"Not bad huh."

Following the attendant, Moen walked into the room and casually scanned his surroundings.

The air was filled with a faintly sweet and cloying aroma.

Although located in Lower City District, the hotel was still rather luxurious. The bedding and sheets on the bed were clearly made of high-grade silk, while pink, delicate veils draped over the canopy and cascaded along the sides like a bride’s dress—carrying a romantic and dreamy aesthetic.

Even the floor was adorned with soft, pure wool carpets—clearly set up to accommodate couples who wished to extend their battlefield within the room.

However, the red candles, whips, and "Sugar Mammy Happy Ball" hanging on the wall were a bit jarring to say the least.

Moen’s eyelid twitched slightly. He dismissed the attendant, who for some reason appeared nervously fidgeting, before taking a quick lap around the room and heading into the bathroom.

Inside the bathroom, the notably oversized bathtub, paired with the massive full-length mirror directly in front of it, once again caused Moen’s eyelid to twitch involuntarily.

A luxury hotel’s couple suite, no doubt. The richer you are, it seems, the wilder you play.

Still, Moen didn’t dwell on the details too much. After all, even though this was a couple’s suite, to a single person like him right now, it merely meant a larger bed and a more spacious bathtub.

Wasn’t that better? He could toss and turn all night if he wants.

Thinking this way, Moen took off his clothes and leisurely immersed himself in the warm water of the bathtub.

"Ah, that’s nice."

Moen couldn’t help but let out a sigh of satisfaction.

After a day of fatigue, what could be more comforting and relaxing than a hot bath?

Especially when lying in such a large double bathtub.

Leaning back, Moen rested his head and let the tension of the day gradually dissipate, all while pondering tomorrow’s plans.

Actually, tomorrow’s task was simple: to get the so-called Ancient Dragon Heart Blood that Professor Mela had mentioned.

But thinking back now, having missed some initial details due to his rush earlier, Moen realized that this so-called Ancient Dragon Heart Blood might be something extremely significant.

"I remember this stuff being considered a banned item."

Ever since dragons collectively migrated to the secluded Dragon Island deep in the ocean, anything dragon-related had become increasingly scarce on this continent.

Even the tiniest scales or talons could fetch exorbitant prices.

As a result, anything related to dragons was strictly prohibited from being sold on the market.

For instance, the Evil Dragon Blood that had surfaced before—just a single drop on a potion could be sold for more than ten thousand.

It’s worth noting that so-called Evil Dragons were mostly derived from lesser draconic species with impure bloodlines and various contaminations, hence the moniker "Evil."

They were far from what true Ancient Dragons represented.

And if Professor Mela demanded Ancient Dragon Heart Blood, it obviously must come from a real Ancient Dragon.

Moen suddenly felt a wave of headache hit him.

Through the Duke’s estate's network, obtaining such a banned item was not exactly impossible.

But it would undoubtedly take time.

Meanwhile, it seemed that Professor Mela was in quite the hurry.

"So, resorting to the black market is my only option?"

Come to think of it, the black market should be operational again by now.

Moreover, speaking of the black market—

"I believe I have some unsettled score to deal with over there."

...

...

As his body relaxed, a wave of drowsiness began to creep over him.

And this couple suite’s excellent soundproofing seemed to shield him from any potential annoying noises from neighboring rooms.

But as his drowsiness took hold, Moen’s enhanced senses—refined since the tempering through the Mercury Well—seemed to faintly pick up the sound of a door creaking open.

... Guest room service?

Wait, guest room service? Where would guest room service come from?

He hadn’t summoned anyone, and this was a couple suite. Interrupting guests in a couple suite would be courting disaster.

With a jolt of clarity, Moen snapped awake.

He held his breath, listening closely to any sounds outside the bathroom.

Silence.

But it was exactly this silence that made his heart grow heavy.

—He was certain it hadn’t been his imagination earlier. In other words, whoever managed to evade his sensing must be considerably skilled.

Who could it be?

Followers of the Dark God? Or perhaps the petty gangsters he crossed earlier during the day?

Moen leaned more toward the former.

Those lunatics had been eyeing him for quite some time now. It wouldn’t be surprising if they seized the night to attempt an ambush.

Moen reached out to turn off the magic tool that provided illumination in the bathroom, preventing anyone from identifying his position through shadows.

Then, he quietly got up, swiftly dressed, and equipped his spatial storage device.

However, Moen refrained from immediately unsheathing his dual short blades; the pure white blade with golden engravings was far too conspicuous in the dark.

Just as his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, he tiptoed to the bathroom door, opening it just slightly.

With a mere glance, he immediately realized that there was now a second presence in the room besides himself.

The pink veils that had originally been tied over the bed were now fully released, fluttering gently with the wind blowing in from the window—like the swirling skirt of a coquettish maiden.

Moen's gaze sank.

He knew someone was there, yet he couldn’t pinpoint their exact location—an unsettling realization that only confirmed his suspicions.

Street thugs focused solely on cheap extortion could never have this level of skill!

Those damn heretic followers—they just never seem to leave him alone. How had they tracked him down?

Could it be that they’d been staking out near the academy gates all along?

But Moen didn’t have time for lengthy contemplation now. He slowly opened the bathroom door and stepped into the room.

At this moment, the chilly wind brushing against his back made him feel like prey in a hunting ground.

And the hunter, hiding within the shadows, was showing their teeth in a sinister grin.

"Think of me as a helpless lamb? You’re not afraid your teeth might shatter?"

Maintaining silence, Moen crept along the wall cautiously.

The room didn’t have too many hiding places. Hugging the wall, he safeguarded himself from ambushes while slowly sweeping his gaze over the darkened corners.

The sofa, the curtains, even behind the vase...

Nothing.

It was as if the intruder had vanished into thin air. The entire room yielded only the sound of Moen's own breathing.

Finally, his gaze fell upon the most conspicuous object in the entire room—the bed, draped in fluttering pink veils that shielded its interior.

Is this... a provocation?

Moen's lips curled into a slow, ironic smile. He was well beyond his weaker self from a month ago. Whatever this heretic follower’s agenda might be, if they underestimated him...

He’d make sure to pin them down mercilessly and grind them into submission.

Lowering his presence, Moen steadily approached.

At the same time, one hand slid to his back, gripping the handle of a blade from his spatial storage device.

He bent his knees slightly, positioning himself like a hunter stalking its prey—a leopard poised to pounce. Meanwhile, his other hand gently picked through the bed’s veils.

As the veil swayed, Moen caught a glimpse of a shadow within the folds. The figure shifted slightly and lunged toward him with tremendous speed.

A chilling sensation crawled down his spine. Without hesitation, Moen unsheathed his blade.

With a subtle tremor, the pure white blade seemed to suppress some unknown interference.

Then, in an instant, a flash of sharp blade light cut through the darkness—a radiant crescent of moon slicing downward.

"Eh?"

A voice of startled surprise echoed through the quiet room.

The shadow seemed taken aback, unable to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

But it didn’t retreat; instead, it surged forward against the sweeping blade light, like a moth drawn to a flame.

It seemed poised to be consumed entirely by the fire.

Yet, at the critical moment when the blade illuminated the shadow’s face, Moen’s strike abruptly veered off course.

Like a race car traveling at 200 miles per hour suddenly swerving to avoid an elderly pedestrian crossing the street.

Moen lost his balance instantly.

The shadow’s pale, slender hand simultaneously grasped his hastily adjusted collar.

Their positions reversed.

The world spun.

In a flash, the shadow pressed Moen onto the bed and straddled him.

The adept fluidity of their movements seemed as if they’d rehearsed it countless times.

The familiar fragrance of flowers wafted into Moen's senses.

The shadow lowered its head, and under the faint glow, a graceful and slightly flushed face came into view—its composure tinged with unbridled excitement.

"Long time no see, Young Master~"

...

...