Chapter 13: The Hermit Sage

"Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Alder."

"Goodbye, Grandpa Alder."

At the entrance of the wand shop, the two witch sisters, looking satisfied, bid farewell to the old man.

"Mm-hmm, take your time, and welcome back next time."

Behind the counter, Old Man Alder smiled and waved, still the very image of an elderly gentleman, calm and elegant.

"So where are we going next?"

Dorothy, stroking the tiny kitten named Bastet now curled on her shoulder, asked Alice.

Meanwhile, the little witch stared enviously at the kitten on her sister’s shoulder, then glanced at the pair of dual pistols she once loved, and sighed.

Sigh, comparing people drives you mad, comparing things makes you want to throw them away—when will you two ever turn into something like this for me?

Alice thought, sourly.

But she wasn’t really that jealous—after all, unlike her sister, who was a cat person, she was a dog person, and she had her own familiar to pet, so she had no need to envy.

"Let’s go to the bookstore. We still need to buy magic textbooks, then some common spell components—we can just buy a ready-made new student kit from the material shop later; it’s faster."

Gathering her composure, the little witch continued leading the way with practiced ease.

"Magic textbooks? I don’t think I need to buy any—mine just upgraded to the latest version."

Dorothy said.

As a net-addicted girl, she didn’t care about anything else, but her magic book—as her internet device—was never neglected; her own textbook’s specs always led the cutting edge.

She even taught herself the techniques for crafting, maintaining, and upgrading magic books, and for years she’d been lurking on the professional forum of the Scribe Association, stealing knowledge, occasionally helping new members draft cost-effective configuration lists to apply what she’d learned.

After all these years, she’d grown somewhat famous in the Scribe Association—so much so that every time she popped up, she’d get lost in a chorus of “Master!” calls.

"Not magic books—we're buying the textbook kits used at the Witch Academy. Sure, you can download them directly from the Grand Library of the Magic Net, but those are generic versions, and they're ridiculously expensive. Buying them at a bookstore is cheaper, and you get editions personally annotated by the store owner—those are far more valuable."

Alice explained, and as soon as she mentioned this, the little witch perked up, continuing to educate her net-addicted, reality-ignorant sister.

"These days, physical bookstores compete with the Grand Library of the Magic Net in every way imaginable—almost every book they sell is an exclusive annotated edition by the store owner themselves; the same book always has different versions depending on the store."

"But now, to open a bookstore, the store owner must be a big name in academia—the business license application has high thresholds; you need full academic credentials, so you don't have to worry about being misled by these annotated editions."

"Still, if you ever go to a bookstore alone, you should learn the store owner's academic specialty first—only buy books in their field of expertise, or you risk being led astray."

"As for the Witch Academy’s textbooks—heehee—this brings me to our Haiyuedao bookstore. Though we’re just a backwater eighteenth-tier town, this place has the most authentic textbook editions in the entire world; every year, witches from afar come here specifically to buy their course materials."

Alice puffed out her nearly nonexistent chest, slightly proud and delighted.

"Why? Oh, is the bookstore’s owner some special person?"

Dorothy played along perfectly, feeding her sister’s desire to teach.

"Yep, this bookstore is run by the Scroll Sage."

Alice revealed the answer.

At this, Dorothy paused, thinking about who the Scroll Sage was, then drew a sharp breath.

Well, well—it’s her.

“Scroll Sage” is a title, but from the title alone, you can tell this witch is extraordinary—after all, “Sage” is one of the highest titles in the witch world, as evidenced by the ruling body’s name: the Council of Sages.

So this isn’t a title given to just any cat or dog; every holder is a giant.

The Scroll Sage is naturally no ordinary figure—her greatness is plainly reflected in her title.

Scroll Sage—literally, the Sage of Exams. She’s not only a giant in academia but also a titan in witch education; she once oversaw the revision and editing of Witch Academy textbooks and designed all written exams for major rating tests.

If there were a list of the most feared witches in the witch world, she’d be near the top—she was the nightmare of countless witch students during their school years.

Fortunately, this giant is an ancient witch—how ancient, Dorothy didn’t know, but according to her stepmother, her great-great-grandmother had taken this witch’s exams back then. Still, Dorothy herself had never taken one of her tests, because over a decade ago, this ancient witch finally retired.

Undoubtedly, Dorothy’s generation of new witches was lucky—they escaped this devilish exam-setter’s clutches.

Thus, Dorothy knew little about this ancient witch-sage; she’d only glimpsed her terrifying reputation through her stepmother’s outbursts while tutoring Alice: “How did I give birth to such a stupid daughter? In my day, you wouldn’t have scored even two digits!”

Yet she never imagined such a legendary witch, after retirement, would open a bookstore and live in seclusion in Haiyuedao, this backwater eighteenth-tier town.

"Yeah, it seems the Haiyue Witch has some family ties with the Scroll Sage, so the big shot came here to retire. Anyway, we’re here, sister."

Alice noticed her sister’s bewildered expression and smiled in explanation—she’d been just as shocked when her mother first told her.

Dorothy followed Alice’s gaze and looked at the bookstore they’d unknowingly reached.

At first glance, the exterior was utterly ordinary—no luxury, no grandeur, just simple and humble, with many potted flowers placed outside the door.

Breathing in the floral scent, she peered through the glass window into the shop: row upon row of neatly arranged bookshelves, instantly soothing, filling her with a sudden sense of inner calm.

A fine bookstore.

As a witch also walking the Path of Omniscience, Dorothy internally approved—she loved places like this, quiet and serene, where one could focus on study.

She looked up at the sign above the door.

A Bookstore.

Dorothy: "......"

Oh... is this the realm of a master?

Truly, listening to you is like listening to nothing at all.

With that unspeakable feeling of having no complaint to voice, the sisters stepped inside—and as they did, the faint, tranquil scent of ink washed over them.