I loaded the Mysticism panel.

The frosty ground was deathly still.

Bringing together the two toughest teams is a huge boon for Scandinavia, regardless of who wins or loses.

Freya slowly began to speak:

"That's a good idea."

"But have you ever thought about it? Why should they listen to you?"

Loki laughed: "You guys are overestimating the unity of that table at Black Earth River."

"What do you mean?"

Loki slowly explained, "The person seated at their table is Apophis."

"The name of this god is itself an anomaly."

In the belief system of the Black Earth River, Set killed Osiris and usurped the throne, but Horus could take revenge, the gods would judge according to the rules, and order would be restored.

This is a closed system with rules and hierarchy; everyone knows what they should and shouldn't do.

Loki lowered his voice:

"Apophis is not in this system; he will burn everything to ashes as soon as he arrives."

In the ancient Memphis scriptures, so old that even the papyrus is decaying, Apophis is formally referred to as "the serpent from the waters of chaos."

He had no sacrifices; the only ritual that has been passed down is called "Defeat Apophis".

They drew a snake on papyrus, wrote His name on it, and began to stab it with a knife, stomp on it, and burn it with fire.

This ritual is performed every day, because every day the sun god fights that battle again in the underworld.

If this ritual is not performed for even one day, and the ritual fails, the sun will never rise again.

Freya understood:

"So the group at the Black Earth River was actually divided."

Loki nodded: "Of course, Apophis sits at the head of that table, and he and his tablemates are natural enemies."

"He had those people under his thumb, and those people were all afraid of him."

"The reason this table has been able to stay afloat until now is only because of this little rule of the salon."

He narrowed his eyes:

"It's because his classmates hate him to the bone and hope that he runs into a tough opponent and doesn't come back, so that they can be freed from Apophis's oppression."

"so."

Loki spoke slowly and deliberately.

"I don't need to deliver this message to Apophis in person."

Freya had already seen through the entire scheme.

This is a complex and interconnected scheme.

Loki doesn't need to go directly to Apophis; he only needs to stir up internal conflicts at the Black Earth River table.

"You..." Freya looked at Loki, speechless for a moment.

Tyr still had reservations. "Then why should they trust you?"

"I don't need them to believe me; they'll believe their own greed, since all the information I provide is true."

The people on the frost-covered ground fell silent; this plan was indeed insidious and ingenious.

However, the more sophisticated and complex a strategy is, the more likely it is to go wrong at some point, leading to complete failure.

Hela spoke last.

"Loki, if this game succeeds, we can definitely reap the benefits."

"But have you considered what if something goes wrong in any part of the process...?"

"What if Apophis doesn't take the bait and instead finds out that we're the ones stirring things up?"

"Or perhaps those two Greek experts, in a fit of anger, traced the problem back to our table."

"At that point, we won't be facing just one McFee."

These words were like a bucket of cold water poured over the heads of the group who had just been somewhat tempted by Loki's words.

Loki's smile vanished: "You think we still have a way out?"

"Didn't you see the way the Hunter Lord looked at us just now?"

He clenched the frost in his palm tightly.

"Instead of sitting and waiting to die, stir up the waters."

"The muddier the water, the better our chances of survival."

Upon hearing this, the few pitiful creatures on the frost-covered ground, who had just crawled out of their torture, looked at each other.

They truly had no way out; Loki's words were cruel, but they were the truth.

Freya finally asked, "So what are you going to do?"

This is tantamount to agreeing.

Loki nodded: "It will take time, and we will need everyone's cooperation."

"I will begin to take the first step before the next gathering."

Lillian sat there, without saying a word from beginning to end.

There were no marks on her skirt, the needle was still hidden in her sleeve, and not a single hair was out of place.

Beneath that mask, Lillian quietly gazed ahead.

Tyr spoke first.

"Skadi, you."

He pointed with his one finger.

"You were present the whole time, took a sliver of Morrigan's power, and pocketed the divine name, so why weren't you punished?"

He spoke indignantly, emphasizing the last word he was punished with.

Freya didn't speak, but she also looked up in Lillian's direction, her eyes conveying the same meaning as Tyr's.

Loki stood by without moving, lazily stretching out his legs as if he were about to take a nap.

Lillian turned her head to avoid the barrage of gazes.

"I have no idea."

Tyr's voice rose even higher: "You don't know?"

He thought Lillian was provoking him.

"Wait a minute..."

Loki propped himself up on the frosty slope, dusted off his trousers, and lazily walked to the middle.

He stood between the two men, hands in his pockets, facing away from both sides like a rather incompetent referee.

"Don't take it out on her."

He was speaking to Tyr.

"Do you think the hunter let her go because he was in a good mood?"

Scholars specializing in the Abyss are more valuable than all of you combined.

"That's not fair," Freya said.

Loki turned and glanced at her:

"What do you mean by fair or unfair? Go and reason with the hunter."

Loki gave Tyr a warning look.

"That's roughly the idea. Scholars specializing in the Abyss are very rare throughout the entire Empire."

The hunter will punish those who are worthless, but will not consume scarce resources.

Freya lowered her head and turned her hands over and over, looking at them again and again.

"How enviable."

The battle for position on the table then resumed amidst the late spring chill.

The candidates began to move.

No one has ever dared to touch Loki and Hela.

But every position below it must be played out; those who win move up, and those who lose have their heads raised.

Tyr had a tough time in this round.

His opponent this time wielded the power of the glacier, and each of his attacks was several times heavier than that of an ordinary person.

He was tormented all night, and his divine reputation was worn down.

He won, but he won by crawling forward on his hands and knees in the mud.

Freya's situation was even worse; after winning two matches in a row, she could barely sit still in her chair.

But after the third round, most people at the table all turned their attention to the same direction.

Lillian's victory was no longer a narrow one, as it usually was.

During the first game, the people next to me didn't take it too seriously.

By the end of the second game, some people had started to frown.

After the third match, Tyr watched for a while, then looked away, no longer daring to watch.

After each battle, Lillian digested more of what she had learned from Morrigan, making it her own.

Using war to sustain war is, in the context of the Abyss tradition, a true operating mechanism.

Freya watched from the sidelines.

She rested her chin on her hand, her expression scrutinizing, and suddenly asked...

"Where did you learn this path from?"

Lillian put away the silver needles and straightened her cuffs.

"I learned it myself."

"Can you learn the Abyss direction on your own?"

Lillian put the needle away and turned to look at Freya.

"I learned everything on my own, bit by bit, without anyone teaching me step by step."

Freya remained silent for a moment after hearing this answer.

"You don't have a guide?"

"It's only recently been introduced."

Lillian turned her gaze back to the mist on the other side of the curtain.

She didn't continue, and Freya didn't ask any more questions.

At 5 a.m. sharp, Ms. Holloway appeared outside the attic room that Lillian rented and began knocking on the door.

Lillian pushed the door open.

"Mentor, is there something you need?"

Ms. Holloway gave her no room to refuse, simply informing her:

"Let's pack our things, we need to move."

"Where are we going?"

"Prague".

When Lillian heard the place name, she remembered the books she had read in the public library.

From the chronicles of the Holy Roman Empire in the sixteenth century to the overseas dispatches of the Imperial Post.

At that time, the girl never imagined that she would go to these places one day, but she just loved reading those books.

The more you know, the more solid the floor beneath your feet feels.

"The capital city is no longer suitable for you. Your scent is becoming more and more noticeable in the capital. You'll probably be spotted by someone with a keen sense of smell every few steps you take."

Ms. Holloway continued her explanation.

"Charlie University has an underground library, which has been dug down since the 14th century."

They excavated from the time of Charles IV to the Hussite Wars, excavating every funeral of the Habsburg dynasty, all the way to today in 1915.

After 500 years of digging, those bookshelves have reached places they shouldn't have.

Moreover, the materials buried beneath Prague's Old Town are more suitable than any materials you could find in Beijing.

Bohemian alchemists planted some roots under the Vltava River as early as 300 years ago.

After the roots rotted, the oozing sap soaked through the soil beneath the entire riverbed.

That soil is what you'll be dealing with next.

Lillian rested her fingers on the window frame, her nails still bearing traces of ink that hadn't been washed off that day.

"Does Charlie University accept international students?"

"receive."

"But you should still learn a foreign language."

Ms. Holloway's lips twitched, but it wasn't exactly a smile.

"Prague's veil is thinner than that of the capital, and Austria-Hungary's attitude toward the Abyss tradition is different. Vienna has no say in what the Bohemian underground is teaching."

"Come with me once you're all packed. Tomorrow the ferry will take you from Dover to Calais, where you'll transfer to a train. It'll take about three days. I'll explain the rules to you along the way."

After everyone left, Lillian closed the windows and doors.

The girl buried her face in her knees.

She began to break the whole thing down like she would a scholar.

She recognized the book in the white-haired giant's hand; it had a unique cover design.

The designated textbook for the Department of Classical Studies at Teito University, authored by a professor at Teito University.

Richard is also at Imperial University.

The boy who walked out of that old classroom in Greenwood is now standing on the same level as the sons of noble families in a circle she could never have touched in her entire life.

A Gaelic scholar professor who goes hunting in the moon.

A classmate who is steadily climbing the academic ladder at the same university.

Lillian's fingers tightened on the cold needle.

That professor could have crossed her out too.

She had considered all the reasons—the abyss, the scholar, the special value—and they all made sense.

But it's still not quite there yet.

She filled in the missing bit herself.

There was not a single piece of evidence to support this idea, but she just wanted to believe it.

The girl's greatest desire upon embarking on this path was to find a glimmer of light in the utter darkness.

Now, she has written her name on this little light.

She pulled a suitcase from under the bed and began stuffing things into it.

There were only two changes of clothes, but four or five notebooks were stacked up.

She also wants to bring that specimen.

Finally, she pulled something out from under the pillow.

This is a dried four-leaf clover, sandwiched between two pieces of transparent paper.

This was a gift Richard gave her back when they were at Greenwood High School.

Lillian tucked the four-leaf clover into the last page of her notebook.