Campfire Night Talk

As the conversation opened up, the atmosphere gradually relaxed.

Cain began to reminisce about a few old stories from his time in the knight order, with Harold and Renn occasionally chiming in to add details. Even the shy Ailian couldn't help but chirp in a few words, and low laughter began to drift around the campfire.

As they chatted, Cain looked at Ye Wei'an's calm profile illuminated by the firelight and felt a sudden surge of emotion.

Recalling the rumors he had heard before setting out, as well as the composed command and sharp spellcasting he had witnessed during the day, some words slipped out before he could stop them: "Honestly, Young Master, you are truly different from the... rumors that my subordinates and I heard before."

The moment those words fell, the atmosphere around the campfire visibly froze.

Harold and Renn, sitting nearby, lowered their heads to focus intently on their food, as if they had suddenly developed a profound interest in dry bread.

Both men felt their hearts sink: Why is the boss acting up again? Bringing up a notorious bastard's reputation right to his face—isn't that just asking for trouble? If we offend Young Master Ye Wei'an, what are we going to do if we don't have a tent to sleep in tonight?

Harold and Renn had underestimated Ye Wei'an's magnanimity.

Whatever the bad reputation was, it belonged to the original owner of the body; what did it have to do with him, a transmigrator?

Ye Wei'an felt no resentment toward the socially inept Cain.

If anything, it was precisely because Knight Cain was this kind of person that he could be persuaded to participate in an operation where "the mastermind is likely the mistress of the house."

"You mean to say that my performance doesn't match the rumors of the useless bastard who spent four years at the academy without making any progress, neither good at literature nor martial arts, right?" Ye Wei'an continued along the path of his words.

Only then did Cain realize he had said something he shouldn't have.

"Uh... this..."

The knight, usually so decisive in command, was exceptionally clumsy at this moment. He wanted to explain but didn't know where to start, eventually just nodding awkwardly: "Apologies, Young Master. It was a slip of the tongue, but I meant no offense. Please, Young Master, forgive me."

"It's nothing. It's only natural for anyone to be curious when what they see with their own eyes contradicts the rumors," Ye Wei'an expressed his understanding.

"Thank you... for your forgiveness, Young Master." Cain breathed a sigh of relief.

"Besides, I can answer your doubts," Ye Wei'an continued, his tone as flat as if he were discussing something unrelated to himself: "I am a bastard, after all. In noble circles, I am inherently inferior. Those self-important people naturally wouldn't have anything good to say about me. 'Mediocre,' 'cowardly,' 'good-for-nothing'... I can probably guess all those words."

As he spoke, he gave a carefree smile: "My noble younger brother Lucas, back at Firefall Fortress, is the legitimate heir. It is better for everyone if someone like me remains a 'useless person' who poses no threat, isn't it?"

After he finished speaking, there was a moment of silence around the campfire.

Harold and Renn exchanged glances, both seeing the indignation in the other's eyes.

Unlike knights like Cain, they were low-ranking soldiers who loved to dig into the scandalous gossip of the nobility, treating it as fodder for their leisure time—which knight was having an affair with which lady, which noble was at odds with his brother... the more shocking and dramatic, the more they loved it.

As for the affairs of their liege, the Xiaxing House, they had naturally heard a thing or two.

In the past, they had mostly viewed such news with a "spectator's" mentality, thinking of it as "dogs biting dogs."

Now, hearing the person involved discuss it so frankly, they couldn't help but empathize with Ye Wei'an.

The strength, courage, and compassion for the wounded that Young Master Ye Wei'an had shown today—how could any of that be associated with a "useless person"?

On the contrary, that "legitimate" heir back at the castle...

Both men lowered their heads in unison, chewing hard on the flavorless dry bread, a certain scale in their hearts having already tipped.

Ailian's eyes even turned red, and she couldn't help but blurt out: "Young Master is not a useless person! Young Master is the most amazing! Those people... those people are just jealous! Jealous that Young Master is smarter than them, jealous that Young Master is better-looking than them!"

Ailian's childish defense made the slightly heavy atmosphere around the campfire suddenly much more cheerful.

Ye Wei'an patted her head: "You certainly have a way with words."

Ailian puffed out her cheeks, wanting to say more, but Ye Wei'an was quick-witted and stuffed a piece of chicken leg meat into her mouth: "Eat your meat, don't let it get cold."

"Young Master," Cain suddenly spoke, his tone firm, "I don't understand the complex rules and schemes between nobles. I only know that today, it was you who led us to crush the enemy, and it was you who reached out to help when our brothers fell. You are the one truly worth following."

"That's right!" Harold followed up by thumping his chest, responding in a deep voice.

Renn didn't speak, but he nodded vigorously, his expression equally earnest.

"Thank you all. I appreciate your sentiments." Ye Wei'an raised his teacup and drained the hot tea inside in one gulp.

A single camping trip and a frank conversation had won him the loyalty of a veteran knight and two soldiers. He was very satisfied with this opening.

But after such an exchange, the original idle chatter couldn't continue.

Just then, the Silver Moon was high in the sky, and it was nearing midnight. After using a cantrip to refill the pot with hot water, Ye Wei'an bid the three men farewell and took Ailian back to his tent.

"Many thanks, Young Master." Watching the water appear out of thin air, the three men thanked him again and watched the two leave.

On the way back to the tent, Ye Wei'an could still faintly hear Harold and Renn complaining about their boss's lack of tact.

Back in the tent, Ailian pulled out the folding bathtub and set it up on the thick carpet.

"Young Master, you've been on the road all day. Would you like to take a bath to relieve your fatigue?" she asked, looking up with concern. "I heard that a hot bath is the best way to relieve mental exhaustion, especially for mages."

"That sounds good."

Although using a 0-level cantrip didn't consume a spell slot, it was still a significant burden on the mind.

Throughout the day, Ye Wei'an had lost count of how many times he had used cantrips, and he did indeed feel a trace of weariness.

"Then I'll prepare it!" Ailian's eyes lit up, and she immediately turned to rummage for the toiletries and clean towels they had brought.

Ye Wei'an aimed at the bathtub:

"Four Symbols Method: Water."

A stream of clear water filled more than half of the tub.

He then extended two fingers, tracing a circle upon the water's surface as arcane energy condensed into a crimson glow at his fingertips.

"Prestidigitation!"

Within seconds, the icy water began to rise with wisps of white steam.

Ailian tested the water temperature, a look of satisfaction appearing on her face, before she sprinkled a few drops of precious Amn Rose essential oil into the basin.

The air inside the tent immediately turned warm and fragrant.

She then walked over to Ye Wei'an, naturally extending her hands to begin unfastening the ties and buttons of his outer robe. Her movements were gentle and practiced, her fingertips occasionally brushing against his neck or collarbone by accident.

The moment his undergarment slid away, the air inside the tent seemed to freeze.

It was a body reshaped by the system, possessing 18 points of Charisma.

Unlike the exaggerated, rugged muscles of a warrior, Ye Wei'an's physique was lean and possessed explosive power, his skin so fair it seemed to glow.

As he stepped into the tub, water cascaded down the perfect groove of his spine, every inch of his musculature appearing like the painstaking work of a master sculptor.

Ailian knelt by the side of the tub, rolling up her sleeves, her previously steady breathing suddenly losing its rhythm.

The moment her fingers, holding a silk cloth, touched Ye Wei'an's shoulder, she felt as if she had been struck by an electric current.

The young master's skin was scorching, hotter even than the bathwater; that masculine aura stemming from his high Charisma, mingled with the scent of primal arcane energy, rushed straight to Ailian's head.

"...Why have you stopped? Is something the matter?" Ye Wei'an leaned against the edge of the wooden tub, tilting his head back slightly.

Ailian clearly saw the man's sexy Adam's apple slide up and down as he spoke.

"N-nothing at all." Ailian's voice was as thin as a mosquito's hum. Her small, trembling hands began to lather foam across Ye Wei'an's chest.