As the provincial capital, White River City lay nestled in the embrace of this mother river.
There were no vast golden wheat fields here, nor herds of cattle and sheep.
The city's prosperity rested entirely on its enormous commercial trade, with its most vital pillar being the industrial chain built around dungeons and monster materials.
Because White River Province possessed the kingdom's densest cluster of dungeons, it had naturally become a holy land for adventurers.
On both sides of the enormous white river, wide enough for medium-sized merchant ships to sail abreast, stood countless towers and spired buildings.
They housed the most comprehensive training academies for Class holders in the entire province and even the surrounding regions.
As the last rays of sunset were about to fade, magical streetlamps along both sides of the streets began lighting up one after another, giving off a soft, warm yellow glow.
The scene along the White River was entirely different from the rural tranquility of Grayrock Town. This place brimmed with youthful, restless energy.
Young men and women in all kinds of uniforms could be seen strolling along the broad stone-paved riverbank paths.
Some hurried along with thick textbooks tucked under their arms, while others sat in pairs on benches by the river, whispering softly to each other.
Here, the boundaries between races seemed much more blurred.
Besides humans, one could see demi-human students with obvious animal traits weaving through the crowds everywhere.
There were even lizardfolk Swordsmen with thick tails, stout and sturdy dwarven blacksmith apprentices, and nimble halflings.
This was a city of inclusiveness and endless possibilities.
No matter where they stood in the city, as long as they looked up, they could see the grandest landmark standing beside the White River.
It was White River City's largest magic academy.
Violet Academy.
At the top of its towering central mage tower floated a massive ring-shaped structure composed of countless metal hoops and runes.
It was the floating library known by countless students as the "Ring of Truth."
When night fell completely,
the enormous ring slowly began to rotate under the power of the magic array, emitting specks of white fluorescence like stardust, as though a brilliant galaxy had descended into the mortal world.
It was both mysterious and beautiful.
At that moment, inside a private office within the tower surrounded by the ring,
an elderly man in deep purple mage robes sat behind a desk piled with parchment.
He held an exquisite silver letter opener and slowly pried open a wax-sealed envelope.
The seal bore the emblem of the White River City Adventurers' Association.
Under normal circumstances, official letters like this were handled centrally by the academic affairs office.
But the old man knew very well that there was only one person in the world who would specifically use this channel to send him a personal letter.
That was the old bastard far away in Grayrock Town.
An old fellow like himself, retired from being a veteran adventurer yet still unwilling to live quietly.
The old man unfolded the letter and carefully read it from beginning to end by the light of the magic lamp on his desk.
"Heh..."
After reading the final line, the old man set down the letter and shook his head helplessly.
He had not expected that old fellow, who usually cared so much about saving face, to lower himself and ask for help over something like this.
Grayrock Town...
The old man's gaze passed through the window toward the southwest.
That was where their former captain had been born.
It seemed that old fellow truly intended to put down roots in that rural place and train up another group of capable adventurers there.
"There are still fifteen days until the Golden Sheaf Moon."
The old man lightly tapped his fingers against the desk as he calculated in his heart.
That batch of students at the academy who had only just mastered basic spellcasting skills were like flowers raised in a greenhouse. They truly needed a real storm to temper them.
He could send those students there under the name of "off-campus field training." It would not only help that old fellow resolve his urgent problem, but also improve the students' practical combat abilities.
It would kill two birds with one stone.
Still, business was business.
It was rare to see that old fellow acting so humble, and a teasing smile could not help appearing on the old man's wrinkled face.
He immediately spread out a fresh sheet of paper, dipped his pen in ink, and began writing.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
In his reply, he wrote a long string of mocking remarks, every line filled with delight at his old friend's current predicament.
He even deliberately dug up embarrassing incidents from decades ago, back when the two of them had still adventured together in the same party.
It was rare for him to have the upper hand. He could make that old fellow stomp with anger while still having no choice but to swallow it.
Just imagining that old bastard's furious, beard-blowing, eye-glowering expression when he received the letter made the old man feel immensely satisfied.
Just as he was getting into the flow of writing, with the corners of his mouth nearly reaching his ears,
"Knock, knock, knock."
The heavy oak door to the office was suddenly knocked upon.
The old man's expression froze instantly.
With astonishing speed, he wiped the smile from his face and swiftly stuffed the letter into a drawer.
Then,
he straightened his back, put on a stern expression, and made his gaze sharp and profound, instantly assuming the appearance of a severe and rigid professor.
After adjusting his collar, he finally spoke in a low, imposing voice.
"Come in."
"Professor Gideon."
As the heavy oak door was pushed open, a gentle voice drifted in.
The visitor did not walk straight to the desk. Instead, she stood at the doorway and respectfully bowed to the old man behind the desk.
Her movements were flawless and impeccably polite.
Gideon adjusted his glasses and saw who had come.
She was a young girl in the bloom of youth.
She had long white hair as pure as fresh snow, with two fluffy, adorable buns arranged on either side of her head.
Two finely braided little plaits also hung down from her temples, sliding along her cheeks.
The girl had a standard oval face, and her delicate features seemed as though they had been painstakingly carved by an artist.
What set her apart most from ordinary humans, however, was the pair of ears emerging from her hair.
Their outer rims were long, and their tips curved slightly upward, revealing the elven blood flowing within her.
At that moment, she wore a pure white off-the-shoulder dress, its neckline decorated with delicate, intricate ruffles.
This outfit made her look not only like an obedient student, but more like a display doll that had been carefully dressed up.
Seeing the girl's attire, Gideon felt several dark lines appear across his forehead.
He rubbed his slightly throbbing temples and sighed helplessly.
"Cecilia, did your aunt dress you up again?"
Although it was phrased as a question, Gideon already knew the answer.
At Violet Academy, there was only one woman capable of doing something like this.
Cecilia's aunt was also a renowned practical combat instructor at the academy.
That woman was a powerful veteran adventurer, but because of her extremely fiery temperament and eccentric behavior, other academy staff privately called her the "Violet Madwoman."
Yet when facing her own niece, that madwoman instantly turned into a hopeless niece-obsessed aunt.
Her greatest hobby was dressing up her beautiful niece like an exquisite doll, satisfying some strange fascination with changing outfits.
Hearing the professor's question, Cecilia lowered her head somewhat awkwardly, lightly twisting the lace at the hem of her dress between her fingers.
"Aunt said... this dress suited today's sunlight."
Just as expected.
As Cecilia's mentor, Gideon felt deeply helpless about it.
Such a talented student was going to be led astray by that madwoman.
"Alright, sit down first."
Gideon pointed to the chair across from his desk.
After the girl obediently sat down and properly placed both hands on her knees, Gideon finally asked seriously,
"I called you here today because I wanted to ask whether you've chosen your future Class direction."
Upon hearing that it was serious business, the shyness faded from Cecilia's face and her expression became earnest.
At Violet Academy, once students mastered basic combat or spellcasting techniques, they all faced an extremely important choice.
That was to determine their future Class development path and receive the academy's specialized training.
This was not unnecessary.
Those self-taught adventurers outside might not understand it, but academy-trained students were generally taught this knowledge.
The power system of Class holders was not simply a matter of stacking numbers.
After formally taking on a Class, the growth coefficients of one's physical attributes underwent a qualitative change.
Those weak attributes that had been difficult to improve before changing Classes became far easier to raise after receiving Class adjustments.
That was why the academy required students to meet a Class's prerequisites as quickly as possible and complete their Class advancement ceremony early.
Only then could they take advantage of the Class Bonus and maximize their gains along their future path of growth.
This was core knowledge that ordinary adventurers had no access to, an educational resource barrier built upon expensive tuition.