, mixed with the scent of soil.

Sean thought the hospital ward looked quite high-class and that he was in some big city. To his surprise, he was in the suburbs of a rural town, and the hospital was converted from an old residence.

The farm was preserved. Some people were herding sheep on the grass, while others sat on small stools painting. At first glance, it gave a peaceful and leisurely feeling, yet it wasn't devoid of life. In another direction lay the town, and with a turn of the head, one could see the outlines of dense, simple buildings.

A child was pedaling a bicycle out of town, a bag slung over his shoulder, rolled-up newspapers tucked inside. He was smiling as he delivered today's morning paper to everyone.

Actually, it was almost evening now. But because the town was remote, and the nearest city was hundreds of kilometers away, it took quite some time to get the newspapers. Thus, everyone treated the outside world's morning papers as evening editions.

"Sister Flame Crow, good afternoon."

"Good afternoon to you too, sir... you look a little familiar."

The boy passed by the hospital and greeted the two of them. His big eyes blinked, seemingly searching Sean's name in his mind.

Sean smiled and said, "Hello, I'm Sean."

"Oh, Mr. Sean, I know you!" The boy's face lit up with realization, and he cheered, "The newest wanted criminal in our Westrocker State, hooray!"

Sean's smile froze: "..."

You might as well not have recognized me.

Elvily wanted to laugh, but seeing Sean's resentful expression, she held back. She gestured for the boy to continue his deliveries and comforted Sean, "Don't mind him, there are many people like you here."

"Are they all Wizards?" Sean asked.

"Yes," Elvily didn't hide it from him. "This is Alora Town, an offline base for the Dawn Council."