Chapter 197: The Con Artists' Exchange Conference

The Seven Divine Priestesses applauding wasn't surprising, but when Shadowbinder Stam, the top rookie Lisbon, and even the esteemed Moon Chanter expressed their admiration, it was a different story. These three were giants in their respective fields.

It was like being praised for swordsmanship by Guan Yu, commended for axe skills by Lu Ban, envied for wealth by Ma Baba, or having Einstein jealous of one's intelligence.

The skinny man's face turned red with excitement, barely able to contain himself. Taking deep breaths, he backed up to the wall, then sprinted forward and flipped acrobatically before landing on the volcanic slope.

"Boom!"

It was as if Wang Qi's "Mount Lao Wall-Piercing Technique" had failed—or perhaps he had reached his limit?

The fiery slope caved in slightly, sending sparks flying everywhere. Mid-flip, the skinny man let out an "Oof!" before crashing to the ground from two meters up.

His body landed on burning, oil-soaked cotton.

"Aaah—!"

His agonized scream was so shrill and sorrowful that it startled Dany.

Seeing that the cloth pouch around his crotch had caught fire, the others, now shaken from their shock, rushed forward to help extinguish the flames.

"Roll! Roll on the stone slab!" Dany shouted.

But for some reason, the fire-oil burned fiercely. No matter how much the skinny man rolled back and forth, he couldn't put out the flames.

"Help! Save me! Water! Get water now!" he screamed.

"There's no water here!" The old Black man shouted before dashing to the small wooden door in the corner. He banged on it frantically while yelling, "Someone! Bring water, quick!"

"No time!" Gritting her teeth, Dany shouted at the skinny man, "We have no choice! Lie down and spread your legs—we'll put out the fire for you!"

"Aaah, aaah, aaah~~~!"

Despite being a fire mage, with half his body already in flames, he still managed to grit his teeth and obey Dany's instructions.

"Follow my lead!" Dany signaled to the others before rushing forward and stomping down hard.

"AAAAAHHHHH—!!!"

With just one stomp, the skinny man's eyes rolled back, and he blissfully fainted.

But his relief didn't last long, because pain could just as easily wake the unconscious.

Seeing that Dany's swift stomping had actually extinguished the flames on his lower abdomen, the others, including the Shadowbinder, hesitated no longer. They all surged forward.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The frail fire mage awoke with a shriek, eyes rolling back again before he passed out.

"Bang, bang, bang!"

The stomping continued.

"AAAAAHHH—!!!"

After about four or five minutes, the skinny man's body was covered in bruises, but the flames were finally out. Wisps of white smoke, mixed with the aroma of roasted meat, rose from his body.

"Honored Mage, has your secret meeting concluded?" A malformed head peeked out from behind the wooden door—it was the blue-haired old man from earlier.

"Mage Pogba had an accident while demonstrating his magic and got burned. Take him down for treatment immediately," the old Black man instructed, pointing at the charred and battered skinny man.

"This…" The blue-haired old man trembled as he looked at the fire mage's miserable state. His legs shook as he stammered, "The consequences of a magical mishap are… this severe? But, Master Mage, the Merchant's House isn't responsible for—"

"Clatter!"

Dany pulled out a handful of silver coins and tossed them onto the injured man.

"This is a tip."

The old man's brown eyes bulged. It took him a moment to tear his gaze away from the shimmering silver. He quickly bowed and nodded.

"Rest assured, Honored Mage. We will make sure Lord Pogba receives proper treatment."

Shortly after, two gray-robed servants arrived with a stretcher and carried away the half-cooked, half-rotten fire mage.

"What now?" Lisbon frowned.

The old Black man glanced discreetly at the Shadowbinder before gritting his teeth. "This is a rare opportunity. Let's continue. I'm the last one anyway."

"For a fire mage like Pogba, burns are just an occupational hazard. He'll be fine," Lisbon nodded in agreement.

Occupational hazard?

That sounded brutal.

Dany's mouth twitched. She asked, puzzled, "I once saw a fire mage climb a seven-to-eight-meter fire ladder on the street like a monkey. He made it look so easy. Why did Pogba struggle so much with just a single fire wall?"

"Pogba could easily perform the kind of show you saw, but this gathering isn't about performances—it's about real magic." The old Black man replied indifferently.

"What do you mean? Was that performance fake?"

"Half-real, half-fake. On a controlled stage, they use tools like steel wires and fire ropes." The old fire mage explained.

Shadowbinder Stam nodded in agreement. "Within all of Volantis, Pogba ranks among the top five fire mages. His power should not be underestimated."

Dany was at a loss for words.

Standing in the center of the stone hall, the old Black man felt the residual heat from the burned ground and was reminded of the earlier scene of everyone stomping on Pogba. He instinctively clenched his thighs together, hesitating.

After a long pause, he finally spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I suffered some injuries earlier. You've all seen Grand Mage Stam's abilities. To purge the lingering effects of the Blood Sorcery, I had to expend a great deal of my magic. I'm afraid I can't demonstrate my core technique as planned. Instead, I'll show you a minor trick, something I use for protection."

"That's fine. I've already seen your strength," the Shadowbinder nodded.

The old Black man lit a charcoal brazier, placed a stand over it, set down a small pot, and poured in a deep purple fire-oil. As the coals heated up, the oil began to bubble, filling the stone chamber with a rich aroma of cooking oil.

"This is refined rapeseed oil, enhanced with magic. It ignites easily," the old fire mage explained.

Within seconds of his words falling, the oil pot boiled over, erupting into towering flames that reached the ceiling. Heat waves radiated wildly in all directions, casting a fiery glow over everyone's faces.

The old mage removed his outer robe, revealing his sagging, ugly chest. From his pocket, he pulled out a wooden box, about the size of a canned jar.

"Fireproof Ointment!"

Scooping out a generous amount of grayish paste, he smeared it evenly over his arms, hands, shoulders, and chest. Then, raising his hands for all to see—

Not a single trace of the ointment was visible on his skin.

Then, he slowly inserted both hands into the oil pan. Amid the sizzling sounds, he kept scooping up the burning oil and even placed his hands directly into the flames.

"By the Seven Gods, does this ointment have such incredible fire resistance?!" Dany exclaimed in disbelief.

"Look at his chest," the Moon Singer whispered.

She didn't need the reminder—Dany had already "seen" the old fire mage's magic flowing beneath the skin where the ointment had been applied. His upper arms, shoulders, and chest glowed red like steamed crabs, radiating intense heat.

The ointment worked by dispersing the heat from his hands to the rest of his body, allowing it to dissipate into the air.

Simply put, the treated torso was helping the skin on his hands release heat.

Understanding this only made her more astonished.

The old black man was much steadier than the skinny one. Though he heard Dany's repeated exclamations of wonder, he didn't dwell on it. He quickly dried the oil off his hands, removed the charcoal brazier, and placed a lid over the oil pan.

The Shadowbinder Stam cleared his throat, glanced at Dany, and announced loudly, "This gathering has three purposes: to demonstrate our respective magic, to broaden our knowledge, and to exchange spells with fellow practitioners while discussing magical techniques. The first objective has been accomplished. Who wishes to exchange spells?"

"What is the value of Lord Wood's Fireproof Ointment?" Lisbon was the first to step forward and ask.

"A third-tier protective spell," the Shadowbinder replied indifferently.

The old fire mage hesitated briefly before nodding. "Agreed."

Lisbon frowned, then pulled out a small milky-white porcelain bowl, a matching saucer, and two dice from his backpack.

"Magic dice—they can roll whatever number you desire."

He then demonstrated a few times, consistently rolling results between eight and twelve.

Dany, however, didn't detect any magical fluctuations and couldn't help but ask suspiciously, "Did you fill these dice with—"

"Ahem," the Shadowbinder interrupted before she could finish. "Outsiders must not reveal another's magical secrets during a trade."

Magical secrets? More like mercury-filled dice!

The young fire mage shot Dany a sharp glare before turning to the Shadowbinder and asking, "Well?"

"It qualifies as a third-tier protective spell," Tam replied.

"Very well, I'll trade," the old fire mage agreed.

The two then walked over to a corner of the stone chamber, murmuring as they finalized their exchange.

Only then did Dany ask, puzzled, "What exactly is a third-tier protective spell?"

The Shadowbinder remained silent, but the Moon Singer quietly explained, "Basic meditation is the foundation of all magic, also known as the root technique. Typically, alongside the root technique, a mage will specialize in one exclusive skill, such as Lisbon's fire control or Pogba's fire escape.

"A person's energy is limited—mastering the root technique and one or two exclusive skills in a lifetime is already remarkable.

"But mystical practitioners need money too. That's why you often see fire mages performing on the streets. The magic they use to earn a living is called a protective spell.

"The more protective spells, the better, since audiences tire of repetition. As a result, quantity matters more than refinement.

"Of course, with the resurgence of magic, true mystical practitioners can now use their root techniques as protective spells. For example, Pogba's fire escape can be adapted into a fire ladder."

Dany's face twisted in disbelief. The mysterious veil of extraordinary beings had been lifted, revealing just three glaring words: Pathetic. So pathetic!

"You must have noticed," the Moon Singer continued. "Lisbon's magic dice don't actually require magic, but you can't deny that they—" He coughed awkwardly. "They can make money, especially in the post-magic era when the tide of magic recedes.

"A skill that makes money—especially a lot of money—is a good skill. The more profitable it is, the higher its rank: second-tier protective spell, first-tier protective spell."

Dany's expression remained blank. She had no idea what to say.

Was this really a gathering of extraordinary individuals? It felt more like a convention for con artists and tricksters!

But upon reflection, the Moon Singer's words made sense. Mystical practitioners were still human. They needed to eat, support their families. They weren't stealing or robbing—just using their skills to earn a living... or swindle people. What was wrong with that?

"Do male sorcerers also have protective spells?" Dany asked, looking at the blue-lipped mage.

"Of course," he replied matter-of-factly.

"And what about Grand Sorcerer Tam?"

"I hail from the Land of Shadows," the Shadowbinder said coolly.

His face was hidden behind a wooden mask, concealing his expression, but his voice carried a hint of pride.

Dany was about to ask more when the Moon Singer preempted her. "Lord Tam wields true power. Have you heard of the dragon-hatching incident in Volantis?"

(End of Chapter)

Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

https://patreon.com/Glimmer09