"What brings you here?" The old man, having caught sight of Glen, promptly advanced towards him.

"I was about to pose the very same question to you." Glen smiled, gesturing towards the familiar figures behind the old man. "And why are they so deferential to you?"

The old man merely tilted his head slightly and replied, "I established this mercenary group. However, I relinquished my position long ago and entrusted its management to several of the younger members. I've now summoned them temporarily for a task."

"You founded it?" Glen betrayed a hint of surprise. "This is quite a remarkable coincidence."

The old man was perplexed by Glen's words. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

At this moment, Norman and the others behind him stood in a posture of awaiting punishment.

Glen then recounted the disagreeable encounter from the previous occasion.

Upon hearing this, the old man merely cast a nonchalant glance at those behind him and remarked, "They brought this upon themselves. They can't even manage their own subordinates."

"Old man, don't you assume any responsibility? After all, they've been influenced by you to some extent, haven't they?" Glen immediately admonished the old man.

Yet, the other party merely responded indifferently, "When I inducted them into the group, they were already of a mature age. I imparted all the necessary teachings, but apart from Norman, they scarcely heeded my words. If they meet their demise outside in the future, it's their own doing. They're fortunate you refrained from killing them."

"You're rather stringent..." Glen gave the group of mercenaries a sidelong glance.

"Now, let's turn to you. What has led you to this place? The direction suggests you're headed towards Lyonesse City. What is your purpose there?"

The old man redirected the conversation towards Glen.

At this, Glen adjusted his attire, adopting an air of profound artistic refinement, and declared, "Because I am on the verge of becoming an artist."

The old man rolled his eyes. "You're not about to tell me you're planning to join that Genius Kitchen Club, are you?"

"Yes." Glen nodded serenely.

The old man's eyes widened as he stared intently at Glen. "You're not jesting with me, are you?"

"I'm in earnest. You seem acquainted with this club. Is it renowned?"

Glen set aside his jocular demeanor and inquired with a smile.

The old man was momentarily at a loss for words. "You wish to join without even knowing the club's intricacies? Given your acumen, you shouldn't be so easily duped, should you?"

"A painter named Hopdo came to my residence and invited me to join. He informed me that it's a club exclusive to geniuses, backed by the kingdom's third princess. Most significantly, members receive an annual stipend, so I decided to go."

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Glen elucidated.

The old man furrowed his brow and scrutinized Glen from head to toe, as if attempting to detect some semblance of artistic temperament in him.

He didn't hold many opinions on this matter, as he had only heard of it sporadically from friends.

"You seem to be well - informed already?" The old man shrugged.

"I wish to know more. What insights do you have regarding this club?" Glen asked expectantly.

"I know even less than you do. I've merely heard from some friends that the Genius Kitchen Club is an exclusive club. Countless self - conceited individuals have gone to great lengths, even resorting to unscrupulous means, to gain entry, yet all have failed. That's all there is to it."

The old man's account was rather concise.

"Is that all..." Glen felt a tinge of disappointment.

The two then conversed about the events that transpired in Bayek during their previous encounter. Glen informed the old man of what had occurred while he was unconscious.

The latter merely nodded, stating that he would repay the favor if the opportunity presented itself.

As Glen was on a journey, he readied himself to continue his journey.

Norman, accompanied by the Wild Lion and the two female warriors, approached and halted Glen. They intended to apologize for the previous incident.

Glen didn't wait for them to finish their lengthy apology. He simply flicked the reins and departed.

...

In Lyonesse City, within a red - brick, church - like building in the Western District, there lies a conference room exquisitely adorned with a unique aesthetic charm.

At this moment, the conference room is filled to capacity with members of the Genius Kitchen Club.

"Is everyone here? Let's get started quickly. I'm rather pressed for time," a man donning a black top - hat exclaimed, casting a sweeping glance around the conference table.

"Mind your temper, Leon. Such behavior is unbefitting an artist," an elderly gentleman with a long white beard reaching his abdomen, seated at the head of the table, gently admonished.

"Forget it! This won't affect my creativity in the slightest!" the man in the top - hat continued to shout.

The elderly gentleman at the head, having no means to rein in the other, could only address the chattering group, "Everyone, please quiet down now. The main purpose of this meeting is to deliberate on the list of selected new members and assess their eligibility to join our club."

After the elderly gentleman finished speaking, someone from below retorted, "What's there to deliberate? Apart from us, no one is worthy of joining the club. The individuals on that list are all unqualified!"

"You're being overly hasty, Connors. There are surely artists more accomplished than you and me. I know one!"

The speaker was Hopdo, who was enraged upon hearing the arrogant words of Connors.

Connors, a gaunt middle - aged man with sunken eye sockets, furrowed his brow and inquired, "Who are you referring to? I hope it's not some obscure nobody."

"I assume you've all heard of the fairy tales that have been widely circulating in the upper - class circles recently, right?" Hopdo surveyed the crowd.

With the exception of a few reclusive individuals and those indifferent to worldly affairs, the others nodded in affirmation.

"Fairy tales? Aren't those just childish stories for kids? Why are you bringing them up?" Connors wore an expression of extreme impatience.

This infuriated Hopdo to no end.

However, before he could retort, someone else was even more enraged. A thunderous shout rang out, "You don't know a thing!"

The sheer volume startled everyone present, especially Connors, who nearly tumbled off his seat.

The speaker was the man in the top - hat. His face flushed, veins throbbing on his forehead, he pointed at Connors and roared, "You can't even appreciate such a magnificent work! What right do you have to call yourself an artist!? I think you're asking for a beating!"

As he spoke, the man leaped onto the conference table, intent on charging at Connors.

"Celati! Don't come near!" Connors, thoroughly terrified, actually fell off his seat this time.

"Enough!" The elderly gentleman seated at the head let out a powerful shout. Simultaneously, a wisp of verdant filaments materialized, instantly yanking the man in the top - hat back to his seat and pinning him firmly in place.

"Let me go! I'll beat this scoundrel to a pulp!" the man continued to shout and curse.

The elderly gentleman sighed and cast another spell. In an instant, the conference room fell into silence.

Although the man in the top - hat, Celati, could be seen with a flushed face, seemingly uttering something, not a sound escaped.

"Celati is a writer, and Connors, you're a sculptor. Before joining the club, I told you not to casually pass judgment on works outside your own field. Connors, you'd better put aside your arrogance from now on."