“Ah.” Du Wei came back to himself and nodded. “Then find her a room and let her take it off herself.” He smiled at the long-legged girl. “I have no other intentions. I am only interested in your leather armor.”

“Damn little brat! Touch me and I’ll make you—” the girl cursed.

Du Wei walked over with a solemn expression, extended one finger, and jabbed her firmly in the cheek. “There. I touched you. What are you going to do about it?”

The others were tied with rope. The bull-like warrior had even been locked in chains meant for livestock, somehow found by two of the knights.

As for the long-legged girl, the Rowling guards knocked her unconscious and threw her directly into Du Wei’s room. Their young master seemed interested in her; as subordinates, why would they pass up an opportunity to please him?

Ignoring his men's sordid assumptions, Du Wei turned his full attention to the mage.

Stripped of his gray robe, the mage stood before Du Wei in his underclothes, his hands and feet bound with rope. At first he tried to threaten the young noble. “Do you not fear offending the Magic Guild by treating a mage this way?”

The reply was a slap. The mage promptly shut his mouth.

Du Wei rubbed his aching hand. This body was still far too weak.

“If you answer a few questions obediently, I’ll consider letting you go.” Seated in a chair, Du Wei looked at the mage, trussed up like a dumpling. “When you cast those fireballs, I did not see you chant. Have you mastered the technique of instant casting?”

That was the question that interested Du Wei most.

Every book he had read said that a mage had to chant in order to cast magic. A few exceptional, top-tier mages could use their minds to drive a spell, silently completing its chant within their thoughts. That legendary technique was called instant casting.

It required enormous mental power and an extraordinarily precise understanding and command of magic. Those capable of it were almost invariably Grand Mages renowned across the continent. A lowly first-level mage could not possibly have mastered it.

Of course, there were other ways to achieve a form of instant casting. The most widely accepted was through magic scrolls: prepared scrolls inscribed with spells, which a mage could throw in battle to instantly release the magic stored inside.

But magic scrolls were precious consumables. The more advanced the spell, the harder it was to make into a scroll. Only low-level spells were commonly used this way. Scrolls holding intermediate spells were rare treasures, and scrolls for high-level magic were scarcely heard of at all.

That was why this little first-level mage interested Du Wei so much. During the fight, he had not chanted at all. He seemed to use the legendary instant casting, even if it was only for the lowest-level fireball spell.

In this world, a mage’s rank was strictly defined, most visibly by the strength of his magical power and his command of magical techniques. The use of chants was an especially important standard of judgment.

Chanting was common knowledge, but the same chant could produce very different results in different mages’ hands. Highly capable mages had researched specialized ways to use chants, enabling them to rush through obscure, awkward words. Even trimming one or two syllables could let them cast before an enemy and seize the advantage.

Such research was a mage’s greatest secret, never lightly taught to anyone else. Otherwise, he would lose his advantage. As for instant casting... it was something any mage might go mad pursuing or sacrifice everything to obtain.

Du Wei was not foolish enough to believe this first-level mage, barely above an apprentice, had truly mastered it. He suspected the man had found some trick resembling instant casting—a substitute method.

Otherwise, if this mage really could cast instantly, he would not be tied up like a dumpling. The battle would have ended in Du Wei’s side being crushed.

The man was hiding a secret, and Du Wei intended to uncover it.

The mage’s face darkened at the question. His eyes shifted, and he clamped his mouth shut.

Du Wei had not expected instant cooperation. They were alone in the tavern’s back kitchen, and he had plenty of time.

He began by examining the spoils taken from the mage. Du Wei gave the mage's robe a single glance before tossing it into the nearby stove, where it burned like kindling. He played with the silver-leaf badge for a moment, then threw that into the fire as well.

The badge was the Magic Guild’s official certification of a genuine mage. To someone from Du Wei’s former world, it had another useful quality: it was theft-proof. Guild magic ensured only its owner could wear it; if it remained too far from him, it would melt automatically. It also emitted a faint, inscribed magical fluctuation that served as proof of authenticity, making it difficult for ordinary people to forge one.

It was useless to Du Wei. Still, the bound mage looked pained as the badge disappeared into the flames.

“You see, I bear you no ill will.” Du Wei smiled, a faintly demonic expression on his pale young face. “I am simply a boy interested in magic. Answer some questions, and I can let you go.”

The mage remained silent.

Du Wei continued through the loot. A small bundle from beneath the mage’s robe contained several gems of mixed quality. To ordinary people they were treasures, but to a mage they were only tools for storing magical power. Du Wei pocketed them without ceremony.

There were also two pieces of parchment bearing several low-level magical chants. Du Wei’s eyes immediately brightened.

He had read many books on magical theory, but strict rules governed the field. No genuine magic chant could be recorded in ordinary books—not even a single line from the most basic fireball spell. Anyone could read about magic, but no one could become a mage through books alone.

Du Wei possessed plenty of theoretical and common knowledge about magic, but he did not know a single chant. That protected an ancient tradition: magic could only be passed directly from an elder mage to a disciple, by word and example. It could never be publicly spread.

It is rather like firearms control in my old world, Du Wei thought. Anyone could learn a great deal online or from books about weapons, their models, and principles, but that did not mean they could build a working gun with their bare hands.

“And what is this?”

After sorting through the rest, several transparent, sealed bottles remained, each filled with differently colored powder. Du Wei did not dare open them blindly. A mage might carry anything dangerous; one bottle might contain something that could turn a person to stone.

“It seems my guess was right.” Du Wei sat straighter and smiled at his prisoner. “Your true strength is not great. You really are a low-level, first-level mage. The apparent instant casting you showed in battle must be some opportunistic substitute method. Correct? I offer you two choices. Tell me obediently and satisfy my curiosity, and I will let you go. Or... you will suffer a little.”

The mage tried another appeal. “You are a noble. Do you not think treating a mage this way is beneath your station?”

Du Wei said nothing.

A noble? So what?

Ever since he had inexplicably arrived in this world, Du Wei had felt little attachment to it. In this utterly unfamiliar place, his life had seemed devoid of purpose. Everything from his old world—his ideals, friendships, family, love, his entire former life—had been brutally cut away.

For the last few years, he had drifted through life in a haze, unable to find even the slightest purpose.

Now, in this strange world, the only thing that stirred any interest in him was magic.

As for everything else... Du Wei did not care.

Whether it was moral to incite his men to attack strangers in a tavern to satisfy his curiosity about magic, he did not care about that, either.

Du Wei Rowling—or the man he had been in his previous life—had never been a good person.