I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Chapter 198 Do Not Respond!

The scenery on both sides of the dirt road gradually changed from fields to abandoned land overgrown with weeds.

Richard could see scattered markers on the ground in the distance from the car window.

Most of them are wooden stakes driven in by the authorities, with white paint on top of the stakes and the words "Abandoned Mine, No Entry" written on them.

Further away, you can see several long-collapsed mine sheds, their wooden beams blackened and rotten.

Although the book only mentions those three minor weaknesses, who knows if there are even smaller weaknesses that are not recorded?

After all, in the environment inside a mine, it's too easy for something to happen, not to mention the huge pit that acts as a catalyst at all times.

Richard could see through his spiritual vision that the etheric flow across the entire wasteland was clearly tilting in a certain direction, which should be the direction where the pit should not be dug.

The car gradually slowed down.

Two identical vans were parked not far away; they had arrived first.

Several people wearing standard jackets from the branch office were standing next to the car, each holding their own weapon.

The leader was a one-eyed man whose left arm was a steel prosthetic limb running from his shoulder down.

This person doesn't look like someone you want to mess with.

The old gentleman next to me began to introduce the topic.

"That's Lieutenant Colonel Ode, a junior expert hunter. He's the commander today."

He looked at the skilled young hunter and suddenly a question occurred to him.

"Sir... what if today isn't a normal day, and something serious happens? Does this lieutenant colonel have a contingency plan?"

Mr. Hutton turned his head and glanced at him.

"Good question."

"Whenever a medium-sized or larger weak point is suppressed, the expert who intervened will leave a 'sovereignty' mark at the bottom of the pit."

You can think of it as a slumbering foundation of power.

"Lieutenant Colonel Odd is the only official representative present today who has received authorization."

In dire circumstances, he could awaken that dormant power for a short while.

"Then... we don't need to be afraid anymore?"

Upon hearing the expert's name, Richard immediately focused his attention.

"No," the old man shook his head, "that thing isn't used for nothing."

"Awakening it once will require an unplanned reinforcement of the entire seal that should not have been breached afterward."

"To invoke the power of a master is to speak out from behind a curtain in the name of a master."

"And the place where one should not speak out is one of the places where one should least make a sound."

"Therefore, the lieutenant colonel will not use this trump card until the very last moment."

The old man looked at the shaft again.

"All you need to know today is that this cave holds one trump card."

Richard nodded solemnly and got out of the car.

The patrol team consisted of seven people, including Od himself. Except for the youngest one, the rest were all professional-level hunters.

The six people were divided into two groups of three.

The group leader on the left was a short woman with an old scar on her brow bone.

The group leader on the right was a tall, thin man with a mustache and a missing section of his left index finger.

Richard noticed that one of the boys in the two groups looked to be the youngest, and the cuffs of his jacket didn't fit him quite right.

The boy had light brown hair and his face was covered in dust from the journey. Richard noticed that he was also secretly looking at him.

"Everyone's here." Lieutenant Colonel Aude cleared his throat.

"There are new recruits this time, so I'll go over the rules again before they go down the mine."

"Don't call people by their names, use their code names."

"The lights are off. Stay down and don't move."

"If you hear an unfamiliar voice, do not respond."

"I heard a familiar voice coming from an unexpected direction. I shouldn't respond."

"Let the three hunter team leaders handle all the responses."

"The rest of you only open your mouths to breathe and drink, understand?"

"Understood!" the patrolmen answered in unison.

Richard glanced at the old man.

Mr. Hutton nodded slightly, meaning, "We will abide by this rule as well."

Lieutenant Colonel Odd glanced toward Mr. Hutton.

"I'll give you all some code names for today."

He pointed to himself: "Just call me Lieutenant Colonel, don't add my name."

"Here, the two team leaders are simply called Team Leader 1 and Team Leader 2."

"Old scholar," he said, pointing to Mr. Hutton.

"Medium, Mrs. McNeil."

"Inspector Wentworth."

"Spellsmith, Lady Mord."

"Master Spence."

"The old coroner," he said, pointing to old Bigger.

"...Am I old?" Old Big muttered.

"You are indeed quite old in terms of age," Ode tapped his iron fist, "but your skills aren't as refined as your senior sister's."

"Yes, yes, yes." Old Big chuckled twice.

Finally, Odd's gaze fell on Richard.

"Grey eyes are quite rare, how about we call you Grey Eyes?"

"Sure, Lieutenant Colonel." The code name was quite common, so Richard naturally had no objections.

Odd turned to his six men: "Did you all hear that?"

"I heard you!"

"His code name is 'Grey Eyes,' and don't call him by his real name in the mine."

"Yes."

Odd then turned his gaze back to Richard.

"Kid, you and the youngest one here have been seated closer to the back today."

He gestured with his chin toward the boy who looked the youngest.

"His code name is 'Little Horse,' and he just graduated from military academy."

Xiao Ma nodded to Richard, a slightly unnatural smile on his face.

Lieutenant Colonel Aude raised his hand: "All groups, prepare your equipment. The first group will go down the well in three minutes."

The six men on patrol spread out and began checking each other's equipment.

Mr. Hutton took a small pocket watch from the inside pocket of his coat and checked the time.

"Richard, have you memorized all the rules the lieutenant colonel just mentioned?"

"I've got it, sir."

"Recite it for me again, the most important one."

Richard honestly repeated the story.

"Don't call people by their names, use their code names."

The old man raised his eyelids and glanced at him.

"Recite it again."

"...Don't call people by their names, use their code names instead."

"Very well." Mr. Hutton closed his pocket watch. "Then let me ask you from another angle."

"Down there, if you hear my voice calling you, and it's not calling 'Grey Eyes,' but calling 'Richard,' isn't that me?"

Richard's heart sank.

"...It wasn't you."

"Yes." The old man nodded.

"If you hear old Biggs and Mrs. McNeil calling you 'Richard'?"

"It wasn't him either."

Mr. Hutton reached out and gently pressed on his student's shoulder.

"From the moment our feet step onto the iron cage until we return to the ground."

During this period, all voices calling you by your real name will be heard.

No matter how much it sounds like me, no matter how much its tone, pauses, and word choice resemble mine, you should not respond.

"Even if..." the old man raised his white eyebrows, "even if the tone of its call makes you feel that 'you absolutely must take a look'."

"Yes." Richard nodded solemnly.

"And another thing, for things underground, imitating sounds is the most basic requirement."

"What they are really good at is imitating 'relationships'."

The old man's gaze was fixed on the student.

"They will read something about 'how things should be' between you and each of us."

"Then use that 'should' to create a sentence that you're least likely to refuse."

"For example, it mimics my voice and calls you 'Richard,' or asks you a question about the notebook you were looking at in the car."

"Your first reaction will be that I'm lecturing you on academic matters."

"By the time you realize 'something's wrong, it's too late."

Richard broke out in goosebumps.

"Understood?" Mr. Hutton asked.

"Understood, sir."

Mrs. McNeil walked over from the other side of the line.

The medium was carrying her own leather suitcase.

"Have you said everything that needed to be said?"

"I have told you," the old man nodded.

"Then I'll get something replaced."

Mrs. McNeil placed the suitcase at the back of the car and opened the lid.

She took a porcelain jar out of the box, unscrewed the lid, and inside was a jar of coarse salt.

The medium used a small silver spoon to scoop a spoonful from the porcelain jar.

That spoonful of coarse salt looked no different from the kind used in the kitchen at home.

"Reach out your hand."

Richard opened his palm.

The medium poured a spoonful of coarse salt into his palm.

"Place it under your tongue, hold this grain of salt in your mouth, and remember this grain of salt from the moment you step into the iron cage until you reach the bottom of the cage."

"Whatever happens in between, do not swallow or chew."

"...Yes," Richard mumbled a reply.

"Put the rest of the salt in the inside pocket of your coat."

She gestured to the small pinch of salt in Richard's hand.

"If the pill under your tongue dissolves on the way, immediately replace it with a new one from the inner bag."

Richard did as instructed, wrapped the remaining salt in oil paper, and stuffed it into the inner pocket of his coat.

Mrs. McNeill looked at old Biggs, who was standing not far away.

"Bige, the usual."

"I know, I brought my own."

Old Big also pulled out a small porcelain jar, poured out a spoonful, put one under his tongue, and put the rest in his pocket.

Richard then realized that Mr. Hutton, Wentworth… and even the six patrol hunters, all of whom were going down into the well, had a grain of salt under their tongues.

Everyone's mouth was tightly shut, and their chins were tucked in.

Mrs. McNeil put the porcelain jar back into the suitcase.

She turned back to look at Richard.

"Don't try to speak while you have salt in your mouth."

"If you absolutely must communicate, use gestures, eye contact, or pen and paper."

"This is the rule, and it's also a way to save your life."

Richard suddenly realized that as long as that grain of salt was there, every time he instinctively wanted to "respond," he would first be pricked by the salt grain.

That bump is a reminder.

"Is it ready?" the medium asked.

Richard nodded vigorously.

The medium's lips twitched slightly, a very faint smile.

"very good."

She turned and walked toward the iron cage.

Mr. Hutton added the final sentence from the side:

"Remember, the things below that love to call out the newlyweds' names the most."

"They've been hungry for a long time."

………………

Lieutenant Colonel Odd pressed the copper button on the side of the iron cage next to the shaft entrance, and the iron cage slowly descended.

The first group went down first; the entire shaft was so deep that the bottom could not be seen.

It took about a minute for the lieutenant colonel's voice to bounce back from the bottom of the shaft.

"We've arrived. Second group, come down."

The iron cages have come up again, and the second group is going in.

Richard stood next to Mr. Hutton.

The iron cage was crowded, and he glanced at everyone inside out of the corner of his eye.

Everyone's chin was tucked in, and there was a slight bulge in one cheek.

The iron chain rollers turned, and the iron cage was moved down little by little.

In the first section, a thin sliver of sunlight could still be seen filtering through the well walls.

As it descended to about thirty feet, that sliver of light completely disappeared.

Richard used his spiritual vision to conceal himself and then scanned the well wall.

Every ten feet or so, silver plates are embedded in the well walls, with inscriptions on their surfaces.

Mr. Hutton turned his head away without saying a word, but pointed lightly at a piece of silver on the outside of the well wall with his finger, and then made a "one hundred and fifty" gesture to Richard.

Richard mentally translated the gesture into a complete sentence.

The core area we're going to pass through today is about 150 feet below the surface.

This is equivalent to the height of a twelve or thirteen-story building.

Richard nodded slightly, indicating that he understood.

The iron cage was lowered for another half minute, and the entire cage was very quiet.

The only sound that could be heard was the creaking of the iron chain wheels.

As the depth increased, the echo gradually became blurred.

The grain of salt Richard was holding under his tongue had been partially dissolved by his saliva.

Just then...

Richard.

The voice came from behind his left shoulder, with a slow and deliberate tone typical of an old gentleman.

"Have you adjusted the shutter speed on this camera?"

Richard almost instinctively wanted to open his mouth.

The moment his tongue touched the top of his tongue, a grain of salt hidden under the base of his tongue poked into his tongue flesh.

That prick didn't hurt, but it felt like a fine needle, piercing him out of his mindless "impulse to respond."

Richard abruptly shut his mouth, a cold sweat seeping down his back.

He almost agreed.

When someone you know strikes up a conversation with you, responding is truly an uncontrollable instinct.

Richard glanced to the left out of the corner of his eye.

Mr. Hutton stood to his left front, his lips not moving, and he didn't even glance in his direction.

Richard swallowed hard, his mouth was so salty and dry that his throat started to feel numb.

He subtly withdrew his gaze and looked back at the front of the iron cage.

[Perception] Lv.2 came into play at this moment.

Even without activating his spiritual vision, he could sense that the etheric flow surrounding the entire iron cage was distorting in a way he had never seen before.

Those were some kind of "tentacles" reaching upwards from deep within the well wall.

When those "tentacles" reach near the iron cage, they will first touch the breathing rhythm of everyone inside the cage.

By following each person's breath, the vibration pattern of that person's throat can be deduced, and the vibration pattern of the throat can be deduced to correspond to the person's voice.

Finally, organize that voice into a sentence that is least likely to be rejected.

The iron cage descended another twenty feet.

"Kid."

This time, the voice came from his right rear, a familiar, greasy voice—it was Old Big.

"Were your hands shaking just now? Don't be so scared if it's your first time going down the well... Come on, let's repeat the rules again."

Richard ignored it; this time he was mentally prepared.

He didn't open his mouth, but glanced at his right rear out of the corner of his eye.

Old Big stood there, carrying the small wooden box containing the engraving tools.

The person's face was turned directly in front of the iron cage, their chin was clenched tightly, and their lips did not move.

Old Big's eyes also glanced at Richard at that moment.

Their eyes met, and he made a light, perceptual gesture with his left index finger over his lips.

Richard understood.

Old Big heard that sentence too; he heard a sentence that didn't belong to him.

But he didn't say anything.

Because he knew that this was the response the thing down in the well most wanted to hear.

Someone else vouches for you: "I didn't say that."

All it takes is for anyone inside the iron cage to say this one sentence.

Even if you open your mouth to deny it, that thing down in the well will open a crack based on that one sentence.

Therefore, the best course of action is to pretend you didn't hear anything.

Richard's fingers clenched tightly in his coat pocket.

The small pinch of coarse salt in his pocket was so tightly squeezed that it almost left marks.

The iron cage descended another twenty feet.

The sounds became more frequent.

"Richard," Maud's voice came from the right front.

"Your hands are very sweaty, do you want to wipe them?"

"Richard," Mr. Spence's voice came from the left rear.

"What's that stuck to the back of your neck?"

"Richard." The voice of the tall, thin team leader from Group Two drifted from the side of the iron cage.

"Your camera strap is about to break."

Richard's mouth was completely numb; the salt grains were almost completely dissolved.

The iron cage went down another section.

Richard.

This time, the sound came from underneath the iron cage.

It was Mrs. McNeil's voice.

The medium wasn't in the iron cage; she was in the first group and had already gone downstairs.

But that "Richard" sounded like she was whispering it in Richard's ear.

"Is that grain of salt you're holding under your tongue almost completely dissolved?"

"Let's exchange it for another one; there's still some inside the inner bag."