"Alright, I know what you want to say, but it's best to keep your voice down." Lynch listened to the sounds outside the window, placing a finger on his lips. "Zilvra is still resting, let's go first."

Kuboert was momentarily speechless, not knowing what to say. Should he make trouble for Lynch at this moment? Or just go along with him? However, after leaving the room, the priest couldn't help but ask, "Lynch, with your constitution, shouldn't you be the one unable to get out of bed in your room?"

The mage heard this question and stared at Kuboert for a good while. He hadn't heard of this priest ever being married; did he have a secret lover outside? Lynch thought of this and decided to speak the truth: "I know a spell that allows me to steal someone else's sleep, but it can only target... you know what I mean." He paused and gently patted Kuboert's shoulder. "The spell is simple. If you want it, I can craft it for you. Whether it's a potion or a ring storing this spell, it's no problem."

"Ahem, let's hurry to the ceremony site; it's already started," Kuboert said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, skillfully changing the subject.

Before entering the arena, they could already clearly feel the heated atmosphere inside, or rather, the scene had become fervent. The archbishop's speech was more popular than in the past, highly provocative, and whenever he reached a brilliant point, it would provoke rounds of thunderous applause and cheers. Of course, Felps's Thief Guild had already dispatched people scattered throughout the arena to lead the cheers, naturally heightening the audience's emotions. Many priests were moved to tears, praying to the God of Pate, praising this rare spectacle of passionate sentiment.

Lynch adjusted his robe, summoning the rainbow-colored light band to float around him with a "whoosh." Seeing this, Kuboert was reminded of the spell protection that had blocked him outside the door not long ago, and he couldn't help but feel a headache coming on again. Just as he was about to speak, Lynch turned his head and said, "Don't worry, this is just a performance, nothing but a grand stage."

With the help of the Arcane Wand, he immediately soared into the air, flying quickly through the path protected by the lined-up paladins, leaving a trail of brilliant rainbows behind him.

The current archbishop had already seen Lynch's figure and naturally had to shorten the remainder of his speech. Felps had warned him more than once not to prattle in front of Lynch. He then recounted how, during their adventures, Lynch would deal with a poor, talkative halfling. The archbishop was merely a fake priest—even if he were real, he probably wouldn't dare think he could stand on equal footing with the mage before him.

Lynch gently landed on the podium, and the rainbow aura immediately spread in all directions, like countless after-rain rainbows appearing in the arena sky. Starry lights cascaded down from this Rainbow Bridge, carrying the fragrance of flowers and an elusive, long song, swirling around each attendee. After a while, they slowly faded away.

Of course, Lynch would not act as this temple advisor without compensation; he had a long-term goal in mind: to change the status of mages across the entire continent, allowing them to be respected and cherished by everyone again, rather than feared and despised meaninglessly. Today, this occasion marked the beginning of all the changes.

Kuboert in the corner of the venue, held his forehead and gently moaned, "Please, let nothing go wrong, everything must proceed smoothly."

"Welcome to the embrace of the Light God, becoming the proud people walking under the sunlight!" The archbishop said loudly through the amplification barrier. "Today is an indelible day in history; now is a moment worth remembering forever; this moment will become one we will forever feel grateful for and remember! Let us carry the brilliance of this moment into eternity! Praise the Bright Pate!"

The priests present loudly chanted Pate's holy name, overwhelmed with indescribable excitement. However, the crowd focused more on the White Robed Mage standing on the podium. Many were secretly amazed, not expecting the leader of the Great Mages to be so young. His flawless white robe, delicate golden threads sparkling in the sunlight like rippling light on the vast sea at sunrise; the tightly gripped crimson-gold scepter in his hand, like the scepter of the ruler of the world, expressing an unparalleled power that commands submission; and those eyes of the young mage could delve deeper into the soul than any of the priests present, mesmerizing.

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