In Lia’s restaurant, the first three episodes of Spirit Card Cinema played on loop every single day.

Though customers came and went in waves, none grew tired of it. But Su Hong, who accompanied Lia to the shop daily, had already watched them over thirty times in just a few days. During his spare moments, he simply went ahead and produced the next nine episodes.

Now, with four Spirit Cards holding twelve episodes total, Lia was stunned—and customers queued from dawn until closing. Some waited all day, yet never even reached the door!

Faced with such overwhelming popularity, Lia’s grandfather had suggested extending hours multiple times, but Lia always firmly declined.

Because after closing each day and returning to the mansion, it was time for Lia to train Su Hong in Spirit Card techniques.

Before, Su Hong had never grasped the true extent of Lia’s strength. Only when she guided him hand-in-hand through combat moves did he finally understand why she was permitted to work part-time with the city guard.

Her motions were terrifyingly swift, her skill frighteningly precise, her body light as a feather drifting gently in the breeze.

Su Hong stood dumbfounded. In the courtyard hung a wooden bucket with a hole; a thin thread of water dripped steadily from the eaves.

Lia stood before the stream, Frostlight Blade in hand, thrusting forward again and again.

Each thrust sent out the exact same number of droplets. Chilled by the blade’s frost mist, they shattered into ice shards and pinned themselves to the wall.

Though dozens of thrusts shared identical form and angle, the ice shards never struck the same spot twice.

By the one hundred and twentieth thrust, a delicate rabbit pattern had clearly emerged on the wall from the frozen fragments…

“This is insane. Even a machine might not achieve this level of precision,” Su Hong murmured, staring in awe.

Lia dismissed the Frostlight Blade and panted heavily, exhaustion etched across her face.

“Ch-chicken… chicken…”

“???”

Su Hong gaped at her.

After two deep breaths, Lia continued, “Ch-chicken crab? What magical beast is that? Huh… Never heard of it.”

“Oh, just a local specialty from my hometown,” Su Hong brushed it off casually. Before Lia could question further, he quickly added, “Wait—you’re not planning to have me practice *this* today, are you?”

“Mm-hmm! You were an incredibly powerful Spirit Cardmaster before. You’ll pick it up in no time!”

As she spoke, Lia fastened the Spirit Card Slot around his waist, pushed him firmly before the water stream, and wrapped her arms around his from behind.

“Move like this… thrust like this… and it’ll go like *this*, like *this*…”

Her clothes were already damp, her slender frame pressed snugly against his back. Fully absorbed in guiding him, she remained utterly unaware of the awkwardness.

Her slightly warm, soft body felt undeniably comfortable—but Su Hong’s face burned with embarrassment.

*How can I focus like this?* he thought desperately. *I need to master Spirit Cards to challenge that arena. Defying that cursed luck is my priority!*

“Lia… maybe we should pause for a moment?”

“Nope! We must practice while the motion is fresh in your mind, or it’ll be harder later.”

She pressed even closer.

He caught her faint floral scent. Something soft and springy pressed firmly against his spine, stiffening it unnaturally.

Flustered, Su Hong pulled away. Under her puzzled gaze, he cleared his throat softly.

“Ah—actually, I’ve been wondering… Why was that steward’s Spirit Card a living creature? A leopard obeying his commands? Shouldn’t it have been a weapon?”

(Su Hong already knew the answer. To a mage, a Spirit Card was like a spell—summoning beasts, weapons, or stranger effects was perfectly normal. But redirecting Lia? Always worked.)

Lia shook her head with a giggle. “Even smart people have blind spots! Hehe, I’ll explain carefully.”

Su Hong instantly feigned eager curiosity—though Lia’s damp, slightly translucent shirt left him unsure where to look.

“That steward’s card was stronger. Spirit Cardmasters vary in skill without clear ranks, but Spirit Cards? Their power gaps are obvious.”

Su Hong blinked silently. Her explanation was off—but honestly, he’d never learned this in beginner Spirit Glyphsmith materials.

Lia held up the Frostlight Blade card. “Ordinary cards like this have no mark. Stronger ones bear symbols after creation. His had two stars—a Stellar-grade Spirit Card. Beyond that are Lunar-grade and Solar-grade… though you’d likely only see those in the Imperial Capital.”

*Stars, moons, suns… easy enough to tell.*

But Su Hong’s mind snagged on something else. “Then… which grade controls *luck*?”

“No idea! Our town only has beginner Glyphsmiths. A card’s strength after crafting is pure chance. Like his card: weakest has one star, strongest three. Same for Lunar and Solar grades—just different patterns.”

Her eyes shimmered with longing as she spoke of legendary cards.

“Su Hong… I believe you’ll be not just an amazing Spirit Cardmaster, but a brilliant Spirit Glyphsmith too! If you ever craft a powerful card… promise you’ll let me see it? Please?”