I loaded the Mysticism panel.

By April, Isabella was so busy that she was almost nowhere to be seen.

There were endless sealing diagrams needed on the war front, and a mountain of work piled up at the university.

She used to be able to set aside an hour or two each week to tutor Richard, but now that time is completely taken up by one urgent telegram after another.

Just when her aunt was having some trouble, Clara took the initiative to take over the job.

And this is what Clara said when she walked into the empty teaching and research room next to 314 carrying a stack of books.

"The teacher said she really can't spare the time right now, so I'll keep an eye on your homework for her."

Richard initially thought that Clara, his senior, tutored him in his studies, much like his aunt.

Setting questions, grading, and setting more questions, all while coldly pointing out mistakes.

But the results seem to be quite different.

Clara's counseling methods were gentler and more attentive than Isabella's.

Professor Mortimer assigned Richard increasingly difficult homework assignments.

The old man was deliberately trying to test his patience, so he deliberately threw some obscure and difficult textual criticism questions at him.

One of the challenges involved reconstructing a steganographic Latin passage from a medieval church ceremony.

Richard stared at that text for a whole night, but he was still stuck on the third layer of encryption.

The next day, he showed the manuscript to Clara.

Clara took it and scanned it from beginning to end, without giving the answer directly.

She pointed to those lines on the manuscript.

"You're stuck on the third layer because you're treating it like a normal displacement replacement."

She made a small mark with a pencil next to that line of text.

"Think about it, what does this symbol tell you to do?"

Richard stared at that mark for a long time, his mind working simultaneously with his knowledge and critical thinking.

This seems to be a symbol used only in the church calendar.

He suddenly realized.

"The offset of this section is not fixed; it varies with the Lent periods in the church calendar."

Clara nodded with satisfaction.

"You should be able to figure it out yourself from here on out."

This kind of inspirational and guiding method... although it's not the best way to put it, Li realized that it was much easier for him to accept than his aunt's cramming-style teaching method.

More than a week passed like this.

Richard suddenly realized that everyone had always said Clara was his aunt's best student.

He used to think it was just polite talk, since fellow students should always flatter each other.

But when Clara actually tutored him, he realized that what she said was absolutely true.

The senior student's academic foundation is frighteningly solid.

She can explain any topic—inscriptions, textual criticism, ritual language—more thoroughly than most lecturers.

That afternoon, the two spent most of the day working on a collation table of a later variant of the Alexandrian school.

After finishing, Richard rubbed his throbbing temples and couldn't help but sigh.

"Senior, with your academic background and teaching skills, you're good enough to be a lecturer."

Clara was tidying up the manuscript papers on the table.

Hearing this, she didn't even look up, but simply corrected him.

"Don't forget, there's also Silas in these past few years, he's much better than me."

"That champion from Debate Week? But you lost to him entirely because of the ether."

Richard remembers it very clearly.

Clara shook her head instead: "Words are useless; ether is the foundation."

As she spoke, she neatly folded the manuscript paper, and Richard casually asked another question.

"How is that senior Silas doing now?"

Clara said.

"He graduated with a master's degree and successfully achieved mastery of a minor skill this year. He was rehired by the college as a lecturer."

I heard that once he has enough seniority, he can be promoted directly to associate professor.

As she said this, a hint of envy appeared in her eyes.

"This is the path my mentor initially wanted me to take."

After graduating with a master's degree, I achieved a breakthrough in a specific area, stayed on as a lecturer at the university, and then quickly rose to the rank of associate professor.

With a mentor supporting me from behind, I can navigate things much more smoothly than my mentor did back then.

"Now..." She closed the folder.

"My path was also damaged. The most difficult step on this path, breaking through to minor mastery, is now much riskier than before."

The teaching and research office was quiet for a while, and Richard was about to speak.

Clara spoke first.

"But thanks to you now, my injury is almost fully healed."

Even the minor internal injuries caused by circuit damage show clear signs of self-healing.

If this trend continues, perhaps next year or the year after, I too will be able to seek an opportunity to break through to a level of minor mastery, just like Silas.

………………

During breaks from tutoring, Richard would occasionally think about getting Shadow to join the Wild Hunt team.

Holding those antlers in his hand without using them wouldn't be in line with his character.

Moreover, the approaching next Divine Salon, coupled with the potential threat of team battles, and the looming shadow of war and two experts overhead, all spurred him to urgently seek a fast track to growth.

But while he had his thoughts, he wouldn't rush to let Shadow join the Wild Hunt before finding enough information and understanding the situation clearly.

After all, if the shadow were truly scattered, the loss to him would not be small.

That day, Richard arrived at Professor Mortimer's office door once again.

He knocked on the door twice.

"Come in."

Pushing open the door, I found Professor Mortimer still sitting in that old armchair, lost in thought.

He saw Richard come in and pointed to a pile against the east wall, which was half a head taller than Richard.

"Your task today starts with this stack."

Edit the table of contents, noting down the author, year, copy, and original document, recording everything in the register.

"What happens after you finish writing it down?"

"Just memorize a whole stack after you're done, do I really need to remind you?"

Richard sat down at the empty corner of the table by the window and placed the ink bottle there.

He initially thought that the professor would be like his aunt and senior female students, laying out all his knowledge in detail and explaining it to him.

As a result, even now, the thing I do most every day is still copying these old books and archiving them.

The stack on the east wall contains several books, the top few of which are seal maintenance files from decades ago.

The paper was so brittle that it crumbled and fell apart with the slightest touch.

Richard carefully turned the pages, pinching the corners, and began copying them down, one page at a time.

The above lists the author, year, and the specific weak point at a certain time and month, where a lower-level seal was reforged.

Copying books is a very tedious job.

But his knowledge and critical thinking were not idle either; he connected these outdated terms with the new system he had read, one by one.

He copied it for almost half an hour.

Richard looked up and noticed that the old professor had put his feet down at some point, and was still holding the cup in his hand.

"Professor," he said, speaking up first.

"The department archives should have copies of these files, right?"

"Yes, I have."

"Then why do you want me to copy it?"

Mortimer turned his head and stared at him for a moment with his half-open, half-closed eyes.

"The archives are kept clean."

The archives, stamps, and numbers I have here are all drafts that others wrote and then threw away, diagrams with corrections, and judgments that were only half-written and not yet finished.

These archives don't accept them, but as original texts, they are more useful than those that are clean.

Richard looked down at the stack of papers beside him and, sure enough, several pages had other people's scribbles on the margins.

Some parts were crossed out in red pen, and then a line of small text was added.

Mortimer then explained.

"A file was copied so neatly that it was sent to the archives for people to see the conclusions."

But the conclusion won't tell you how the person who wrote it made mistakes step by step, or how they corrected and started over. Copying these is just observing how others made mistakes.

Richard wholeheartedly agreed: "I understand."

The old professor put his legs back on.

"It's okay if you can't remember it right away. The more you copy it, the more muscle memory you'll develop, and you'll automatically correct your mistakes when you make them."

Richard didn't finish copying this stack of papers until noon. His wrists were a little sore, so he put down his pen and stretched them out.

Mortimer leaned over in his chair.

He took the catalog and flipped through it from beginning to end.

After finishing reading it, he nodded in satisfaction.

Richard thought the other person would praise him, but the old professor only said one thing.

"Your handwriting is neater than it was last month."

"Is this a compliment?"

"I mean, what you wrote last month was like scratching a chicken's feet."

Richard was completely bewildered.

The professor himself had the worst handwriting, with his own wild and unruly style. How could the other person have the nerve to criticize it?

The old professor tossed the booklet back onto the table and pointed to a stack of books in the corner.

This stack contains several thick, hardcover books, clearly different from the loose pages and thin booklets in front.

"You don't need to look at the rest. Let's start with this stack this afternoon."

Richard glanced at them and said, "These books look much more luxurious than the previous ones; they're all hardcover. Is the information inside very important?"

Mortimer chuckled.

"You'll see when you see it. Those with a glamorous exterior are often the most dishonest inside."

He seemed to be implying something when he said this, but Richard pondered it for a long time and still couldn't figure out what the other person meant.

He walked over and took the top book back with him.

Turning to the first page, it begins with the sealing and maintenance of several ancient battlefields in the north, which is similar to the archives from this morning.

But when Richard turned to page 3, his finger stopped.

On the margin of this page, there is a dense line of tiny annotations.

The annotations were not written in Albion, nor in Latin or Ancient Greek.

They actually used runes.

Richard looked up and glanced at the old professor who was still in a daze.

Mortimer naturally didn't react to him at all.

Richard quickly flipped through the entire book from beginning to end.

The first twenty-odd pages are all neatly arranged records of seal maintenance.

Starting with that line of small print on the third page, every few pages thereafter a line of Rune's annotations will appear in the margin.

The annotations and the main text are written in completely different handwriting. The main text is written in the neat and orderly style of an old-fashioned scholar, while Rune's writing is hurried and messy.

This set of runes uses the oldest binding method, which matches the rubbings he saw in Corbyn's office, but is more convoluted than those rubbings.

He closed the book and looked at Mortimer again.

"Professor, there are annotations tucked inside this book."

Mortimer counted the tea stems in his cup, and after a while, he replied impatiently.

"Isn't it normal to have something tucked inside a book?"

If I open any book in this room, I can find something that others don't want.

Bookmarks, bills, unfinished love letters...it's all there.

"Should I write down the annotations according to the catalog?"

"as you like."

Mortimer continued counting the tea stems.

"If you remember, then remember; if you don't, then pretend you didn't see it. Anyway, I won't pay you for your work."

Richard understood. He moved the book back to the corner of the table and sat down again.