Due to the difference in time flow, a single sleep could span two days. After Roland arranged for the God's Punishment Witches to take shifts the next day, he drove with the three of them to the banquet location in the city center—the Crown Hotel.

"Your Majesty, can we really eat anything we want there?" Tongen asked, leaning forward from the back seat, her eyes shining.

"Of course. Actually, it's not much different from the banquets held by nobles. You should have attended quite a few of these banquets during the Association era, right?"

"But those banquets weren't for eating freely."

"Weren't they?" Roland asked, curious.

"No," Saint Miran nodded from the passenger seat. "Those invited to the banquet are all prominent figures. Eating is more about networking. No one wants to talk to someone with a greasy mouth. Anyone who eats without restraint will only be ridiculed. If the banquet is long, most people will choose to eat a meal beforehand before attending the banquet." She swallowed her saliva as she said this, "If such behavior would damage Your Majesty's reputation, we can completely endure it."

Roland glanced at the three of them in the rearview mirror, noticing their hesitant yet expectant expressions, and couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry, when have I ever gone back on my word? This isn't the Association, nor is it Graycastle. The roles we're playing are ordinary people. As long as we don't disturb others, we can eat however we want."

"Then... can I secretly take some food back?" Duoduo asked excitedly. "Many of my sisters also want to experience the level of banquets in this world."

"Just don't get caught," he said casually. "Just follow me when the time comes and don't stray too far. If someone tries to strike up a conversation, pretend you don't hear them. I'll handle it."

"Yes, Your Majesty!" the three witches said in unison.

About half an hour later, the group arrived at their destination.

As soon as Roland entered the gate, he felt the difference. Parked around the hotel's front yard were almost exclusively luxury cars, at least million-level, with meticulously cleaned paint that shone like mirrors. In contrast, his van looked rather out of place.

Although the income from looting Fallen Evils was considerable, it was still several orders of magnitude less than that of true capitalists. Moreover, based on the idea of not attracting attention, the van he bought was only from an ordinary brand, which wouldn't attract much attention anywhere. But here, he became the most conspicuous one.

"Sir, the hotel is not receiving outsiders today. Do you have an invitation?" The greeter quickly came over as he parked the car at the entrance.

Roland took out the card Garcia had given him and waved it.

"Welcome to the Crown Hotel. The venue is on the top floor. There will be someone in the lobby to greet you." The other party then showed a warm smile. "Please allow me to park your car."

As the standard of a city's star-rated hotels, Roland secretly sighed, no matter what these people thought in their hearts, they still maintained a polite demeanor on the surface.

Bringing the witches into the magnificent lobby, their reactions were much calmer than he had expected. Perhaps spacious and bright buildings were not rare in the Taquila era. After all, luminous magic stones once covered the upper echelons of the witch empire. Like the crystal chandelier above their heads, which looked expensive, it would probably be just an ordinary item in the palaces where the Three Chiefs resided.

The thought that this magnificent decoration was nothing more than a few cream cakes to them made Roland find it a bit funny. On the contrary, the appearance of the witches instantly attracted the attention of several people. It seemed that no matter which world they were in, their appearance was enough to become the focus of everyone's attention.

The subsequent inspection was even more detailed. After scanning the card, the receptionist reported a few words using a walkie-talkie before handing the invitation card back to him. "Mr. Roland, sorry to keep you waiting. May I ask if these three xiaojie are your…"

"Cousins," Roland shrugged. "Garcia told me that relatives are allowed to enter here."

"I understand. Please come with me."

The receptionist sent the three into the elevator, pressed the button for the top floor, and then bowed outside the door, "I wish you a pleasant evening."

After a period of enclosed travel, the elevator suddenly lit up. The walls that had surrounded them suddenly disappeared beneath their feet. The afterglow of the setting sun shone into the elevator, and what came into view was the city filled with high-rise buildings. The buildings connected to form an unbroken horizon, and even when looking at the end of the field of vision, it was still a densely packed "wall of buildings."

It was only then that the witches let out low exclamations.

"Even the three Holy Cities combined are not as large as this city," Tongen whispered, "No matter how many times I see it, it's hard to imagine that mortals without magic can create all of this."

"The Landmark Building you want to build also has commemorative meaning, right?" Saint Miran looked at Roland.

He smiled noncommittally. Although he hadn't told anyone about his origins except Anna, it had become a consensus among the Taquila witches that he came from a place like the Dream World—otherwise, there was no way to explain why he was so familiar with this incredible world.

After reaching the top floor, a huge circular banquet hall appeared in front of the four.

Except for the ground, its walls and dome were almost entirely made of glass curtain walls, providing an extremely wide field of vision. Standing by the wall, one could take in most of the city, giving one a feeling of surveying all the mountains from a height. Holding a banquet in such a place was enough to show the strength of the Three Leaves Group.

The tables in the hall were already filled with all kinds of food for people to take, from cold dishes to pastries, fruits to champagne towers; guests gathered in groups of twos and threes, numbering several hundred people, apparently not only martial artists but also people from the business and political circles.

In a high-class banquet like this, he would have felt extremely restrained in the past, but now Roland was used to it. After entering the hall, he led the witches straight to the point—the tables of food lined up at the back.

"Wow... this fish slice is so haonèn, it feels like it melts in my mouth."

"Is this really a grape? Ah, it's been so long since I've tasted this sweetness..."

"Stop talking nonsense, you only came to the Dream World last month, right?"

"But all we ate last time was fast food. Elena, that idiot, only knows how to order KFC and McDonald's."

"Hey, don't just eat! Help fill Duoduo's pockets with some things, okay?"

Roland shook his head with a smile as he watched the excited witches swallowing their saliva. He suddenly felt that even if the Dream World couldn't bring him any benefits, he should let it continue to exist—to him, it might be a dispensable void, but to the survivors of Taquila, it was the only place where they could feel that "they were still alive."

Taste, touch, smell... everything they had lost in the fight against the devils could only be compensated here.

While the banquet hadn't officially started, Roland carefully observed the other guests.

The attendees were basically divided into two factions. Those wearing formal attire were basically people from the social circles, while those wearing the robes of the Martial Artist Association were basically colleagues. Although this division was not necessarily accurate, such as himself, who could only wear formal attire to the banquet because he had just become a formal member and hadn't been issued robes. But in general, there was not a single person in the hall wearing strange clothes or dressing bizarrely, which was completely different from the scene he had seen when he went to Prism City last time.

Was this the difference between Academy Awakeners and Wild Awakeners?

He couldn't help but think of what Garcia had said.

"Although the Martial Artist Association is an organization dedicated to saving the world, it's impossible to gather enough manpower with ideals alone. That's why the Martial Arts Tournament was created later—it was born less than fifty years ago and has become the most-watched competitive event. Through the tournament, Awakeners can gain more exposure, fame, and income, and the event has brought countless new blood into the Association, which has made the Martial Arts Tournament increasingly important in the Association, and those who perform well also have more say. This change has even caused division within the upper echelons, and the Association members have gradually divided into new and old factions. However, in the end, the Martial Arts Tournament was not only not reduced but further expanded."

At that time, Roland was more inclined towards the old faction. After all, the real enemy of martial artists was the Fallen Evils, and they would only fight to the death. Such a battle could never be compared to competitive sports. As a means of attracting fresh blood, it could still be said to be an effective method, but it was very puzzling to allow it to affect the higher-ups. The martial arts competition was not equal to life-and-death combat. Such a simple principle should not be incomprehensible to those people, but from the results, the new faction prevailed.

He had never understood the reason for this, but now, seeing this scene in the hall, he suddenly understood a little...

The Association members who did not participate in the Martial Arts Tournament were basically desperate Wild Awakeners. They were inherently disobedient and their images were terrible. Their overall quality was not on the same level as these star martial artists at all. In addition, the opportunity to fight the Fallen Evils was not always available, and one could easily lose their life, which would inevitably lead to fewer and fewer voices supporting the old faction.

Probably only when the "erosion" of Arashiyama Port officially broke out would the old faction be able to regain its leading position.

Thinking of that hunting license, Roland couldn't help but twitch the corner of his mouth... He had always felt that it was a bit strange for the Association to issue this thing to a newcomer who had only been in the industry for half a year. Even if his performance was outstanding, it wouldn't be enough to get into the top 100 of the Association. But now it seemed that not participating in the competition, only fighting the Fallen Evils wholeheartedly, and not seeking fame or profit, perfectly matched the ideals of the old faction.

Could it be that all of this was the meaning of the high-level old faction, wanting to push him out as a representative?