I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Before dawn, Richard turned over.

【Wild Sleep】 allowed him to switch from deep sleep to full wakefulness in an instant.

Something new appeared in the room, buzzing incessantly.

He opened his eyes and saw a golden bee hovering about a foot above the bedside table.

Messenger from the spirit world.

Richard sat up and stretched out his right hand on the edge of the bed.

The bee hovered for about two seconds.

Those compound eyes scanned him from head to toe, as if confirming something with someone in the distance.

Once confirmed, the bee's abdomen swelled, and it squeezed out a small, wax-sealed ceramic jar from its tail end, the wax seal bearing a clear pattern of wheat ears.

It is Demeter's.

The bees scattered as soon as they put the jar down.

Richard took the small pottery jar to the windowsill.

The wax seal is intact, but the indentation was made by hand with uneven pressure.

Although Demeter was a woman, she had large hands and short, thick fingers, and the emblem she pressed was darker on the left and lighter on the right.

He ran his fingernail along the edge of the wax and peeled off the seal.

The jar was tilted upside down, and a small earthenware bowl fell out, with several repaired cracks on the outer wall of the bowl.

I brought my nose close and smelled the scent of dry, earthy soil.

Richard turned the bowl over and used a bronze paperweight and a small bronze balance to do the first round of weighing.

The sacred eagle turned its long beak toward the bowl's side to record the transaction.

The bowl wall is made of pure Tai Chi.

The time period determined by the balance scale is around three thousand years ago.

An agricultural settlement in the heart of the western continent during the late Neolithic to early Bronze Age.

He also deduced the purpose of the bowl—a grain offering bowl.

Before planting or after harvesting each year, the first handful of grain is placed in a bowl and offered to the land beneath one's feet.

The ritual was very simple, without any complicated incantations; it simply involved burying the bowl in the ground and waiting a while.

This simple ritual is passed down from one generation to the next, and from the next generation to the generation after that.

Over the years, through countless repetitions, the bowl has become thoroughly pickled with ether.

He looked at it for a long time but couldn't see anything wrong with it, and thought it was just a normal strange object.

Demeter also had a note in the jar.

The handwriting was very large, and the ink had smudged in two places, probably because he had something wet on his hands that he hadn't wiped off before he started writing.

"I bought this bowl from a traveling merchant two years ago."

He said it was found in the cellar of an old farmhouse that had been demolished in the countryside of southern France.

"When I received it, it was very clean. I used it as an auxiliary tool for field rituals for more than half a year, and it was always very convenient to use."

"Something started to go wrong about six months ago; the engraving on the bottom of the bowl had almost worn away."

Now it's getting deeper again; I've watched it grow back little by little on its own.

"The grains that were once in the bowl, when planted, grew taller and stronger than normal seedlings, but when you broke them open, you could see that they were hollow inside."

"I dare not use it anymore, but I also dare not dispose of it carelessly."

"Help me figure out what those markings on the bottom of the bowl are saying, and why they keep growing back on their own."

The painting was unsigned and only contained a single ear of wheat.

Richard folded the note and tucked it into the notebook's title page.

"Hollow".

It grows fast and strong, but when you break it open, there's nothing inside.

Demeter once said at the last gathering: "Grain is fast and empty."

At the time, he thought it was a metaphor about the curtain thinning.

It now appears that the field she was tending is already causing problems.

Richard then applied his inspiration back to the engravings on the bottom of the bowl.

The inscription system is extremely ancient and does not match the Celtic, Black Earth River, or Alexandrian schools that he is familiar with.

[Knowledge] Level 4 gave him a huge spider web, with each knowledge node interconnected.

Even the largest spider web needs nodes to connect.

We need to find someone.

My aunt's words echoed in my mind.

"Seeking help from a tutor is a student's privilege; if you don't use it, it will expire."

This time, he didn't need his aunt to lead the way; he went to find Professor Mortimer himself.

The door to the east corridor on the second floor of the Petrie Building was ajar.

Richard pushed open the door and went in. The office was indeed empty, with a thin layer of dust on the windowsill.

There was a stack of documents on the table, and the signature field on the top one was still empty.

The teacup wasn't washed, and the tea stains at the bottom had dried.

The professor wasn't there, and it looked like he hadn't been here for several days.

He closed the door and went down the corridor to find Pendleton.

Pendleton was behind that desk in the department office that was always piled with clutter.

"Are you looking for Professor Mortimer?"

"Yes, there are a few things I'd like him to take a look at."

Pendleton shrugged:

"I want to know where he is more than you do."

Last month, Associate Professor Greer urged him to sign an urgent frontline document, but he waited in the office for three days without seeing him.

Associate Professor Hollis was also looking for him, practically living at his doorstep with a stack of old manuscripts.

Richard thanked him and withdrew.

His aunt is away on a business trip. He can call to ask her questions, but he doesn't want to bother her with everything.

Richard returned to his dorm and hesitated as he took the tarot cards out of his bag.

Can you directly divine Professor Mortimer's location?

Don't even think about it.

A highly skilled scholar's lack of understanding of remote sensing means that when a practitioner tries to probe into it, it's like pouring water onto an iron plate.

But it's fine to divine for yourself; the wording is crucial.

He mentally went over the problem three times before settling on the final version:

"Which direction should I go today to most likely find the help I need?"

This is a question about one's own actions and does not involve any probing of the professor himself.

Shuffle the cards, turn three cards face up.

First card: [The Fool, Upright].

The man standing on the edge of the cliff carried all his belongings in his arms, his face turned towards the sky, with the precipice right beneath his feet.

Set off, venture into the unknown, without preconceived notions.

Second card: [Four of Cups - Reversed].

Three cups were neatly arranged in front of them, but the person drinking them no longer wanted to touch them.

Feeling bored with familiar places, needing to step out of one's comfort zone.

Not in the school, not in the building, not anywhere it should be.

Third card: [Page of Wands - Upright].

The young man held up a sprouting stick, his face full of curiosity.

Curiosity, a new beginning, a message or a path driven by curiosity.

Richard placed the three cards side by side on the desk.

The Fool, the Fourth of Cups, and the Page of Wands.

This indicates that the professor was not in any formal setting; he was in some unexpected place.

Richard, like a fool, doesn't set goals or directions, but follows his intuition when he goes out.

He drew another card.

Fourth card: [The Star - Upright].

Hope, guidance. What leads us forward?

The star card appears in the fourth position—a hidden clue.

Something had inadvertently pointed towards the professor's position.

He carefully put away the four cards, put on his coat, and slung his canvas bag over his shoulder.

Without preconceived notions, follow your curiosity and step out of your comfort zone.

I stepped out of the dormitory building and stood on the sycamore-lined path.

To the left is the direction of the Petrie Building.

To the right is the exit for the college area, leading to the city center of Beijing.

He casually placed a tree branch on the ground, and when the branch leaned to the right, he walked to the right.

There is a stone-paved road on the outskirts of the college area, which he rarely walks on.

At the end of this road lies an old market.

There were vendors selling secondhand goods, used books, and scrap metal dug out from attics and cellars everywhere.

Before the war, the stalls that could be set up in the middle of the road have all shrunk to a row along the wall.

As winter sets in, the market becomes even quieter, with vendors wrapped in thick coats and huddled behind their stalls.

Some were reading newspapers, while others simply covered themselves from head to toe with old blankets and dozed off.

Richard wandered aimlessly, his pace slower than usual.

He stopped as he passed a used bookstore.

The bookstall owner was a middle-aged man with a sour face, wearing a dirty gray wool scarf, and his nose was frozen purple.

The stall had a wide variety of items.

Outdated bound volumes of the "Beijing Morning Post" were piled on the outside, serving as a signboard;

At the back of the bound volume was a row of worm-eaten popular novels;

Further inside was a pile of old booklets of varying sizes, crammed into a cardboard box, having been dug out of some attic.

Richard flipped through the pile of old books.

When his fingers touched the fifth or sixth book, inspiration gave him a very subtle signal.

He immediately pulled out the booklet.

It has a dark blue cloth cover and only about twenty pages.

Fishing Guide Along the Imperial Canal, 1889 Supplement

Richard stared at the words, unable to suppress the smile playing on his lips.

Fishermen are indeed found in every era and among every ethnic group.

He slowly flipped through the pages, and starting from the fourth page, pencil marks appeared in the blank spaces of the inner pages.

"The seventh pile downstream of the No. 3 sluice gate has a silt layer about two feet thick on the riverbed, which is connected to a sandstone layer."

There is an east-west trending fissure in the sandstone, about three fingers wide, suggesting the presence of an underground water vein.

He closed the fishing guide.

"How much is this book?"

The grumpy-faced man peeked half his face out from under his scarf.

Two pence.

Richard paid and left, heading towards the canal.