Though the idea of the mod clashing with the world’s own rules sounded a little far-fetched, thinking it over, it actually made a certain kind of sense.
Because the garbled text had made it plain enough—this was about detection magic.
Detection, as the name implied, meant that once used, it would let him see another person’s full six-dimensional stat sheet.
And combined with what Feng Ling Yue Ying could do, seeing meant being able to modify.
Modifying himself was one thing—he was, after all, an outsider here, someone the goddess had no claim over.
But other people?
That was a different story entirely.
Doing this in front of the very god who’d created this world was essentially manhandling one of her own children from head to toe, right under her nose—it would honestly be stranger if a conflict hadn’t broken out.
“Guess Feng Ling Yue Ying came out on top, then.
No goddess showed up, and the prompts still came through mostly intact.
Domestic software really is the best.” “Not bad.” Ronan nodded lightly, then came to a stop and turned to the captain of the guard.
“Martin, do you know anywhere that sells detection magic?” Since this concerned his own cheat, he was fully prepared to go to any length necessary.
Hearing this, Martin blinked in surprise, then said: “Detection magic?
Lord Ronan, do you mean the kind that identifies different types of monsters?” “You…
my apologies, that was careless of me.” Martin had been about to ask why Ronan, of all people, wouldn’t already have such a common spell.
But then he remembered the role Ronan was currently playing—someone who’d never set foot in the ruins before—so of course he wouldn’t have it.
He quickly added: “If I remember correctly, Old Dirk’s shop carries detection magic.” “Shall I take you there?” “Of course.” Ronan nodded without a moment’s hesitation.
He had no idea who this “Old Dirk” was, but judging by how familiarly Martin referred to him, the man had to be somewhere in this very town.
Perfect.
An even more perfected cheat, an even better life.
Here he came.
…
At the edge of the city, it took Ronan, following Martin, about an hour to reach Old Dirk’s shop.
Frieren hadn’t left either, since she didn’t know detection magic herself.
If Ronan managed to obtain and learn it, she might get to benefit from it too.
That was, after all, exactly how she’d already picked up the heat spell, the vision-enhancement spell, and the appraisal spell.
She felt no shame about it whatsoever—she already owed him plenty as it was; a little more wouldn’t make much difference.
She’d pay it all back eventually, slowly, over time.
Creak— As Ronan slowly pushed open the shop’s front door, a cramped, enclosed space came into view.
The moment Frieren caught sight of the interior decor, she gave a start.
Glowing green skulls, monsters draped in animal hides, and all manner of indescribably grotesque creatures lined the shelves on either side.
Fangs bared, claws raised, as though ready to pounce at any moment…
so dark, so terrifying.
Frieren instinctively held her breath, a flicker of hesitation rising in her chest, though she quickly realized she wasn’t facing this alone.
Without thinking, she moved closer to Ronan, one hand catching the hem of his clothes, as though that alone might ease the unease in her heart.
Ronan felt the slight tug and turned to look.
Seeing how tense Frieren looked, he said nothing, only shaking his head lightly.
—Still just a kid, after all.
Just a bunch of toy models.
Of course, he understood well enough—everyone went through this kind of thing as a child.
Ronan offered a few soft words of reassurance, and once Frieren had settled down a little, he turned back around and continued deeper into the shop.
Up ahead, Martin, catching the commotion behind him, felt his envy grow even more pronounced.
He didn’t let any of it show, though, keeping his tone level as he explained: “This is Old Dirk’s magic shop.” “The ruins are about twenty li from here, so most adventurers stop by to stock up on supplies before heading in.” “He’s rather shy around strangers, which is why he made the entrance passage so long—he doesn’t like facing adventurers head-on.” “Lord Ronan, are you certain all you need is detection magic?” “Old Dirk actually carries plenty of other fine potions too, like…” Martin tilted his head slightly, about to introduce a few items men typically enjoyed.
But catching sight of Frieren right behind Ronan, he coughed twice and decided against spelling it out.
Instead, he simply gave Ronan a suggestive raise of the eyebrows.
Ronan looked puzzled.
“Like what?” Why did Martin’s expression suddenly look so shady?
Was it some kind of…
substance?
Was that seriously something you could just sell out in the open here?
Different world, different laws, apparently.
Never mind, then.
Better see what this so-called potion even was first.
Hopefully he was just overthinking it.
Honestly, he didn’t need whatever it was anyway.
He’d already got his cheats, after all.
Gathering his thoughts, they walked roughly fifty more meters before the space up ahead finally opened up.
There, Ronan met Old Dirk, a man whose appearance immediately gave him pause.
What in the world was this?
Some kind of mutant?
Why did he have two bulbous growths sitting on top of his head?
Ronan was at a loss for words, but Martin’s explanation soon cleared things up somewhat.
In his younger years, Old Dirk had ventured into the ruins and been cursed by some monster there—the two growths on his head weren’t tumors at all, but his actual brain.
The skull that should have housed his brain was now completely hollow inside.
In other words, the current Old Dirk could be killed with nothing more than a single needle.
That was probably part of the reason he was so wary of strangers.
Life really was fragile.
Ronan felt a genuine pang of sympathy—he honestly couldn’t picture himself walking around with two exposed brain-lobes on his head.
Curses…
truly terrifying things.
He needed to make Feng Ling Yue Ying as airtight as possible.
Impervious to blade and bullet, untouched by fire and water, immune to every form of magic…
Without much in the way of small talk, after a brief introduction, Ronan handed over five gold coins and walked away with the detection spell from Old Dirk.
He found a quiet corner to sit and began flipping through it at speed, while Martin stepped forward to negotiate with Old Dirk.
Leaning against the counter, Martin kept wiggling his eyebrows, occasionally glancing over toward Ronan.
Then he pulled two gold coins from his pocket, and after a brief, hushed exchange, struck a deal with Old Dirk.
Old Dirk carefully pulled out a potion bottle from beneath the counter and handed it to Martin.
Just as Martin was working out how best to present the bottle to Ronan.
Frieren suddenly appeared behind him, as silent as a little ghost, and asked crisply: “What’s that?
Can you tell me?” “Uncle Martin.” Startled by the sudden voice, Martin coughed repeatedly, turning around as he spoke: “Ah, Lady Frieren, there’s no need to call me uncle.
Just use my name.” “By your standards, in terms of age, I might as well still be an infant.” Under normal circumstances, there was nothing wrong with a young girl calling a thirty-year-old man “uncle.” But Frieren was an elf, with a lifespan far exceeding his own, so such a casual title didn’t quite suit the occasion.
Frieren nodded, seeming to half-understand, though it was unclear whether she’d actually remember any of it.
Her gaze remained fixed intently on the potion bottle in Martin’s hand.
Seeing this, Martin knew there was no dodging the question.
Making sure Ronan wasn’t looking his way, he deliberately lowered his voice and murmured to Frieren: “This is a man’s little treasure, Lady Frieren.
You and Lord Ronan are that kind of relationship, aren’t you…” The moment the words left his mouth, confusion crept into Frieren’s expression.
What kind of relationship?
Martin’s heart lurched, realizing he’d spoken far too bluntly, and quickly backpedaled: “Forgive my bluntness.
But I think, even setting that aside, no man alive could resist a potion like this.” “I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us—I plan to give it to Lord Ronan as a gift later.
It’s remarkably useful out in the wild.” “It removes contaminated clothing instantly, cleanly, without so much as touching the skin underneath.
Especially useful after exposure to venom or poison—it disinfects on contact and gets rid of any lingering odor, too.” “Just imagine—if you’re out in the wilds, badly wounded in a fight with some monster, your clothes soaked through with blood and venom.
With this, you’d have a guaranteed way to make it out alive.” “What a perfect little potion, don’t you think?” “Would you like a bottle too?”