I loaded the Mysticism panel.

When Richard reached the middle of the street, towards the back, he slowed down.

On the right is a small storefront with a faded curtain hanging down. The sign reads "Malcolm Astrology." The curtain is half-drawn, and it's dark inside, so you can't see anything clearly.

The storefront itself was unremarkable, but the ether concentration in that location was significantly higher than the surrounding area.

It's very faint, like the undercurrent at the bottom of a stream; if you don't pay close attention, it will be drowned out by the noise on the street.

Richard walked a few more steps forward, and to his right, across two shops, at the entrance of a narrow alley, the ether concentration rose another level.

Further along, near the corner at the end of the street, there are two pots of withered mint growing in front of a tightly closed gray wooden door. The ether concentration there is the highest on the entire street.

The three points are located in the middle and rear sections of Huayue Street, with uneven spacing.

Like three independent springs beneath the riverbed, continuously seeping water upwards.

Richard silently memorized the three positions; the dividing line between truth and falsehood was drawn here.

Ninety percent of this street is for performances, and one-tenth is for genuine goods. Both share the same street, the same smokescreen, and the same group of oblivious customers.

He glanced at the doorplates on both sides.

The street numbers started from the thirties and went inwards, getting smaller and smaller, like the twenties, twenties, twenties, twenties... I didn't see any house numbers below ten even when I reached the end of the street.

The numbering of Huayue Street starts from eleven. The first ten numbers, including the seven he was looking for, do not exist at all.

"There is no number seven on Flower Moon Street." Richard stopped in his tracks.

Vincent smiled, his hands in his coat pockets. "No?"

"House numbers start from eleven."

"Yes, it's not on the surface."

My cousin took his hand out of his pocket and gestured with his chin toward the gray wooden door at the corner of the street.

"Come with me."

Next to the gray wooden door is an old brick wall.

The brick surface was blackened by years of rain and dust, and there were clumps of dead moss in the cracks.

From the outside, it looks like an ordinary old wall, no different from the side of any other old building on Huayue Street.

But as Richard approached, the warmth within the Sun Throne trembled.

The ether concentration suddenly increased in front of the brick, jumping from the undercurrent at the bottom of the stream to the turbulent flow at the river mouth.

"This is it." Vincent pulled off his scarf, revealing his neck.

"The way to walk on walls varies from person to person." He stretched his shoulders a couple of times. "My method is rather simple and brutal."

He took a deep breath, and his breathing rate increased from the normal level to the level of hyperventilation.

His complexion quickly turned ashen, and the veins at the corners of his forehead bulged.

Richard saw the exact same state of mind he experienced during his morning exercise today, except that this time there was no ice water bucket.

The next second, the young man stepped out.

His body crashed into the brick wall, but the scene Richard expected—the bricks shattering or the person being thrown into the air—did not occur.

Vincent's shoulder sank into the wall as if he had stepped into waist-deep mud.

Ripples spread across the brick surface around his body, and he was quickly swallowed up by the wall, his heels disappearing last, before the ripples subsided.

The wall was restored to its original state; the black areas remained black, and the moss remained where it should have been.

Richard stood there for a few seconds.

He stretched out his right hand, palm facing forward, and slowly approached the brick surface.

When your fingertips are about three inches from the wall, resistance appears.

The air became viscous, similar to putting your hand into syrup that had cooled to a semi-solid state.

At the same time, a chaotic wave of sensory interference surged in.

His sense of direction was disrupted first. He knew he was standing facing the wall, but his brain was receiving the signal that "you are going around in circles."

The balance system began to protest, and the breakfast in the stomach turned over.

When snowflakes appear at the edge of vision, the brain generates gibberish when processing conflicting signals.

This is a Fog Wall spell, but it's many times stronger than the Fog Wall spell that the piece of gray stamen grass in his hand can cast.

Any ordinary person without an etheric internal circulation would feel dizzy and nauseous upon encountering this interference, and would instinctively retreat.

Even if he tries to move forward, once his sense of direction is completely disrupted, he can't tell front from back, left from right, and he'll just wander around in circles back onto the street.

I thought I was suddenly feeling unwell and needed to see a doctor.

Richard withdrew his hand and took a half step back.

Vincent used his Blood Burst to force his way in, and used Ether Infusion to crush the interference field.

To give an example, imagine rushing forward in a hailstorm while wearing a thick down jacket.

Hailstones hurt when they hit you, but your down jacket is thick enough to make you tough it out.

He didn't have a down jacket.

The ether microcirculation is still in its infancy, and its total volume is several orders of magnitude smaller than that of a near-professional hunter like Vincent.

If you try to force your way through, you'll most likely be completely stunned by the interference field before you even get halfway there.

Let's try a different approach. Wearing a down jacket and rushing through hail is one way to get through, and finding gaps between hailstones is another.

Richard closed his eyes and began to do quadruple breathing.

Inhale for four counts, hold your breath for four counts, exhale for four counts, hold your breath for four counts.

The warmth within the Sun Seat stabilized from its chaos, coalescing into a single point of light the size of a bronze button.

He used the rhythm of the internal circulation to counteract the chaos of the interference field.

The essence of interference field is to input random codes into the target's perception system, while the essence of quadruple breathing is to establish an extremely stable order within itself.

Order confronts chaos.

As long as the internal order is strong enough, garbled characters input from the outside will be automatically filtered out.

He reached out a second time, his fingertips touching the viscous air layer, and the sensory interference surged again.

His sense of direction began to shift, and snowflakes appeared at the edge of his vision... but this time he wasn't taken away.

The four-fold breathing rhythm swirled steadily in his chest, and the Sun Constellation acted as an anchor, pinning his consciousness to the spot.

Interference signals were sent in, but were deflected by the rhythm of the internal circulation.

If it's not completely cleaned, it can probably block about 70%, but the remaining 30% will still make him slightly dizzy.

But 70% was enough. Richard opened his eyes and took the first step.

The brick surface softened in front of my palm, and my fingers sank into it.

The feel was completely different from what I had imagined when I saw Vincent walk through the wall; it felt like pushing open an extremely thick cotton curtain.

The cotton curtains pressed against my sides, damp and cool, and the ethereal touch seeped in from the outside.

Every inch of his skin is receiving information.

This stretch of road is only about two steps long, but it felt like it took forever to walk it.

The resistance from the cotton curtain suddenly disappeared in the last half step, and Richard's right foot stepped onto the hard stone floor, followed by his left foot.

The air was cool and dry, and the buzzing in my ears stopped.

He opened his eyes, and Huayue Street was still Huayue Street.

The same street width, the same two-story old buildings, but everything is different now.

The sky overhead was obscured by a semi-transparent dome, and the number of shops on both sides of the street was reduced by more than half, leaving each storefront quiet.

There were far fewer pedestrians, walking in twos and threes on the stone-paved road.

They were dressed in various styles, some in robes, some in suits, and some in cloaks and hoods.

But no one spoke loudly, and no one stopped to look around.

People who come here all have very clear goals.