I loaded the Mysticism panel.

At 10 a.m. on Saturday, the Dawn family’s carriage arrived promptly at the Williams’s house.

Richard got into the car carrying his schoolbag.

This was my second time attending a class at Dawn's house.

Last week's slingshot teaching method was a great success. Tom actually mastered all six squares of the first variation within a week, and he remembered them very well.

Charlotte was visibly pleased when she told him the news over the phone.

"He never used to put in this much effort to memorize these things."

"Thanks to the slingshot."

"...Are you going to use a slingshot next time you're in class?"

"No need, get a new one."

The carriage came to a stop in front of Dawn House. The gas lamps on the porch were still on, and raindrops were dripping from the eaves, even though the rain had just stopped.

The maid took his coat at the door and led him to the small living room.

Tom was already sitting at the table waiting.

Unlike last time, there was no slingshot on the table this time.

After class, lunch was prepared by Dawn's family cook.

Roasted lamb leg with mint sauce, mashed potatoes, freshly baked hot bread, and a pot of thick onion soup.

Mrs. Dawn sat at the other end of the long table, cutting bread and whispering something to Charlotte.

Richard sat down by the window and laid his napkin on his knees.

The lamb leg was cooked to perfection, with a crispy outer layer and a pinkish hue inside. The refreshing mint sauce cleansed away any greasiness from the meat juices.

The mashed potatoes are smooth and creamy, whipped with butter and cream, and melt in your mouth.

With each bite of food entering his body, his digestive system, optimized by the [Eating] skill, operates at a higher efficiency than that of ordinary people.

His body can extract more nutrients from the same protein and fat.

The difference may not be noticeable in a single meal, but it becomes completely different over time.

After lunch, Charlotte walked him to the door.

The carriage was already waiting under the porch, and the coachman was hunched over in the driver's seat.

"Mr. Williams, same time next week."

"OK."

Richard boarded the carriage and glanced at the panel in the bumpy ride.

[Knowledge Lv.2] Progress: 56%

After he had learned more than 50% of his knowledge, he clearly felt the change.

The speed of my thinking has increased significantly, and the dullness I felt when trying to understand new materials, as if "there was a fog between us," has largely disappeared.

Information is automatically sorted, categorized, and linked more efficiently after entering the brain than before.

The fact that I was able to learn the gargoyle's secret techniques in such a short time, and that my knowledge had improved by 50%, was partly due to that.

But the other side of the coin also emerged.

When his brain is already operating at a higher efficiency, the "knowledge density" provided by secondary school courses and general teaching activities becomes thin.

To keep the progress bar moving forward, you have to keep feeding it new things.

Especially knowledge related to the mystical side, such as inscription deciphering, sealing theory, and the ether principle...

Each new type of knowledge input can cause the progress bar to jump significantly, which is much more efficient than a regular class.

………………

On Sunday afternoon, Richard arrived at the branch office as agreed.

The same white-haired old man was sitting behind the desk at the entrance.

He was also holding a magazine, this time a special issue on dog racing, with a gray greyhound on the cover crossing the finish line with its mouth open.

Richard presented the letter of appointment, but the old man waved his hand without even looking up.

I went up the stairs to the third floor, and the door at the end of the corridor was open.

He pushed open the door and found that old Big had already set up the venue.

A long table stood in the center of the room, with ten items covered with black cloth arranged on its surface.

The items are evenly spaced, about the width of a palm.

The numbers, from 1 to 10, were written on the table in chalk, the strokes of which were thick and legible, making them easy to see from a distance.

The curtains were drawn tightly shut, and the gaps in both windows were stuffed with old newspapers.

Only a low-wattage lamp was left in the corner, with a yellow cloth covering the lampshade to soften the light.

The entire room is in a grayish tone between light and dark, so you can't see things too far away, but it's not pitch black either.

"You're here?"

Old Big sat in a chair opposite the table, with his copper kettle and tin cup in front of him as usual.

"Sit down and have some tea to calm yourself down."

Richard pulled out a chair and sat down on this side of the table.

Old Big poured him a cup of tea. This time, the tea was clear, without the amber base of alcohol; it was pure black tea.

He picked up the cup and took a sip; the astringent taste of the black tea spread across his tongue.

"Today's test was very simple."

Old Big pointed with his tin cup to the ten items under the black cloth on the table.

"Of the ten items, some contain a certain amount of ether, while others contain none at all."

He placed the tin cup on the table.

"Just tell me which ones are there and which ones aren't, it's that simple."

"Can you tell the strength of inspiration this way?" Richard asked.

"Don't think that far ahead." Old Big shook his round head:

"Just make a distinction between existence and non-existence first."

"Did you do your bedtime push notification practice after you went back last week?"

"I did it, three sets a day."

"How are you feeling?"

"The distance it can be pushed out is getting longer. On the first day, it could only be pushed out about an inch, but yesterday it could be pushed out about two or three inches."

"That's enough, that's enough." Old Big patted his belly with satisfaction.

"Two or three inches is enough. The spiritual vision test doesn't require you to investigate from half a street away. You just need to be able to sense things within three steps."

He stood up and walked to the side of the table.

"Before we begin, let me explain the rules to you."

"First, close your eyes."

"Second, keep your hands flat on your knees and do not raise them throughout the entire process."

"Third, you can only look at each item for five seconds, and then state your judgment: yes or no."

"After you've reported all ten items, I'll lift the cloth and show you the answers."

Richard nodded, put the teacup aside, and straightened his posture.

He closed his eyes.

In the darkness, the sounds in the room became much clearer.

Following the method he had practiced that week, he pushed the ether forward along the center of his chest.

Once the ether leaves the body's surface, the range of perception suddenly expands.

He focused his attention on the first item.

The ether sent out touched the surface of the object covered by the black cloth, and the sensation transmitted back was... very blurry.

There is no clear distinction between presence and absence; it is more akin to recognizing a distant road sign in fog.

You know there's something there, but you can't see what's written on it.

He paused for three seconds: "Number One, yes."

Old Big didn't give any feedback and just stood there without moving.

Attention shifts to item number two.

This time it felt slightly different.

After the pushed-out ether encountered Number Two, it did not return any signal. He felt as if he had reached into an empty box and found nothing.

"Number Two, none."

Number three... exists, but is weak.

Number four… He hesitated for a long time before saying, “Number four, no.”

Number five, none.

Number Six… His brows furrowed slightly.

When the pushed-out ether hit Number Six, it bounced slightly, but the intensity of the bounce was different from when he had encountered objects that clearly contained ether before.

"Number six...no."

Number seven, yes.

Number eight, he stayed there for a full eight seconds.

After the pushed-out ether encountered Number Eight, it felt nothing.

There was neither an etheric response nor a physical reflection.

Like reaching into a pile of cotton, it was gently and completely enveloped.

"Number eight, yes." He took a gamble.

Number nine, none.

Number 10, yes.

After finishing the last report, Richard opened his eyes.

The yellow light from the lamp made him squint.

Old Big had already pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, on which ten lines of words were written in a crooked hand – the answers he had written down beforehand.

"Let me check."

He held the piece of paper and lifted the black cloth covering Number One with one hand.

Below number one is an old brass clasp, with verdigris on the surface, about the size of a penny.

"Number One, yes, that's right."

Number two is an ordinary river pebble, grayish-white and smooth.

"Number two, no, that's right."

Number three is a piece of dead tree branch, about the thickness of a finger, with a yellowish break.

"Number three, yes, that's right."

Number four... Old Big lifted the cloth, revealing an old pocket watch.

"Number four, yes." He glanced at Richard. "You said no, you're wrong."

The No. 4 pocket watch contained trace amounts of ether residue.

According to old Big, he had carried the pocket watch with him for a long time.

The amount of ether in it is so low as to be almost negligible, but it does exist.

Numbers five through ten will be revealed one by one.

Number 5 is correct, number 6 is correct, and his judgment that he suspected was a physical reflection was also correct.

Number seven is correct.

Number eight... Old Big lifted the cloth, revealing a small porcelain bowl underneath.

"Number eight? No." Old Big glanced at him. "You said there was, but you're wrong."

Number nine is correct, number ten is correct.

Final score: 8 out of 10 questions were answered correctly, and 2 were answered incorrectly.

With an accuracy rate of 80%, Old Big threw the piece of paper onto the table.

He stood up from his chair, walked around the table, and clapped his hands twice.

"Okay, okay!"

Laughter bounced repeatedly in the small room.

He was excited for a while, his chest heaving a few times, before he suddenly stopped smiling.

The wrinkles on his round face folded back up from their relaxed state, and his expression became serious.

"To be honest, your skill level is actually the best you can be in your current situation."

"The best?" Richard asked, somewhat puzzled. "Shouldn't higher be better?"

"Only laymen think that the higher the inspiration level, the better."