Ruger narrowed his eyes at the somewhat battered Metal Vessel. It looked like a little green-and-black bottle, though rather too slender, with incomprehensible patterns on its surface and visibly worn edges.
"I've kept an eye out for all sorts of information since my apprentice days, and I conducted many investigations after becoming a Wizard." Jillian's lips curled up again. "This should be one of the three ancient membership methods passed down through the ages. It's the simplest and most direct, but also the hardest. Ever since I became a One-Ring Wizard, I've tried putting in all sorts of hairs I considered high-quality. After completing my Comb cultivation, I put my own hair in countless times, but nothing ever worked. Perhaps it still wasn't good enough, or perhaps the thing really is broken."
Ruger could sense Jillian's eagerness.
"You want it?" He pointed at the soft, smooth fur on his chest.
"That word makes this even harder to say. I can already imagine how mortified I'll be in my bedroom after I return and dispel the discordant power, so please call it a trade," Jillian said with a smile. "Rest assured, according to the information I found, nothing bad will happen. This is essentially a fortunate person recommending themselves. That was how it worked countless years ago: a Wizard with shared interests and ideals proved the quality of their hair to the Association, qualified, and successfully joined an Association of people with the same interests. That's all there is to it."
"Of course," she suddenly added, "although this thing belongs to me and bears my Arcane Imprint, it might fail, or it might succeed. But even if it succeeds, I won't necessarily be the one accepted, because the hair is yours. So if you successfully join the Association, you must recommend