I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Chapter 143 The Woman Who Eats Shadows

Richard looked up: "Those twenty-three workers who were eaten that night—were they their shadows?"

"The Lovers card points to this level," Mr. Hutton did not deny.

Next, he pushed the third card in front of Richard.

"You flip through the last one."

Richard reached out and flipped over the card.

Moon in its upright position.

The sign depicts a full moon hanging in the night sky, with a winding path under the moonlight, a dog crouching on each side, and two towers in the distance.

The whole scene is filled with an ambiguous atmosphere.

"Tell me your interpretation."

Richard stared at the cards for a while.

His divination skills weren't particularly strong, but his analytical instincts as a scholar prevented him from staring blankly at a card.

"The moon...represents illusion, uncertainty, and what lies hidden beneath the surface."

He frowned, analyzing:

"If the first two cards point to the event itself and the root cause of the event respectively, then the third card should be the current state."

The seal is currently in an unstable state?

Mr. Hutton's lips twitched slightly.

Richard's interpretation was almost identical to his prepared statement.

It seems he no longer needs to guide the student; the student has already found his way in the right direction.

"The reason for this mission is that the seal, which is undergoing regular maintenance, is weakening."

He took out several thin, poorly bound reports from the drawer.

"The earliest reports were of abnormal shadows at night; farmers said their shadows would move on their own under the moonlight."

"Next came the livestock. Sheep and calves died, their skin and flesh intact, but you could feel the skin burning hot when you got close, and their internal organs dried out."

"Ether burns," Richard recognized it at a glance.

"right."

"The two most recent cases are the most serious."

The old gentleman pushed the second report over:

"Two children have gone missing, one is eleven years old and the other is nine years old. They both disappeared at night."

The search team searched the wilderness for half a month but found no trace.

"That thing inside the seal is now seeping out."

"Our purpose in going there this time is to put her back under control."

"That concludes the divination section. Now, let's get down to business."

He took a small tin box, about the size of his palm, out of the drawer.

The black paint on the outside of the tin box was already mottled, and there was a very shallow engraving on the lid, with a trace of dark red embedded in the engraving.

He pushed the tin box to the center of the table.

"Your empirical evidence."

"Empirical evidence?"

"Your authorship requirements are missing one last item."

Mr. Hutton repeated what he had said last time.

"Independently decipher an encrypted text that has not been previously deciphered."

The old man tapped the table with the tip of a pencil.

"The last one depends on yourself."

"Inside the boundary stone of the Whitcomb seal, there is a passage of undeciphered text."

"If you can decipher it in this mission, that will be your empirical evidence."

Richard looked up:

"Will there definitely be time to touch the boundary stones during the mission?"

"The team leader will make arrangements," Mr. Hutton said.

"She is in charge of reinforcing the seal. You just need to find time to touch the boundary stone, provided it is safe to do so."

Whether or not the decryption can be completed does not affect the mission itself.

Richard nodded.

"What's inside the tin box?"

"Supplementary information," Mr. Hutton said.

"The basic inscription style of the ancient Celtic border stone circle, and a supplementary comparison table of late Alexandrian school variants that your aunt copied from the Imperial University Library."

Richard raised an eyebrow.

"Does your aunt know about this?"

"She's providing remote support," Mr. Hutton said.

Richard opened the tin box.

The inner layer of the tin box was lined with a layer of moisture-proof oil paper, and inside the oil paper were several neatly folded documents.

The top one is a handwritten note; the handwriting is familiar.

Isabella's handwriting.

The notes begin with:

"To Richard, the following is a supplementary comparison table of later variants of the Alexandrian school, with annotations of several boundary stone examples I encountered during my fieldwork three years ago."

"The inscription rules on the inside of the boundary stone are different from those of ordinary inscriptions; attention should be paid to the stroke order and direction."

The notes consist of four pages, filled with densely packed small characters and several diagrams illustrating inscriptions.

On the last page, in the corner, Isabella left a message: "Be careful."

Richard folded the notebook again and put it back in the tin box.

How many people are in the team?

"Including the two of us, there are eight people: four senior members and four newcomers."

"The leader is Mrs. McNeil, a Hermit of the Lesser Master rank."

Mrs. McNeil was the team leader, a choice that surprised Richard neither.

"I accompanied the team as a scholar advisor."

"You'll find out about the others when you get to the meeting point."

Richard stood up and tucked the metal box under his arm.

He walked to the door and glanced back at Mr. Hutton.

"Sir," he said, "that trace divination you just did...do you often use this method?"

Mr. Hutton was folding the photocopy and putting it back in the drawer without looking up.

"Occasionally."

"I always thought you were only going down the academic path."

"A scholar's career isn't about just flipping through books."

Mr. Hutton said impatiently, "Go back and prepare. Don't forget to look at the materials."

Richard nodded, pushed open the door, and went out.

After the office door closed, the footsteps in the corridor gradually faded away.

The old man leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.

The tarot deck was still lying on the table. He reached out and gathered them together, then casually stuffed them into the drawer.

The cards and the clutter in the drawer rattled together, making an unseemly clattering sound.

"The Lovers card," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

Out of seventy-eight cards, this one just happened to be chosen, one that had absolutely nothing to do with the theme.

Fortunately, he reacted quickly. His interpretation of "binary structure" was something he came up with on the spot, and even he felt it was a bit far-fetched when he said it.

But Richard actually connected on his own.

To be honest, he does know how to do trace divination.

But his skill level is probably just passing; he can use it, but he's not an expert, and he's far from being able to handle things with ease.

The reason he performed so smoothly today was simply because he was working backward from the result to deduce the process.

He can find an angle to align any card he flips over with the known information.

But Richard was unaware of these things.

In that young man's eyes, his guide must have been very mysterious and unpredictable.

Thinking of this, the old man could hardly suppress the smile on his face.

………………

According to Greenwood tradition, lunch the day before the holiday is the farewell meal.

Everyone exchanged the small gifts they had prepared, and after lunch, they went home. The next time they met would be after the New Year.

They had been sitting at that long table by the window in the corner of the second floor of the restaurant for several months.

Warrendo moved a chair.

"Let's squeeze in today and put all the gifts out."

Hugh first took out four small cloth bags tied with hemp rope.

Each cloth bag was bulging and had a mixed aroma of walnuts and dried apricots.

"Homemade." He pushed the cloth bags in front of each person.

"Is this baked in your home?" Warren weighed it in his hand. "It's quite a lot."

"Grandma asked me to take care of it."

Richard opened his cloth bag, inside were walnuts, dried apricots, raisins, and a few pieces of roasted coconut flakes.

Each one was carefully selected, without any breakage, and the grains were plump.

"Thank you, Hugh."

"You're welcome."

Mason plopped down and pulled a few things out from inside his coat, placing them on the table.

"My mom recently cut my allowance in half."

"So please don't be put off by the gifts I've prepared."

He pushed the first gift toward Warren.

It was a very thick hardcover book.

Warren glanced down at the spine of the book: "The 1909 National Horse Racing Yearbook".

"Last year's version," Mason explained. "The new ones this year are too expensive; I can't afford them."

Warren flipped to the first page: "Why are you giving me the horse racing yearbook? I don't bet."

"You can learn, but you don't have to bet."

Mason said seriously, "Your family is rich, it would be a waste not to do some research on investment."

Warren snorted; this kid had ulterior motives.

Mason pushed the second gift to Hugh, which was a bag of candy.

"You like to eat, right? Here, have some candy."

Hugh opened the bag and popped one into his mouth.

"Peppermints."

The third gift offered to Grey was a headscarf.

Grey unfolded her headscarf: "Why did you choose pink?"

"Because the discounts are the biggest."

Grey folded the headscarf and put it away without saying anything.

The fourth gift was given to Richard; it was a thin booklet.

Richard glanced at it: "The 1910 Northern Horse Racing Club Newcomer Handbook?"

"You're smart," Mason said seriously. "People with smart brains can earn more studying horse racing than studying literature."

Richard closed the booklet: "Thank you."

"You're not really going to do research, are you?" Warren asked from the side.

"Of course not."

Mason sighed, picked up his teacup, and took a sip:

"None of you understand investing."

"Those who bet on horse races are all idiots who lose everything, that's what your mother said, right?"

"My mom doesn't understand investing."

Grey then took a gift out of her handbag.

The first item handed to Warren was a pair of thick, hand-knitted wool gloves.

"This works perfectly for me." Warren put it on without saying a word.

The second item was handed to Mason.

Mason opened the box, inside was a miniature portable scale.

"What's this for?"

"Weigh the tobacco, weigh the tea, weigh your horse racing bet."

Grey said expressionlessly, "Aren't you going to do investments? Investments require precise weighing."

The third item is for Xiu.

Hugh opened the box, and inside were twelve almond shortbread cookies neatly arranged.

The last one is Richard's.

Grey took out a neatly folded ball of dark blue fabric.

She held the wad of fabric in her hands, hesitated for a moment, and then handed it over.

Richard took it and unfolded it; it was a long scarf.

Dark blue, the stitches are not very even, and there are several places where you can clearly see that the stitches were made incorrectly and then redone.

But the ingredients used are really good.

It's made of genuine fine wool, soft and gentle on the neck.

"Did you knit it yourself?"

"Um."

"How long did it take to knit?"

"A month and a half." Grey said nervously, "It's late, and the stitches at the end are a bit rushed."

"A month and a half?" Warren chimed in from the side. "Have you been knitting this after school lately?"

Grey did not respond to Warren; she was waiting for Richard's reaction.

Richard shook the scarf again and wrapped it around his neck.

"That suits you perfectly, thank you, Grey."

Grey visibly breathed a sigh of relief.

Next up is Warren.

The first thing given to Hugh was a red jar.

"The strawberry jam, I found it in my kitchen," Warren confessed.

She said that since it was going to expire soon anyway, she might as well give it to you instead of letting our family eat expired sauce.

The second item I gave Mason was a leather wallet.

Mason opened his wallet and glanced at it.

"Hey, wait a minute." He suddenly turned his wallet over and over, looking at it from all angles. "Why is it empty?"

"...You don't actually think I'd give you the money too, do you?"

"As a buddy, you should at least know a thing or two."

"As friends, we should at least know how to keep our distance."

Mason stared at Warren's raised fist and dared not utter a word.

The third item given to Grey was a small makeup box inlaid with pearls.

"This must be quite expensive, right?" Grey picked up the box and looked at it.

"It's alright, my cousin recommended it," Warren said. "I really couldn't think of anything else to give you."

The fourth item given to Richard was a fountain pen with a gold trim.

"This isn't anything particularly good," Warren explained. "My dad bought me two last year, and I'm giving you one. I won't be able to use it all anyway."

Thanks.

"Don't mention it." Warren waved his hand. "Do you still want me to treat you to dinner when school starts next semester?"

"Of course," Richard replied quickly.

"……OK."

Richard then took out the gift he had prepared.

The first copy was given to Warren. Inside the package was a hardcover book: "The Virgil Collection".

"I actually find this useful." Warren opened the book, which contained a bilingual version, with the original Latin text on the left page and the Albian translation on the right page.

The second one was given to Grey, and inside was another book, "The Baking Family of the Capital".

Richard said, "Evelyn recommended it."

Grey hugged the book to her chest. "Your sister knows her stuff."

"She wants to open a bakery in the future."

"Then maybe I can get along with her."

The third copy was given to Mason.

Mason was a little nervous; the packaging was thin and didn't look like a valuable item.

He opened it, and inside were two neatly sharpened pencils and a brand-new exercise book.

"You almost failed your geography exam last time."

Richard was very serious.

"Consider this pencil and notebook as my early encouragement for you to study hard next semester."

"Williams!"

Mason's face turned a deep purplish-red.

"I'll give you a horse racing guide, and you'll give me two pencils and a notebook?"

"Aren't pencils and notebooks enough?"

Richard's expression was very serious:

"Actually, I also wrote a sentence on the first page of your notebook: 'Study hard and pass geography next semester.'"

Laughter erupted around the table.

Warren laughed so hard he slammed his hand on the table, Grey covered her mouth and chuckled, and even Hugh grinned, a rare occurrence for him.

"Don't you have any nerve?!"

Mason let out a wail.

The final gift was for Hugh.

Xiu opened the package; inside was a folded piece of paper.

"What is this?"

Richard unfolded the paper; it was a card he had written himself.

With this coupon, you can enjoy two free fried chicken legs during the new semester.

"Limited to two times." He added, "Disclaimer: My wallet has limited capacity. If you want to eat more than three each time, you may have to pay the difference yourself."

Don't hold the piece of paper in your hand.

"...Then it seems I have to eat it."

………………

After lunch, people gradually left the restaurant.

After saying goodbye to his friends, Richard prepared to go home.

The classroom was now empty; he was the only one there.

He walked to his desk, bent down, and started to rummage through the drawers.

When he reached in to touch it, his fingers touched a piece of stiff paper.

Richard was a little puzzled and took out the piece of paper.

It was a folded off-white cardstock with a dove drawn on the cover.

The pigeon holds an olive branch in its beak, and the olive leaves are rendered with a very light green watercolor wash.

The back of the card had a note that read: "Pax tibi. (May you be well)."

Laurel leaves and olive branches—I wonder if I'll ever receive any more hand-drawn bookmarks from Lillian again.

Footsteps could be heard in the corridor outside the classroom; the school janitor on duty was preparing to lock the door.

Richard slung his backpack over his shoulder, straightened his scarf, and walked out of the classroom.

It's started snowing outside.

He stopped as he passed the stone griffin gatepost.

Snowflakes landed on the stone's wings, and Richard raised his hand to pat the griffin's thigh.

See you next year.

The snowflakes grew denser, and the final notes of a Christmas choir drifted behind me, mingling with the sound of snowflakes as they slowly spread across the empty campus.