I loaded the Mysticism panel.

In the evening, Richard returned from his tutoring session with his aunt.

The gray-robed messenger who arrived this time almost touched the top of the window frame, carrying a tin box in both hands.

Richard pushed open the window and found a letter pressed under the lid of the box, with a torch and key stacked together.

Hermes:

Let's first talk about what happened in Rome afterwards.

That table broke up, but no one died. We were both there and could see that, but being alive and still at the card table are two different things.

When Fortuna was struck by Nemesis's whip, the wheel split in the middle.

In the past two days, investigations have begun into the fake accounts of the Naples lottery bureau.

Minerva never sought outside help or paid any price; she continued to go to work at the Turin observatory as usual.

These two are in the best situation; the others are in a more difficult situation.

I need to remind you that you probably haven't seen what a collapsed table looks like on the other side of the curtain.

After that night, the Roman table went from being our adversary to a tempting prey in the eyes of those in power.

Of these seven people, Minerva and Fortuna likely had backup plans.

You need to be careful around these two people from now on. As for the rest, except for Mercury, you can treat them as if they no longer exist.

That's all for the important stuff; now for something a little personal.

I still don't understand why you declined the second seat last night.

Place the chair to my right. From now on, you'll be in charge of what's on the table when I'm not around.

None of the others at the table would argue with you about this; after this experience, they were even more eager for you to sit down than I was.

Feeling that you are not of a high enough rank is not an excuse.

After the team battle, everyone knows who holds the highest and lowest status at this table.

I want to hear the truth. —Hecate

Richard laid the letter out on the table and began to think.

The grey-robed messenger was very polite; when he saw that the messenger was about to write something, he consciously stepped outside the window.

To be honest, I was quick to refuse at the time, but I came to understand the reasons later.

The second-place position, frankly speaking, is still subordinate to and representative of the chief.

He wouldn't stand for the idea of ​​making decisions for the Chief when she wasn't around, only to have Hecate take the blame if she was right and he had to bear the consequences if she was wrong.

But when it comes to writing it on paper, it certainly can't be written like that.

Richard took out a pen and wrote on the back of the letter.

"chief:

The person in the second seat is supposed to make decisions on behalf of the head, and I don't know where your table leads, so I dare not agree rashly.

Moreover, the second-place position was put there by someone else; I prefer to rely on myself in everything I do.

I didn't back down that night of team battle, so I'll still take on any work and pay any bills from now on. —Hermes

After he finished writing it, he read it over and found that it was indeed all true.

Richard folded the letter and stuffed it into the messenger's outstretched sleeve, his gray robe spilling out through the window cracks.

Returning to his spoils, he first laid out his old companions, the Saint-Gobain bronze paperweight and the bronze balance scales, on the table.

The box was opened, and it was packed full of things. Hecate, who had made the greatest contribution, probably hadn't withheld anything.

The city was completely destroyed last night, but the names of the gods, the masks, and the divine weapons did not completely disappear; the vessels that carried them are still there.

The earthenware basin that the female stove goddess held all night is a real object;

The spear in Mars's hand came from an old arms factory on the peninsula;

Fortuna's wheel had wormholes in the spokes.

The divine name of these people has been dispersed, but the ether that was imbued with the divine name remains.

The panel needs this: year, origin, and being thoroughly preserved in ether.

Richard took out the first item.

It is half of the earthenware basin of the female Kitchen God, which is large and heavy.

Saint O's long beak turned away.

When the accounts surfaced, they were spotless: the remnants of a hearth in an old house in Rome, spanning three centuries and changing owners four times, each time preserving the old fire.

The scale barely wobbled on one side, and the weight measured felt solid and substantial.

Richard placed his palm on it.

Available points: 3.57...3.71...3.94...

He stopped when the ether flowed directly in through the conduction pathway and was about 95% absorbed.

Available points: 4.13.

This pot might have other uses in the future.

He remembered the brazier next to the pillar of the fire temple in Donald's backyard.

He's quite familiar with the split-fire strategy now.

For this kind of ritual, the older the medium, the better. A ceramic pot that has been preserved in the fire for three hundred years is more suitable than any newly made bronze ware.

He wrapped the earthenware basin in a soft cloth and put it under the bed.

The second item was a small section of an iron spear, only the top part.

Richard's fingertips went numb when he picked it up.

The ether of the Moon Hunt tradition, along with the Legion's murderous aura, made this spearhead less honest than the hearth goddess's brazier.

Richard brought over the paperweight.

Remember the only official website for "Deqi Novels": www.deqixs.org. This is the only official website; other websites may be discontinued at any time.

"Keep accounts."

Saint O's long beak tilted to the side, and he remembered very slowly.

The spearhead has killed too many people and evil beings; it needs to be purified.

The numbness finally dissipated completely from my fingertips when the scales were used for the third round.

Richard wiped the sweat from his brow and placed his palm on it.

Available points: 4.13...4.52...4.87...

Available points: 5.03.

It's closer, even more than that ceramic basin.

He tucked the spearhead into the oiled paper and wrapped it with two turns of coarse salt thread.

He probably won't touch this thing again, but he doesn't plan to get rid of it either. Keeping it in his own hands is safer than giving it away.

If Professor McFee or my maternal grandfather have any rituals related to the moon hunt, we could ask them if this spearhead could be used as a medium.

The third item was two wooden spokes, the two that had been pulled off the wheel of fortune.

The still water reflects almost nothing; the ether is so thin it's practically like water vapor.

Available points: 5.03...5.11...5.19...

That's it.

Available points: 5.23.

0.2 is optional.

But this thing might be used as a medium for divination.

Richard unscrewed the half-empty bottle of stardust.

When the sand grains get onto the spokes, they roll onto the wood on their own.

Richard raised an eyebrow and put them, along with the stardust, into the divination box.

As I put it away, my chest began to feel warm.

On the night of April 30th, the portion of "luck that the hunter master gave him" was dispersed into his blood as he uttered the name Ashford, and then completely distributed.

Now, this luck has grown even stronger.

It seems that Fortuna moved too much at the end of the team fight, and even though she was scattered by Catherine's whip, some remnants still remained.

Moreover, the cost was paid by them, so Richard didn't owe anyone anything.

"...That's a good thing, it's my lucky day."

Richard divided the remaining contents of the tin box into two piles.

First, there was the silver mirror of Venus. The fine lines on the edges had been smoothed out by hand, but there wasn't a single scratch on the surface of the mirror, which was very strange.

A line of small characters was engraved on the back of the mirror:

"qui speculatur, et ipse speculatur. (He who sees, is also seen.)"

Richard saw the mirror and immediately became interested.

This was the first time he had ever handled a mirror, a traditional and respectable medium.

Other traditional introductory tools include silver needles for hunting the moon, silk for weaving nets, and a stove for cooking.

Mirrors are too niche, so no one has ever come up to him and said: You should get a mirror when you start out.

In the past six months, he has been practicing the Mirror Condensation Technique, using whatever mediums he could find: copper plates, water basins, or at the very least, a cup of tea.

Now, he has a real mirror in his hand.

Richard held the silver mirror in his palm and tried taking two steps.

He had just reached the second stage of the condensation technique, "seeking stillness in motion," but he was not proficient at it at all.

Now that I have this mirror, my water level is much more stable.

He held up the mirror and poured a little undirected ether into it.

A significant portion of the ether was absorbed by the mirror, while the remainder was reflected back.

"...Can it rebound?"

Richard's eyes lit up; amplified by the media, the effect of his mirror image had subtly reached the third stage.

When Mercury pushed the coin containing the dead man's money to his nose, he flicked it back with the Shield of Rebellion.

It does work, but at the cost of the original mask becoming unusable on the spot.

If I had this mirror in my hand, I wouldn't have had to go through all this trouble.

Of course, just like practicing [Stone Armor] and [Silence], these mediums can only serve as crutches and trial cards. In the end, we still have to return to casting spells without mediums.

This requires careful consideration and cannot be rushed.

Next up is Demeter's little bag.

The bag was tied with a hemp thread, tied very casually. Richard untied it and poured a few coins into his palm.

The seeds were all plump, and their shapes were hard to describe.

There was also a note in the bag, with large, flat handwriting, showing that the person writing it was not very comfortable holding the pen.

Hermes:

This small bag is the only one in my field that didn't get stained this year.

To grow the product behind the curtain, you need a specific ceremony and venue, which you probably can't do where you are. I'll teach you the simplest way to use it.

You bury it in the soil (any kind of soil will do, even a flowerpot), put a wisp of clean ether in it, and whatever you want it to grow into will be what it is.

Think it through before sending ether; once it grows, it can't be changed.

Too big won't do; trees and vines are out of the question.

The vegetables and fruits weren't very good either; they grew hollow.

Spices are best; they have shallow roots and are needed in very small quantities.

If you have a yard, choose a corner that is sheltered from the wind and faces the sun.

Also, don't be greedy and bury one at a time.

—d.”

Richard finished reading the note and laughed to himself.

This shrewd farmer taught him how to grow things in a way that was no different from the way a farmer's wife sells seeds by the roadside.

He put the seeds back into the cloth bag and tied it up.

In the southeast corner of Ashford Manor’s backyard, next to the row of holly bushes, there is an empty space.

Last year, the housekeeper wanted to build a flower trellis there, but my grandfather objected, saying it would block the light.

A sheltered from the wind, facing the sun, and three meters square—perfect.

Evelyn was just talking about this, saying that a vanilla pod in the capital costs two shillings and sixpence.

She calculated that making one batch of caramel pudding with vanilla alone would cost her most of Richard's tutoring fees from the past.

There was also mint; the honey mint sauce in that jar was made with wild mint that grew in our backyard. The leaves were small and the flavor was mild.

Cardamom would also work; you could take it to Grey for her to appreciate.

Richard put the cloth bag into the inner pocket; he didn't intend to put it in a hidden compartment.

The last item was an unsigned bronze seal.

Mercury "accidentally" left behind seven or eight items during his retreat; at least that's what Hecate's note said...

But when that person left last night, he picked up all the coins that were scattered on the ground and put them back into his bag. Would such a person drop things?

The copper seal automatically displays information when touched with ether: Genoa, 2nd floor, No. 11, Via San Lorenzo. Visitors can enter by presenting this seal.

The other party said that anyone could come and sit at his place, but Richard took it as just polite talk.

It now seems that they even left each of them a business card.

Well, business is business. Sometimes dealing with businessmen is much easier than dealing with politicians.

After everything was inventoried, the sun had already climbed to the top of the window frame.

Richard pushed the tin box to the corner, sat back down at the table, and brought up the control panel.

Available points: 5.23.

He stared at the line of numbers for a while.

At this time last year, he was considered well-off if he could scrape together 1.5 yuan.

In order to upgrade his [Knowledge] to level 3, he squeezed every last drop out of both copper coins and incense burners.

After the juice was finished, there was still a few tenths of a cent short, which was finally made up with the help of the sun stamp.

Back then, he had to mentally calculate every day which item he should keep, which he should retain, or which he could sell for a better price if he kept it.

It's currently at 5.3, and there are still enough channels to accumulate further.

I wonder what it will be like when I become a minor expert in two years.

So where should we put this 5.3...?

He moved his gaze down and landed on the "Spirit" column.

【Lingrong 20\\/20】

[Capacity limit can be increased by consuming points:]

20→50: Requires 2 points

50→100: Requires 3 points

100→?: Additional conditions must be met (not yet unlocked)

Last night, in that city of seven hills, his ether was depleted three times from the moment he entered until the moment he left.

The first time was when I read Matthew's name aloud, but the city wouldn't let the words fall completely.

The second was helping others change their allegiance and obtain Roman names;

The third was Mercury's series of offers, plus that crucial "Reversal of Fortune" moment.

All three times, they survived thanks to the limited supplies in the [Spiritual Countenance], which shows the importance of the [Spiritual Countenance]. It should be noted that the Spiritual Countenance contains high-purity ether, which can amplify the spell and judgment.

What if Lingrong was fifty last night?

"...These two points are still necessary to add, but I don't know what the conditions will be for 100 and above."

Tap down with your fingertip.

[Spiritual capacity upper limit: 20 → 50]

In that instant, my microcirculation seemed to expand all at once, leaving me feeling empty.

Richard pressed his hand to his chest; even through his shirt pocket, the Sphinx lamp could still feel its warmth.

Fifty points of pure ether.

With his ether reserves alone, he was already infinitely close to reaching the threshold of minor mastery.

Available points: 3.23.

With the remaining three points, his [Knowledge] has reached 70% of level 4, so he should think about breaking through, and he'll leave those for now.

He tidied up the table, leaving only the silver mirror outside so he could access it at any time.

………………

In another hall, a false flame illuminated the fake fire and empty cups throughout the room.

Two more heads are hanging in the darkness above this month.

Loki sat on the throne, holding a small crystal in his hands and projecting it outwards.

"This is the live feed from the Rome and Greece table; I paid a hefty price for it."

"How expensive?" Freya asked.

"It's more expensive than your plate."

The shadow spread out in the center of the hall.

The tuff of the city of seven hills is stacked layer upon layer.

The Tiber River flows out of Heli and then flows back into Heli.

The furrows circled around the seven chairs and closed, causing the entire ethereal field in the projection to turn over.

Loki laughed halfway through.

"Okay!" He put his leg on the armrest.

"The Greek table ate the Roman table."

"It wouldn't be good for us to eat them, would it?" Tyr asked.

"Eating them will make us even fatter."

Loki made it perfectly reasonable.

"We were originally going to eat this sheep, but now this sheep has eaten the other sheep itself."

"Do you think this is a good thing?"

No one in the hall responded; they couldn't understand where Loki's inexplicable confidence came from.

The projection continued downwards until the road along the Tiber River was paved out.

Loki's leg slipped off the armrest.

Those three honored names were played back word for word in the live broadcast.

As the first sentence was uttered, all the heads hanging on the ceiling turned around at once.

As the third sentence was uttered, all the illusory flames in the entire Hall of False Oaths simultaneously subsided.

Hela's entire face turned white.

Tyr's one hand was supporting him on his knee, but he couldn't hold on any longer.

Freya pushed the plate away.

Loki sat in the head seat, remaining silent for a long time.

Then he laughed.

"Gentlemen," he said, spreading his hands.

"Don't panic."

The rules are clear: experts cannot directly participate.

Did you see that one of them actually make a move from beginning to end? No, it just passed by.

"It paved a road, but the road itself isn't the end result."

"Besides, who's standing behind us at this table? The Hunter."

The Hunter Lord is ready to advance to Master level; you all know that.

"So in the end..." he said, his words becoming increasingly fluent.

He kept nodding to himself as he went along with it, tracing his name in the air with one hand.

Lillian sat in Skadi's chair, watching him silently.

Her gaze shifted from Loki to the projection still playing in the center of the hall.

The messenger, carrying a staff, walked into the center of the Roman legion, his shoulders held high.

She had only seen that person do this in two other places.

One was the abandoned house behind the Greenwood main building, and the other was a newspaper so covered up it was barely legible.

Her fingers tightened on the hem of her skirt as she secretly worried for her good friend.

Having won only three battles, he already had to rely on the blizzard to hide himself.

If the other side wins this round, the entire Divine Salon system, including the various powerful backers behind them, will remember this envoy.

Loki, who was in the main seat, was still talking.

He gestured wildly as he calculated how much the Greek table had lost that night; how nothing had grown in Demeter's field; the price paid by the master of the abyss; the price paid by the labyrinth's traditional expert, and so on, making it all seem very logical.

Lillian looked at him and suddenly felt that the whole thing at the table was a play from beginning to end.

The person in the head seat is an opera singer, and the heads on the ceiling are just scenery.

She herself, along with Tyr, Freya, and Hela, were all props pushed onto the stage by others.

They won several rounds with these props, but who ended up with their share?

"Kill one person at the table, and then take their seat."

As Lillian thought of the rule, she reached into her sleeve and touched the needle, her resolve growing stronger.

After the event ended, she returned to the attic.

The clock on the Vltava River struck its twelfth note, and the titmouse on the windowsill remained motionless.

She sat on the edge of the bed, opened her notebook, and turned to the last page.

The dried four-leaf clover was still there, with a letter tucked beside it.

"If one day, we..."

"...Before that, I need to find someone else to sit in that tall chair," the girl thought to herself.

On the other side, the rainy season has not yet arrived in the Heitu River region.

The inverted pyramid hangs at the deepest part of the curtain, its tip pointing downwards and its base upwards.

The one inside was sleeping very restlessly; the Black Soil River expert had been sleeping restlessly for a long time.

Since the night of May 30th, the hunter has been touching that rein; he probably needs to pull it out to help him advance to the master level.

This made it increasingly anxious and even more determined to find that person.

"Priest, I can help you."

A voice, neither male nor female, came from the other side of the tower.

The title of priest has not been used for over a hundred years.

Those who know it used to be a tomb guardian priest either belong to the same rank or have been buried for many years.

The Black Earth River expert opened his pupil-less eyes, and shadows began to gather, instinctively wanting to shine them on that person.

The speaker did not let it see.

"I know what you're hiding from. Every time the Hunter's horn sounds, you have to move deeper into the area."

"I know what you're looking for, and who those three syllables come from."

The darkness inside the tower began to pulsate, and the Black Earth River Master sat up.

"Who are you?"

"I sit at the head of a table, named after our Black Soil River."

"The priest had to draw the mask I wore on papyrus every day, and after he finished drawing it, he would stab it with a knife, stomp on it, and burn it with fire."

"It's been burning for thousands of years, but it hasn't burned down."

Inside the upside-down pyramid, the darkness had fully awakened.

"...Apophis."

"Shelter, I can provide it." The voice was full of confidence.

"I can also investigate. I am a scholar of the Abyss, and these are all areas where I excel."

Black Earth River expert put away his little tricks. Since he was a master of the Abyss tradition, he couldn't just act recklessly.

"What do you want to trade with me?"

We'll talk about it later.

The people at the table in the Sun Hall of the Black Soil River also learned about this an hour later.

Apophis sat at the head of the table, and he never said much.

The name Apophis can gain resonance by tormenting other names of the Black Earth River Gods.

So the other six people at the table were all tormented by him to the point of hating him to the core.

But none of them can touch him, and that's enough.

Today he broke with tradition and stood up to read out those three respectful names in front of everyone at the table.

"He who walks in the land without light, and breathes with the shadow."

As soon as the first sentence was uttered, the shadows of the people on the table began to stir restlessly.

"He who once used a mirror to reflect the names of all things."

As the second line fell, the young man who had just joined the group, sitting at the very bottom, slid off his chair, braced himself on the floor, and began to vomit.

"The flesh is sealed, the bones are engraved, only the shadow remains forever in the world."

As the third sentence was finished, a gaze descended from the deepest part of the curtain.

Everyone at the table was too ashamed to lift their heads.

Some people rested their foreheads on the table, while others dug their fingers into the cracks in the stone.

The young man vomited a second time, and after he finished, he lay motionless next to his vomit.

Apophis stood at the head of the table, motionless.

The gaze lingered on him for three seconds before withdrawing.

The hall remained quiet for a long time.

"Gentlemen," he said, sitting back down.

"From today onwards, we have a new ally at our table."

No one responded.

Once the event was over and the gaze had completely disappeared, the young man was helped to his feet...

Several people slowly raised their heads and exchanged glances, all understanding each other's meaning.

Last month, someone sent a message from the north.

At the time, it sounded like a mindless provocation, like a clown whose table had just been overturned grasping at straws in desperation.

Now, that provocative phrase is echoing in their minds again, and it's much clearer than it was last month.

Of course, they're not stupid; they need to make several preparations, like the Greek table.

They knew very well that Apophis's willingness to contact that expert was definitely due to the pressure he felt from the news in Greece.

So on the same night, the house by the sea in southern France received intelligence.

After reading the letter handed to her at the table by the Black Earth River, Hecate sat in front of the loom for a long time.

"Apophis... has also approached the expert?"

"I just don't know to what extent this expert from the Black Soil River can interfere."

"As the war outside intensifies, old rules are losing their binding force..."

Hecate sighed deeply as she thought about this.

It was only at this moment that the grey-robed messenger appeared and delivered Richard's reply.

She glanced at it casually and put it aside, not finding the answer surprising at all.

"...I don't know where your table leads."

This sentence is written very politely, but the meaning is very clear: I don't trust you.

Despite not trusting her, he still took the job and paid the bill, acted as guarantor for four names in the City of Seven Hills, and invited the distinguished guest who had paved the way from the Deep Realm into the city gates.

This child clearly distinguishes between public and private matters.

She reached out onto the loom and touched the thread.

The first time she touched this thread, she touched a body of water that couldn't reflect anything.

She withdrew her hand and did not probe any further.

This time, when she reached out her hand, she touched nothing but emptiness.

Hecate opened and closed her fingers in mid-air.

Forty-one ceramic hammers were all in their proper places, and the warp threads were taut and neat, except for one.

The thread was still there, of course; she could see it hanging on the loom, but she couldn't feel anything in her fingers.

She tried a second and a third time, tightening the tension of the entire loom. All the other threads were shaking, but that one thread remained completely still and silent.

Hecate withdrew her hand.

She had seen many ways of hiding things: some people used strange objects to cover them, some relied on family seals to block them, and some simply erased their names from all the books.

She could dismantle all these methods of concealment; the harder she tried to conceal them, the more obvious the traces became.

But not being able to touch it is another matter.

That means that this person is no longer "someone who can be read" on the other side of the curtain.

She recalled the scene in the City of Seven Hills: the star map of Minerva spread out and covered the entire city, six stars lit up one by one, and the seventh star did not light up.

Fortuna, spinning her wheel on the hill, said, "I can see him, but the star map cannot."

At the time, she only thought it was because of the saying that envoys were not included in the register, but now it seems that it's more than that.

Hecate stood up and walked to the potted plant by the window.

The scissors were placed next to the basin.

She picked up those scissors many times in the past two months.

This time, she didn't even bother to go and get it.

The woman laughed, and the laugh lines appeared at the corners of her eyes.

How do I cut it myself?

She couldn't reach the thread, and she needed Hermes to stay at the table.

She initially threw out more than a dozen pottery coins, but only received two back.

One of them has grown so fast that she can no longer read, and the other should not be underestimated.

Hecate folded the letter again, tucked it into her sleeve, and sat back down at the loom.

The team fight and the mole incident are now considered over.

But the Hermes issue had been looming over her ever since the team battle ended.

On the other side, in the dormitory area of ​​Imperial University, at 2:40 a.m., [Wild Sleep] woke Richard directly from his deepest sleep.

The leaves of the old sycamore tree outside the window are rustling; the wind is coming from the west.

The moment the still water spread out, several spirits stood on the windowsill.