I loaded the Mysticism panel.

"core?"

"Every tradition has a core."

Isabella picked up the red pen and drew a circle on the table.

"You can think of it as a crown."

She added several radiating lines above the circle.

"The crown is not a physical object; it is more akin to an authority, a qualification recognized by the veil itself."

"Whoever wears this crown is the one who holds the tradition in charge."

In tradition, the power of everyone ultimately flows towards the crown.

"The great traditions of the sun and the hearth have their own crowns, and whoever holds the crown has the right to decide which way to go."

She tapped the center of the circle with her finger.

"You read about the ranks above the 'Master' in the traditional text, in 'On Ascending Behind the Curtain'."

"Masters and recluses—these are beings who have strayed from the realm of humanity. They reached that level only because they were recognized by the highest authority."

"To use a somewhat inappropriate analogy," Isabella thought for a moment before choosing her words.

"The crown is the source of the river. All cultivators are people who draw water from the source downstream. The higher the rank, the closer the water intake is to the source."

The crown is the source; if the source dries up, the whole river stops flowing.

Richard nodded.

"So, the second kind of extinction," Isabella steered the conversation back to the main point.

"Most of them come from within the tradition, vying for the crown."

"The record of the changing tradition is the most obscure of all the disappearing traditions I have ever seen."

"The fragments from different sources contradict each other, and the timelines don't match up."

"The only thing without contradiction is the ending: the crown shattered."

She drew a crack in the very center of the circle on the table.

"The founder of the change of tradition, there are very few records about him, and even his gender is not determined."

"The only certainty is that this person disappeared shortly after establishing the tradition."

"Some fragments say that the reason for the disappearance was that the author voluntarily withdrew from the public eye."

Some say they were taken away by something deep within the curtain, while another account uses a very strange word.

"What word?"

"melt."

Isabella glanced at him.

"It's as if this person and the road they built have merged into one."

She didn't dwell on the topic for long.

"Once the founder left, the crown was divided, and there are experts in three different areas under it."

Isabella leaned back in her chair.

Some say that a third of the power is enough to do a lot of things.

"Another person said, 'Then why not try to get two-thirds?'"

"The descriptions of this struggle in the fragments vary in length, and the details all contradict each other."

However, there is a passage that appears in all three incomplete copies, almost word for word.

Isabella switched to a storytelling tone.

Indeed, this is just a story for the two of them.

"The one who reflects sees the face of the substitute, but cannot see the path he is about to walk."

The substitute donned the observer's shell, yet failed to withstand the observer's gaze;

The observer, seeing everything from the highest point, forgets that there is also a precipice beneath their feet.

"Each of the three took a corner, and the complete crown did not end up in the hands of any one person."

The office remained quiet for a long time.

Isabella drew several forking lines outside each of the three small circles.

"The one that emphasizes reflection has developed into the mirror tradition."

"The branch that focuses on observation has broken away from the tradition of star charts."

"The one that's being emphasized as a substitute..."

Her pen paused briefly next to the third small circle.

"The fewest people leave and the most discreetly, making this direction itself controversial."

When something replaces another, is it a means or an end? And where does the replaced thing go after it's been replaced?

"These problems, when the tradition was still intact, were suppressed by the highest authority."

Once the division occurs, everyone below starts talking past each other.

"Some branches of this lineage scattered to the East, some sank deeper into the shadows, and some completely lost their lineage."

"To this day, I can't guarantee whether there are any cultivators within the empire who have taken this path."

But I've never seen any of them in public.

Richard thought of the sacred bird on the scepter deep in the museum's storeroom, and the phrase "one who once used a mirror to reflect the names of all things" from the three titles of that master.

Mirror and substitute, this expert spans two directions.

Richard suppressed these thoughts to the deepest level, revealing nothing on his face.

"Auntie." He changed his approach.

"What if someone manages to collect all three pieces?"

Isabella looked at him, her gaze now far more serious than before.

"You're asking a very dangerous question."

"I'm just curious."

"Then I'll assume you're just curious." Isabella screwed the red pen cap back on.

"Theoretically speaking, if someone holds three pieces of a fragment in three directions and has the ability to put them back together..."

"He is qualified to merge that broken crown and become a new master of changing tradition."

"But think about it." Isabella's voice turned cold.

"The three masters fought each other for a third of the crown, and their disciples scattered into three different traditions, which have been ignoring each other for many years."

She tapped her finger on the table.

"Collecting the crown is an either-or struggle; if you take it, others will have to entrust their lives to you."

"Has anyone tried it in those hundreds of years?" Richard asked.

"I've tried it." Isabella nodded.

"Someone in the star chart tradition managed to get two pieces. The literature says he was on the verge of crossing that threshold."

"and then?"

"Then he pushed open the door and found someone sitting behind it."

Isabella's voice was very soft.

"That person took a picture of a face that looked exactly like his."

Richard felt a chill run down his spine.

"for."

"Yes." Isabella closed the folder.

"Although the lineage that was replaced is the smallest, each one that survives is the most difficult to deal with."

You think they've lost their lineage, but how do you know they're not just wearing someone else's shell, sitting in what you think is a safe chair?

Richard went through all this information in his mind.

He has a Shadow Reversal in his hand, marked with the property "Change Tradition (Fragment)," and he is already standing on that chessboard.

From now on, you either have to obediently hand over the fragments and gamble on the other party's mercy, or you have to fight for them yourself.

Putting aside whether it can be taken out of the panel, his personality doesn't include the option to obediently hand it over.

But then again, I can't even reach the edge of the chessboard now.

The aunt stuffed the neatly organized documents back into the envelope and handed them to Richard.

"Alright, that's the end of the story. Take all the materials back and think about them slowly."

"it is good."

"Moisture-regulating breathing is sufficient for now; there's no need to rush into a decision."

Isabella stood up from behind the desk and went to the window to water the nearly withered mint plant.

"But don't delay too long; the sooner you choose to advance to a minor proficiency level, the smoother it will be."

Richard carefully put away the documents.

"Auntie, which one do you think is better?"

Isabella's hand holding the watering can never stop.

Are you asking for my personal opinion or are we going through the proper procedures?

"Personal opinion."

"The Sun is the safest choice in the traditional sense. If you choose the Sun, everyone will nod and say it's only natural."

"Although I can teach classical traditions, people who come from classical traditions are not welcome during wartime."

She went back behind the writing desk and sat down in the chair.

"I can't help with the traditional mirrored approach."

The road is narrow, there are few people, and information is scarce; you'll have to rely on yourself.

"but……"

She picked up the red pen, twirled it twice in her hand, and then put it down.

"If you choose the mirrored side, I won't stop you."

"The path of a scholar, in the end, is about seeing something that others haven't seen."

"The traditional way of life in the solar system involves reading the same book, memorizing the same set of standards, and producing papers that even have similar formatting."

"What the mirror tradition sees can not be replicated by anyone else."

Because that mirror is embedded in your own body, everyone's reflection is different.

She reached into the sugar jar, picked up a toffee, hesitated for a moment, and then put it back.

"Take your time to think about it."

Richard remembered another thing he had done on this trip and took the frost-covered branches and bean pods out of his canvas bag.

"Oh, and I'd also like to trouble you to contact the alchemist for me."

"Make a long wooden box, about the length of your forearm, to seal sensitive items on the etheric plane."

My aunt picked up the frost-covered branch and looked at it.

"It's a natural tranquility plant! Where did you get it?"

"A friend helped me grow it."

Isabella didn't ask any further questions and put the frost branch back on the table.

"I can help you make the contact, but the wartime alchemist schedule is booked until next year."

"Simple processing is fine; no enchanting or inscription is needed. Just shave the bark into the box lining."

"Then hurry up." Isabella scribbled a few lines on a sticky note.

"I'll call and ask tomorrow. Your requirements are simple, so it should be possible to get an appointment in a week at most."

"Thank you, Auntie."

"Hurry up and go, don't delay me from setting the questions."

Richard pushed open the door to room 314 and walked out into the corridor.

The door closed behind her, and the rustling sound of candy wrappers being torn came from inside. Her aunt finally couldn't resist.

When he left, his steps were much slower than when he arrived.

The sun, the classics, and the mirror—three paths lie before me.

The one with the sun was last in his heart;

The route his aunt could lead sounded the safest, but he always felt something was missing.

The remaining path was the most unfamiliar yet the one that would take him the longest. His mind was still hesitating, but his feet had already begun to veer in that direction.

Richard suppressed a thought; it was too early to think about these things now, ridiculously early.

He hasn't even grasped the basics of proficiency, so what makes him think he can restore the traditional core?

The stories my aunt told me still echo in my ears; there hasn't been a single winner in all these centuries.

He made up his mind to go back and study the outline of the traditional mirror breathing method.

"Richard!"

Montagu walked up behind him.

"The cafeteria has roast beef today, it'll be all gone if you don't go soon."

Richard smiled; after a busy afternoon, he was indeed quite hungry.

"Then let's go quickly."

The two walked side by side towards the cafeteria, and gradually their brisk walk turned into a jog.

Recently, there was one more notice posted on the wall than last month:

"With Christmas approaching, the cafeteria has secured a special batch of beef this week after making various preparations."

Limited quantities available, first come, first served. Please cherish these.

The characters were written with great force, and the last letter was drawn out very long; the writer was probably a little excited.

The cafeteria was already mostly full.

Fisher was holding his plate and shoveling beef into his mouth.

He saw Richard and Montague walk in, raised his fork and waved it at them, mumbling something under his breath.

It probably meant something like "come quickly," and bits of beef flew out from the corner of his mouth.

Edith sat in the corner, having finished her beef, with a bowl of soup and half a loaf of bread in front of her.

She was reading the plant guide; the soup had gone mostly cold and she hadn't touched it much.

Catherine wasn't there; I wonder if she had already finished eating and left.

Richard, carrying his plate, sat down opposite Fisher.

The beef was particularly difficult to chew; it must have been taken from the bottom of the cold storage.

After being frozen for who knows how long, most of the flavor was lost, and the fibers became tough.

He locked away things that challenged tradition in the deepest recesses of his mind.

As for the split crown, we'll deal with that once it's fully developed.

He forked a piece of roast beef and put it in his mouth, chewing slowly, not wanting to eat too fast.