I loaded the Mysticism panel.

After leaving Mr. Hutton, Richard walked along the corridor toward the school gate.

Evelyn waved to him from the line at the school bus stop, her braids swinging in the wind.

He called out to his sister, "I'll be going home a little late today, you go ahead and take the car."

"Going to the library again?"

"Yes."

"Are you planning to live in the library anytime soon?"

"Soon."

The girl glared at him before being swept up in the crowd and boarded the school bus.

Before the car door closed, she poked half her head out of the window: "Be back before dark!"

Richard waved to her and turned to walk towards the library.

There were still a few students studying on the first and second floors, and the librarian was registering borrowing records behind the counter.

When I got to the third floor, it was completely empty.

As before, the light bulb hummed, and the broken one flickered twice before going out.

He walked to the shelf between the geography and agriculture sections, squatted down, and began to take inventory.

There are twenty-six books in total, varying in size and thickness.

Some were beautifully bound, some had cracked spines, and some even had their titles worn away from the covers.

The publication years range from 1790 to 1860 in the Gregorian calendar, spanning nearly seventy years.

Richard first did a quick screening.

He would take out each book and flip to the table of contents or the last few pages to check for appendices, non-text content, or paragraphs with unusual density.

Excluding obvious academic literature, that is, those with proper citation format, clear footnotes, and no suspicious markings in the whole text, there are eleven books left.

Of the eleven books, he immediately sensed something was wrong when he opened three of them.

In the first book, there are several pages with missing footnote numbers. Empty numbers don't appear out of thin air; it's either a typesetting error or intentional blank space.

In ordinary academic publications, it is the former; on this shelf, it should be treated as the latter.

The second book is even more obvious; in the main text, the first letters of a paragraph are combined to form short sentences.

Acrostic poems are the oldest and simplest form of encryption.

The third book contains two pages of handwritten supplements in the appendix. The handwriting is completely different from the printed text, and the ink color is also different.

Richard pulled the three books off the shelf, stacked them on the floor, and began to examine them one by one.

From Mr. Hutton's book "On the Organization of Early Agricultural Communities in the Western Continent" to the present, he has developed a complete deciphering process.

First, identify the encryption level, then peel it back layer by layer using a reference table and etymology manual, and finally cross-validate.

The first book took about forty minutes to read and was roughly about the use of mineral mediums in rituals.

It was useful, but not the most urgent matter. After understanding what it said, he stopped deciphering it.

After the second acrostic poem was deciphered, it pointed to a specific paragraph on a certain page of the main text.

On the surface, the passage discusses hunting rituals in the northern forests, but in reality, each word taken out and strung together describes the Path of Blood.

It has some reference value, but it's not suitable for him.

The Blood Burning Path is too radical. The introductory training methods described in the article include extreme alternations of holding one's breath in ice water and explosive breathing, which his body cannot withstand.

He carefully turned to the two pages between the pages in the third book and held the lamp closer to read them.

The handwriting is neat but extremely small, written with a dip pen, and the ink has turned brownish, suggesting it is at least several decades old.

The content is only two pages long, but the density is extremely high.

The first line begins: "Aurea Via— Fundamenta Respirationis Primae."

(The Golden Way - Basic Breathing Techniques for Beginners)

Richard's fingers trembled slightly.

I looked up at the window and it was already completely dark.

The lights on the third floor were still humming, casting long white shadows across the bookshelves.

He looked down and continued reading.

The text describes the most basic introductory breathing method of the Golden Way. It has no name and is referred to throughout the text only as "introductory breathing method".

The steps don't contain any mysterious descriptions or anything like "opening up the Ren and Du meridians".

The entire passage reads more like a medical procedure guide:

Adjust your breathing rate, control the ratio of inhalation to exhalation, and keep your attention focused on the center of your chest at a specific rhythm.

The last paragraph is a reminder:

"The beginner's breathing method should not be used for more than 35 minutes (about 45 minutes) per day. Beginners are advised to limit it to 15 minutes or less during the first week."

Excessive meditation can cause headaches, dizziness, and chest tightness. If tinnitus or flashes of light appear in the peripheral vision, stop immediately and lie down to rest; otherwise, it may lead to mild shock.

Practical, safe, and with boundaries—it truly lives up to its reputation as a cultivation method originating from medicine.

No matter how hard you try, it only results in mild shock, which is nothing compared to the Blood Burning Path, which can actually cause death by suffocation or freezing. No wonder it's the first choice for most legitimate organizations when starting out.

Richard read the two pages of handwritten text three times from beginning to end, making sure he had memorized every word, before closing the book and putting it back in its original place.

He didn't take the book with him, since there wasn't much to record this time.

Taking one book can be considered borrowing, but taking multiple books is conspicuous.

These books can be left on the shelf so we can refer to them repeatedly later.

Richard stood up and stretched, his joints cracking in a series of motions.

I glanced at my watch... Oh no, it's already past seven.

The last school bus left at 6:30, and he didn't notice the library's closing announcement at all. There was probably no one on the third floor clearing out the area.

The night outside the window was thick with darkness, and the streetlights were sparsely lit.

It's more than three miles from school to home, and it takes more than half an hour to walk there.

Taking a walk during the day is good exercise, but it's a different story when it gets dark.

The old town of Briston isn't exactly safe at night, and there are quite a few petty thieves.

In my past life, I could walk freely at night, thanks to the country's comprehensive public facilities and surveillance cameras. I don't have that kind of confidence in this life.

He carried his schoolbag downstairs, and when he pushed open the side door of the library, a cold wind rushed towards him.

The campus was completely deserted, except for the guardhouse window which still had its lights on.

Richard shrank his neck and walked towards the school gate.

The old gatekeeper poked half his head out of the window, muttered something, and then withdrew.

The stone griffin perched atop the gatepost, its droppings gleaming white in the moonlight.

As soon as he stepped out of the school gate, he saw an old car parked under the streetlight.

Spoke-spoke wheels, white-walled tires, and a gooseneck light embedded on each side of the windshield—these are features typically found only on top-of-the-line sedans.

The car sat quietly under the streetlights, out of place with the surrounding drab street scene, like a pampered hunting dog tied up at the entrance of the market.

The car window was quickly rolled down, revealing a somewhat familiar pretty face.

It's Grey.

She didn't wear her hair in braids today; her chestnut hair was loose over her shoulders, mostly covered by the neckline of her scarf.

The girl's blue eyes appeared even brighter in the night than during the day, and her lips had a light pink tinge, as if she had applied lipstick.

"Williams," she greeted.

"Grey?" Richard stopped under the streetlight. "Why are you still at school?"

"I stayed behind today to catch up on some homework, and when I came out, I saw that the lights were still on on the third floor of the library."

She closed the book, opened the car door, and got out.

"There aren't many students staying at Greenwood at night, I guess it might be you."

The words were spoken so naturally, as if it were just a coincidence.

But Richard noticed that the dew on the hood of the car had condensed into water droplets, indicating that the car had been parked for at least half an hour.