To my beloved grandfather,

I hope you're doing well. After a not-so-pleasant trek in the snow for more than ten days, I was finally able to find a decent set of tables and chairs to write to you.

Mr. Anderson, if you are reading this letter on your behalf, please do not be angry. Because there really isn't a pen and paper here that can write the fancy letters you taught, and even the ability to find a pen and paper is thanks to the heavy snowfall - a few shortcut traders were also blocked in this unknown village, and it took them a while to dig out the unreliable pen.

As for the paper, I brought it with me, but unfortunately it was also wet. A few others unfortunately turned into clouds of fly ash when I tried to dry them, but thankfully I didn't have much to write.

Now comes the business.

I didn't get to meet the "spell caster" you mentioned earlier, the one you asked me to invite to be some kind of "enlightener" (that's what I call it if I'm not mistaken).

He now has a nickname, which seems to be called Wendeng Port Firefighter or something, which was only half a month before I arrived at Wendeng Port.

Roughly after that, I burned my left hand while showing the spell casting method to the local academy, which should be quite serious - the description of the scholar I met is simply unretelling, of course, it is not important, and it is not appropriate to write it here.

The important thing is that when a few scholars who were not stunned took him to the doctor, some props fell out of his burned sleeves, which were said to be related to what he had called "spell casting".

If there was no accident, like other not-so-clever liars, the content of his disciple who did not confess was enough to send them both to the special seawater prison of Wendeng Harbor.

But now, he probably didn't have a chance to go to prison to find out if the ghost legend was true.

The doctor said Mr. Firehand did not survive the amputation. As for how it developed into amputation, I can only say that it is very regrettable.

Seriously, I know you're nagging about "it's always right to try" or something. Since I was a child, you used to tell me about the strange things you encountered on the battlefield, what people have fire and light in their hands, and Mr. Anderson also likes your stories and helps you study those books.

If you want me to say, you must not be careful when you roll your sleeves when you hack them to death. Taking a step back, even if there is really a "spellcaster", it has already been recruited by those big shots, how can they come to Wendeng Port so ostentatiously and perform "spellcasting" for those scholars?

Paper was limited, and although I wanted to copy what Mr. Anderson had assigned, it was not enough.

I will stay in this village for a few days, and Cousin Lane will set off first, and when he delivers the letter to you, I will be home in a few days.

Attribution: Kraft