"Hahaha, Mr. Summit Warden, it's just a little personal hobby, nothing more," Stellan chuckled awkwardly under Matthew's suspicious gaze.
"But honestly, Mr. Summit Warden, I wouldn't recommend going to the West Montiria Islands," Stellan's expression turned serious as he rummaged through his desk, eventually pulling out a nautical chart and spreading it on the table.
"Mr. Larson, the West Montiria Islands are deep in the west ocean. Let's not even talk about their strength for now. As the Summit Warden of the Martial League, if you go there alone, everyone will be worried. But if we send a unit to escort you, by the time you arrive, there might only be a couple of grunts left standing." Stellan circled an area on the map far from the mainland.
The West Montiria Islands were at least ten thousand nautical miles from the coast. If anything happened at that distance, help from afar would be useless.
"But I have to go," Matthew replied. "As the hall master of Virtue Hall, if I don't take action when our supplies are lost, then I don't deserve this position."
Matthew's determination made Stellan nod in agreement. "If you're set on going, I've already mapped out a plan," he said, pulling out a list with four names on it.
Matthew glanced at Stellan, a hint of approval in his eyes. This guy was indeed presidential material, thinking ahead and making preparations just from a brief conversation.
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