In the banquet hall.
The young men and women looked at each other in bewilderment.
What Griffin family?
Just a humble, lowly family!
As for the Griffin bloodline?
Isn't it just a very ordinary Warcraft bloodline?
Wait a minute... How did this fat boy from a humble family sneak into a wealthy family's banquet?!
What qualifications did he have to attend the banquet?
Did he deserve it?
These questions lingered in the guests' minds.
Out of social etiquette, no one spoke aloud.
However, there was one exception.
She disregarded all social etiquette.
She said whatever she wanted.
She could lash out at anyone she pleased.
She was just so wild and arrogant!
She was just so unbridled!
Who's not convinced? Hold it in!
She's the hostess of tonight's banquet, the dean's granddaughter.
She's also Angel's chosen girlfriend.
The eldest of the rich girls, Pamela!
"You, Felin, don't you think you're a bit of a jerk?"
"You're so active, I thought you were some big shot."
"So you're just from an unknown, small family, and you've awakened a trashy bloodline!"
Blonde Pamela sneered.
She fired at Felin with all her might!
The mockery left him feeling embarrassed.
"Honestly, neither you nor that kid named Alan are worthy of tonight's event."
"It's only because Angel insisted on inviting you that I had to give him this honor."
"That Alan, at least he's a bit sensible. He knows he's not presentable, and he's too embarrassed to go out in front of people. He just hides away in a corner. I'm not intolerant of that."
"You really think you're a socialite, don't you?"
"Don't you even take a piss and look at yourself? Do you deserve it?!"
"Just based on your background and lineage, even looking at you is an eyesore to me!"
"You're running around in my house, calling every man your brother and showing your attention to every woman. Who gives you that courage?"
"I'm curious. Do you really not know you don't belong in this circle?!"
Felin blushed at Pamela's pressure.
In the world of sorcerers, where lineage is paramount, class barriers are rigid. The naive young man had run headfirst into a wall.
He was bruised and bloodied.
Only then did he realize how thick this transparent ceiling was.
If Felin were the son of a noble family, his social skills would be a huge advantage.
He would be the most stylish star at tonight's banquet.
But he wasn't qualified.
The same stylish demeanor, the same wit and wit, but in the eyes of others, he became a clown.
It was like being the emcee at a wedding.
No matter how hard he tried to liven up the atmosphere, he wasn't even qualified to sit at the table.
The wit and eloquence that Felin prided himself on were completely useless at this moment.
All that was left for him was ridicule and embarrassment.
Pamela scolded Felin, but she still wasn't satisfied.
She turned to face Angel, her pretty face as gloomy as ice.
"You also come from the lower classes."
"I can understand your limited perspective and narrow outlook. After all, the environment you lived in was harsh."
"But my tolerance has its limits."
"You must quickly abandon everything in your past and discard all worthless things."
"Let me be frank: the two friends you invited today are truly unworthy."
"Don't waste your time and feelings associating with these worthless, low-class people."
"Listen, Angel!"
"What I just said to you wasn't a request, but an order!"
"Do you understand?"
Faced with Pamela's aggressive attitude,
Now it was Angel's turn to be embarrassed.
Even Alan, a bystander, couldn't help but feel bad for him.
Angel's status in the dean's family was equivalent to that of a potential son-in-law.
He felt completely powerless in front of Pamela, unable to speak up in defense of his old friend.
Besides, he wasn't good with words to begin with, so what else could he expect except silence?
The result, of course, was a bittersweet parting.
"We've only been at the Warlock Academy for a short year, and the gap in status has widened, and our friendship has changed."
At the crossroads, Felin couldn't help but sigh bitterly as he said goodbye to Allen.
"From now on, let's avoid interacting with Angel, so as not to embarrass him in front of his new friends!"
...
Three days later.
Warlock Academy.
A vast glass hall, filled with stalls.
A crowd of people thronged the hall, and the cries of vendors filled the air.
This was the Warlock Academy's largest trading area.
A circle of bulletin boards lined the glass walls.
The place was covered in notices.
‐‐ various bounties, service agents, and everything in between.
‐‐ Allen made his way through the crowd and quickly made his way to the northern bulletin board.
‐‐ he found the notice he had posted the day before.
‐‐ it listed a simple purchase request.
‐‐ "Wanted: Textiles that can be stretched tenfold without breaking!"
‐‐ now, beneath this purchase request, there was a message.
‐‐ "I have the silk thread you need. Come to my stall to discuss."
‐‐ Allen wrote down the stall address and left.
‐‐ five minutes later.
‐‐ Allen arrived at a stall.
‐‐ the female stall owner looked about seventeen or eighteen, with average looks but a rather voluptuous figure.
‐‐ "My name is Allen. What's your name, Senior Sister?"
‐‐ "Just call me Weaver Girl."
‐‐ the female stall owner clearly didn't want to reveal her identity.
A pair of large, dark eyes scrutinized Allen, then suddenly extended their tongue and slowly licked their lips.
This small gesture hinted at a teasing tone. "Senior Sister, can you show me the goods?"
"No problem."
The Weaver Girl bent down, opened the counter drawer, and pulled out a roll of translucent silk thread.
Each strand was as thick as a pencil lead.
The Weaver Girl casually pulled one out and handed it to Allen.
A quirky smile played on her face.
She seemed to be waiting for him to make a fool of himself.
Allen took it and tried to stretch it.
This thick thread was indeed incredibly elastic and resilient.
It stretched ten times its length, showing no signs of breaking. Even after it rebounded, there was no noticeable deformation. Allen was very satisfied with the material's performance.
Just as he was about to return it to the Weaver Girl, he discovered with embarrassment...
The thick thread was stuck to his hand, and he couldn't pull it off.
"Hehehe..."
The Weaver Girl had been waiting for this show.
Seeing Allen's flustered expression, she let out a happy laugh, satisfied with her prank.
"Sister, excuse me, look at this..."
Alan helplessly spread his hands, unsure what to do with that damn sticky thread!
The Weaver Girl grasped his wrist.
She craned her neck and leaned closer.
Under Allen's astonished gaze, she extended her tongue and licked his hand.
The soft, moist tip of her tongue swept across his palm.
Alan couldn't help but get goosebumps all over his body.
Oddly enough, the thick thread immediately lost its stickiness upon contact with the Weaver Girl's saliva and fell off naturally.
"My saliva can neutralize the stickiness of spider silk, but it won't destroy its original elasticity or toughness. You can rest assured."
The Weaver Girl explained softly.
"Spider silk?" Allen raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"Can't you tell?" The Weaver Girl smiled faintly. "I keep a flock of giant spiders at home. I spin silk once a week and sell it at the market."
"So that's how it is!"
Alan was enlightened again.
"Handsome boy, could you tell me what you're going to use the giant spider silk for?"
The Weaver Girl inquired curiously.