I loaded the Mysticism panel.

"It's scooping." The person holding the reins pulled dozens of hands together in a half-circle.

"What are you fishing for?"

"Who's in this team?"

Even veteran scholars are on the run:

"It doesn't know who to look for, and it can't even say what it's looking for."

It's taking advantage of the fact that we're all spread out tonight to reach in and grab whatever it can get.

The Wild Hunt crew was in complete chaos.

Some people pulled back, some plunged down, and some began reciting a passage that no one but themselves could understand.

In the backyard of 13 Chelsea Road, the person in the wicker chair stopped breathing.

Gerald emerged from behind the pillar and saw the coat his grandson was covering silently slide down.

Richard controlled his shadow to stand still, his hand already on the mask.

[The face of the reverse] can be closed.

It cannot be seen, touched, or recognized; it cannot be defined.

But the price is also clearly stated: once the door is closed, the original mask can no longer be used.

If the mask is not used, the double serpent staff will also fall apart.

The verdict had only just been issued on the eight-kilometer front below.

The first batch has finished, and more will emerge from the ground one after another.

He had promised to be reassigned, and he had also promised that if he was reassigned incorrectly, the punishment would fall on him.

The mirror rotated slightly, and Richard could feel that the other party was focusing on him.

The shadow didn't have a silver ring or a hawk.

Continuing to recite the judgment will lead to being seen, or remaining silent will allow one to survive but ruin the mission—this is a difficult choice.

Richard is a greedy man; he wants it all!

The mirror rotated to face the shadow directly, and the shadow removed its hand from the mask.

The matter of issuing a judgment should not have been done by one person alone.

The power of the judgment lies in the hook, which is the format of the card.

It was printed by the quartermaster department, and everyone on the eight-kilometer front had an identical one in their pocket.

Whoever utters that sentence will have the hook in their hand.

The version he had Shadow finish tonight has already established the format on the other side of the curtain.

The shadow raised the double serpent staff to its chest and folded its golden wings.

The two golden snakes turned their heads inward and bit their own tails, causing the staff to dissipate into a wisp of smoke.

The sky seemed to darken in Richard's eyes.

The fighting continues along the eight-kilometer front below.

Algerian soldiers knelt by the puddles and read out the names of the deceased, then read out the name of his father.

This is a custom in his hometown of sending off people; by giving the father's name, the person on the other side can recognize who he is.

He read them one by one, and when his voice became hoarse, he would scoop up a handful of water to moisten it and continue reading.

Three hundred yards to the east, a Punjabi soldier was holding a borrowed lantern.

The lamps were obtained from the artillerymen, and the oil was running low.

He held the lamp at the corner of the trench, allowing each person being carried out to pass under it.

Further east, soldiers on the high ground sat on ammunition boxes and sang.

He was singing in Gaelic, a tune his grandmother taught him in the kitchen.

He only knew this one part in his entire life. He started singing off-key on the third time, but he didn't stop even when he was off-key.

At the brigade headquarters, a chaplain was reciting prayers.

He's been reciting it for thirty years; he could recite it with his eyes closed and wouldn't make a mistake.

At the Liuzhuangdi section, the soldiers roused the entire platoon.

He had worked in the mine for several years, and he remembered the roll call rules underground better than anything else.

When going up the well, you have to call out the shift number and number. When it's your turn, someone has to respond. You can't miss anyone. If you miss one, you have to go down and find them.

He stood on the pedal and began to sing.

"Class Three, Number One."

"arrive!"

"Class Three, Number Two."

"arrive!"

"Class 3, Number 7."

No one answered; this was the number of the boy who had saved the child.

The soldier's voice caught in his throat as he thought about this.

"...Here." He answered for the man himself.

He continued shouting.

Tucker sat on the sandbag, his pocket watch still clutched in his hand.

He heard number 11, number 14, and the sergeant responding for the three people who would not return.

"Number nineteen," the sergeant sang.

Tucker stood up.

"arrive!"

No one knew what they were doing; they were simply seeing off someone they knew.

On the other side, the one by the Black Soil River continued to shine the light.

The first thing reflected in the mirror was a soldier kneeling by the puddle, near its hometown, with its mouth moving.

It flipped this side over, and the next side showed a lantern being held up, with a stretcher passing under the lantern.

The next one was a young man who sang off-key.

The next image shows a pastor with his eyes closed.

Turning the page, we see a soldier who was originally a miner, answering in place of the dead.

I took pictures for a long time but couldn't get a real picture of them; they were all pictures of other people in the trenches below.

When the mirror screen turned sideways, Richard actually had no idea what to expect.

The description of the "Face of Reversal" is very clear: those of higher rank can only be weakened to a certain extent.

But in the end, it did block it. After looking at the mirror for a while, I couldn't see anything, and finally I gave up.

[Inner Awakening] made Richard quickly understand why the other party had given up so quickly.

The Black Soil River expert didn't want to come; it was dragged out from the deepest folds of the curtain by the hunter.

How much force can something with its neck being gripped exert?

The shadow stood still.

The pack of dogs ran past its feet, none of them recognizing it.

The lame little one stretched out its nose, sniffed twice, and then ran away.

Hundreds of miles away, the person in the wicker chair had his coat put back on.

Two lines of text lit up on the panel:

[Walking level 3 → 4.]

[Achieved: Independently escaped high-level surveillance.]

There is one more line below.

[Perception Level 4]

[Success achieved: Independently escaped the high-level surveillance lock.]

Richard leaned back in the wicker chair, his back soaked with sweat, his shirt clinging cold to his body.

He suddenly felt like laughing.

On the Cloud Ridge side, the Hunter Lord had already reacted.

Its expression changed when it saw the mirror screen that was still sweeping erratically.

"This guy, he really isn't honest!"

The hunter reached under his ribs and pulled out the first one.

The bone protruded from the ribcage, and the wind in the entire sky reversed direction.

The gentleman in Dover, who had changed the recording paper three times, picked up the pen from the table and put it down again.

He has given up on explaining tonight.

"The hunter is about to make his move." The old scholar shrank back.

"Since they're all of the same rank, will it have any effect?"

"Although we are of the same rank, our status is different now."

The old scholar gestured with his chin toward the mirrored screen.

"Those three syllables are from its horn cavity, and the slave in the horn cavity ran out to steal his own chickens."

The owner beats it; that's called family discipline.

The bow was drawn, and what shot forth was the sound of hooves.

Tens of thousands of hooves landed on the pathless ground at the same moment, and the muffled thud was ejected from the bow.

Richard's still waters spread out to their fullest extent, and watch as a muffled thud pierces through the clouds.

Without the imposing presence of the sun and the hearth, the arrow flew low along the clouds, and everything in its path parted on its own.

Hundreds of mirrors flipped over in mid-air, their surfaces facing outwards.

But a mirror can reflect a face and a name, but it cannot reflect a voice.

The muffled sound passed directly through the hundreds of mirrors, leaving nothing behind.

From Ypres to Dunkirk, the mirrors shattered that night.

The wall in the barbershop is cracked;

The standing mirror in the monastery's guest room was cracked from the middle to the bottom.

A little girl's small round mirror, hidden in her apron pocket, shattered into three pieces.

In the field hospital, a lieutenant holding a shaving mirror raised his hand, and the mirror shattered in his palm with a pop, shards nearly hitting his eyes.

He told this story to people for the rest of his life, but no one believed him.

A large section of the mirror screen was missing, and cheers erupted from the clouds.

"Great archery! One more arrow!" The young man wielding the axe slapped his thigh from his saddle.

"Shut up."

"The court has dispersed!"

"Even if we've broken up, you're not allowed to shout now."

As the hunter pulled out the second bone, the patch of black began to retreat to the side.

The direction of their retreat was cunning; it was precisely the direction of the master holding the seal to the south.

But this was exactly what the hunter had been waiting for. With a tug on the reins, he once again pulled on the chain around the neck of the Black Earth River expert.

Richard understood from the rattan chair that the hunter was chasing that person away.

The third deep red seal was originally intended for the bone flute.

This expert, skilled at kicking someone when they're down, has once again caused the seal to fall, and the Gale Master should be completely silenced.

But as the hunter dragged the chain, the mark landed on that patch of black.

Thousands of mirrors were held down by this one seal.

The moment the pressure was applied, all the remaining mirrors sixty miles south of Ypres simultaneously ceased to reflect anything.

The hunter didn't stop there, and continued to pull the third bone out from under his ribs.

The Black Earth River expert no longer had time for any tricks; while being pressed down, it also had to dodge arrows to the side and rear.

On the other side, the bone flute started playing again.

The expert in fierce winds has already used up most of his breath.

While the seal was being caught by someone else, it turned the flute over and poured out the sweet, fishy smell inside.

"It spat out the poison."

"Doesn't it not have a mouth?"

"It was borrowed from someone else."

From the coast to the inland, hundreds of thousands of people spat at the same moment.

Some people are bandaging wounds, some are carrying stretchers, and some are kneeling by the crater scooping water.

After spitting, everyone looked at each other, and no one could explain what they had just spat out.

Just then, the cloud of yellow-green poison gas began to move.

It lay prone on the low ground all night, trying to avoid being attacked.

The three experts were fighting fiercely above its head, but it remained motionless, waiting for its moment.

It can't wait any longer.

The man from Heituhe who wrote the line "One night makes people vomit their lungs dry" is already in dire straits, yet the words remain hanging there without falling.

What it did tonight is all that it has accumulated over the past few decades.

It cannot allow its "great achievements" to be recorded in the booklet with just such a sentence.

The instant the yellow-green poisonous gas surged up, a pair of scissors fell from behind the curtain.

The scissors fell quickly and steadily.

Before it even landed, the branch broke off on its own, the break being quite clean.

Cut by the master of the furnace tradition, it becomes nothing once it lands.

You cut it yourself, and there's still a short period of time before it hits the ground that's yours to enjoy.

On the other side, the hunter raised his horn once more.

This time it played a full, sustained note.

The long notes carried far in the sky, and the entire procession, stretching as far as the eye could see, returned from all directions.

The wild animals without owners belong to it tonight.