I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Catherine didn't change her move this time; she still used the same straight punch that went to her left ribs, starting from the exact same stance as her first punch.

Richard instinctively tried to dodge the sight reflected in the water, but the next moment the other person's small chisel slashed down.

When the knife struck, Richard's mind went completely blank.

The thought of dodging or activating the [Stone Armor] defense was completely erased by this one move.

The next moment, the fist landed solidly on his left rib.

Richard groaned, the spot on his ribs where he had been punched burning hot.

The breath in his chest was also dissipated, and the surface of the water in the mirror-like technique shattered into pieces.

Catherine did not pursue him, but stepped back and stood watching him.

Actually, she had been holding back just now; normally, she could crack a stone when she hit it.

"..."

Richard leaned against the wall for a while to catch his breath.

"Again."

This time he pressed the water even deeper, to the point where he could hear the heartbeat of the person on the other side.

Catherine started again, the chisel turning very lightly between her fingers, the short blade cutting forward at an angle.

Richard learned his lesson this time. Since he could delete his own thoughts, he could simply dodge the moment the other person raised their hand.

He took a step back, his fist grazing his chin; he could feel the force of the blow on his chin.

"Hmm..." At least I managed to dodge it. It seems the other party is a beginner and not very familiar with it either.

In the subsequent practice sessions, Richard had already mastered the knack.

Instead of reading where she's about to strike, just read the part where she's breathing.

Hunting the Moon's breathing is rhythmic, and the rhythm changes before she turns the chisel.

He became more and more adept at hiding.

Seeing that Richard had completely cracked the code, Catherine simply stopped.

She put the chisel back in her pocket and rested her hands on her knees, panting heavily.

Sweat soaked his collarbone and trickled down his neck, sticking his red hair completely to his skin.

Richard got up from the ground and touched his left rib.

"...Yours is much more uncomfortable than Montagu's light barrier."

Catherine took out her notebook.

"Does it hurt?"

"pain."

Catherine turned the notebook to a new page, turned around, and held it up high.

"Would you like to learn?"

The smugness in those green eyes was impossible to hide.

"I'll teach you."

………………

Catherine laid the notebook out on her lap, and the two sat facing each other on the training room floor.

"This technique requires three steps," Catherine wrote.

"The first step is to read, and read out what the goal is to do at this moment."

"When a person raises their hand, this action adds a stroke to the ether."

A monstrous creature lunged at him; the lunge itself was a stroke of luck.

Richard raised his head.

"So what you just read was the stroke I was supposed to dodge to the right."

Catherine nodded, and the pen tip moved downwards.

"The second step is to make a cut on that pen."

She took out the chisel and, at an angle, cut down along an invisible line.

This time, it was exactly the same thought I had just had about cutting Richard out.

"...Does it mean cutting through the edges?" Richard blurted out.

Catherine's hand froze in mid-air, her eyes showing surprise.

"The professor taught me on the doorframe of that stone house in the village of Fire-Smoke," Richard said.

"Ogwen's inscription on the edge indicates that the edge is the boundary."

Catherine sighed and continued writing: "The final step is to consume ether to erase and delete that entry."

Richard turned two pages forward in the booklet.

"What about the restrictions?"

Catherine's pen lingered on the paper for a long time.

"It has the worst effect on people."

Why?

She wrote a long passage, and then held it up.

"Because a person is a text that is written over and over again, you have dozens of names attached to you: son, brother, student, practitioner, scholar assisting in investigation, and the one in your own chair."

"You can erase one stroke but you still have others, so you can only delete the one stroke in front of you, and after you delete it, you can start writing a new one in the next moment."

Richard recalled that punch just now; he had indeed missed for only half a second, and after that half a second, all his thoughts returned.

But in half a second, you can do a lot of things during a fight, like he just took a solid punch.

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"The less intellectually capable they are, the better they are," Catherine continued writing.

"Wandering spirits and ghouls only have one name on them; one stroke of the pen and they're gone on the spot."

"What about mid-tier and high-tier evil artifacts?"

"The higher you go, the harder it gets to read; other signs start to appear on them."

She added another line after writing this.

"The professor said that students of higher rank should not study."

Richard nodded; he had heard this phrase far too many times before.

"And the medium?"

"Silver needles, carving knives, chisels, anything will do." Catherine held up the antler-handled tool: "This one is the most convenient."

After she finished writing, she turned the chisel halfway around, with the polished antler ring on the handle facing upwards.

Richard looked at the bright mark and suddenly remembered something: "It seems the professor wrote it freehand."

"Yes, once you're familiar with it, you don't need a medium; all techniques are the same."

"Moreover, he can not only make one stroke, but also many strokes, until he has deleted an entire person."

"For us, let's practice this stroke first."

After Catherine finished writing, the next step was practical exercises.

She found a lit candle and placed it in the center of the room.

"Let's read this first. Each flicker of the flame is a stroke."

Richard spread out the still water, and the small cluster of fire fell into it.

The flames danced erratically, but each flicker left a faint mark on the ether.

He stared at it for about twenty seconds before looking up.

"I've finished reading."

Catherine's hand stopped on the notebook.

"...What?"

"The upward stroke begins slightly to the left of the flame's center and ends at the top point."

The training room was quiet for a while.

Catherine wrote down half of the sentence "Take another look" and then crossed it out.

"The knife falls."

Richard picked up the silver needle.

He cut too early on his first attempt; the needle tip went through the air and didn't touch anything.

The second cut was a beat too late.

The third time, the needle tip traced a very shallow ridge at an angle.

The candle flame shot up halfway and then stopped.

The small cluster of fire remained suspended in mid-air for about half a second before falling back onto the candle wick.

Richard held the silver needles, his palms sweaty.

Catherine sat opposite him without moving.

It took her more than a week to get to this level.

Two days ago, she couldn't even read where the first stroke of the character for "flame" was. McFaye was watching and getting anxious for her, but the more anxious she got, the more confused she became.

"...I'll try again," Richard said.

He switched the silver needles to his left hand and pressed the still water down again.

This time, he cut on the stroke where the flame was falling.

The flame didn't fall; it lingered at the top for a full two seconds, and a small trickle of wax dripped down the candle.

Catherine closed the notebook.

She stood up, walked to the corner, grabbed her coat, and pulled another, thinner booklet from her pocket.

"Here, take this." She shoved the booklet into Richard's arms.

"...What is this?"

"My practice notes".

"Then what will you use?"

Catherine put the chisel back in her pocket; she was frustrated.

"I've already memorized it."

"I explained three steps today. As for the rest... you can practice them yourself."

She held the notebook up to shoulder height so he could see it.

Why?

She wrote this line for a long time.

"Because I can't teach any more than this."

After she finished writing, she closed the notebook and put it in her pocket.

Richard, holding the two booklets, watched the red-haired girl push open the iron gate.

"Oh, right."

She paused at the doorway and opened her mouth.

"The accounts haven't been settled yet."

After saying that, she shut her mouth, coughed twice forcefully, and turned to walk into the corridor.

Richard sat on the floor for a while before he realized what those words meant.

He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out the IOU.

"...There shouldn't be more and more of them, right?"

Back to practice, Richard took the Venus silver mirror out of his canvas bag.

I belong to the Mirror Tradition, and in theory, practicing the techniques of this Moon Hunting Tradition doesn't necessarily require following someone else's path.

But we're just starting out, so let's be conservative for now.

Richard raised the silver mirror and then took out a glass jar sealed with wax, inside which was a layer of black mud.

Of all the piles Hercules dumped on the round table in April, this was the dirtiest; it was soil dug up from the uninhabited region that stretched across the continent.

It's not very valuable, but it's good as practice material.

He opened the frost branch box and placed it beside him, then sprinkled a ring of coarse salt around the jar before using the tip of his knife to pry open the wax seal.

There was an intelligence so low in the mud at the bottom of the jar that it couldn't be more profound, not even qualifying as a wandering spirit, with only one last obsession remaining: to crawl forward.

They would crawl out of the bomb craters at night, steal clothes and rations from the dead, and then retreat back inside before dawn.

The small clump of black mud seeped out from the mouth of the jar, bumped around in the salt ring a couple of times, and then started to crawl out.

Richard spread out the still water, and that intellectual aura fell into the water.

It's much easier to read than a candle flame; it's the same stroke from beginning to end.

The stroke begins at the very beginning, without any turning points in the middle, and the ending point hasn't been written yet.

Richard held the silver mirror horizontally in front of him and made a diagonal cut with the needle tip.

The mass of black mud in the salt circle stopped moving, and then it all collapsed.

Richard held the silver mirror and flicked the silver needles in his hand.

He sat outside the salt circle, looking at the bottom of the jar, which had completely turned into ordinary soil.

This cut seemed faster and deeper than Catherine's.

Once outside the training room, there was no one on the main road of the academy area.

Richard took a dozen steps, then suddenly stopped and touched his left rib.

That area still hurts a bit.

………………

After signing the paperwork for early closure that day, Isabella called the carriage to the entrance of Petrie Building, and they went back to Ashford House together.

Richard got into the car and discovered that his aunt hadn't brought her test paper this time, which was unusual.

"Have you brought everything?"

"I brought everything."

"Where's the rubbing machine?"

Richard picked up the canvas bag and shook it; the machine inside was so heavy it weighed down his shoulders.

Back at the mansion, the butler had already prepared the small south-facing living room, with all the curtains drawn and a recliner placed in front of the window.

Margaret was still arguing with her sister when she sat down.

"Why make such a big fuss?"

"We can't delay any longer." Isabella pulled the blanket over her lap.

"You need to rest even when climbing stairs now."

Richard placed the canvas bag on the table and took out the rubbing machine first.

"Mom, I need to gather some information first."

"What are you talking about?"

"Let's establish a framework for how your healing path is on the other side of the curtain, so I can see it clearly during treatment."

Margaret glanced at the machine and frowned.

"Will it hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt, please sit down."

Isabella pulled out the grid paper from the side and flattened it for her nephew.

Richard stood to her side and slightly behind, and could see that his aunt's shoulders were taut.

"here we go."

The crank turned half a circle, and the grid paper appeared in the shadow.

Richard's hands were also trembling slightly.

When the rubbing was made, the main loop section was blank on the paper, and the rollers became lighter as the silver thread passed through it.

The conclusion reached by the three experts is exactly the same: it cannot be repaired.

Then the residual loop spun aimlessly, and the paper was covered with tiny, swirling circles, some of which had become knotted together.

Following those lumps downwards, you can see that the lungs are in a terrible state.

In physical terms, it means spending half the night by the window, having to catch your breath every time you go up a flight of stairs, and having an incessant cough.

Beyond the etheric field on my mother's body, which had been blurred and burned by sixteen years of idling, there was something else hanging there.

It belongs neither to the path nor to the physical body; it is simply a sentence.

Richard's breathing slowed, and the water surface pressed against that sentence.

—Announcement.

[博闻] I found that in "On Climbing Behind the Curtain" it was mentioned that to be promoted to minor proficiency, one needs to complete the "first oath" (prima juratio).

Practitioners place unusual objects in the places where the curtain's penetration is strongest, using these objects to send a declaration to those behind the curtain.

The declaration is sent out, and the curtain will respond.

The response indicated that the etheric structure within the body underwent a fundamental and irreversible change.

This change is why minor proficiency began to be called intermediate level, marking the first step towards dehumanization.

Margaret was twenty-six years old when she issued the declaration.

Then the ceremony failed, the loop exploded, and the person was carried off.

That statement was neither retracted nor answered.

It just hung there, suspended for more than a decade.

A declaration that has been sent out but not yet implemented will continue to wait for a response.

"...Richard?"

His mother's voice brought him back to reality.

He looked up and saw his mother turn to look at him from the recliner.

Those eyes are very similar to Evelyn's, only quieter.

"Finished watching?"

"...I've finished reading it."

"How is it?"

Richard placed the rubbing on the table, walked over to the recliner, and squatted down.

"Mom, let me treat you first."

He raised his hand, palm facing his back.

The inverted tree of light in the Sun's Seat has light beads starting to seep outwards from the edges of its leaves.

He has been saving up for three months.

"...Mmm." Margaret responded softly.

"What's wrong?" Isabella immediately came over.

"It's warm." The mother closed her eyes.

Richard dared not be distracted, so he spread out the still water and channeled it to the empty, swirling areas first.

The swirling loops were flushed up by the droplets of the [Spring of Life], and the knotted parts began to loosen.

...The moment she relaxed, her mother's breathing became a little lighter.

By the twentieth minute of treatment, the disordered lines on the lungs began to straighten out.

Most of the compensatory stagnation has been resolved. The injuries that fall out from sitting by the window all year round and those that are coughed up are ordinary hidden injuries that do not involve the mystical side and are the easiest to treat.

In the 50th minute, Richard drove the still water towards the dead zone on the main road.

He already knew the outcome, but he still posted it anyway, and the blank space didn't react at all.

Richard paused there for three breaths before moving his hand away.

Finally, he lifted the still water to the other side of the curtain, to the lingering words.

The scent of a spring rose up.

That sentence remained unchanged, waiting for a reply or retraction.

When Richard lowered his hand, the [Spring] in the Sun Seat was empty.

It only takes one afternoon to use up what I saved up over three months.

He stood up, holding onto the edge of the table. His vision went black for a moment, and it took him a while to regain his balance.

Margaret, who was on the recliner, opened her eyes at that moment.

She sat in the chair for a while, then stood up by herself, supporting herself on the armrest.

"mom……"

"I'll give it a try."

She took two steps in the room and stopped at the window.

"Sister, how are you?" Isabella's voice trembled slightly.

Margaret raised her hand and pressed it against her chest.

"I don't feel any tightness in my chest anymore."

"...What?"

"Here." She pressed her hand against her chest.

"Something has been blocking the way for over a decade, but when I walked around just now, it was all empty."

Isabella turned her back to them and wiped her face with her hand.

Richard got up and rolled up the rubbing again.

"Mom, I'll treat you again every now and then."

Margaret walked over and reached out to brush away the few strands of hair on Richard's forehead that were stuck together with sweat.

That's enough.

"mom……"

Her hand stopped beside her son's face.

"Richard, when I sat up in bed at the age of twenty-six, I already considered the rest of my life as free."

"I've been taking it all for free for over a decade, and I even had two of you."

She smiled.

"You've added another twenty or thirty years to my life today."

Richard lowered his head.

"Any more would be greedy," Margaret said.

"I've seen too many greedy people end up like this in our line of work."

She withdrew her hand and turned to walk towards the door.

"What do you want for dinner? I have the energy today, I'll cook a nice meal."

"Sis, you should rest!"

"I haven't taken a break in over a decade, so one more day won't make a difference."

My mother cooked dinner that day.

Richard sat in the living room and examined the rubbing of the paper again, spreading it out on his lap.

That statement was a declaration sent out from behind the curtain.

Speaking of which, I wonder if this new technique I've learned will be effective?

Richard considered the idea in his mind and felt that this direction was feasible.

This technique is specifically designed to sever the intangible. Isn't this half of the declaration just such an intangible thing?

However, that's something I'll have to master first. At that point, besides [Shadow Reversal], I'll also be able to help my mother.

Speaking of which, what will be the twist in "Broken Branch"?