Magestown's bars were always lively, but today was even wilder. Non-human faces mingled in the crowd.

Boiling Stone Bar.

One of Magestown's largest and most luxurious bars, it boasted deep history and culture. Rumor said its owner had royal ties. Rivals who tried to stir trouble vanished without a trace. Whenever asked, the owner would chuckle and wave, "Nonsense, nonsense!"

Few cared about such tales—unless you caused drunken chaos, anything went here. Perfect for mercenaries and adventurers living on the edge.

Grace arrived to find Edmund's group drinking wildly with orcs. Wild music blared from the stage. Bodies twisted freely on the dance floor.

Herman was there too. He held a goblet of rose-colored wine, laughing easily with warriors of all races. His speech was smooth, his manners elegant. Though dressed as a high-ranking officer, he blended perfectly into the rowdy bar—no hint of awkwardness.

Grace had no urge to join Edmund. She slid onto a barstool alone, ordered red wine, and sipped slowly to the pulsing beat.

The taste was mediocre—thin, lacking depth. Nothing like the wines in Zangwill. Understandable; mercenaries preferred beer. Savoring fine wine like nobles was a luxury for the idle. For these thrill-seekers, gulping ale and feasting on meat was true joy.

Right now, the wine's flavor didn't matter. Grace's focus had drifted. Her gaze went vacant. One hand rested on the bar; the other cradled her glass. She'd occasionally sip the crimson liquid, lost in thought. Sometimes, a faint, trace of a smile touched her lips.

So absorbed was she that she didn't notice someone taking the seat beside her.

"Miss Grace?"

A soft voice pulled her back. She turned to see a handsome face, warm with a gentle smile.

Meeting her questioning look, Herman smiled. "Do you recall my name, Miss Grace?"

Grace nodded. "Yes, Mr. Herman."

"An honor." Herman bowed slightly, hand on his chest.

"Nothing special," Grace replied with a small smile.

"Are you one who prefers solitude, Miss Grace?" Herman asked.

Grace paused. "Perhaps."

"Funny—I've met many great swordsmen who walk alone, indifferent to fame. Calm in peace, yet sharp as blades in battle. I suspect you're much the same." His eyes held quiet admiration.

"Most cultivators are," Grace said flatly, unmoved by his subtle flattery.

Herman chuckled and sipped his wine. Then he asked casually, "How is your esteemed master these days?"

Grace's hand froze mid-sip. "What master do you mean?"

"Who else but Sword Saint Griffith?" Herman teased lightly.

After a silence, Grace sighed faintly. "Does the whole continent know now?"

"I'd only heard rumors. Now I have proof." Herman grinned.

Few knew Grace was Griffith's student. The Sword Saint lived in seclusion after his legendary strike at the Beyond Sea. No one knew he'd taken an apprentice—many doubted he still lived. Until Grace, a mere mercenary, appeared. Her sword style betrayed her lineage. The news spread like wildfire. People hunted her for Griffith's whereabouts, but Grace only shook her head: "I don't know." She never confirmed or denied her identity.

This was her first indirect admission.

Yet Grace shook her head again. "I don't know."

Herman didn't press. He smiled. "If you won't say, so be it."

Before leaving, he invited her. "Join your companions for a drink?"

Grace declined. "I'm fine here."

Herman nodded and walked off. Grace watched his back, thoughtful.

...

Can't sleep!

Mushiyu tossed restlessly on her bed, wide awake.

Of course—she'd slept all day. Plus, drunken shouts and slurred nonsense drifted through the wagon walls. Her stomach felt bloated from overeating.

Sighing, Mushiyu slipped barefoot to the floor. She lit an oil lamp and paced the cabin, hoping movement would settle her belly and bring sleep.

Plush carpet covered the floor now—soft under her feet. It hadn't been there before; likely added after her earlier stumble.

Alone in the dim light, her thoughts wandered to Luokeer. What was Luokeer doing now? Reading? Studying? Or already asleep?

No—time here might not match her old world. Trapped in this wagon, she couldn't even count the hours. Maybe it was daytime back on Earth.

This sparked more questions. The Heavenly Wonder Continent's map showed only one landmass and scattered islands. If this world had day and night, could it be a distant, undiscovered planet? Other continents might exist beyond the seas.

On Earth, continents connected only after new sea routes opened. Before that, Europeans didn't know America existed. Columbus sailed west, convinced he'd reach Asia—and called natives "Indians."

So perhaps here, sailing technology was primitive. Continents remained isolated, unaware of each other.

What wonders lay on those unknown shores? How many centuries until this world's civilizations, like Earth's, slowly wove together into one?