Leilin drove the carriage, wandering aimlessly through the streets.
Thinking about how Ivie's gaze just now had been like that of an abandoned puppy, he still found it somewhat amusing.
Wizards were people who valued voluntary transactions.
In Leilin's view, Ivie had given her blood, and he had escorted her all the way here, even displaying his power to lay some groundwork for her future life. That was more than fair compensation for what she'd given.
As for bringing her along, Leilin felt he simply didn't have the time or energy to babysit a burden.
Let alone the fact that without a suitable warlock Meditation Method, Ivie would never become a First-rank Apprentice in her lifetime.
Warlock Meditation Methods had extremely high requirements for bloodlines. Just like Leilin's Komoyin's Eye, it was restricted to warlocks who possessed the bloodline of the Komoyin Colossal Serpent or its subspecies.
Other warlocks and wizards, even if they obtained Komoyin's Eye, would find at most some reference value in it—they could never cultivate it themselves.
Lost in thought, Leilin drove the carriage to the center of the small town.
The deeper he went, the stronger the pedestrians on the streets became. By the time he reached the central area, there were virtually no First-rank or Second-rank Apprentices—occasionally, even a few official Wizards could be spotted.
The official Wizards here all wore cloaks, covering their faces with thick scarves, as if they didn't want to be recognized.
Generally speaking, the wizards who risked crossing the Magalie Grand Canyon on foot instead of riding an Airship were mostly fugitives with bounties on their heads.
Some had offended local powers and had no choice but to flee far away, while others were hunted relentlessly simply for possessing something valuable.
Thus, recklessly using detection spells here was often the prelude to a major battle.
Leilin glanced at the crystal pocket watch on his person; the hands pointed to around five in the afternoon.
The sky was growing dim, and fewer and fewer pedestrians walked the streets.
Arriving before a bar right in the center, Leilin knocked on its somewhat rotted wooden door.
Thud thud!! The muffled sound echoed far down the nearly empty street, drawing out the cries of a few crows.
"Who are you?" The wooden door quickly opened, and an elderly man's head with sparse hair poked out, sizing up Leilin.
"I want to cross the Magalie Grand Canyon. I heard this is the only place in the area where I can find transportation…"
Leilin had also used his scarf to cover the area just below his eyes, and his voice came through the cloth with a rough quality.
"The Magalie Grand Canyon? Are you a Wizard, sir?"
The old man slapped his forehead and hurriedly opened the wooden door. "Welcome, sir! You're right—the Broken Axe Tavern is the only place around here where you can find Liban Dire Wolves…"
The old man was merely an apprentice, but he had clearly seen the world and conducted himself with poise.
Leilin nodded and stepped into the Broken Axe Tavern.
He had done his research before coming. The Magalie Grand Canyon was shrouded in terrifying sandstorms year-round, with only a few months of passable weather.
Moreover, the canyon contained many dangerous zones filled with swamps, venomous insects, and other perils—horses were utterly unusable.
In some of the most dangerous spots, there were even cases of Wizards perishing!
Thus, forming a party and riding Liban Dire Wolves through the Magalie Grand Canyon was the only way.
The bar was extremely quiet—eerily so.
Under the dim lighting, long bench-style seats were arranged throughout, with small private booths and sofas along the sides.
The small booths were enclosed on three sides by walls, open only toward the main bar, as if recessed into the walls themselves.
A few wizards sat scattered throughout the hall in small groups, sipping drinks of various colors from time to time.
Leilin sniffed the air—these drinks had very low alcohol content, essentially just for flavor.
The wizards in the hall were mostly Third-rank Apprentices, though there was no shortage of official Wizards either.
Leilin took a seat at a horseshoe-shaped counter and looked at the bartender dressed in what appeared to be a black suit.
"Sir! Care for an 'Iceberg Beauty'? Many wizards who come here love this drink!" the bartender said with a smile.
"I'll take one! How much?" In the dim environment, Leilin's tone was somewhat languid.
"Three Magic Stones!"
A steep price—ordinary apprentices certainly couldn't afford it, and they only accepted the common currency among wizards.
Leilin shrugged and tossed a mid-tier Magic Stone into the bartender's lap. "Pour me one! And I want to hire a Liban Dire Wolf. Give me the information I need, and the rest is yours!"
The bartender quietly pocketed the Magic Stone. His hands moved with practiced speed, shaking a silver vessel as it traced bright, shimmering arcs through the air.
"Sir, you're planning to cross the Magalie Grand Canyon? The sandstorms have stopped recently, but word is that a flock of Gelie Vultures has taken up roost at the supply point along the route. Perhaps you'd like to find a party to join?"