I loaded the Mysticism panel.

At 3 p.m. on Wednesday, Richard arrived at Donald's shop on time.

The first thing to do is wipe the shelves, and then oil the brassware.

And then you have to listen to the shop owner, with his two injured hands, complaining that he wrote too much information about the antiques on the cards.

"I see you still don't understand. If the introduction is written too rigidly, customers won't ask any questions."

"In the antique business, telling a good story is half the battle."

"Isn't that just lying?"

In the evening, the sound of hammers was louder than the sound of people on Huayue Street.

A new wooden board was nailed to the lintel of the tailor shop at number two, and the manager of shop number ten had brought a ladder and was comparing the new glass to the shop window.

When Richard came out of Donald's shop, a black cat was waiting for him, and Richard immediately understood what it meant.

In Mrs. Mary's room, the copper plate on the door still couldn't reflect anyone's image.

Richard pressed down where the handle should have been, and the coin softened.

"sit."

A smoky voice emanated from behind the high-backed armchair at the deepest part of the room.

A faceless porcelain doll emerged from the shadows carrying a tea tray and served him tea.

"Donald's hands couldn't hold a magnifying glass for three months," Mrs. Mary said.

"You held the pliers for him all night."

He took the fire himself.

"He's the one who took the fire, and you're the one holding the tongs." She pushed the saucer forward.

"I invited you here tonight not just to express my gratitude."

"They miscalculated Corbyn's situation last week."

"The word 'on the spot' was removed from the abstract because it was considered offensive."

Her face, which was indistinct, seemed to smile.

"People in this industry spend their whole lives at odds with lyrics; deleting their lyrics is like smashing their monument in front of them."

Richard suddenly wanted to laugh, but stopped halfway through.

"Why that pillar?"

Mrs. Mary counted them carefully.

"There are a total of twenty-nine high-grade rare items registered within the empire."

Behind Montagu's house stands a master of the sun tradition;

Anyone who wants to get their hands on those two items from the Adams family has to ask the Northern Region first;

"Moving anything in the museum's closed storage requires the vice minister's signature, and after that, two professors have to co-sign it."

"The seven things in the church need no further explanation; anyone who touches them the next day would be committing blasphemy."

She spread her hands out on the handrail.

"The one left in Donald's backyard."

"Family, academy, parish... I have none of them. The reason I've been able to stay in Flower Moon Street for so many years is because I'm here."

The room was quiet for a while.

There were two people shouting at each other across the street in Iberian, and then they both laughed after they finished.

"However, what they really want is not just the pillar."

Mrs. Mary continued.

"They pushed hundreds of ordinary people inside the wall."

"If I were to step in... decades of reputation would be wiped out overnight."

Richard nodded; he realized this too.

"There's something even more ruthless."

"The pillar was really pried off, and the order on this street collapsed that very day."

"Once the fire leaves, only I can suppress it."

Richard understood: "So once the fire is gone, you'll have to sit on this street and can't leave for a whole day."

The mirrors in the room of mirrors reflect each other, but not people.

The man with the husky voice chuckled.

"Little Richard, those who are the most skilled in this empire and stand at the very top are all tied to a rope."

Some ropes were tied to their families, some to their colleges, and some to their churches.

"I'm all alone. If I want to go to Manchester today, I might actually end up in Manchester tomorrow."

"So someone doesn't want me to move."

"Why?" Richard asked.

"Because I have things to take care of in the next six months."

That's all she said.

Richard didn't press further; you should just leave things as they are.

"I can still get out of this street."

She withdrew her hand from the armrest.

"That night, the entire game of chess turned into a disaster because of the 'split fire'."

Richard picked up the cup of tea, which had already gone cold.

"Madam, will my name also be remembered on some page in history?"

"Yes," Mrs. Mary answered readily.

Richard nodded and drank his tea.

There's nothing we can do about that.

"That's why I invited you here today to introduce you to someone."

Donna was helped in by the doll, her arms hanging limply as she walked, and no one dared to touch her.

Mrs. McNeil followed behind.

"Donner sits on the inside seat, and makes sure no puppet touches his hand."

The doll, carrying the tea tray, retreated to the corner and stood still.

"Who would you like to invite today?" Mrs. McNeil asked.

Mrs. Mary stood up from her chair, and all the mirrors in the room turned around at the same time.

They were originally reflecting each other, but now their mirrors are both facing the east wall.

"Walking on a road of no return, sharing the same path we came from."

As the first sentence fell, Richard smelled coal smoke.

It smelled like coal smoke on a winter morning in Bristol, mixed with a hint of damp wool.

He saw the door of the seventh house at the end of the alley, with a white mark on the lower edge of the door frame, kicked by Evelyn when she was eight years old.

His mother called his name from inside the door, meaning he was late again.

"One who once returned from the deep realm with an army."

Donald's two cloth-wrapped hands moved slightly on his knees, as if he could see the earthen wall outside Yazd.

Mrs. McNeil closed her eyes.

At the age of twelve, she pushed open the door and saw the woman sitting in the mirror, and from then on, she embarked on this career.

"My feet have become a path, my bones a bridge, only the way home remains suspended in the world."

A road appeared on the east wall.

Footsteps sounded on the road, and Richard didn't blink for half a second.

He saw a pair of boots take two steps by themselves, then trouser legs and a coat grew out of themselves... and finally a face appeared.

He pieced together the faces very slowly, so slowly that he could count the order.

After all the work was finished, the man standing there had hair like a clump of dry straw, and his face and neck were sunburned.

As soon as it came out, it looked around and frowned.

"Teacher, you still have so many mirrors in this room."

"Every time I come here, I have to count how many I have first."

When Li noticed this person's arrival, he suddenly felt an intense urge to go home.

The idea came out of nowhere, and even he was startled.

"Matthew," said Mrs. Mary, "you need to clear your way; there's more than one person in the house."

The man gave an "oh," stomped his foot on the ground a couple of times, and the smell of coal smoke in Richard's nose dissipated.

Mrs. Mary introduced him: "Matthew Carewick, my ninth student."

Richard stood up.

[博闻] I turned to a certain page.

Mr. Hutton was in his office at the time and told him something.

(See Chapter 195)

At the time, Mr. Hutton categorized this person as one of the "very few".

"Mr. Kelly."

Matthew waved to Richard.

"Call me Matthew. I've been called 'Feed' by my colleagues over there for twenty years. If I were suddenly called Mr. Kelly, I would think you're trying to sell me something."

As it spoke, it looked Richard up and down.

They looked him over very directly, without any attempt to hide it.

Richard immediately broke out in a sweat on the back of his neck.

The face of the rebellious force is right beside his thoughts, just waiting for him to reach out.

Matthew grinned after reading it: "Teacher, this child is quite well-behaved."

Richard slowly sat back down.

"You must be curious, so I'll just say it myself... I'm from the labyrinth tradition."

This tradition settled in Richard's mind, and his "Erudition" opened up on its own.

He had asked Mortimer to decipher some maze traditions, and at that time he came up with a proverb that sounded like nonsense.

(See Chapter 342)

"Sir..." Richard was about to ask.

"You want to ask how a hunter would end up in this tradition, why not go for the Moon Hunt, Gladiator's Duel, or Gale Hunt?"

Richard shut his mouth.

Matthew leaned back in his chair, which made a rather undignified sound.

"It would take three days to explain, and there's a part in the middle that I don't really want to talk about."

When it said that, the smile on its face disappeared.

"But if you really want to hear it..." He pointed his thumb out the window.

"They're available in bookstores on the street, two pence a book, and they sound better than I can describe them myself."

Donald spoke up sullenly from the side: "He must be referring to that book, 'One Man's Great Journey'."

"When I read the fourth volume, he was trapped in a valley for more than a month, surviving by chewing grass, and finally fought a bear with a knife."

Matthew's face fell.

"That bear was actually a terrifying evil creature. I couldn't beat it at all back then. The book has been slightly... artistically embellished."

"The book says it can split a bear's head open in three moves," Donald said.

"I know," Matthew said, spreading his hands.

"The author of the book is a gentleman who has never left the capital."

He spoke with me once, and I talked for an hour. After I finished, he said that what I was talking about wouldn't sell well.

"Oh, by the way, later on, to make it easier to sell, he even added a fiancée to my list."

Mrs. McNeil burst out laughing, then quickly put the back of her hand to her mouth.

"It takes the completely opposite approach to that expert who uses poison gas."

Mrs. Mary said this to Richard.

"That guy cut all the anchor points, and once he did, there was no way back."

She turned to Matthew.

"Matthew refused to cut a single hair."

"Which door did you take?" the man suddenly asked Richard.

"Mirror surface".

"Mirror." Matthew turned to look at Mrs. Mary.

"Teacher, when did you start accepting students who do delicate work?"

"He is not one of my students."

"Oh?"

"He was one of his own students, so I left a mark on his ring."

Matthew chuckled and didn't ask any more questions.

"Kid, don't be nervous."

It's not scary that I made it like this, it just took a lot of effort.

"...Struggling?"

"It's a lot of work to build," it said, pointing to itself with its finger.

"Every time I go inside, I have to think about it: where is the scar on my face, where do I put my left hand when I talk, and whether I make a sound or grin when I laugh."

"You've read in a book that true masters don't leave their bodies behind."

"I've read it." Richard nodded.

"The book says, 'Live as the power itself, and nothing else belongs to you.'"

"The book is quite polite."

The man raised his chin.

"To put it bluntly, once you reach that point, you're just a road, a gust of wind, and a well."

"I am a road."

"I'm not pretending to be like this on purpose."

"It's for my own eyes."