Free Web NovelChapter 284: Chapter 272: Invitation from the High Tower
Roland processed Tress’s words, his expression turning a little strange.
"You mean..."
He looked at the Red Squirrel, which had finished gnawing on its bread and was now licking its paws, and spoke slowly.
"Qiao is a creature from another plane, and... he’s living on the Prime Material Plane in the form of a squirrel?"
"Exactly! He must have ulterior motives..."
Before Tress could finish, Roland withdrew his finger and gently shook his head.
"Don’t let your imagination run wild, Tress. Qiao and I have known each other for a long time. Though... there are certainly some strange things about him."
His tone was gentle but firm.
"But he definitely doesn’t have any malicious intent. You can’t just go around suspecting your partners, understand?"
Looking at the Pikachu before him, who was covering her forehead and nodding with a slightly wronged expression, Roland recalled her earlier story and his gaze shifted back to the Red Squirrel in the distance.
In the sunlight, Qiao stretched his limbs contentedly.
His comfortable life had clearly brought about significant changes.
The once-petite Red Squirrel was now expanding uncontrollably.
From a distance, one might mistake him for a small cat.
If this continued, Roland was genuinely worried that his buddy’s health would suffer from overindulgence.
’Perhaps...’
A thought quietly surfaced.
’Could I sign a contract with Qiao and make him my Servant Demon?’
’If we form a contract, I’ll be able to sense if he’s in danger in real-time. Even if he doesn’t fight...’
He looked at Qiao’s round figure and thought helplessly.
’...it would still be good to be able to push him to get a little exercise.’
As his thoughts drifted, a call rang out by his ear.
"Roland!"
Before the voice had even faded, Tress’s figure vanished, silently slipping into the leather pouch at Roland’s waist.
Roland quickly sheathed his Longsword and turned to see his mentor, Reggie, striding toward him.
"Dean Graham is looking for you! Also..."
Reggie’s face was brimming with an excited smile.
"I’ll be the supervising mentor for the study exchange this time! I can finally get out of this place and stretch my legs. I feel like I’m about to rust!"
Hearing this, a weight lifted from Roland’s heart.
Although the journey wasn’t expected to be dangerous, by convention, a supervising mentor was still required to accompany them.
And Reggie getting the position was the direct result of Roland’s strong recommendation.
On a long journey, having a familiar face in charge would undoubtedly save a lot of unnecessary trouble.
Roland picked up his pace to match Reggie’s.
"Has Dean Graham set a departure time?"
"That’s right. It’s set for the morning in seven days’ time."
Reggie grinned, clapping Roland on the shoulder with a heavy hand.
"Don’t you go oversleeping when the time comes, kid!"
"Don’t worry, Master Reggie."
He knocked on the heavy oak door of the dean’s office. Stepping inside, Roland was surprised to see an unexpected figure.
Marston.
The leader of the aristocratic faction still carried his usual air of pride and self-importance.
However, the bloodshot veins in his eyes revealed he was far less calm and composed than he appeared.
Upon seeing Roland and Reggie enter, Marston immediately stopped speaking.
He fell silent for a moment, then spoke in a low but steady voice.
"Graham, as for my earlier proposal... I hope you will consider it carefully."
"You’re right."
He gave a slight nod.
"Admittedly, I have indeed changed, but so has Derek."
Before his words had faded, Marston deftly propped himself up with his Walking Stick, rose, and left the room.
The heavy oak door closed softly behind him.
Graham let out a deep sigh. He didn’t explain the meeting, merely rubbing his temples and gesturing toward the high-backed chair by the fireplace.
"Both of you, please sit."
The ensuing conversation consisted of routine reminders about travel preparations and points of caution.
After the brief talk, Roland turned and left the dean’s room, stepping out into the cold stone corridor.
’Wherever factions exist, conflict never ends...’
Recalling Marston in the dean’s office and Graham’s increasingly weary expression, Roland sighed softly and turned to walk home.
He had stepped into the Extraordinary Domain, and his Power far surpassed that of ordinary Transcendents. Even so, within the intricate upper echelons of power in the River Domain, he still lacked any real voice.
’It seems Graham letting me use this study tour to get away from this hornet’s nest was an incredibly wise decision.’
Just as Roland was lost in thought, his peripheral vision keenly caught a figure by the side of the road.
It was one of the two Wizards he had seen earlier in Graham’s room—the thin, plainly robed old man, Erwin.
However, what made Roland’s heart tighten was that the bustling pedestrians on the street seemed completely oblivious to Erwin.
Passersby chatting and laughing, merchants walking briskly—all of them, without exception, moved around the stationary figure as if he were nothing more than an unremarkable milestone by the road, or an invisible ripple in the air.
Only Roland, it seemed, had pierced this invisible veil and seen his existence.
Confirming the other person’s identity and this strange phenomenon, Roland did not stop, but maintained his original pace and continued forward.
As the surrounding crowd gradually thinned, Roland could clearly feel the figure following behind him at a leisurely pace.
The feeling of being silently targeted forced him to stop.
He spun around abruptly, his body instantly tensing like a fully drawn bowstring, his right hand already gripping the hilt of the sword at his waist.
His sharp gaze locked onto the old Wizard, who had appeared as silently as a phantom just a few steps away.
"Pardon my rudeness, sir."
Roland’s voice remained courteously calm, but the vigilance in his eyes was unconcealed.
"May I ask if there is a reason you were specifically waiting here and are now following me?"
Roland’s answer came not in words, but in the form of a few crisp, slow claps.
CLAP... CLAP... CLAP...
Erwin’s withered palms clapped together gently, the sound exceptionally clear on the gradually emptying street.
His eyes, deeply set within his wrinkles, no longer resembled unremarkable milestones by the road; instead, they glinted with a profound light, locked firmly on Roland.
"Not bad... not bad at all."
The Wizard’s voice was low and raspy, like the rustling of dry leaves.
"I underestimated you. I didn’t expect... that you could actually pierce the veil of my ’Invisibility Technique’ and notice my presence."
He took a step forward, and though the step seemed ordinary, the very air around him seemed to stagnate for an instant.
"Such sharp Spiritual Perception... It far exceeds the scope of an ordinary Extraordinary."
He said no more. Fingers like withered branches emerged from the cuff of his simple robe, holding a parchment scroll whose edges faintly glowed with a silver light.
The Scroll itself was unremarkable, but when Erwin gently offered it forward, an indescribable wave of calm yet vast Magic Power spread out like a ripple, making Roland’s tense nerves jolt.
"The High Tower."
Erwin’s voice was not loud, but it carried a strange penetrating quality and an undeniable weight.
"It needs talented young people like you."
He pushed the Scroll forward another half-inch, his gaze as sharp as a falcon’s.
"This invitation leads to knowledge, and to Power. More than that, it leads to a perspective that transcends the mundane. Accept it, and a High Tower Envoy will find you."
