I loaded the Mysticism panel.

The power of the Styx surged forth from beneath the stone tablet.

He hurriedly retreated, but... the etheric fluctuations triggered by the curse had already spread out of the warehouse.

In the distance, golden light turned around, and all the lights in the warehouse went out.

Dark red heat also seeped out from the walls.

"iw-i rekh ren-ek."

That phrase came up again.

Meanwhile, on the main storyline, the mummy quickly collapsed under the combined power of the two experts.

With both lines broken simultaneously, the true form of the Black Soil River Master also began to take action.

It manipulated the shadowy remnants behind the curtain, attaching them to the most recent old object.

It was that canopy can with the jackal head lid; the lid was open.

Under its control, a massive amount of putrid corpse gas was released from the jar, which began to engulf the sealing array inside the building.

The Sun Master was very clever; instead of touching the jar, its golden light turned towards the gilded mask next to it.

The mask lacks the four guardian deities, making its defenses weaker than those of the jar.

Golden light suddenly shone into the mask's veil and side profile.

The mask on the side of the curtain is the face of the pharaoh, gleaming with gold.

When the sun's traditional golden light touched the Pharaoh's face, something Richard hadn't expected happened.

The Pharaoh recognized the golden light on his face.

In the highest belief of the Black Earth River Basin, the Pharaoh is the son of the sun god.

When the sun shines on the pharaoh, it signifies his coronation.

The golden light and the pharaoh's face resonated on the side of the curtain.

The golden light thickened.

The Black Soil River expert noticed the change and began to steal from it as well.

A sliver of shadow peeked out from the canopy jar and reached toward the nearest old object.

It was a stone tablet covered with inscriptions.

The stone tablet is on a wall to the side of the curtain, and the wall is covered with excerpts from the Book of the Dead.

The expert from Heituhe touched the incantation of the "opening ceremony".

The opening ceremony allows the mummy to speak, eat, drink, and move around in the underworld again.

To put it simply: bring the dead back to life.

It activated the opening ceremony.

With a buzzing sound, all the strange creatures of the Black Soil River began to act up.

The mask opened its mouth, Isis's wings spread wider on the wooden coffin lid, and the four canopic jars swelled up at the same time.

Seeing that the situation was not good, the two defensive experts attacked at the same time.

They vie for rare objects, using them to amplify their own power.

In short, the museum's storage room was in complete chaos.

………………

In the dark stone chamber, Thoth was still standing there, in the exact same posture as before.

Before Richard could speak, Thoth picked up his reed pen and wrote a few lines on the notepad.

"This test is not just about seizing; we must take our belongings and leave the city unharmed."

Richard probably understood the key to this trial.

Not only did they have to retrieve the items from the warehouse, but they also had to carry them out of the capital alive.

Getting something and running with it are two completely different levels of challenges.

Thoth added another line to the board.

"The power within this lies in name, mirror, and substitution; one will discover it on the journey."

Richard recalled his experience in the warehouse.

He read the first eight old items and discovered the curse.

The ninth item hit the edge of the fuse, but it didn't trigger, which was lucky.

The last four items have no fuses, but they are cursed.

Those priests made the decision thousands of years ago: the things of the dead belong to the dead.

Even if the Pharaoh himself were to be resurrected, he couldn't take a living person away.

Burial means sealing the coffin; sealing the coffin means severing the lineage.

The expert was caught in a trap set up by his ancestors to prevent theft... It was truly a hellish situation.

Thoth pulled a roll of papyrus from behind the notepad.

Richard took it and unfolded it.

The encryption method in this volume is a step deeper than that in the first volume; it took me a full ten minutes to piece together the first three lines.

first row:

"The nine instruments serve as a guide, illuminating the one who holds them."

Those who are touched will be illuminated, burned, and extinguished.

His judgment was correct; the ninth old item was confirmed to be the fuse.

second line:

"After the introduction, there are still four artifacts remaining."

The four instruments are unguided and can be read.

However, the reader must first overcome the curse.

There are four old items behind the fuse, which allow for safe access.

But to read their true names, one must first overcome the anti-tomb-robbing curse.

The third row:

"A curse is cast by the priest with his own blood, and can be lifted after the priest's death. One who holds the priest's name can put the curse to sleep."

The anti-tomb-robbing curse was forged by the priest with his own blood.

Richard's eyes lit up.

The mummy's body was originally the remains of a priest.

It is steeped in priestly inscriptions for thousands of years, and its surface is engraved with priestly faith and authority.

Richard placed the two papyrus scrolls together and mentally compared them.

Put the two volumes together, and you get the complete route.

But here, there's still one last step.

What happens after the real name is read?

The expert's goal is to "reclaim old items".

However, in a real-life incident, the expert had a piece torn off when he took action at the museum.

It failed.

In other words, even if all of these are done, there will still be a problem in the last step.

Moreover, once they obtain it, they must leave unscathed.

This last stretch of road was more difficult than all the previous ones combined.

Richard rolled up the papyrus and held it in his hand.

He looked up at Thoth.

"I want to go in again."

Thoth raised his reed pen.

"Sesh en maat, iu er khet."

(The scribe of truth has traveled to the other side.)

"The seed has sprouted twice; you can enter again after seven days."

Thoth put the notepad back to his side.

The stone chamber began to darken.

The force came from behind, pulling his consciousness out of the stone chamber without any room for negotiation.

………………

When Richard opened his eyes, it felt like someone was scraping his head from his forehead to the back of his head with a steel wool pad, going back and forth a dozen times.

My temples were throbbing and swollen, and my eyes felt incredibly dry and strained when I moved them.

He tried to reach for the pocket watch on the bedside table.

From the time he lay down and chose to enter until now, about four hours have passed.

After those two trials with the Sphinx Seed, he came out feeling even more refreshed than before he went in.

This time it's a different story.

He closed his eyes, letting his breathing slowly match the rhythm of his rising breaths.

With level 4 [Breathing Healing], you don't need to worry about your body; you know how to heal yourself.

An idea popped into my head during a moment of exhaustion.

He has already finished his rounds in the weekly debate competition.

If the seed had germinated two days earlier, given his current condition, he probably wouldn't have been able to hold his argument for even six minutes.

Fortunately, the remaining debates during Debate Week were no longer relevant to him.

Thinking about it this way, shouldn't I thank Thorpe for eliminating him?

He pulled the blanket up again and closed his eyes.

When experts look at people, all they see are "name" and "accounts".

There is no difference between people.

But he wasn't an expert; he was Richard Williams.

He remembered the crispness of Evelyn's box of almond cookies;

He remembered the warmth of his mother's palm on the back of his hand;

I remember the copper penny that old Biggs kept stroking.

Those things cannot be taken away by the curtain.

Richard rolled over.

There's a cat meowing outside the window.

It barked twice, then stopped.

………………

In the final stretch, the schedule for the final tournament became even tighter.

All candidates from the preparatory and undergraduate programs were eliminated.

Those who remained on stage were all graduate students, and every match was a head-on clash between ethers.

On the morning of the seventh day, a match was scheduled: Reginald Thorpe vs. Clara Faffield.

Richard arrived early and sat in the west wing of the audience.

Phillips brought him tea and sat down next to him.

"This is interesting." Phillips handed over the tea.

"Thorpe outmaneuvered you yesterday, and today he ran into your senior."

"What a coincidence!" Richard asked, taking the tea.

"What's so special about it?" Phillips shook his head.

"In the later stages of the finals, the ranking is based on points, and only those with consecutive scores are placed at the same table."

Thorpe beat you by a high score yesterday, and his score jumped a lot.

Your senior's performance in the first two rounds was lukewarm at best. She made plenty of talk, but her declared score kept declining with each round, managing to keep her total score in the same tier as Thorpe.

He gestured towards the side hall with his lip: "I heard that she went there because she was counting on Thorpe's points."

Richard held the teacup, and he roughly understood what was going on.

Clara overheard his conversation with Thorpe yesterday.

The host walked to the center of the stage.

"Debate topic: Should an only son be conscripted to the front lines during wartime? The affirmative side calls for conscription, the negative side does not."

"Clara Faffield, the opposing side."

Richard's brow twitched slightly.

Senior Clara drew the opposing side and had to speak for those families who were unwilling to send their only son to his death.

"Six minutes for the opening statement, affirmative side goes first."

The silver line around the ground lit up.

Thorpe walked up to the podium.

His argument carries significant weight, like a scale weighing down a family on one side and an entire city on the other.

"I'll start by making a decision," Thorpe said, holding up his finger.

"In the face of war, everyone is equal."

If families with brothers give away their sons, why shouldn't families with only one son give away theirs?

If only sons are exempted, then wealthy families who only have one child will avoid conscription, and those who bleed will be the poor families with several sons.

"The affirmative side's argument: an only child, as required. End of argument."

The applause was steady and calm.

Richard looked at the scales, somewhat surprised.

He was the second of the three Thorpe brothers, and according to his own standards, he should also be among those to be sent.

"The opposing side's argument."

Clara walked to the podium.

Richard sat up straight; he had never heard Clara say so much at once before.

"Mr. Thorpe set a standard: everyone is equal before war, and I accept that standard."

"But what I'm saying is that the ruler on the affirmative side measured something wrong."

She raised her hand.

Clara's shape wasn't big or thick, but its accuracy was frightening.

She was standing at a family's stove, with only one set of bowls and chopsticks on it, and two elderly people with white hair sitting beside it.

"An only son isn't alone," Clara said, gesturing towards the stove.

"He is the only one in the family of three who can still work in the fields and earn a living."

He died, and with him, the entire family perished.

Applause broke out.