I loaded the Mysticism panel.

The reinforcements arrived at the perfect time, neither too early nor too late.

Several secret agents jumped out of a black van, carrying a complete set of sealing and maintenance equipment.

They chose a relatively flat open space in the center of the camp.

Without saying a word, the woman in the lead squatted down and began drawing a formation on the ground.

The moment it was activated, Li felt a "buzz" from the ground beneath his feet.

All inscription passages in the entire eastern half of the region were simultaneously sealed off.

The circular array drawn with silver powder resonated with the ancient Gaulish inscriptions underground, and the resonance completely sealed off the entrance to the passage from the inside out.

The drowning victims' supply lines were cut off.

Those that had already emerged began to dissipate after losing their supply from below.

The two guys in row B who were refusing to leave glanced in Richard's direction.

The glance was so brief that Richard wasn't sure if they even had "eyes."

In that one glance, he felt as if something wet had touched him from head to toe.

Then they faded, turning into a layer of moisture that was reabsorbed by the ground.

By the time the last drowning victim disappeared, it was already dawn.

After daybreak, Inspector Harding summoned all team leaders and team members.

He had someone lift the canvas curtain of the temporary morgue behind the tent.

Behind the curtain were rows of bodies resting on makeshift wooden frames.

An old bed sheet was laid on the wooden frame. The sheet was wet, and the last drop of water that had come out of the people's mouths had not yet dried.

Their eyes were all open.

Some people have an overly calm expression on their faces, as if they are asleep but have simply forgotten to close their eyes.

Some people had bluish lips, ashen faces, and dried white salt stains at the corners of their mouths.

Some people's fingers are bent and stiff, which is the posture of a drowning person scratching and struggling in the last few seconds, frozen in the moment when death comes.

Inspector Harding made the young men stand in front of the curtain.

Seagulls cried overhead, and the sea breeze made the canvas curtains flap loudly.

Five minutes later, Inspector Harding finally lowered the curtain.

"The B-platoon group didn't do much."

"But every single one... was done right."

He offered no praise; the stark contrast in the casualty figures spoke for him.

Pratt spoke to Richard privately afterward.

The people in the B row of tents have been moved to the safe area of ​​the warehouse, and the empty tents are rattling in the sea breeze.

The two people stood under the gas lamp, which had now returned to its normal brightness.

"What methods did you use to block the passageway?"

"A pressure technique," Richard replied casually.

Pratt's mole on the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Did Lady Mary teach you that?"

Richard didn't answer, so Pratt took it as a yes and patted him on the shoulder in understanding.

It must be said that the name of Lady Mary is indeed very useful.

The large-scale sealing work was the job of the professional sealing and maintenance team that arrived later.

These are things that practitioners like them shouldn't worry about; they're not qualified enough, and their skills aren't up to par.

Richard and some other scholars were assigned another task: to take notes.

Make complete rubbings of the ancient Gaulish inscriptions beneath the foundation, marking the location, size, and seepage intensity of each passageway.

This is the scholar's job.

The Hermits worked above, while Richard and his men squatted at the bottom of the pit, meticulously tracing the stone surface stroke by stroke.

Catherine, standing to the side, was slower than Richard in making rubbings, but her accuracy was higher.

There was a very subtle difference in the force between the added strokes and the original strokes, which she perceived as the use of two different colors of ink.

Edmund was assigned to the refugee resettlement area to do reassurance work.

Those dragged out of the tents huddled in a corner of the warehouse, wrapped in blankets, sitting there with vacant stares.

Some people were crying, while others showed no expression at all.

Edmund walked among them, holding a book of the Mass in his hands.

"Have a sip of water first."

"The child is next door, he's fine, asleep."

"If your feet are cold, pull the blanket down a bit."

These words are more effective than any prayer.

Several women who had been huddled together and wouldn't let anyone touch them finally loosened their grip on the blankets after hearing him say in Flemish, "The child is alright."

After the printing was completed, Maggie was assigned to assist with patrolling the pipelines.

When the rubbing reached the deepest part of the stone base, Richard saw the fish-shaped pendant again.

It is also embedded in the very center of the inscription's return passage.

The leader, a master of secrecy, drew a red circle around the fish-shaped pendant.

Richard, of course, didn't touch it either.

As he placed the paper next to it to make a rubbing, that warmth wafted over again.

Available points: 2.35

Including what was absorbed before, the total increase was 0.34, which is equivalent to a small rare item.

The complete rubbing submitted was stuffed directly into the document bag to be sent back to the capital by Inspector Harding, since he couldn't understand it anyway.

"Make three copies: one for the Imperial Capital Administration, one for the Academy, and one for filing."

In addition, Richard also received post-war supplies.

A small bottle of etheric condensate, and a field service fee equivalent to about seven pounds in cash.

This was also noted in the field work file:

"The temporary patrol mission at the Folkestone Port Refugee Reception Camp, B platoon tent area patrol team, performed the best in the entire area."

Fisher's head injury has also been treated.

"To be pushed down by an ordinary person instead of being harmed by evil spirits is truly a disgrace to my career!"

There was half a day free before returning home.

Richard sat on the warehouse steps, a standard military ration in front of him.

He first broke the compressed biscuits in half and soaked them in hot water. He didn't touch the beef sauce; that jar reminded him of vomit.

The apple was quite sweet, although it had two bruises on its skin.

He chewed on an apple, gazing towards the harbor.

Several troop transport ships were moored in the distance, their smokestacks billowing black smoke.

Mr. Hutton's words came to mind.

"Scholars cannot charge into battle, but scholars can reduce the number of those who charge into battle from dying."

He did indeed save several refugees around him from dying.

But on the same night, forty-seven people in the adjacent tent platoon drowned out of nowhere.

As he squatted in the pit in row B pressing the drain hole, there were hundreds of people on the opposite side with water gushing from their mouths.

Those men died less than fifty yards away from him.

The group rules are very clear: focus on your own section.

He held his ground; he heard the sound from fifty yards away.

Richard threw the apple core into a muddy puddle at his feet. The apple core rolled over in the mud and sank to the bottom.

Catherine came out of the warehouse and sat down on the steps next to him.

She was holding cheese and half a glass of water, along with the same apple he had, though Catherine's apple looked better.

The two sat side by side, neither of them speaking.

After a while, Catherine opened the notebook.

She wrote a line and turned it over to show Richard.

"Of the sixty-odd people I counted, not a single one is missing."

Catherine tore that page out, stuffed it into a cheese wrapper, crumpled it up, and threw it into the trash can at her feet.

This is her way of "evening things out".

Edmund walked over from the other end of the warehouse, carrying a box of pastries.

The cake was long gone, only one cookie remained.

Knowing that Catherine wouldn't eat other people's food, he and Richard each took half.

Maggie returned from the pipeline patrol point, hesitated for a moment, and then sat down next to Edmund.

Edmund shrugged at Maggie.

"That's all."

Maggie pulled a handful of roasted chestnuts from her pocket.

The four men sat on the warehouse steps, each of them talking.

Fisher, wearing bandages, approached from a distance.

He was carrying a pot of hot tea, watching the group of people sitting in a row eating.

"Is there anything else?"

"That's all!" they all answered in unison.

………………

On the return trip, Richard had just sat down by the car window when Catherine, for some reason, squeezed next to him.

She had the little notebook lying on her lap, looking like she wanted to say something to him alone.

Apart from them, there were only a few ordinary passengers huddled in the front row dozing off in the entire carriage.

Edith sat in the row behind Fisher, by the aisle.

She opened the book, but couldn't get into it at all.

Maggie and the others took a train going in the opposite direction.

As they said their goodbyes on the platform, Maggie was still rubbing her eyes, and Theodore carried her suitcase for her.

Richard took a water bottle out of his backpack, took a sip, and found the water was already cold.

He began to ponder the various doubts surrounding this mission.

The ancient Gaulish inscription system beneath the foundations of the eastern half of the camp dates back at least two thousand years.

People in the Middle Ages knew it, and so did the Romans.

The old archives of the port authority contain records dating back to the 1870s when the warehouses were built.

So, doesn't the Empire's secret side know this?

We shouldn't neglect the fact that abandoned wells in small places are all listed in the register, and that should be checked twice a year, in spring and autumn.

How could such a vital passageway as the strait port not be listed in the booklet?

The brochure states that someone knew about it and even approved the construction of the refugee camp in that location.

Another thing is that there are more than a dozen patrol teams, each led by at least one senior professional.

The leader of the group in platoon C spent twenty minutes hacking away before realizing that the drowning victim couldn't be killed.

A seasoned hunter encounters an unkillable spirit and needs twenty minutes to determine that physical attacks are ineffective.

Either the team leader is an incompetent fool, or he did it on purpose.

If he were an incompetent fool, he wouldn't have survived until now.

The leader of the D platoon group reacted quickly and ordered a retreat immediately.

The evacuation was carried out cleanly and efficiently; the people were pulled out, and the tent area was vacated.

After they were released, the drowning victims lined up in the empty tents, preparing to unleash their ultimate attack, which ultimately resulted in numerous casualties.

In row F, Montagu held up the light screen by himself for ten minutes.

What were the people around you doing during those ten minutes?

They took him away only after the Montagu light curtain disappeared.

What happened before the light curtain disappeared?

They just watched until the light screen disappeared.

Watching a prep student single-handedly maintain the defense of the entire district, the ether was gradually depleted, and Montagu collapsed from exhaustion.

Another factor is the arrival time of reinforcements.

At 2:50 a.m., the first group of drowning victims emerged.

The reinforcements activated the sealing array around 4 a.m.

The fastest train journey from Beijing to Folkestone Port takes two hours.

Even if those secret agents are stationed at the nearest Canterbury branch, it still takes about forty minutes to drive there.

Adding the time needed to receive the message, assemble the personnel, and load the sealing equipment, it's impossible for them to arrive so promptly.

In fact, the reinforcements brought with them a complete set of traditional net-weaving sealing formations.

These kinds of items aren't kept on hand by the branch offices; they have to be transferred from the warehouse at the next higher level.

It's possible that they already knew something was going to happen, and that reinforcements were already on standby nearby.

Richard placed the cup on the windowsill.

The water in the cup that hadn't been finished swayed slightly as the train rocked.