I loaded the Mysticism panel.

When it was Richard's turn, his gaze first fell on the small pile of odds and ends on the corner of the table.

A rusted, blackened copper bell; a knife with a broken blade; a ceramic figurine covered in cracks.

These kinds of things are generally called "cursed objects" in the industry, which are different from "strange objects".

The wondrous objects were ethereal that sank deeper and deeper into the ancient objects, gradually forming a usable, living force.

Such items are of high quality and expensive, and are snapped up as soon as they appear on the market.

Cursed objects are considered to be distorted and strange items.

If antiques fall into highly polluted areas and remain there for ten or eight years...

Even if it originally contained some clean ether, it had long been eroded by layers of filth.

For people other than scholars, this kind of thing is basically useless and can easily bring trouble.

Hunters cannot protect themselves with this; it will also disrupt their ability to conceal their presence during missions.

Those who remain hidden may not be able to completely seal themselves off, and they could easily get themselves killed if they're not careful.

Only scholars can extract some useful information from it.

But its usefulness is very limited.

The impurities on the cursed object were completely purified layer by layer, leaving very little usable ether.

So it can be used for research, which is somewhat useful.

But for Richard, even if the cursed object is purified down to just a few scraps... it's still a real number of points.

Richard spoke up.

"Lord Hercules," he said, pointing to the bronze bell.

"Does this bell ring when you shake it?"

"No sound," Hercules replied. "I shook it for a long time, but there wasn't a sound."

"That's right." Richard smiled.

"The reason it can't make a sound is because the object of the 'call' is not on the material side."

He deliberately exaggerated the horror of the story:

"Put it next to your pillow at night... and maybe you'll be able to hear it."

Hercules slammed his large, fan-like hand down on the bronze bell.

"...I don't want to keep this kind of monstrosity."

The people at the table were amused by his remark and started to laugh.

Richard continued reading.

That broken sword was a ceremonial sword, and it should have been paired with a complete set of utensils.

Keeping just this one handle is not only useless, but it also causes considerable pollution.

Only with that clay figurine did his inspiration pause a little longer.

"This clay figurine is quite interesting," Richard said, looking at the cracks all over it.

"The crack started from the inside out."

"It used to be sealed with something, but the seal seems to have failed, and the contents went out on their own, leaving behind this empty shell."

"Whether the empty shell can still be used depends on opening it up and checking carefully."

Dionysus brought the amphora to his lips.

"Hermes, what are you doing accepting this pile of contaminated goods?"

"Just practicing," Richard replied briefly.

"Every time I take apart a cursed object, I learn more about it."

"What if it gets damaged?" Dionysus asked, intrigued.

"If it's broken, it's just a pile of useless scrap."

Richard smiled and said, "Anyway, it was bad to begin with."

Dionysus simply said "Oh" and didn't ask any further questions.

Hercules spoke.

"Before I came here, the chief told me that there was a scholar at this table with good appraisal skills."

If you're unsure about anything, you can ask him for help.

"So you were referring to Lord Hermes."

Richard gave a slight nod towards the direction of the main seat.

Hecate chuckled softly from her seat.

Once Hercules received confirmation, he pushed the small pile of cursed objects toward Richard.

"It would be too much trouble for me to handle these things myself. If you need them, just take them."

This can be considered as doing someone a favor while things are going smoothly.

Richard didn't refuse and reached out to take the pile of things.

He would disassemble what he could do himself whenever he had time; for what he couldn't, they would ask him separately after school started.

Aunt, the curator, Professor Mortimer—there's bound to be at least one of these three floors that can be dismantled.

As for how many points you can get after purification, that's all profit; this pile is basically free.

After accepting the cursed item, Richard looked at the roll of flag material in the center of the table.

"I'd like to properly exchange this tattered flag with you."

He resorted to his old trick and took out the neatly copied manual again.

"The spell I have is called [Moon Nail - Reflection]."

"It can activate the ether circuit for a short time... This might be useful to you."

Richard left half of his message unsaid.

"This technique is no longer unique; several parts on the table have been changed."

"I'll take it." Hercules thought for a moment and agreed: "In exchange for what?"

"Change to your roll of fabric." Richard's fingertips landed on the torn roll of leather.

Everyone at the table looked over, and Hercules hesitated as well.

The flag material is something from a high-ranking evil creature, and it is quite heavy.

A technique that isn't unique, used to exchange for it...

"Just tear off a corner and give me a piece," Richard added.

"One dime?" Hercules stared at the rolled-up leather. "Just one dime?"

"One cent is enough." Richard nodded.

"I want it to do research."

"I don't need the whole roll, and I can't compress it."

Hercules didn't think much of it.

He was going to exchange that roll of fabric anyway.

He didn't lose out by using a technique that involved switching routes and activating the loop by taking a small portion of the path.

"OK."

Richard exchanged the flag material and then took out a palm-sized tin box.

When the lid was opened, there were about a dozen bean pods covered with white frost inside.

"I would like to make a deal with His Excellency Demeter as well."

"These were picked from the snow line on Haimers Island; they're called God's Throne Frost Beans."

Demeter raised her terracotta mask, which had been hanging down.

"...Things from the snow-capped mountains are rare."

"I only have this one box, and I can't grow it myself, but I know that Lady Demeter can."

I'd like to trade you your tuft of Silent Ferns. Also, if you can grow these Frost Beans, just share some with me.

Demeter held the frosty bean in her hand.

She didn't actually have any of the seeds from the snow-capped mountains in her inventory, but once they were planted, they would produce a harvest every year.

"Deal." She accepted the frosty beans.

"Here's the Silent Fern. If the Frost Beans grow, I'll bring some to the party."

Richard carefully put away the tuft of Silent Fern.

Fogbell is ultimately a substitute; with the genuine Silent Fern and advanced applications like "Silent Locking," one can achieve the desired results.

His path to advancement using the "Silence" technique is now open.

Soon, most of the items on the table were taken and replaced, each person having taken what they needed.

After everyone finished their transactions, Hecate proceeded to the next step.

"The deal is over."

"As usual, let's share intelligence."

Dionysus, as usual, spoke first.

"Let me start with something new: gramophones are all the rage in Beijing's high society circles lately."

Some of the people at the table had heard of him, while others hadn't.

Dionysus explained.

"It's that kind of thing with a big speaker, a needle at the bottom, and a rotating wax cylinder that records human voices and then plays them back."

"Nowadays, it's more respectable for ladies to have a phonograph in their living room than a piano."

He put the cup down.

"Last month, a countess in town held a séance."

As usual, draw the curtains, light candles, and have several people hold hands around a table to invite a medium to communicate with the spirits.

The lady, keeping up with the times, also brought a phonograph, saying she wanted to record the "divine intervention" as a keepsake.

"After the séance was finished and the candle tubes were full, she invited the guests to listen to the playback."

Beneath the ivy mask, Dionysus lowered his voice slightly at the end.

"When the wax tube was turned, the commotion of that night was revealed inside."

The sounds of the medium chanting incantations and the knocking sounds under the table were still present.

Halfway through, an extra female voice appeared—a female voice that wasn't even present that night.

None of the people at the table said a word.

"If it were an ordinary person, they would just think it was a recording, or that a customer couldn't help but say something."

Dionysus said.

"But the countess was a connoisseur; she put the same candle back on, and the woman's voice was still there."

The words she used were different from the first time; the third time, the female voice spoke a completely different set of words.

"If something is recorded in the same wax cylinder, it should be exactly the same every time it is released."

But each time the woman's voice was played, she said something different.

Richard gave me a strange sense of déjà vu.

Wax cylinder recording involves etching sound vibrations into wax. Once the sound is etched into the wax, it remains static no matter how many times it's played.

But the woman's voice wasn't recorded in the wax; it came out from behind the curtain through this new gadget, the phonograph.

"This thing is very popular right now," Dionysus continued.

"It's been passed around in theaters, salons, and ladies' living rooms, becoming the most fashionable supernatural item in the capital this summer. Everyone wants to take home a 'talking candle tube'."

He gave a slightly nonchalant smile.

"I find it interesting. In the past, I would ask a spiritual master to draw the curtains, light candles, and chant incantations, which would keep me up for half the night."

Now it's much better. Just turn the handle, twist the needle, and it comes out by itself.

As Richard listened, a chill slowly crept into his heart.

Nemesis continued.

Her tilted scales wobbled.

After putting on the mask, there was something indescribable in her voice.

"North of the Gaelic Heights, villages have been emptying one by one in the last six months."

"Empty?" Hercules asked.

"Empty," Nemesis replied.

"The factory is laying off workers and can't support its workforce anymore."

During wartime conscription, all the men who could walk were taken away; the rest were moved to the coast or inland, until not a single one remained.

"The families of hunters who have guarded the ancient battlefield, the standing stones, and the old altars on the north side of the highlands for generations are those 'hard-boned' hunter families."

Now the branches are breaking off one by one, but one family has been guarding a weak point for seven generations.

Last month, their family's last little expert hunter passed away.

"The moment he closed his eyes, that weak point that had been guarded for seven generations went 'dark'."

The guild wanted to send someone to pick them up but couldn't find anyone. All the able-bodied people had been transferred to the front lines, and the rest were keeping an eye on the major weak points.

"A small, vulnerable spot in the countryside, guarded for seven generations, who's going to take care of it?"

Her scales were deliberately tilted.

"Everyone is focused on the cities and those ancient shrines, while the countryside is withering away piece by piece where no one is watching."

The weak points in the city are growing, while the weak points in the countryside are unguarded; one side is rising while the other is collapsing.

Prometheus turned his gaze over.

"As I said before, several colonies in the New World interior were emptied out in the past year without war or disease; the houses were still there, but the people were gone."

The people at the table nodded.

"While the rest of that colony was empty, one place was exceptionally prosperous."

"The harvest was record high, there was no plague, no deaths, and everyone was happy."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Dionysus picked up his cup.

"It's abnormally good." Prometheus shook his head.

"The surrounding colonies emptied one by one, while this place prospered, attracting only a few outsiders who had visited and returned..."

"I can't describe what the people there look like."

The table fell silent for a moment.

"They all say that the people there 'all look the same'."

It was Demeter's turn.

She rubbed her hands on her knees and slowly lifted the terracotta mask.

"Last time I mentioned that the grains in the fields I was tending were growing faster and faster, but becoming increasingly weak."

Tonight, we'll be talking about another grain-producing region.

Her hands were spread out on her knees.

"That area was real farmland, a place where ordinary farmers grew grain, paid taxes, and made a living. Now, that field is abnormal."

"The ears of grain were swollen and plump, with each grain close to the next, which looked like a bumper harvest, but the ears of grain were hollow when pinched."

She made a pinching motion with two fingers.

"There's nothing inside, just empty grain."

None of the people at the table said a word.

"It's one thing if the grain is just hollow," Demeter continued.

"The worst thing is that the people who ate that batch of grain. After eating the grain they grew themselves, the farmers started to feel weak and listless after a few meals."

"What kind of wilting?" Richard asked.

Demeter described it.

"It's like the person isn't sick, but there's a void in their body."

His eyes were glazed over, he spoke less, and he lacked enthusiasm for work.

Like that tassel, it's bulging there, but hollow inside.

"Moreover, those who eat empty food are particularly vulnerable to 'soul-calling' at night."

Richard immediately thought of the incident he had just experienced.

"A famine that looks like a bountiful harvest," Demeter said.

"Hollow grain hollows out the soul of the person who eats it. Once the soul is hollowed out, it can no longer be contained, and it will respond if called at night."

She pulled her hands back to her knees.

Hercules also began to share his intelligence.

"My trip here took me to a relatively deep part of the Ash Belt."

The evil beings over there are highly organized, with ranks, command structures, and divided into teams; I witnessed this firsthand.

Several people at the table nodded, which matched what had been said in the previous meetings.

"But I stumbled upon something strange."

There was a moment of silence beneath Hercules' lion-mouth mask.

"I saw with my own eyes a squad of evil beings escorting people."

These words surprised everyone present.

"It was a living person wrapped in a cloak, whose face could not be seen."

The evil entity squad surrounded him from all sides as they headed south, and not a single one of them dared to touch him.

Hercules clenched his fist.

"We were too far away to go forward. My intuition told me that if I tried to stop them, my teammates and I would die a terrible death."

It was Richard's turn.

He mentally went over what he could and couldn't say.

"My intelligence is that... once the war starts, some things within the Empire are starting to 'stir up trouble'."

"What is this?" Dionysus picked up the cup.