I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Chapter 204 Escaping the Present Suffering

Richard shook his head.

"You took a risk when you gave that injection, didn't you?"

Wentworth turned his face.

"I won't make a fuss about it; the fewer people who know about your abilities, the better."

He didn't rush to leave, but found a stone stool and sat down.

"There are some things that are not within the scope of what I should be telling you."

"But now that you've come down here today and seen it with your own eyes..."

Instead of letting you guess, I'd rather explain it to you clearly.

Richard looked at him.

"You should have realized it by now... We shouldn't exploit such a weak point; the branch office won't take any 'completely shut down' measures."

The inspection team leader didn't look at him when he said this; his eyes were still fixed on the smoke in the distance.

"There will be some wear and tear due to the maintenance twice a year, in spring and autumn."

This branch office has its own dedicated projects, budget, compensation, and vacancy filling procedures.

The project is called "Routine Losses".

"...Routine wear and tear." Richard recalled the second team leader, whose face was covered by a coat and who was lifted into the iron cage.

That person's death was recorded as a "routine loss" in the ledger.

Wentworth could tell what he was thinking.

"Don't look at me like that."

"That's how a system works: issuing compensation, arranging replacements, and cleaning up the aftermath—all of these require budgeting and approval."

At this point, Richard felt compelled to speak out about something.

"The riot that happened up there today... thousands of workers shouted in unison and sent the leader into the pit."

The more chaotic the surface, the louder the shouting, the more full the thing at the bottom of the pit gets. Why is that...?

"Why suppress them?" Wentworth found a spot downwind and lit a cigarette.

"Um."

"Labor disputes are not under the jurisdiction of the branch office, as I have said before."

"The branch offices do not publicly intervene in world affairs; this is an ironclad rule. We only manage our side of the veil."

"But you also know that such iron-fisted suppression would kill even more people." Richard stared at him.

"The more people die, the more deaths occur, allowing things under the veil to flourish, and the real world is essentially doing more harm than good."

Wentworth took a puff of his cigarette.

"What you're saying isn't something that hasn't been mentioned by people within the branch offices."

"While desperately pressing down the things in the pit underground, they were also feeding it on the surface. It was like their left and right hands were fighting each other."

"That's how it is within the system; authority needs to have boundaries."

If we overstep our bounds and try to manage public order, we can manage strikes today and other things tomorrow, and the whole system will fall apart.

The rules are there so that everyone, including ourselves, knows where our hands can and cannot reach.

"These rules have their price, but the price of having no rules is even greater."

He said this while looking in the direction of the smoke.

It was as if he was persuading Richard, and also as if he was persuading himself again.

"Those attackers," Richard said, changing his perspective.

"...They were all people who were so oppressed that they couldn't go on living, weren't they?"

"Yes," Wentworth did not deny it. "I personally am not defending anyone on this point."

"But how did they turn these people who couldn't survive into...empty shells?"

Richard felt a chill run down his spine as he thought of the corpses and the man who could only respond.

Wentworth glanced at him.

"Judging from the characteristics of these response teams today, they should come from a cult group known as the 'Echo Society'."

"Some forbidden techniques and cultivation methods can transfer the cost to others through rituals, and the Echoing Ceremony is one of them."

Richard's heart sank.

He recalled the deductions he had made in his notebook a while ago regarding the Abyss tradition of "cost transfer".

He had only theoretically implemented it before, but if the costs could be shifted onto some "stand-in"...

And now, Wentworth is telling him that this kind of thing really exists, and it's happening right here in the city right next to him.

The inspection team leader continued to explain:

"The response will come to those who can't go on living."

"Give them strength, give them the chance to 'escape their present suffering'."

Those who coughed up blood to the point of being afraid to go to the hospital, those who couldn't even get into the workhouse, those whose whole families were on the verge of starvation... they all felt that nothing could be worse than their current situation.

"So they were hollowed out piece by piece, borrowed, and in the end even their real names were taken away."

He sighed as he finished speaking.

"I've handled this kind of thing more than once."

"The real manipulators are always hiding behind the scenes, and it's always these poor souls who are pushed onto the edge of our blades."

"We must treat these poor people as a source of pollution that must be eliminated... If we are lenient, it will only lead to more terrible consequences."

Wentworth stubbed out his cigarette.

"I advise you not to overthink it; overthinking will only add to your psychological burden."

All we can do is to do the work within the rules cleanly and efficiently.

What remains is not something for someone at our level to worry about.

"Let's get back to business. Let me settle the accounts for today's tasks first."

He adopted a more businesslike tone.

"Make a list of the enchanted bullets you fired today and submit it to the branch office for full reimbursement."

"Also, I'll give you a gun."

Richard looked up, somewhat puzzled.

"Your Webley Type III is a police-grade weapon, good enough for dealing with street thugs, but not very effective in a situation like today."

The inspector's gaze swept over the spot where the gun was hidden under his coat.

"I have a high-end, custom-made sword in my cabinet, it's from my own collection. I'll send it to you when I have time."

He sensed that Richard wanted to decline, so he preemptively shut him down.

"You saved me today, so I have to give you something in return, otherwise I won't feel right."

Wentworth waved his hand, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"Moreover, I paid for this gun out of my own pocket; it has nothing to do with the public accounts."

Richard thanked him sincerely.

Wentworth didn't say anything more, but glanced again at the direction of the smoke, his eyes holding something Richard couldn't quite understand.

People who have watched the same wound oozing pus for years have long learned not to look at it, but today they were forced to take another look.

Mr. Hutton came over at this moment, having obviously heard the tail.

He didn't continue that topic, but instead gave some other instructions.

"Don't recite a single word of those three solfège lines that Lieutenant Colonel Odd recited today."

"It's not just that they don't say it."

The old man stared at him.

"Don't recite it silently in your mind, and definitely don't write it in a notebook."

Even if you just want to "research" who that person is, don't.

Why?

"Because the solfège itself is the lightest form of 'calling out'."

"You've witnessed the 'yes or no' trick all day, don't you understand yet?"

When you utter that name, it's as if you're gently calling out in that direction from this side of the curtain.

"That person probably doesn't have time to bother with a nobody like you."

"But what if? You can't afford to gamble on that 'what if'."

"I've got it, sir. Don't read it, don't think about it." Richard kept this in mind.

"Hmm." Mr. Hutton nodded. "Let's go back."

Richard stood up and reached out to help the old man.

The dirt road beneath my feet was damp in the night, and my boots made a slight crunching sound as I stepped on it.

The two walked toward the convoy, but after a few steps, Richard suddenly thought of something.

"Sir, the chief is dead today, and we can't get anything out of the living."

"Those people behind the Echo Society should know what's going on here tonight. Our retreat..."

He tilted his head slightly in the direction of the nine-layered stone ring.

"What if they come back tonight?"

The old man nodded with satisfaction.

"It's not bad that you thought of this."

"That expert agreed to let the lieutenant colonel borrow His 'breath' once, and He would leave a mark in this area."

"mark?"

"You can understand it this way..."

Mr. Hutton raised his hand and pointed vaguely at the top of his head.

"That person's gaze will linger in this area for a while, at least a week, and at most a month or more."

"During this time, the entire pit that should not have been there was right under His nose."

Richard broke out in goosebumps on the back of his neck.

He recalled that indifferent gaze cast from "conceptual heights" earlier.

"We'll have to come back and fight again..." He followed this line of reasoning: "We have to sneak in right under that person's nose."

"Yes, what the lieutenant colonel has given us today is this period of safety."

"It would be redundant for us to leave a few people here to guard the area."

"If the people behind Ying Sheng Hui really have the ability to open another crack in the place that Da Ren is personally watching..."

"Then there's even less point in keeping these people here."

Richard quickly understood.

The premise for leaving people to garrison is that the rank of the invading enemy is within their ability to handle.

"Go back and rest first."

The old man patted him on the shoulder.

"The most important thing tonight is to get everyone a good night's sleep, and then report this matter to higher authorities first thing tomorrow morning."

"To which level should it be reported?"

"Manchester City's Northern Branch Office Headquarters"

………………

It was nearly 11 p.m. when the convoy started.

The vehicle carrying the body of the second group leader was at the front, with a gray cloth covering the front of the vehicle.

A comrade sacrificed his life in the field. The front of the car was covered with a gray cloth for thirty miles, giving the deceased a peaceful journey home.

Richard was in the other car.

No one spoke in the carriage.

After Lieutenant Colonel Ode borrowed the power of the expert, he was completely drained.

He sat in the passenger seat with his eyes closed, and occasionally a very faint "creaking" sound came from the joints of his steel prosthetic limb.

The silver rivets, scorched by the wind pressure, are slowly cooling.

Wentworth sat alone in the back window seat, his left hand resting on the inside of his right arm.

After bumping along the dirt road for nearly an hour, the convoy finally drove back into a neighborhood with streetlights.

The town of Briston was much quieter than when they had set off during the day.

The strike has been suppressed, and militiamen are standing in twos and threes at the street corner, carrying rifles.

They saw the convoy from the branch office and saluted the front of the vehicles.

When the convoy stopped at the back door of the branch office building, it was already past midnight.

Richard got out of the car, feeling a sudden emptiness in his stomach.

My temples were throbbing, but my eyelids refused to droop at all.

Wentworth glanced at his face.

"You don't need to go home tonight."

"what?"

"Go back now, your family is all asleep."

Besides, we have a debriefing meeting tomorrow morning, so it's a hassle for you to travel back and forth.

"There are dormitories in the branch office. Go and get some sleep first. You can go home after the summary meeting tomorrow morning."

"Then at my home..." Richard hesitated.

I'll give you a call tomorrow morning.

Mr. Hutton waved his hand from the side.

"Just tell her you're studying with me outside and will be going back tomorrow afternoon. Your mother will understand what I mean."