There was no spell, no flash of light.
Just a soft POP, like an overinflated balloon suddenly bursting.
The next moment, a pile of miscellaneous junk poured out of the invisible bag, clattering onto the table and covering half of it.
A few changes of tattered clothes, several rock-hard loaves of black bread, a leather waterskin, a few low-quality Magic Stones, a pile of parts for making traps, and some dried herbs and jerky…
It was, quite simply, the entire fortune of a down-and-out adventurer.
Everyone in the hall stared, dumbfounded.
'Who would have thought that the Storage Pouch of a distinguished Tier Four Great Mage would be filled with such things?'
The color drained from the middle-aged man's face, and his eyes filled with despair.
His last secret had been exposed so easily.
Moonlight had no interest in the pile of junk. It pawed through it twice with its claws before plucking a book, tightly wrapped in oilcloth, from beneath the tattered clothes.
