Klein sat at the bar, clenched his fist and pounded the table: "A glass of Southwyl beer." Behind him, several guards hesitated—whether to approach and warn him, or to pretend that no one had fired a shot. The bartender gave the guards a glance, picked up a glass, and smiled warmly. "Why not a 'Sweet Lemon'? Our boss once studied mixology in Trier, mastering many cocktails passed down from Emperor Roxel, and he even invented the 'Sweet Lemon,' now our most beloved drink." Klein showed no enthusiasm, calmly replied, "I only drink beer." "Very well," the bartender said, not rushing to fetch the Southwyl beer, with a smile. "Sir, are you an adventurer?" Klein nodded, but said nothing. The bartender smiled and said without hesitation, "Perhaps you should meet our boss—he's always welcoming to new adventurers, eager to have them drink with him, and it will also be of further benefit to you." Klein, who had originally planned to purchase auxiliary materials for "Master of the Secret Figures" here, didn't hesitate. He produced a copper coin of a golden hue, flicked it crisply into the air, and then caught it steadily. Placing the one-cent coin on the counter as a token of appreciation for the bartender's reminder, he slowly rose and followed a guard up the stairs to the second floor, into a room at the far end of the corridor. The room was carpeted with thick, warm brown-yellow rugs, and the air carried a subtle scent of high-quality coal combustion, mingled with the aroma of cigars being smoked. A middle-aged man with neatly combed golden hair sat relaxed in an armchair, reading the newspaper, with more than six bodyguards surrounding him. Although Kline wasn't an extraordinary among the "Observers," unable to discern the qualities and strength of the bodyguards from the details, nor belonged to the "Revealer" or "Monster" path, which allowed him to perceive certain hidden aspects and uncover things others couldn't, his intuitive sense of spirit led him to believe that among those bodyguards there must be some extraordinary ones capable of posing a definite threat to him. The middle-aged man set down his newspaper, smoothed the collar of his black shirt, rose slowly, and extended his right hand. "Welcome to Orlavi, my adventurer friend," he said, his blue eyes bright with a touch of warmth and genuine sincerity. Kline likewise extended his right hand, lightly brushing it against the other's, remaining silent and waiting for him to speak. The man indicated the sofa opposite the armchair, smiling gently. "I'm Bill特. Whitehead, the owner of this establishment. "I too was once an adventurer, and though not the most outstanding, I've managed to survive thus far and accumulated a decent fortune." "I'm confident in my own abilities, which is why I'm so direct... Without hesitation, Caine sat down, slightly leaning forward, waiting quietly for Bilt to continue. Seeing that the adventuring companion offered no response, Bilt reseated himself, took a slow draw from his cigar, and spoke calmly: 'Frankly, every time I meet a new adventuring companion, I have a specific purpose in mind.' He pointed to the chart on the desk, his voice rich and engaging. 'To the east of the Rosted Islands, the sea grows increasingly turbulent, and the influence of the military and the Church steadily diminishes—eventually, they can only protect their own ports. This region is the pirates' paradise, and it's extremely disadvantageous for us adventurers. Therefore, I hope to organize everyone and establish a loose alliance, so that we can unite and face threats together.' "This alliance won't be very binding—you can choose to stay idle when other adventurers face danger, and no one will come to reprimand you. The only thing is, once you encounter similar situations yourself, you won't have to expect help from others. As for another promise I can make: when our adventurers purchase goods from me, they'll receive discounts close to the base price, and when they sell their harvests, they'll at least receive a price equal to the market rate." With that, he lowered his hand holding the cigar, tapped his lips gently, and shook his head with a smile, saying, "Sorry, I forgot to ask your name." Klein remained in his posture, his voice low and steady, responding, "Germán Sparo." "Germán Sparo..." Billt's eyelid twitched slightly, and his smile instantly grew a bit stiff. The several bodyguards around him tensed instantly, as if facing a serious threat. Billt quickly regained his composure and didn't bother to verify whether it was truly Germán Sparo or just a fraud, chuckling warmly, "Anything you'd like to purchase? I have quite a few good items here." "The spring water from Sunya Golden Spring," Klein said, his expression calm and his tone cautious. He didn't mention the bark from the dragon-patterned tree—after all, that material was readily available at herbal shops as well. Billt Whitehead breathed a quiet sigh of relief, smiled, and said, "Simple. One hundred milliliters for thirty pounds." "Believe me, even if you go to Sunya Island, you'll save only a few pounds at most—those Fasak savages have sealed off one spring after another, making it hard for others to access them." "Deal." Kline had a general sense of the price of the golden spring and knew that 30 pounds for 100 milliliters was indeed quite reasonable. After finalizing this transaction, Bilt paused, preparing to speak, when suddenly he heard a knock at the door. With permission, a guard entered, came close to his ear, and whispered a few words. Bilt's expression immediately darkened, and his entire demeanor grew unusually cold, radiating an unmistakable aura of menace. Indeed, he was quite strong—either a renowned adventurer or a well-known pirate—likely somewhere in the mid-tier. Kline observed him calmly, making his assessment. Bilt turned to Kline, struggling to maintain composure and said, "Mr. Sparrow, I have some matters I need to attend to. I'll be sure to meet you for a drink at some point." "Very well." Klein rose slowly, with no intention of interfering in the other's affairs. Of course, this didn't mean he wasn't curious—curiosity alone wasn't enough to alter his established manner. After leaving the "Sweet Lemons" bar, Klein returned smoothly to his rented hotel. As Derek passed through the partition of the training ground, he instinctively glanced toward the inner side, where a group of exploration team members were resting—members of the exploration team led by Colin Iliath, the senior elder of the Six-Body Council! They had recently returned to Silver City after completing their exploration based on Jack's description and were now in the isolation phase. Derek sighed slightly, then continued on to the spire, ascended to the third floor, and entered the library. As he was about to head toward the shelves housing mythological texts and ancient manuscripts, his peripheral vision suddenly caught a familiar figure. It was a graceful, elegant woman in her thirties, dressed in a long black robe adorned with numerous mysterious purple patterns, her silver-gray hair gently curled and flowing down her back. She was Lovianna Tifni, the elder of the Six-Body Council who had been detained for a long time. As her pale gray eyes passed over him, Derek felt as though his soul had been pierced, momentarily stiffening. "Good morning, Elder Lovianna." He hurriedly bowed his head, placing his hands on his chest. Lovira approached, nodded gently, and said, "I have lifted the isolation." She spoke calmly and then turned to leave, as though announcing something significant. Darien stood motionless, a layer of cold sweat forming unconsciously on his back. How could she have been released? Had the Council of Six already confirmed that she was free of any issues? Darien thought this over with intense focus. Then he heard the brisk greeting from Miss Justice: "Good afternoon, Mr. The Fool~" PS: Likely due to the previous night shift or vigil on the mountain, he came back with a cold, mainly suffering from a sore throat. He managed to endure for several days without medication, but eventually had to rely on drugs. Now he's much better, though due to lingering effects of the medication, he only managed to write one chapter yesterday—so he has no backup chapters, and this section is consequently shorter.