"Miss Tiran, please wait a moment." As Tiran's foot was already stepping out of the testing room, a low voice suddenly echoed from the room behind her. Upon hearing the last three words, Tiran felt a tingling sensation on her scalp for a moment, almost mistaking it for a fellow Daoist asking her to wait and instinctively ready to release a forty-meter sword energy in response.

"Who's there?"

"Professor Corren?" Pascal hesitated for a moment. Even if others didn't recognize him, he was quite familiar with this voice. The Mage in white robe, the president of the Beacon City Mage Guild, and also his mentor at the Mage Academy.

The voice came from a small voice transmission array installed above the door, used as an internal communication channel in the guild, typically activated only for important announcements.

"I am Corren Sphinx, the person in charge here. If possible, I would like to invite Miss Tiran to the reception room upstairs for a brief meeting."

"Oh..."

Tiran blinked. She hadn't expected this follow-up, but upon a second thought, it made sense. Even leaving aside her own identity, Chirp's magical test results were significant enough to garner attention.

"Alright, I'll be right there."

"Are we going to meet that old man?" Chirp looked up at the magic array above.

"Um..."

Noticing Pascal and Nifel's slightly strained expressions beside her, Tiran pulled Chirp in front of her, wryly remarked, "Don't just assume others are old men, Chirp." ... Maybe it's an old gentleman? Of course, that couldn't be said.

"But based on the back-calculated voiceprint analysis from the distorted transmission magic, his age seems to be between forty-three and forty-five, which does fit the 'old man' criteria, right? Õ_Õ" Chirp looked puzzled.jpg

"Let's go this way! Um, sorry for the interruption, we'll be back soon!"

Unsure of how to comment on it, Tiran had to hurriedly grab Chirp by the ear and sprint towards the central elevator she had just seen earlier.

"Wait a moment! The president's reception room is on—" Nifel hurriedly followed, but no matter how fast she tried to run, she couldn't keep up with Tiran's speed, only able to watch helplessly as Tiran boarded the central pillar elevator.

“Wait, did the teacher just call that girl 'Miss Tiran'? Could she be the Silver War Maiden?” Pascal recalled the teacher's words and suddenly realized...

As Tiran stepped onto the elevator, she felt a bit out of breath. It wasn't a physical exertion issue, but rather the awkwardness of discussing a mentor in front of a student. Talking casually about a mentor as an old man in front of a student would be incredibly impolite!

"It seems I'll have to teach you how to speak to people properly..."

Patting Chirp's head, Tiran stood up and surveyed the environment. There didn't seem to be any authentication restrictions. The main material seemed to be a light alloy enhanced with a small amount of mithril for magitech properties, giving it a clean white appearance.

The other equipment was similar to an elevator, with a disc on the left side of the door that could be rotated to select the floor to go to.

"Oh, I forgot to ask which floor the reception room is on."

As Tiran's finger touched the disc, she realized she had forgotten something important. But at this point, asking would be strange. Glancing at the numbers on the disc, which only seemed to go up to ten, she decided to try each floor one by one.

Turning the dial to 2, the disc under her feet vibrated slightly before slowly ascending. Since it relied on an air magic array to generate airflow for propulsion, even when reaching the designated floor, it would gently oscillate up and down, similar to being on a boat. The benefit was the absence of the need for air circulation devices, with the rapid airflow dissipating heat, making the elevator unusually cool.

As the elevator door opened, a similarly white suspended passageway led to another pair of thick, heavy doors.

"It won't open?" Trying to push and pull the metal sheen-covered door handle, Tiran found the door remained motionless. Every time she exerted force, the once dim lines on the door would suddenly shine brightly.

"Is this a magic seal?" Sensing unusual energy fluctuations, Tiran pointed at the door and asked Chirp.

"Yes, there's a spell solidified on it." Chirp nodded repeatedly.

With a magic seal, wouldn't most people choose to leave? After all, it was the Mage Guild, a place not meant for ordinary individuals.

"So, Chirp, can you open it?"

"It should be no problem." Chirp nodded proudly.

Hey? Miss Tiran? ... Well, thinking about it, Miss Tiran wasn't exactly normal either. The Mage Guild's White Tower on the second floor wasn't really a top-secret place; it was just a simple library. Most of the materials inside were already published documents or decrypted magical texts, so the seal on the door wasn't a complex spell. It wouldn't be difficult for Chirp, with his top-tier learning and understanding capabilities, to bypass it.

About half a minute later, the shining lines on the door extinguished.

The door silently swung open, unveiling a strong scent of ink and the weighty essence of knowledge.

"Wow, this is... something you'd only see in dreams."

From the outside, the core tower of the Mage Guild rose to at least sixty meters in height, leaving Tiran curious as to why only ten floors were present at such a height, but seeing the library before her, she comprehended. Not to mention sixty meters, the wall that completely filled her vision with bookshelves stretching up to the unknown height already left her speechless.

"Dad, this area has been enlarged with spatial magic. The entire space has been expanded." Chirp placed his hands on the library floor and remarked after a moment.

"Even if it's this vast, filling the space with books like these is astonishing." Taking a few steps on the soft wool carpet, Tiran sighed, "But are all the bookshelves this high here? There doesn't even seem to be a ladder nearby, do you have to fetch books by..."

"Dad, be careful!"

Chirp anxiously warned, almost simultaneously with the chaotic airflow above.

Assaulting a Holy Rank Knight who had been detected was no easy feat. Confidently, Tiran turned back, extending her right hand upwards, capturing a swift, precise, and ruthless grip on a... uh...

"A Scottish round-faced fat chicken?"

"It's a... Cat... Head... Eagle..."

Caught in Tiran's swift and precise grasp around its neck – well, should it be called a neck on this kind of creature? Anyway, this round-faced fat chicken seemed to be struggling and murmuring in a not so smooth manner.

"Huh?"

Just as Tiran hesitated for a moment about this talking fat chicken, it suddenly flapped its wings vehemently.

"Hey! Let go of me! You're about to lose your grip!"

"What? Let go of you? Trying to ambush someone and you still have the nerve?" Tiran stared, eyes wide in refusal.

Huh? Let go of what? It was only at this moment that Tiran noticed the two claws of the chicken were firmly grasping a hefty, dictionary-like book beneath it.

And it seemed... it was about to slip.

Oh no! No time to dodge!

Thud.

After a slight cushioning impact on Princess Tiran's forehead, the hard-covered book landed on the carpet, emitting a dull sound.