I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Sunday, north corner of St. Andrew's Cemetery.

The Public Works Department's dredging barge spent four days dredging in the Black Ditch, ostensibly for "post-flood dredging".

The skeletons unearthed from the mud filled several carts.

Looking at Old Bige's register, eighty-seven names were recognized.

Eighty-seven thin-skinned coffins were lined up side by side, the smell of fresh earth overpowering the smell of lime.

This time, we won't go into the lime pit.

Reverend Hawkins stood before the pit, not reading any more Latin eulogies; he simply began to read the names.

Thomas Reed.

"I'm home."

"William Hutchins."

"I'm home."

Many of the mothers who had sung on the embankment came, their black veils pinned to the brims of their hats.

Reed's wife stood in the third row, holding a folded gray-blue scarf in her arms.

Richard pushed Mrs. McNeil's wheelchair and stopped on the outside of the crowd.

At the innermost stone tablet, a stonemason is laying out the surface of the tablet with charcoal sticks.

The monument bears only one name: Lizzie.

She had no surname, so her name wasn't recorded in the register.

When the stonemason was putting away his tools, Richard borrowed half a charcoal stick from him and squatted down to draw a smiley face at the base of the monument.

It was a crooked drawing, based on the shape of the one on her wrist.

"The rain will wash it away, sir," the stonemason reminded him.

"Wash it off and draw it again." Richard returned the charcoal stick: "Someone should be able to touch up the strokes every now and then."

Mrs. McNeil took a pinch of salt from her suitcase and sprinkled it on the fresh soil.

The wind blew in from the other side of the Black Ditch.

The wind was clean, there was nothing inside, and no one was counting.

On the other side, the mass funeral for those who died in the line of duty was presided over by Lieutenant Colonel Ode.

A row of new wooden plaques on the slope of the cemetery behind Elizabeth Chapel.

In addition to the name, each piece has a line of smaller characters engraved on it.

"Died in the line of duty during an industrial accident rescue."

Richard stood in the last row.

Lieutenant Colonel Odd sent the application for posthumous recognition of Old Big's death in the line of duty to Manchester City's administration.

The documents Wentworth signed the day before his death.

In the cause of death column, cardiac arrest was crossed out.

Next to it is Wentworth's handwriting and stamp: "Died in the line of duty investigating the Echoes case."

Old Big and Lizzie are buried together on a small tombstone with only one line of text on the front:

"William Bigelow, the coroner."

After the funeral, people left one after another.

He turned around and prepared to leave, but stopped after taking a few steps.

A black cat had somehow ended up sitting on top of the tombstone.

The cat lowered its head and gently licked the top of the tombstone with its tongue.

On the spot where it had been licked, a line of extremely small characters appeared on the stone surface:

"She has completed her apprenticeship under Marie Viktoria."

The black cat jumped down from the tombstone and glanced at Richard.

"Meow."

"...Madam." Richard knelt down.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"Let me say a few words to you."

Lady Mary's voice came from a great distance, carried by the cat:

"Regarding Briston's future fate."

Richard's heart leaped into his throat.

The black cat slowly licked its front paws.

"You've seen what a mess Briston has become."

"The pit shouldn't have been sealed off, the anchor net should have collapsed, and those bodies that had been nailed to the bottom of the water for more than ten years should have been released."

"The black ditch water revealed its bottom, and the old debts were burned away by the fire lit by that hearth."

"This city is no longer of any value to the other side of the veil."

The cat raised its head.

"It will take at least another decade or so for something else to emerge from a weak point."

"Where there is no value, no one will bother to fight for it."

Richard remained silent for a moment.

"...You mean?"

"In the battle to come, no matter how the Old World burns, the fire on the mystical side will not reach Briston."

"It will be... forgotten by everyone." The black cat blinked its pure gold eyes.

"In a great war that would burn across the Old World, being forgotten itself meant safety."

Richard looked at the black cat, and it seemed that the thing that had been weighing on his mind no longer needed to be worried about.

The black cat walked to the low wall of the cemetery and jumped up.

"Little Richard, I'll be waiting for you in the capital."

It leaped down the low wall and disappeared into the shadows of the old cemetery.

…………

On Monday, Richard arrived at Coleman's house.

Coleman sat under the old maple tree in his backyard, wrapping a bandage around his left forearm.

The bandages were newly changed.

That night, he stood guard at a street corner in the North District, relying on his muscles and his "shouldn't" to drag back three workers who had been replaced.

Richard looked at the other person's injuries and finally made up his mind.

He took the long box of silver needles out of his shoulder bag.

Coleman's gaze fell on the long box, and he paused for a moment.

"...Are you going to stab me again?"

"No." Richard placed the long box on the armrest of the cracked wooden chair.

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke of what he had been thinking about for several days.

"Coleman, I want to teach you [Moon Nail - Reflection]."

Coleman stopped bandaging his hand.

"...Teach me?"

"Um."

"I used to give you acupuncture every few days."

"From now on, you'll have to prick yourself."

The wind in the backyard rustled the maple leaves.

Coleman looked down at his left arm, which was wrapped in bandages.

"I'll be living in Beijing permanently from now on, so I won't be able to come back every few days to give you acupuncture."

"And then..." Richard paused.

"You know best where your own path is blocked and where it's loose."

"Your own treatment will be more effective than mine."

Coleman remained silent.

He lifted his left arm off his knee, clenched his fist, and then relaxed it.

"A technique that can repair one's own path... This is something that can be passed down through generations."

"You think you can just teach me like that?"

Richard smiled and said, "We're friends, right? I can't just abandon you halfway through your treatment and run away, can I?"

"Or are you going to come to the capital with me?"

"..." Coleman turned his face away and wiped his face with his hand.

After wiping it off, he didn't say anything, turned around and went into the house.

Richard sat on that old wooden stump and waited.

After a while, Coleman returned.

He was holding two things in his hands.

The first item was an old cloth bag.

The cloth bag was bulging, and its opening was tied with several hemp ropes.

The other item was a thumb-sized, dark gray metal plate.

The card depicts the profile of a bull with distinctively curved horns.

Coleman first stuffed the bag into Richard's hand.

"Here, take this."

Richard squeezed it; there was something jingling inside.

"……This is?"

"Money," Coleman said.

"I started saving when I was thirteen, and I've been saving for four years now. I've saved a total of ten pounds and a few shillings."

"I have nothing else to give you."

Coleman stared into his eyes:

"The cost of living in the capital is high. As a student from out of town, you need to save up more money so you can have more confidence."

Richard gripped the heavy cloth bag, speechless for a long time.

"This is for you too."

Coleman then handed over the metal plaque engraved with a bull.

Richard took it and activated his spiritual vision to scan it.

Inside that metal plaque, there was a wisp of ether.

"Is this a rare object?"

"No, it's just a refining product," Coleman said.

"Our team won first place in the field exercise, and the instructor gave each of us a medal."

"It's called 'Bull Horn,' and it can enhance the Ether Burst."

Coleman rubbed his hands together: "It would be a waste for me to keep a device like this with a broken circuit."

"...Coleman." Richard stood up.

"Um."

"I'll take half of this money."

"Take it all."

"Half," Richard insisted.

"Keep the other half; you'll need money to repair your circuits and practice your techniques."

"If you give me all your money, you won't even be able to afford a bottle of alcohol when you're practicing your spells."

"Then what's the use of me teaching you this technique?"

Coleman stared at him for a moment.

"...Okay." He conceded. "Half."

"I'll take this strange item." Richard put the "bull horn" into his inner pocket.

"Once I've settled down in the capital, you can practice as instructed. If you have any questions, write to me."

"...Okay." Coleman nodded emphatically.

Over the next few hours, Richard demonstrated the Moon Nail's connection, breath guidance, and needle insertion techniques from beginning to end, over and over again.

Coleman studied very attentively.

Richard instructed:

"Once your circuitry is almost fully repaired and you can stably condense ether, you should be able to learn Moon Nail in one go."

Your throwing technique is better than mine; you just need to practice the Ether Needle.

The condition for reversing this is reaching a certain level of mastery; once you've practiced it thoroughly, you'll naturally reach the threshold.

Before leaving, Richard left Coleman with a few silver needles from the long box of silver needles.

"Use these for now, and later you can go to the local guilds and buy a few that you like."

"……Um."

The two walked from the backyard to the gate.

"Richard," Coleman called to him from the doorway.

"Once I've mastered this technique and my circulation channels are almost fully restored..."

"I'll come to the capital to find you."

Richard was taken aback for a moment.

"Looking for me?"

"Yes." There was a fire in Coleman's eyes.

"I don't want to stay in Briston for the rest of my life."

"If I recover well, I'll go back to military academy and get a new job. Maybe I can stay and work in the capital."

"You'll have to buy me a drink then."

"It's on me," Richard smiled. "I'll treat you to drinks at the Royal Hotel."

"...The Royal Grand Hotel?" Coleman opened his mouth. "How much does a drink cost there?"

"Of course it's expensive," Richard said. "But I can afford it."

"It's a deal then." Coleman bumped fists with Richard.

See you in the capital.

See you in the capital.