I loaded the Mysticism panel.

When it was Richard's turn, he also began to showcase his work.

"Those cursed items Hercules gave me last time."

He took out a copper bell and a broken knife and placed them on the table.

"The copper bell has been purified, and I have removed the original 'cannot make a sound' attribute."

He lightly flicked the copper bell with his fingertip, and the clapper made a crisp sound.

"It couldn't make a sound before because the object it was 'calling' to wasn't in the material world."

"Now that it's been completely dismantled, it's just an ordinary copper bell. The material is decent; it can be used as a medium, if necessary."

He pushed the broken knife further.

"The broken blade has been completely dismantled. It was originally part of a ceremonial knife, and it's not very useful on its own without the matching set. The metal composition of the blade is good, and it can be reforged to produce high-quality material."

"Those interested can make an offer."

Hercules was not present, and these two items were originally fragments brought back from his Ashes. After being purified by Richard, they became clean.

Prometheus glanced at the broken sword a few more times.

Could you be more specific about the metal composition of that knife?

"The iron base is mixed with about 10% ether affinity alloy, which is roughly the formula from the ancient craftsmanship of the Black Soil River Basin."

Richard turned the blade toward Prometheus.

"If the person behind you is interested, taking it back and recasting it shouldn't be a bad deal."

Prometheus reached out, picked up the broken sword, turned it over, and then turned it back over.

"...Okay." He took a small bottle from his pocket and placed it on the table. "Use this in exchange."

The liquid inside the bottle is from the same source as the stabilizer given to Ares, but it is darker in color and has a significantly higher purity.

Richard took the bottle.

You can't use this yourself, but you can try giving it to Shadow.

"I've also disassembled the ceramic figurines," he added.

Several people turned their gazes toward them.

"It is the carrier of the Cretan labyrinth tradition."

Richard spoke slowly; this matter was of some importance and couldn't be presented like a list of dishes.

"Its completeness ranks among the top three in the Empire's existing collection. It's still being deciphered, so we won't be trading it for now."

He stopped talking.

"If you have any items of dubious origin in the future, you can still have them appraised by me, and I will charge you a fee accordingly."

After Richard finished speaking, he turned his gaze to Demeter.

"Your Excellency Demeter."

"I've used up the clump of Silent Ferns I got last time, and I'd like to get another one this time."

"Hmm." Demeter rubbed her calloused hands on her knees. "What will you give in exchange?"

Richard took out the items he had prepared beforehand, one by one.

Fifty pounds in cash was in a cowhide envelope, several unused empty shells were wrapped in oiled paper, and a small bag of scattered etheric condensate was at the bottom.

He pushed the things towards the center of the table.

Demeter glanced down at it.

She picked up one of the empty shells, examined it briefly, and then put it back.

She held the etheric condensate in her palm, weighed it, and then put it back.

She didn't even touch the cash.

"Hermes." She placed her hands back on her knees.

"I don't need any of these."

Richard was prepared and was not too disappointed.

Demeter had an entire field to tend, and its produce filled the warehouses; she never lacked cash or scraps.

"You just need to appraise one thing for me," Demeter continued.

"What exactly is it?"

"I didn't bring it this time because it's not very dangerous. I'll send it to you via a spirit messenger later."

"Okay," Richard readily agreed.

Helping him identify and exchange for the Silent Fern is zero cost to him; no matter how you look at it, he's making a profit.

The appraisal process itself is good material for him to practice, and he can also earn some points by doing it himself.

In addition, every time you dismantle an item of dubious origin, your progress in critical thinking, knowledge, and perception will advance a step forward.

The Silent Fern itself was also crucial to his practice of silencing techniques.

He estimated that with another batch like this, they would be able to reach the level of casting spells without a medium.

Demeter took out a small packet of spores and pushed it over.

"The portion size is the same as last time."

"Thanks." Richard put the Silent Fern away.

Hecate's triadic timbre was superimposed.

"With the transaction concluded, intelligence sharing begins."

Every time we got to the intelligence segment, the atmosphere would become somber.

When it comes to trading, people can chime in with their opinions, but when it comes to intelligence, what they say usually sends chills down your spine.

Prometheus spoke first.

"The 'overly prosperous' colony in the interior of the New World has finally seen a follow-up."

"Last month, the Imperial Navy sent a hunter squad of twelve people to conduct an investigation."

Three have returned.

No one at the table spoke.

"The three who returned couldn't say where the other nine went."

Prometheus tapped his fingers very lightly on the edge of the table.

The three people's accounts contradicted each other.

A said they stayed in the colony for four days, B remembered it was two weeks, and C said he only went in once before being sent out.

"The timelines don't match up."

He lowered his voice even further.

"One of them, three days after returning, cut off a whole piece of his face with a razor blade in his hotel room."

"He did this before he cut off his skin." Prometheus's flames barely moved.

He looked in the mirror in the room and said, "This isn't my face."

Richard recalled Prometheus mentioning descriptions of the colony during several gatherings.

Those who have been there can't describe what the people's faces look like, or rather, they all look the same.

When the investigator returned, he also realized that the face on his face was fake, so fake that he had to remove it himself.

New words lit up on the scales of Nemesis.

"After the wartime conscription, most of the rural hunter families in the northern Gale Heights were wiped out, but the weak points did not quiet down."

"Some of those unguarded weak points have started to sprout growth."

A new line lit up.

"It's a plant."

Everyone at the table looked over.

"The grass and trees around the weak point are growing abnormally, several times faster than normal, and the shape of their leaves is also changing."

"There was an ordinary oak tree that sprouted new branches that I had never seen before in just two months..."

Richard awaits the next installment.

"There were no acorns on the branches, only a kind of black fruit."

The ears of wheat above Demeter's head slumped heavily.

Those who tend the fields are most afraid of crops growing things that shouldn't grow.

Dionysus also spoke.

"In the capital, the phonograph issue is still ongoing."

Last month, a lady was performing a spirit summoning ritual at the salon by setting out candles. As usual, a female voice came from the candles, saying different things each time.

"But this time, the woman's voice not only spoke, it sang too."

Everyone at the table listened quietly.

"He sang a song that nobody had ever heard before."

Of the seventeen people present, fourteen were able to sing the song from beginning to end perfectly the next day.

He picked up the cup, then put it down again.

"But none of them remembered what the lyrics actually meant."

They just kept singing—singing while cooking, singing while combing their hair, and even singing under the covers at night.

"Two of them went to see a doctor, who gave them sedatives, but the other one still can't stop."

Demeter was somewhat puzzled.

"Didn't their families intervene? These women's husbands or fathers must have some connection to the mystic world, right?"

"You're right." Dionysus reached out and tapped on the table.

"Of the seventeen ladies, at least half had husbands or fathers who had dealings with the mystical side."

There are representatives from the committee, branch offices, and those nominally affiliated with the academic society.

"They did take action," he said, spreading his hands.

"The husbands of three of them contacted the branch office that day, and someone came to their homes the next day to perform an ether field scan."

"The scan results...are completely clean."

"The wax cylinder was put back in, and there was no extra sound. The etheric field in the living room was no different from that in any other house."

A question mark flashed on the scales of Nemesis.

"That's the most crucial part."

Dionysus sighed softly.

"That thing picks who to pick and when to pick."

"I went through the dozen or so cases that had occurred and found a common point."

Every time an incident occurred at a salon, the wives present, whose husbands were also professionals, all happened to be away from Beijing.

"Some went to the front line, some were transferred to field work, and some were on business trips to other places."

Anyway, none of the men in the house were home the night the incident happened.

"And as soon as her husband came back, or as soon as the investigators from the branch office came to the door, that thing shrank back."

The candle holder lay still and silent, leaving no trace in the living room, as if nothing had ever happened.

"After the investigator left, and after her husband went out again, he came back a few days later at another salon."

"Change the candle holder, change the wives, but they still sing the same song."

The table remained silent for a while.

Richard felt a chill run down his spine.

This thing is clearly conscious and quite cunning.

"The branch office in the capital is also facing difficulties," Dionysus added.

"Every time I go for a checkup, they can't find anything, and the report can only say 'no abnormalities found'."

After writing "no abnormalities found" three times, the authorities could only classify it as "mass hysteria caused by wartime anxiety."

"But the ladies are still singing."

"It passed from one club to another, from Chelsea to Mayfair, from Mayfair to Bloomsbury."

It was Richard's turn.

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

He has something to say about the Angel of Mons.

"I'll tell you something related to Mons," he began.

The eyes of the people at the table turned towards them.

"The weakness of Mons was awakened by the deathly aura of the retreating expeditionary force, and something solidified behind the curtain to block the pursuers."

The soldiers called it an angel, an archer, Saint George—the names varied.

"This item has apparently already been taken by an expert."

Hecate looked at him: "Hermes's channels are quite impressive."

Richard did not respond to that sentence.

"That's all I can confirm," he said, stopping himself from speaking further.

"My channels don't go deep enough to know exactly who took it or what it was used for."

Hecate did not ask any further questions, and the outlines of the torch and key slowly solidified above her head.

"The fire of the Old World has been set ablaze."

The three timbres are superimposed in one place.

"The curtain is thinning; you've heard that many times before."

But after hearing all this intelligence tonight, you should feel that this statement carries even more weight.

"It's not just getting thinner, it's also growing things into the world."

"The oak trees of the highlands bear black fruit, the phonographs of the capital city play songs that no one understands, and the colonies of the New World replace people's faces with the same one."

Hecate placed her hands on the table.

"Everyone here is wearing a mask, and their paths have all become wider."

Her golden mask swept across the faces of the six people on the table, one by one.

"But being wide doesn't mean being safe. Those who move fast are also the ones who get spotted quickly."

"The next gathering will be in mid-December."

"Take care until then."

The three timbres fell together.

"Close your eyes and count to seven."

Richard closed his eyes.

One, two.

Archers, an unstoppable song, black fruit... retreating layer by layer.

Three, four.

Spores of the God's Throne Frost Bean and the Silent Fern.

Five, six.

seven.

The sea of ​​stars has dispersed.

Richard opened his eyes and mentally reviewed the details of tonight's gathering.

The curtain is thinning and is penetrating the material world at an accelerated pace.

War itself is a massive catalyst.

The more people die, the stronger the fear becomes, the more fertile the weaknesses become, the thinner the veil becomes, and the deeper the penetration... Then more people die, more fear arises, and even more fertile weaknesses emerge...

A wheel that keeps spinning faster and faster, and no one can stop it.

Richard closed the window and returned to his desk.

Starting tomorrow, I can continue practicing the silencing technique.

The reversal of the technique after complete mastery was right in front of him; he could already see it.