The book signing was to be held in a mall on the city’s central pedestrian street.
It was on the first floor, in a spot you could see as soon as you walked in.
Sean had chosen the venue himself. From several of the busiest locations, he picked the one that was relatively closest to him.
Normally, with his current level of fa, he didn’t deserve such an expensive comrcial center. Just renting the space for a day cost a fortune, and the investnt was unlikely to yield a proportional return. After all, his writing wasn’t for the masses, and it couldn’t compare to that of true literary masters.
Furthermore, because the stories he wrote were also published online, they were seen as pure entertainnt, lacking any real substance or deep thought. In "proper" literary circles, his work was at the bottom of the food chain, considered far less profound and accessible than so avant-garde poem about peeing in a straight line versus peeing into a hole.
But hey, there’s no sha in making money.
The publisher was sponsoring the entire venue fee anyway, so he didn’t have to pay a cent. Sean had shalessly picked it. Back then, he was just an author, and of course, he wanted to increase his fa and have his work seen by more people.
He never denied that he was a man of simple tastes.
At the ti, Sean was even grateful to the publisher.
It wasn’t every day you t such kind-hearted capitalists who insisted on an investnt with an expected negative return. They were like angels among Demons.
But looking back now, he had been too naive.
A leopard can’t change its spots. You think capital will show great kindness, but in reality, you just haven’t seen the real interests at play.
This matter might not have had much to do with the publisher; they were just middlen paid to do a job. But after this period of having his eyes opened to the world, Sean was certain the shadow of the Florist Family lood behind this book signing.
In the last two days of the month, the person from the publisher in charge of the event had called him, repeatedly confirming:
"Mr. Sean, are you sure you can attend the book signing on ti on September 1st?"
"We’re about to start putting up advertisents on the pedestrian street."
Sean didn’t know if Quill had put her up to it, but his answer wouldn’t change.
"Don’t worry, I won’t be late."
In the bathroom, a masked Sean held his phone, looked at his reflection in the mirror, and chuckled under his breath.
He was already inside the mall.
Sean was feeling very relaxed at this mont, and he wasn’t faking it.
After one deep ditation and two Forbidden ditations, the Magic Power he controlled had already reached 3.14 Lak, breaking him into the Tier Two level. But that wasn’t the main point. The main point was the techniques and thods recorded in *The Beginning of Forbidden Curse*.
Perhaps because *The Beginning of Forbidden Curse* was sothing he had written or practiced in a past life, leaving latent mories in his mind, the ditations went exceptionally smoothly. After just two sessions, he could almost touch the sun in the sky.
At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before he could pluck the sun from the sky and eat it.
More importantly, although he hadn’t yet fully completed the Forbidden ditation and thus hadn’t succeeded in his Cultivation, the process was incrental and provided imdiate feedback to a Wizard’s body. In other words, he could already draw Power from more parts of his body. The Magic Power he truly controlled was far more than a simple pi.
So, Sean was at ease.
He hadn’t co to the mall today to case the joint and plan escape routes like he had at the Florist Hospital. Instead, he wanted to buy himself a new outfit. After all, this was his first-ever book signing. For a public appearance at such a major event, Sean wanted to look a little more presentable.
So he could give Quill a presentable end as well.
Leaving the restroom, Sean continued to wander through the mall. He walked and paused, occasionally chatting and laughing with salesclerks and trying on clothes in the fitting rooms, no different from any other custor.
You could tell he was genuinely relaxed.
All fear cos from a lack of firepower. Having preliminarily grasped a Forbidden Spell, Sean was no longer afraid.
But... while he was relaxed, soone else was nervous on his behalf.
From the mont Sean entered the mall, a ponytailed girl in sunglasses had been secretly following him.
The girl’s na was Yisha. Her profession was a reporter, but she moonlighted as Miss Fla Crow’s "eyes," specializing in tailing targets for her. Occasionally, she’d also play the part of a secret agent, gathering intelligence or protecting specific individuals. Her current mission was the latter.
Yisha had arrived in Old Segal City two days ago.
At that ti, Sean was still holed up in a motel, so she hadn’t been able to find him right away. She had checked into a hotel near the pedestrian street and had been loitering around the mall.
Yisha wasn’t worried. She had already learned the general situation from Elvire: a Novice Wizard wanted to use a book signing as an opportunity to set a trap for a group of Witch Hunters, using himself as bait. The signing was on the 1st of next month, in two days. As long as she wasn’t late, there shouldn’t be a problem.
When she first received the mission, she had complained about how audacious this man was, acting as if he had no fear of death. But she never expected his real audacity to surpass her imagination. He had actually co here to just wander around. What if she hadn’t recognized him and he was discovered by the Witch Hunters? Wouldn’t he end up spilling his blood all over the mall today?
Just then, Elvire happened to call to ask how things were going.
"Hang on a second."
Yisha picked up the cara hanging around her neck and unleashed a flurry of shots—CLICK CLICK CLICK—at Sean, who was trying on clothes in front of a mirror inside a store. The cara instantly printed out a photo, which slowly developed color after being exposed. If you looked closely, the Sean in the picture was actually moving, repeating the motion of swaying his hips and sizing himself up.
Yisha waited for the photo to fully develop before taking a picture of it with her phone.
She could have just taken a picture directly with her phone; the cara was redundant. But it was a professional habit and also a hobby she couldn’t break. Yisha loved the feeling of pressing the shutter button; it gave her a sense of reality, that the world could be recorded.
She sent the photo to Elvire and said in a tattling tone, "Miss Fla Crow, look at him! He knows the mall is dangerous, but he still ca here to buy clothes. He has no regard for his own life at all."
Elvire saw the photo and muttered under her breath, "He’s actually pretty handso."
Yisha: "?"
"Miss Fla Crow, what did you just say?"
Elvire said with a deadpan expression, "Nothing."
Standing far away, Yisha looked up and re-examined Sean. ’He does seem a little handso, doesn’t he?’
Elvire: "..."
"Ahem." Yisha coughed twice and asked, "Miss Fla Crow, should I go over and give him a warning? Tell him to be more careful?"
"No," Elvire said. "Keep yourself hidden. Don’t let him find you."
She didn’t want Sean to know she had sent soone, otherwise he would think she cared a great deal about him.
Not that she actually did, of course. She just had her own reasons.
"Alrighty," Yisha said. "I understand. I’ll report back if there’s any news."
After saying that, she hung up. But when she looked back into the store, she found that Sean was gone.
Yisha froze. Before she could react, a low, Ghost-like voice ca from behind her.
"Report what? To whom?"
Yisha: "!!!"
The voice was very, very close. It scared her so badly that goosebumps erupted all over her skin, and her sunglasses nearly fell off her face.
When she turned around, she was t with a broad chest.
With her petite, loli-like figure, she couldn’t et the speaker’s eyes. She had to tilt her head up to see his face. Who else could it be but Sean?
"Y-y-you... How did you get over here?" Yisha stamred, staring at the man who had suddenly appeared behind her, clutching her phone tightly.
Sean noticed the photograph in the girl’s other hand and raised an eyebrow. "Taking sneaky pictures of ?"
Yisha imdiately hid the photo behind her back and argued, "I did not! You saw wrong!"
Sean didn’t argue with her, just asked directly, "Alright, who sent you?"
Of course, Yisha wouldn’t tell him. She avoided Sean’s gaze and stamred, "Wh-what do you an who sent ... I-I was just passing by. I like taking pictures, so I just snapped a few."
"Not talking, huh? That ans one of your mission paraters is not to expose yourself. That makes things easy." Sean pulled out his phone, opened the cara app, and took a picture of Yisha right to her face.
"Ah!" Yisha tried to dodge, but she wasn’t fast enough. Her flustered attempt to hide was captured in the photo.
"Pretty cute," Sean comnted objectively. "However..."
He tilted his head. "Miss, you wouldn’t want your boss to find out you failed your mission, would you?"
Yisha: "???"
...
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