I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Chapter 147 Wilderness Hunt

Richard opened his eyes precisely at six o'clock, the brass bed springs making a muffled thud as he turned over.

He put on his coat and wrapped the scarf around his neck twice.

Webley's gun was holstered on his waist, covered by his coat, so its shape was not visible.

There was no one downstairs.

He didn't disturb the person who was still dreaming. He gently opened the wooden latch behind the door and walked out through the main door.

It was much colder outside than inside, and smoke was already billowing from the chimneys of several houses in the village.

Richard walked out along the stone wall on the east side of the village.

About half a mile outside the village, the terrain begins to slope southwest.

The wilderness was covered with gray reeds and frost-bent bushes, with a few scattered piles of sheep dung.

He stopped on a high slope overlooking the valley.

This location is about a mile from the mill.

The box on the map was at the bottom of the valley in the distance, from which he could see the outline of the mill's dilapidated roof.

He stopped right there; he didn't go too close.

One of the things Mr. Hutton mentioned last night was that the one imprisoned in the seal is very sensitive to human microcirculation. She has not been in contact with living people many times over thousands of years, and each contact excites her.

He first used his spiritual vision to roughly scan the area.

The etheric field across the entire valley is extremely uneven.

The deepest depressions are all located around the abandoned stone building in the middle of the valley.

This is evidence that the seal is still working.

If the seal completely fails, the etheric field will spread in all directions, extending towards the village.

On his way back, he met an old man.

The old man came up from the direction of the sheepfold down the slope, holding a polished oak shepherd's staff with the head carved into a curled ram's horn.

Six or seven goats followed behind, moving up the slope.

Richard stepped aside to make way for him.

The shepherd walked to a spot next to him and stopped, saying something.

It was Gaelic, which Richard couldn't understand.

He replied in Albion, "Hello."

The old man raised his free right hand, first touching his own chest, then drawing a diagonal line on Richard's chest.

After he finished, the shepherd turned and continued walking up the hill, and the goats scattered with him.

Richard touched his chin.

He had seen this gesture in the supplementary information left by Isabella.

The appendix contains a section called "A Brief Study of Ancient Celtic Country Folk Customs," in which one type is labeled "family reunion."

This type of gesture is not used with strangers, but only between two locals to convey the meaning of "we all stand on this land".

After the Romans arrived, the priests were driven away, and this ritual descended from the clergy to shepherds and blacksmiths.

Richard walked back into the village.

He recalled the conversation at the hostel last night, in which the veterans discussed many things in front of the owner, and Mrs. McNeil even issued a task assignment on the spot.

At the time, he thought the hostel owner and his family were also mystical.

It now appears that this scope could be expanded further.

The locals in Whitcomb know how to live and work with this land from the bottom of their hearts.

Neolithic priests erected stone circles here, pre-Roman Druids lit midsummer fires here, and Gaels told stories here for over a thousand years.

Every generation knows some of the rules of this land, and these rules include cooperation with practitioners of the mystical side.

As I walked back to the hostel entrance, the bell in the small church on the east side of the village struck seven times.

The hostel lobby was already bustling with activity.

The proprietress behind the bar was frying bacon in a large iron pot.

Edmund sat at the table by the window, while Theodore huddled opposite him, a tuft of hair sticking up and not being pressed down.

"Good morning." Edmund looked up at him. "You went out?"

"I went to take a look at the east end." Richard untied his scarf.

"See anything?" Theodore picked up his teacup.

"A flock of sheep and an old shepherd." Richard sat down.

Theodore chuckled. "No wonder you came back so late. Once old people start talking, they can go on and on about everything from their grandfathers to their grandsons."

He didn't talk to me.

"Didn't say a word?"

"He said something I didn't understand, and then drew a diagonal line across my chest."

Maggie finally came down, wrapped in a wool cloak a size too big for her, looking even colder than she had the night before.

"It's an old Gaelic custom; he's greeting you."

The proprietress carried a bag of bacon out of the kitchen and placed it in the center of the newcomer's table.

"The four little gentlemen will eat first."

She had a heavy accent, but spoke the Imperial Mandarin clearly: "Today will be tough."

The conversation at the breakfast table quickly shifted from the fat on the bacon to more serious matters.

Mrs. McNeil wiped her mouth and folded her napkin, placing it neatly beside her plate.

"From today until the official start of the reinforcement ceremony, it will take about three or four days."

She held up one finger.

"Mr. Hutton and I have been staying in the village these past few days."

"The specific content includes drawing up the overall plan of the ceremony, preparing the ritual implements, and collecting local mediums such as stone slabs, salt, flint, and specific plants."

We also need to coordinate with the chief executive officer; the village will be relocated on a small scale at that time.

"Relocate?" Theodore asked, somewhat puzzled.

"On the night the ceremony begins, no ordinary people are allowed within three miles of Mill Valley."

Mrs. McNeil explained, "There are a few families in Whitcomb on the outer edge of the valley, and we'll have to invite them to stay in the village for the night."

"Is he easy to talk to?" Edmund asked.

"The people here," Mr. Hutton chimed in from the side, "are all very easy to talk to."

"As for you," Mrs. McNeill's gaze fell on the group of newcomers:

"For the next two days, follow Captain Field and Ms. Sarah."

"What are we going to do?" Maggie asked.

"Patrol the area within a ten-mile radius of the mill." This time, it was Captain Field who answered.

He put down his fork and placed the knife across the edge of the plate.

"Before the ceremony begins, some weak points around the mill need to be cleared out."

"Weak point?" Theodore had already taken out his pen.

"I'll tell you later," Captain Field gestured, "Listen to the end first."

"One aspect is addressing weaknesses," Mrs. McNeil continued.

"Secondly, I will take you into the nearshore layer behind the veil for the first time."

These words caused a slight tension among the four newcomers at the table.

"Of the four of you, I bet only Maggie has been inside," Mrs. McNeil said, glancing at the red-haired girl.

Maggie put down her cup: "I went there a few times when I was little. I could see my great-grandmother inside. Every time, she would touch me a couple of times. My mom called it 'ancestral blessing.'"

"Where is Edmund?"

"It was taught at the seminary." Edmund was somewhat uncertain: "But it was the church version of 'Near Shore,' called 'The Spiritual Window,' which is somewhat different in nature."

"What exactly is missing?" Theodore asked casually.

"We looked in from behind the cross," Edmund said with restraint. "They just opened the door and went out."

Theodore thought for a moment and didn't press the matter further.

"Where's Richard?" Mrs. McNeil turned around.

"I've never been inside," Richard said frankly.

"Alright." Mrs. McNeil clasped her hands together. "Then let's use these two days to make up for this lesson."

She glanced at Mr. Hutton again and then gave the other person a turn.

"What you four have learned about the world behind the veil."

The old man glanced at the four young men: "Most of them are quite shallow."

"Today I'll go into a bit more depth."

Do you know a psychologist named Jung?

"I've heard of him," Edmund answered the fastest. "He was mentioned in the philosophy class at the seminary, but not in great detail."

The old man nodded:

"Over the past twenty years, he and another psychologist have developed a set of theories."

He believes that all of humanity is interconnected at a deep level of consciousness.

"Deep within the human consciousness lies a collection of all the emotions that humanity has repeatedly experienced."

"Fear, hatred, love, jealousy, violence... He calls this the 'collective unconscious'."

Mr. Hutton paused here and glanced at the four people's reactions.

Edmund seemed to understand something, Maggie's expression didn't change much, Theodore was taking notes quickly, and Richard was listening quietly.

"I use Jung's theory because it is at the forefront of academia."

The old man continued his story:

"But before Jung proposed this theory, predecessors also had their own summaries of the phenomena behind the veil."

"When people see a cloud of gray mist rising from the swamp, they will recognize it according to the legends they have heard."

"The Gaels would say, 'That's a bewitching lamp,' the Saxons would say, 'That's a night traveler,' and the Celts would say, 'That's a fire starter.'"

"The names are different, but they are essentially the same thing."

The Ether will be influenced by these stories and actually produce related products; this is the essence of evil objects and the various products behind the veil.

He turned the teacup halfway around.

"The evil creatures you've heard of—ghouls, vampires, headless horsemen, water ghosts, banshees, black dogs…—are all creations sculpted by generations of people on this land through fear and storytelling."

"They are products of human imagination."

There was silence around the table for a few seconds.

"So all the 'ghost stories' we've heard are true." Theodore was still a little dazed.

"That's not entirely true," Mr. Hutton said. "It depends on which side you're on."

"From the perspective of the material world, they are fictional."

"Standing on the other side of the curtain, they also need to be repeatedly told in order to exist."

Richard then asked a question.

"Sir, what is the ecology of these evil creatures behind the veil? Is it related to our mission these past few days?"

Mr. Hutton nodded, indicating his satisfaction with the matter.

"The lower and lowest-level evil beings in the nearshore layer only possess the most superficial instincts."

"Its instinct is to devour the remaining ether, and occasionally it will materialize in the weakest points of the veil."

"One or two pose no threat," the old man said. "The real trouble lies in 'gathering'."

"Gather together?" Maggie pressed.

Mr. Hutton clasped his hands together on the table.

"A swamp corpse will attract scattered, floating bewitching lamps towards it."

"If there are too many Bewitching Lanterns, they will attract predators of a higher rank."

"The predator eats a batch of bewitching lamps, leaving one behind, which will attract the next tier."

"A food chain is established, and as the ether accumulates, these evil creatures will become more numerous and stronger."

"So the hunters need to go into the nearshore layer and 'thin out' the seedlings regularly," Captain Field interjected at this point.

"We won't let the evil creatures accumulate to a certain number," Sarah added. "It's a rule that's been in place for thousands of years."

"Since industrialization, the younger generation has left the land, and traditions have been disrupted."

"The old hunters have retired, and no new hunters have filled their positions."

"And the curtain itself is also thinning, with the workload of the branch offices in various places doubling in recent years."