I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Lady Mary first used a black cat to lick her, leaving a "kiss".

Last night, before she left, she used the existing passage to pour a new substance into the ring.

Under Richard's spiritual vision, the ring now has a richer etheric resonance than before.

The outermost layer of camouflage is still used to block perception;

It gets a bit warmer going in one layer.

Later, when Lady Mary's followers see the residual power in the ring, they will know Richard's origins.

On the internet of northern folk guilds, he went from being a "guest" to "one of us".

Even so, Richard still did not formally become an apprentice.

Lieutenant Colonel Aude's commendation report was also submitted to the Imperial Capital Administration yesterday.

The General Administration issued a circular and sent it to the branch office.

When Richard received the circular, he stood for a while under the corridor at the entrance of the branch office.

The circular stated:

"In recognition of Richard Williams' contributions to the Briston North District Echoes case, he is hereby commended."

"Upon arrival in the capital, you can register as a 'Scholar Assisting in Investigation' at the capital's branch office."

"Scholars who assist in investigations are granted semi-independent field mission qualifications and can participate in non-combat investigation missions."

When Lieutenant Colonel Ode delivered the circular, he laid out the unpleasant truth upfront.

"Once your name is on the roster, you'll be on the conscription list during wartime."

"If they need people in the capital in the future, you'll have to go too."

The distribution of spoils was to take place in the conference room on the second floor of the branch office.

Richard last came to this room for a debriefing meeting about the battle.

The long table is still the same long table, but there are more empty chairs around it than last time.

Wentworth's seat was empty.

No one sat on it or moved it; it just sat there empty on the east side of the table.

Lieutenant Colonel Odd first went through the numbers on the books.

The bulk of the revenue from this battle was cleared up after the war.

At each of the thirteen anchor points in Heigou, the very anchor used by the Ying Sheng Hui to operate this network is buried: broken lanterns, green pottery jars, weighing stone tablets, ebony boxes...

One by one, they unearthed thirteen old items from the Black Soil River.

In addition to the anchor itself, there are also the outlets that Ying Sheng will set up in the North District.

The mutual aid funeral association's tents, and several contact points hidden in rented houses.

They shut down the outlets and collected a batch of funds.

"Cash will be calculated based on contributions, everyone gets a share." Odd closed the ledger. "Let's distribute the goods first."

Mrs. McNeil, sitting in her wheelchair, spoke.

"Mrs. Mary has already inspected these thirteen anchor bodies."

The twelve items have been basically purified, and the mud tablet has been sealed and handed over to Manchester City.

Purification is one thing, but the resentment of the dead, preserved for twelve years, isn't so easily erased.

She took out a shallow copper plate from the suitcase, on which several objects were arranged side by side.

"These are the only things that can be divided."

Richard's gaze fell on the bronze plate.

The canopy is still sealed with wax.

A dark bronze mirror, its surface dull, could not reflect any image;

A string of black prayer beads, with a patina on the beads from being rubbed by fingers.

Two items were placed at the very back of the bronze plate.

A bronze paperweight, about the size of a palm, is cast in the shape of a bird with a long beak, perched on a bronze base;

A small bronze balance scale, with two pans suspended by extremely fine chains.

Mrs. McNeill made a vague gesture with her hand on the bronze plate.

"Among these items, some bear very strong marks of death."

She tapped the black bronze mirror.

"This mirror will be used to 'reflect one's image'."

It has been illuminating the faces of dead people for twelve years. Whoever takes it home and hangs it on the wall might not see themselves reflected in the light at night.

She tapped the string of black prayer beads again.

"These beads are for counting."

The children underwater counted to one hundred before they fell asleep, and the beads counted for them.

Each coin counted a number, and it recorded the count for twelve years.

Take it home. If you hear someone counting beside your ear at night, don't respond.

The meeting room fell silent for a moment.

Sarah leaned the modified shotgun against the wall and glanced at the copper dish.

"I wouldn't take something that's plagued by bad luck, even if you offered me money."

She waved her hand.

"I'm living to make money, not to pay off debts."

The lieutenant colonel's subordinates also remained untouched.

"You contributed greatly to this battle, so go first."

Lieutenant Colonel Odd pushed the bronze plate in front of Richard.

"That night, if you and Mr. Hutton hadn't found the right fabric for the 'final sleep ritual' again..."

"I'm afraid none of us will come back."

No one responded in the meeting room.

Richard's gaze fell on the two items at the very back of the bronze plate.

Saintly bronze paperweight, bronze balance scale.

He reached out and picked up the two items.

The resentment that had been pickled for twelve years on top was much less intense than on the other items.

"Give me these two."

Lieutenant Colonel Auder grinned: "You sure know how to pick one, kid."

Mr. Hutton sat in the chair next to him.

The old man's voice hadn't recovered yet, and he was having difficulty speaking.

"Richard, you have good taste."

The old man raised his hand and pointed to the sacred bird.

"In the Black Soil River Basin, the Sacred Creeper is the bird of Thoth."

"Thoth keeps the accounts for the nine gods; whatever is written in the accounts is the heart of the dead."

He then pointed to the small scales.

"The scales belong to Maat."

When things are going well, I place the heart of the dead at one end and Maat's feather at the other.

The old man took a breath and then continued.

"That expert from the Black Soil River who walked the narrow path modified all thirteen of these items."

It drastically altered other items; the bronze mirror and black prayer beads were ordinary old objects, which it could modify however it pleased.

But it didn't dare to touch those two items too drastically.

"Why?" Sarah asked.

"Because they are associated with the name of God," Mr. Hutton said.

"Thoth, Maat, these kinds of names carry great weight in the Black Earth River basin."

The more drastically something is altered that bears the name of God, the greater the chance of disturbing that name.

The cost of causing a disturbance far outweighs any benefits it gains from modifying the object.

Therefore, it only dared to make minor alterations to these two items.

The old man looked at the two items in Richard's hands.

"It is precisely because it did not dare to make drastic changes that the original wisp of ether was preserved best, and at the lowest cost."

Richard nodded; these two were the cleanest items in the dish.

However, having the "cleanest foundation" does not mean you can start working on it immediately.

They still carried the resentment of twelve years of dead bodies, and the traces of that expert's gentle touch.

To completely eliminate the harm, we must use the methods of scholars to dismantle and clean it layer by layer.

That's his own lesson to learn from now on.

No one was willing to take the remaining few items.

Mrs. McNeil put the bronze mirror, black rosary, and green earthenware pot back into her suitcase.

"These items are too moldy. I'll take them back and deal with them slowly. If they're not completely clean, I'll hand them over to Manchester City for destruction."

Ode laid out the cash account again.

"The funds collected by the outlets, plus the cash value of the anchoring equipment after it was handed over, are distributed according to contribution."

He read out the numbers.

Richard received twenty pounds in cash, plus five or six pieces of etheric condensate of varying sizes.

By the time the meeting ended, it was already getting dark.

When I got back to the slag alley, it was past seven o'clock.

After dinner, Richard went upstairs.

I placed the shoulder bag on the bedside table and took out the two bronze artifacts, placing them on the table.

He first brought up the control panel.

[Critical Thinking Lv.3 Unlock Condition: Already Met]

That night in Heigou, he personally overturned a judgment he had always firmly believed in.

The power of a judgment does not lie in how ancient the language is or how deeply encrypted it is, but in whether the deceased acknowledges this authority.

What lulls those children to sleep is the lullaby their mothers hum.

What gets those men ashore is the work chants that have been shouted on the docks for a lifetime.

[Internal Awakening]

Turn your critical eye, which is always picking apart things, inward and look at yourself.

To see one's own judgment, and those thoughts that one has hidden and deceived oneself.

Richard removed the "Reflection" section and turned to look at another change.

He tried walking through the damp air.

Inhale to create a long slope, exhale to create a short wave, hold your breath and get stuck in the gap between the waves.

In the past, he had to use his mind to push and pull back every wave that rose and fell.

Tonight is different.

As soon as he exhaled, the pool of ether in his chest receded on its own.

It retreated to the bottom, but then it overflowed again.

One advances, one retreats; he doesn't need to worry about it.

The tide rises and falls at its own pace; there's no need for him, the tide watcher, to stand on the shore and tap it repeatedly.

It shouldn't take too long before I'm completely familiar with and internalize this advanced breathing technique, just like before.

Richard slowly opened his eyes and turned his gaze to the Sphinx lamp.

He leaned closer to look at the face, and the engraving on it had become even larger.

In a few days, the shadow will open another pair of eyes for him.

………………

On the morning of the fourth day after the explosion, the newsboys' voices were louder than the coal carts.

"Latest news on the North District explosion! Public Works Department confirms 39 deaths! Details of the canal breach! One penny a piece, sir!"

Richard handed over a penny and received a copy of the Mirror, still damp with ink.

The entire front page is dedicated to the North section.

"The main gas pipe had been in disrepair for many years and burst at night, igniting three warehouses along the street and causing some sections of the road to collapse."

That same night, the embankment along the northern section of the Grand Canal collapsed… Thirty-nine people died and over one hundred were injured.

In the accompanying print, a section of an exploded iron pipe has its edges curled up.

The expert on hearth traditions only repaired the parts that would lead to the leakage of information behind the curtain, as well as some parts that were too badly damaged.

The damage to basic roads and exterior walls has been left to the municipal department to handle.

The corner of the second edition is the western suburbs.

"The strike and riots have been quelled; seven people died in the stampede, and forty-two people have been detained."

Page three carried a fundraising appeal from the relief committee, followed by a statement from the gas company saying that the pipeline was old and that the company deeply regretted the loss. The inquest into the cause of death was scheduled for next week.

Further down, there's a short section praising the orderly withdrawal of the miners' picket line.

Richard folded the newspaper and tucked it into his arm.

That morning, he was helping to copy the internal records at the branch office; the death column totaled 103.

The sixty-four missing items were evenly distributed among the "injured," "missing," and "relocated" categories, so the auditors couldn't find any fault with them.

Once the numbers are printed in the newspaper, they become true.

Half of the canal road was closed off, and a crowd of onlookers gathered around.

"I saw it with my own eyes," one of the porters gestured to his companion.

"Blue Flame ran along the ditch, faster than a dog."

"Orange," his companion retorted. "Blue fire can't burn down a house."

The two almost got into an argument over the color of the fire.

Richard glanced at the two men.

There were no large fireballs that night, only the traditional deep red flames of the hearth fire flashing by.

But these two people had even chosen their own color combinations.

The lamplighter carried his ladder and repaired the lamps one by one, while a few women gathered around the well at the alley entrance and chatted.

Mrs. Weil said, "I vaguely heard someone singing in the middle of the night, and the singing made me feel both sad and relaxed."

"I felt relieved after singing." Another chimed in, "I can't really explain why."

Richard quickened his pace and walked over.

The world keeps turning according to the official version.

The truth was put into these dozens of their heads, each locked up, and each kept their own key.