The Witch’s Convent

Then, he chanted the incantation, casting the Cantrip "Blade Ward" on himself once more, and boldly stepped over the overturned long table, heading straight for the bald man with the giant eye tattoo.

As he approached, the Shanasar gang members on the other side of the table instinctively took half a step back, looking flustered. Only the bald man had the courage to stand firm, though his nerves were eating away at him. Knowing it was too late to regret, he steeled himself, drew his short knife, and pointed it at Hawthorne, "Stop!"

He shouted fiercely, his eyes wide, trying to intimidate the youthful-looking man with his toughness.

However, knowing that he was protected by spells and wouldn't be harmed by their mundane weapons, Hawthorne was unfazed.

He completely ignored the bald man’s warning, advancing with his Grimoire in hand, seemingly intent on plunging into their midst!

Faced with this, the bald man didn't hesitate. He thrust his short knife straight towards Hawthorne's abdomen.

In truth, he hadn't used his full strength, since this was a feint. From his experience, the opponent would surely dodge when the knife came in, and dodging would mean losing balance, allowing him to grab his opponent's wrist and neutralize any spellcasting.

Unexpectedly though, Hawthorne didn’t dodge at all; he walked straight forward into the attack.

Thus, the bald man's short knife inevitably struck Hawthorne’s stomach.

Whoosh—

In an instant, the Blade Ward absorbed the blow, and Agathys' Armor immediately triggered. A fierce cold climbed down the bald man's right arm, numbing it almost to the point of losing feeling, as searing pain jolted through his nerves, instantly covering his forehead with hot sweat!

Virtually unscathed, Hawthorne stepped past him into the center of the group, channeling Magic Power into his book. Immediately, the first-level spell Thunderwave materialized once again!

Boom——————!

A powerful wave of energy exploded outward from him, and no matter how desperately these gang members tried to defend themselves, they were as futile as attempting to stop a chariot with their arms. One by one, they were blasted back, crashing into tables, chairs, and even the bar.

The tavern was thrown into chaos, filled with ceaseless cries of agony and the relentless sound of shattering glass and china, leaving the interior in utter disarray.

Only the female half-orc, with her experience, had managed to turn around and leap backward, landing onto the dozing female half-ogre at the entrance.

The two robust women collided, but this move allowed her to dodge the worst of the Thunderwave’s damage. Though she was disheveled, she emerged relatively unharmed.

Behind the counter, Alan couldn’t help but rub his temples, feeling his heart ache from the ordeal.

Damn it, all of this is going on Shanasar's tab!

While Alan lamented the damage to his property, Hawthorne, hearing the pained groans of the Shanasar gang and seeing their pitiful state and faces full of fear, felt a profound sense of relief and satisfaction as all his pent-up anger dissipated.

These damned guys deserved nothing less!

He then turned his gaze to the remaining scattered few who were still standing but were trembling, their faces filled with dread, unable even to hold their weapons steady.

Though Hawthorne had never actually killed anyone, his gaze, at that moment, seemed more terrifying than that of their commander in the eyes of the gang members.

In an instant, their composure nearly collapsed: "Y-you-you... don't come any closer, I surrender, I surrender!"

Crack!

A Shanasar thug suddenly dropped his weapon, fell to his knees, and tears streamed from his eyes. "Master Mage, spare us!"

The remaining members quickly realized the situation and hurriedly followed suit, kneeling and pleading for mercy in unison.

Knowing that his opponents had completely broken down, Hawthorne exhaled deeply, feeling his anger dissipate, and waved his hand. "Get out of here!"

Instantly, they felt as though they had been granted a great reprieve. They quickly helped their leader up and called on the other conscious members to carry the unconscious ones, limping out like a pack of frightened stray dogs.

Finally, peace returned to the tavern.

The female half-ogre at the door hadn't moved the entire time, merely watched the scene unfold with a wide grin, seemingly amused.

One reason was that, while mages were rare, from Hawthorne's performance, it seemed unlikely that he could seriously harm her given her half-ogre constitution; another reason was that she was just a security guard. The tavern's possessions weren't hers, and with Alan's influence, the defeated party would be responsible for compensating for damages.

After the Shanasar members left, Hawthorne didn't rush to leave immediately. Seeing the overturned long table and his spilled peanuts, he casually walked over to a vacant table by the window to sit down, intending to calm his emotions, though his mind kept replaying the scene that just unfolded.

What satisfaction!

Indeed, the nobility of a spellcaster was clear. Even these blood-stained, violent thugs couldn't stand a single round against him!

The feeling of having power is truly wonderful!

At the counter, seeing that Hawthorne didn’t intend to leave, owner Alan gave a subtle nod. A nearby waiter quickly understood, promptly bringing another large plate of boiled peanuts to Hawthorne's table without saying a word, and then quietly retreating.

The female half-orc, however, watched him with a suspicious and uncertain gaze, her expression conflicted and struggling, unsure of how to properly thank a distinguished Mage.

After hesitating for a long time, she finally walked over slowly, bowed her head, first clasped her fists, then bent over with a rather odd but seemingly proper gesture, and then spoke, “Zhentarim Guild fighter, Yagora, thanks you for your help, my lord.”

Hearing the name "Zhentarim Guild," Hawthorne paused his action of peeling peanuts.

Was she a member of the Dark Intelligence Network?

The Zhentarim Guild is a vast and ancient underground intelligence organization, whose core belief is that "public information is crafted and biased towards the publisher's interests, and therefore unreliable. We must use our means to obtain real information from the shadows."

Their agents are spread worldwide, often obtaining information through extortion, threat, seduction, bribery, and coercion from the secretaries, servants, cooks, and grooms of influential figures. They compile and sell these findings for profit.

Naturally, to keep such an intelligence organization running, they inevitably engage in illegal activities like smuggling. Additionally, they possess evidence of many officials’ accepting bribes, embezzling public funds, and insider trading, contributing significantly to combating such issues.

Thus, in a sense, this organization isn’t entirely dark, operating in the grey area of morality, an intelligence organization with both righteous and dubious elements.

However, Zhentarim agents typically operate in secrecy. The fact that Yagora, the female half-orc, openly revealed her identity indicates she probably isn’t a core member, perhaps just a higher-level enforcer at most.

With these thoughts in mind, Hawthorne shook his head slightly in response to Yagora’s thanks, “They attacked me too. I was just defending myself. No need to thank me.”

Yagora still looked anxious but slowly straightened up and said earnestly, “Even so, I owe you thanks. If not for you, they would’ve captured me.”

“I will always remember this debt of gratitude.”

Saying this, she placed her right fist over her left chest, bowed again and said, “Yagora will take her leave.”

After that, she turned and strode out of the tavern.

Hawthorne continued eating his peanuts, and the tavern fell into an eerie silence, interrupted only by the sound of the waiter quietly cleaning up and straightening chairs and tables.

However, the silence didn’t last long. Soon, owner Alan limped over on his prosthetic, carrying two mugs of ale, and set one down beside Hawthorne. “Do you drink?”