I loaded the Mysticism panel.

"Last winter, the hunter acquired something."

The shop manager, without stopping wiping the cups, asked, "What is this?"

"I don't know what it is," Loki said casually. "I only know that no one has given it up for hundreds of years."

Where is the person who gave you the things?

"Once it was given, it disappeared from its sight."

That was all for now. Loki slammed his cup on the counter and turned to look at the rain outside the window.

The hunter by the window, whose left sleeve was empty, pushed the cup away first.

"...That's the Ashford thing."

The store manager looked up: "What?"

"The black dog has its eye on Gerald Ashford."

The hunter was very impatient.

"He is still alive today, and this spring someone saw him loosening the soil around his holly bushes in his backyard."

"It's been circulating in the Northern Region for half a year now, haven't you heard?"

The chief engineer, who was mending socks, pinned the needle to the cloth and started making an opening.

"The hunter doesn't work for nothing. It collected such a heavy thing, it's bound to give something back."

At the innermost table, the military scholars were also quite interested.

"Cut the name of a great expert off that book, and put something heavier than the name on the scale."

"This is written in the book, not something I made up."

The room fell silent.

Loki turned his face back from the window, looking completely bewildered.

"...Is that so? I didn't know. I only heard that the hunter master accepted gifts."

This isn't entirely an act.

Prior to this, Loki had indeed heard about such a thing involving the Ashford family.

However, from his perspective, he did not establish a connection between the Ashford family and Hermes.

The hunter only said that Hermes gave it something it was very interested in, but didn't say what it gave or what it received in return.

:

But now that I hear what these people are saying, there's definitely some truth to it.

...And even if the Ashford family has no connection with Hermes, that doesn't matter.

Anyway, his original goal was to find a way to divert Apophis's attention to Hermes.

It now appears that the objective has been achieved.

As for whether the Ashford family will be caught in the crossfire, what does that have to do with Loki?

The store manager took out the small booklet with its curled edges.

"Name your price, sir."

"I'm not selling," Loki waved his hand.

"Because of this face, no one has been willing to listen to me for six months. Today, I'm finally getting someone to listen, and I'm just joking around."

Loki finished the last sip of his drink, stood up, and slapped a gold coin onto the counter.

"Please drink as much as you like, the next round is on me."

"I'm happy today."

Then Loki pushed open the door and left, and raindrops poured in after him.

The store manager waited behind the counter for about ten seconds to make sure the person wouldn't come back before he started making a note of it in his notebook.

A dozen miles away, in a rented attic.

Loki released the puppet from his control, letting it dissipate in the rain, and sat on the edge of the bed, wiping the blood from his face with a wet cloth.

The entire trip to spread the news, including the wine and gold coins, cost less than two pounds.

Loki's greatest pride in his life was that he rarely relied on lies to get things done.

Lies are too cheap; divination can trace back to the lies and be accurate every time.

The lie is a knot on the other side of the veil, but knots can be untied.

The truth never gets tangled up.

The Hall of False Oaths burns with the flames of deceit, displays empty cups, and serves vain meals; the entire hall stands upon promises that are never intended to be kept.

Loki treated everyone in the tavern to a round of drinks, and anyone who accepted fell into his trap from the moment they agreed.

From then on, any words that were relayed by the second mouth in the room would be traced back to the mouth that relayed them.

Whoever tries to divine the future, following the rumors, will never find Loki.

:

Hela contacted them: "What exactly did you do?"

The second seat at this Nordic table is secretly a strategic ally of Loki.

"I've told you a true story that's in our favor." Loki tossed the damp cloth into the basin.

"Who should we tell this to?"

"Tell this to an information broker."

"and then?"

"And then that was it."

Hela was not sent away.

"Didn't you say you wanted to incite the Greek group and the Black Earth River group to fight each other? What does this have to do with that?"

"It's fine to look at it alone." Loki put his mask back on.

The only official website address for this novel is: ".". The website owner has only this one website, and other websites may be discontinued at any time.

"It's true that the Hunter received a generous gift last winter."

The one about Ashford is real too; it's all over the empire.

"So what?"

"It depends on who obtained this intelligence."

Loki put on his coat.

"We read it, but we'll just take it as a joke."

"But lately, Apophis has been busy helping his influential backer find out who passed on those three syllables, hasn't he?"

Hela understood.

"...So, you deliberately steered the conversation toward Greece."

"right."

"But you didn't mention the Greek table once from beginning to end."

"Why would I bring this up?" Loki shrugged.

"Nine and a half out of ten ordinary practitioners outside have never even heard of the term 'Shenpu Salon'."

"How can you be so sure that Apophis and the person behind him will go to the Greek table?"

:

"I have no idea."

Hela was stunned.

"I don't need to know." Loki pulled his hat brim down further.

"Given the mindset of those in positions of power, they would rather kill the innocent than let the guilty go free."

Everyone in the circle, those with names and connections, will be implicated.

"The Greek table was just one of the ones that were investigated."

Hela thought about it.

"What if he doesn't find anything in Greece in the end?"

"That's still a good deal." Loki put his hands in his pockets.

"I only spent less than two pounds in total."

"It would be best if the Black Earth River and Greece fought each other. Even if they didn't fight, their attention would be diverted, and that would be our opportunity."

"...And the Hunter Lord did indeed tell us to keep an eye out for such a person, with a double serpent staff and flying shoes."

Loki took two steps toward the door, then turned back and smiled.

"If Apophis really digs the man out, I'll present that ready-made answer to the hunter."

I didn't put in any effort, yet all the credit went to me.

If they can't dig it out, or if they get blood all over their face while digging, that would be even better.

………………

Abdu is a purchasing agent who buys resin, frankincense, and old copperware for his superiors in the Black Earth River region, and occasionally more complicated items.

The latest intelligence compilation cost eleven pounds, which Abdul paid.

After paying, Abdul went to The Hague and bought another copy of the intelligence compilation for the same quarter. He spent the entire afternoon comparing the two copies on the hotel table.

After confirming that there were no problems, he reported it to his supervisor.

At the table by the Black Earth River, the person sitting in the third chair used the name "Seth," so let's call him Seth for now.

After Seth finished reading the intelligence, he was still unsure of what to do.

If we suppress the information, and it turns out to be true intelligence, and the expert behind Apophis finds out later, Seth will be left with nothing but bones.

But if the information is false, Seth will suffer a terrible fate.

:

Seth had never been at a disadvantage with this kind of question in his life.

He copied Abdul's intelligence to the top without changing a single word.

Then I paid to check on the situation at Ashford's house myself.

This intelligence is the easiest to verify. The funeral of old Phillips in the capital was a grand affair. If the hunters had been drinking, their mouths would be looser than their anuses.

Two days later, the reply came: the news was true, old Gerald was indeed still alive, and the other master hunter who was with him was indeed dead.

Seth attached his reply to the last page.

This changes the nature of the entire intelligence compilation.

The top part reads, "This may be someone deliberately trying to disrupt the situation," and the bottom part reads, "I personally verified one of the pieces of intelligence, and it is true." In the middle are all other people's analyses.

Seth himself didn't make any specific judgments, yet he still played a role, existing in a quantum superposition state where he did something but it seemed like he didn't do anything at all.

The people who hate Apophis at this table are listed from the second chair all the way to the seventh.

Seth kept handing it to him, his only intention being to get him to take a bite of something too big.

If Apophis could bite through, that was luck; if he couldn't, well...

Seth reheated the sealing wax, making it even more solid than before.

In Cairo, in a room without windows.

There was a layer of black water on the ground that reached up to my ankles, and it was extremely hot inside the house.

Apophis stood in the water and read through the entire stack of intelligence.

Of course, he wouldn't trust anyone.

To have reached this level of success, paranoia has become ingrained in his very being, which is similar to the personality of the Black Soil River expert he recently befriended.

Apophis only recognizes verifiable information.

Of all the intelligence reports, only Gerald was confirmed to be alive, and this was common knowledge throughout the capital.

The rest is all analysis, not facts. Information brokers just arrange facts into various shapes and then charge money.

More importantly, from the fat store manager in Lukang, to the purchasing agent Abdu in the middle, and then to Seth who handed over the goods...

Each of them wrote something similar on a piece of paper: "This may be someone deliberately trying to stir up trouble."

So the question isn't "whether this is bait set up by someone".

The problem lies in whether the bait is real meat, and who exactly put the bait there.

:

Apophis sent someone to the Deer Harbor Tavern, slapped money on the manager's counter, and asked only one question: Who was the first to say those words that afternoon?

The response came quickly: the three people had three versions, none of which matched, and each insisted that they were the ones who said that sentence.

Apophis held the paper up to his eyes and smiled.

Human memory can be wrong; it's not uncommon for three people to each remember their own memories.

But if three people are simultaneously convinced that they said something that wasn't their own, that's not a memory.

Someone is treating me like a fool.

Those within the industry who can do this can be eliminated through process of elimination.

In addition, he had recently been focusing on investigating the table in the theogony salon... Apophis stood in the black water and folded the paper.

"...Some people are afraid I'll look north."

The black water stirred, and the expert from the Black Soil River looked over.

Apophis bowed slightly.

"...It'll be soon."

He took a pottery jar from the shelf in the corner and began to use the mud from the Black Soil River to make a token.

I made a total of six pieces of black pottery: one from Northern Europe, one from Greece, one from Russia, one from Iberia, one from Germany, and one for a completely unrelated group at a table.

Apophis laid out the list and drew a new circle around the Nordic table.

As for the Greek table, there was nothing suspicious about it.

There's nothing suspicious about it; that's what makes it suspicious.

Apophis concluded by writing "To be determined" in the margin.

In the other side of the Hall of False Oaths, the Flames of Deception continued to burn diligently, without generating any heat.

There was one more head hanging in that dark ceiling than last month.

Loki lowered his legs from the high chair, and the palace doors opened.

The messenger that came in had no shape; it simply placed a thin piece of black pottery on the round table and it crumbled.

Freya went over first and turned the pottery shard over.

The moment she was turned over, Freya froze.

Tyr placed his single hand on the edge of the table, and Hela turned her face, half alive and half dead.

:

Loki walked over and picked up the pottery shard from the table.

A snake is shown biting its own tail in the front.

The back has a line of Sami script, the characters are large and the strokes are very straight:

"My allies want to know: who is keeping those three syllables safe?"

The hall was so quiet that one could hear the flames burning.

"...He should have issued six copies," Loki said.

"How did you know it was six pieces?" Hela asked.

"If I were him, I'd give out six pieces." Loki twirled the ceramic shard between his fingers, the smile still lingering on his face.

"Sending one card is an accusation, sending six cards is casting a wide net. The recipient doesn't know if they are the one who receives it; whoever acts first is the one who gets it."

"Then we won't move," Tyr said.

"Of course we won't move."

Loki said he felt very relaxed, so relaxed that Hela stared at him for a long time.

………………

Richard closed the window tightly, lay down, and counted to seven.

As the sea of ​​stars receded, the marble temple solidified.

Seven stone chairs surround the round table, and not one of them is empty.

Richard sat down in his chair and glanced around.

Hecate's golden mask sits on the main seat, the torch and key more solid than on that June night.

Noticing Richard's gaze, she even nodded to him, showing no change in attitude whatsoever.

The wine cup in Dionysus's hand still had a crack.

Hercules was breathing heavily, and it was unclear whether his bones had fully healed.

Demeter clasped her hands on her knees, her fingernails filled with mud.

Behind Prometheus stands a dark bronze figure, its left arm reattached, the bronze at the seam looking brand new.

The scales above Nemesis's head didn't tip too much tonight.

"Let's talk about the last two months first," Hecate began.

:

"After the city of seven hills collapsed, both sides of the curtain were watching our table."

"Let me tell you about the attitudes of all parties."

She raised a finger.

"The first thing to do is to avoid it."

"We originally had two tables scheduled for our team battle, with the dates almost set, one in September and the other in November."

"Those two tables were cleared out last month."

"Did they say anything after they left?" Dionysus asked hastily.

"No, they cleared everything away completely, without even saying goodbye."

Hecate said, "It's proper not to greet us at this time... If you greet us, it's like admitting that you've been treating us like pushovers."

Hercules snorted, a sound of indescribable satisfaction in his voice.

"And there are also gestures of goodwill."

Hecate raised her hand, and a wooden box with copper-bound corners emerged from the center of the round table, bearing no emblem.

"One table approached us, saying they wanted to make a non-aggression pact with us; that's how sincere they were."

"Has it been opened?" Prometheus asked.

"It's open. Inside are three things: a traditional spellcasting medium, one of their chief's collections, and one more thing I'm not going to mention on the table."

"Did the chief accept it?" Dionysus asked.

"Confiscated."

"Did you agree?"

"no."

The cup paused for a moment in mid-air.

"...This will work?"

Demeter chuckled very softly beside her.

Hecate lowered her hand.

"Don't get too excited, there are still people coming to poach our people."

"Someone offered to take one of the people at our table to their side."

:

"Who offered the price?" Hercules asked on the spot.

"I can't tell you that."

"Who was invited?"

"It can't be said that it undermines unity."

Hecate's golden mask tilted to one side.

All I can say is that the person who made the offer offered a high-quality item.

Upon hearing this, everyone became somewhat nervous.

Richard kept the still water extremely diluted and didn't spread anything on it.

He didn't need to lay down his paws to see that everyone present, except for Hecate and Nemesis, looked away at the same instant.

Some people looked down at their cups, some straightened their cuffs, and some looked up at the starry sky above the dome that had just receded.

The direction they moved was all towards his side.

Richard sat on the stone chair, his mind also racing.

A truly superior object becomes what it is because of too much.

Of all the items he handled that year, the most lucrative was a piece of brass torn from an item signed by a master, which cost a little over three o'clock.

The hermit's 1,100-year-old stone bowl is almost there, but it's also a high-grade object...

He had even started calculating: how many points could he get if he stopped at 95%; and how many points would he still need for the four elements of [Body], excluding [Breathing] which each required two points.

He was stunned halfway through the calculation.

【Reflection and Inner Awakening】It lit up at this moment.

For a professional to buy a high-end item, someone who can afford that price is certainly not a sucker.

Unless the buyer knows or believes that the practitioner has something better than the superior product.

Regardless of what the other party is thinking, this is not good news.

...It's also possible that there was never such a buyer.

Hecate presented this matter in a very sophisticated way.

They didn't disclose the buyer or the candidate, but only the price.

Price is the part that can make everyone at the table panic on the spot.

:

As soon as she utters "higher objects," the six people immediately start guessing who it is, calculating their own worth, and mentally re-weighing the table.

Then all she has to do is say, "This table won't be changed," and she can buy the loyalty of the entire table.

You don't have to pay a single penny.

If she made it up, that's a very clever trick.

If she didn't make it up... that would be even more troublesome.

Prometheus's ball of crimson flame shrank slightly before settling back down.

...If he leaves, I'll lose the priority status I earned by working for free for three years.

...No, it's more troublesome than that.

...Could it be that they were actually talking about me?

The thought only stayed in his mind for less than half a second before he shook his head.

Nemesis was simply thinking, "What will I do if he leaves?"

Demeter rested her hands on her knees, her inner drama never stopping ever since the word "higher things" came into her mind.

...The produce from my land all year round, even if sold, wouldn't be enough to buy half a piece of something.

Two years ago, that batch of Requiem poppies sold for a good price, eighty-three pounds. I was happy for several days. Eighty-three pounds wasn't even a fraction of what others made.

...On another note, if the bidder is willing to exchange the superior crop for seeds, my land will be available next year...

She dismissed the thought, feeling somewhat ashamed.

She looked up and glanced towards the head of the table.

The man in the golden mask was also looking at her.

"Chief." Dionysus placed the cup on the table.

"I just want to ask one question."

"explain."

"The person who made the offer, have you considered finding someone else?"

He spread his hands out.

"I also lack a high-class item here."

If we can reach an agreement, I'll move in tomorrow; I won't even need to bring my bedding.

:

Hercules laughed first.

"People produce high-quality goods to acquire excellent assistants, not to buy alcoholics."

"I, this drunkard, just closed a deal last month."

"How much did you earn?"

"...Seven pounds and two shillings."

"Seven pounds." Hercules hoisted the giant club onto his shoulder.

"One of their high-class items is enough for you to drink for three hundred years."

"I wouldn't live to see three hundred years."

The tense atmosphere at the table was completely dispelled by the bickering between the two.

Hecate waited until they had finished their brainstorming session before taking her hand off the table.

"I will answer on your behalf."

I said: This table won't be changed.

Richard sat in his chair, saying nothing.

He knew who he was saying that to.

"Let's get down to business." Hecate placed her hands on the table.

"I mentioned the threshold for the third stage last year: everyone must be proficient in all seven chairs."

"There are two more practitioners at this table now."

Nemesis's scales sank slightly.

"If I don't urge you, your rank won't come through."

"But I can pave the road."

She held up three fingers.

"I have a venue. I will personally be present as a protector. I also have suggestions for the preliminary selection of traditions."

Her gaze first fell on Nemesis.

"You can continue on the path of Hunting the Moon. There's no need to change it. The person behind you is a great scholar who is well-versed in Hunting the Moon. The path has already been paved for you."

Then she turned around.

:

Hermes.

Richard raised his head.

"I suggest you pre-select the web weaving."

The temple fell silent for a moment.

"You've spent the past year at this table doing appraisals, acting as a middleman, deciphering, and connecting people... Weaving the web is all about these things: sealing, divination, destiny, and linking two unrelated things together."

"I've seen your techniques. Your specialty is taking a structure apart and putting it back together. Weaving a net is never short of structures."

"Moreover, the weaving industry is deeply rooted within the empire. I can find you many acquaintances along the path from being a beginner to becoming a master."

Richard sat on the stone chair with his hands on his knees, showing no sign of anything amiss.

The tradition of weaving nets—Hecate herself was on that tree; if she were to attach herself to it…

Richard suppressed these thoughts to the very bottom of his mind, so much so that even his own still waters couldn't reflect a ripple.

"Thank you, Chief, I've noted it all down."

"But I'm still quite a ways off from that threshold."

Hecate stared at him for a long time.

"You said the same thing when you refused the second place last time."

"That time it was the truth too."

"……OK."

She withdrew her hand.

In the next segment, Dionysus raised the amphora.

"First, some bad news: this cup of mine can't be repaired."

He picked up the cup again, poured a little more into it, took a sip, and his brow furrowed and then relaxed.

"It's still bitter."

Hercules said his injuries had fully healed.

"Has the resonance level increased?" Hecate asked.

"It's gone up a lot; the stick is much lighter to lift than it was in June."

"That's normal," Hecate nodded.

:

"What Hercules spent his whole life was getting himself back on his feet after being injured."

Hercules sat back down.

"Back to the intelligence, evil creatures have started growing in that blood-soaked strip in the no-man's-land."

"Last month I went into the southern section with a hunting team, where the valves were opened in April."

The poisonous gas in the low-lying area hasn't completely dissipated, and there's something moving in the yellow layer at the bottom of the bomb craters.

"When I first saw it, I thought it was a stray dog. It had four legs, its head was drooping, and it was lying on the edge of the pit."

I threw stones at it, and it burrowed into the pit.

"We led one up to a clean, high place, but it scattered after walking less than twenty steps."

"It can't live without that stuff; it only survives when it's soaked in it."

When it was Richard's turn, he laid out the items from his canvas bag one by one on the table.

A small jar of yellow powder, a piece of conveyor belt leather, three bullet casings, and a small bottle of nitrocellulose solution.

Prometheus was clearly very interested.

"Hermes, where did these come from?"

"A weak point in the filling plant, which was renovated this March."

Prometheus walked halfway around the round table and squatted down next to the small bottle of nitrocellulose.

"Since this spring, the entire alchemy circle of the Western Continent has been studying what happens to industrial products after they are touched by the veil."

"The demand for such products is far from meeting the supply. We've been in this business for hundreds of years, and we're dealing with mostly old stock."

"So I want them all. Name your price."

Richard shook his head: "What I need is processing."

Prometheus did not agree immediately, but examined the four items one by one.

He stopped when he saw the conveyor belt.

"This is useless. It's too loose as a medium and too soft as a carrier. It won't retain anything you put in it."

"If you were to sell it, you might get a few shillings; but if you were to use it to make something, it wouldn't even be a proper piece."

Richard nodded.

He himself wasn't sure about this, but now he has the answer.

:

Prometheus pushed the piece of leather back.

"The remaining three items are all good things."

He placed the small jar of yellow powder and the bottle of nitrocellulose side by side.

"You should have realized it yourself: one characteristic of these two things is 'queuing,' and the other is 'direction.'"

"In our line of work, it's all about the fuse and the charge."

Hercules turned his head sharply.

"You mean...?"

"Yes, it can be used to make enchanted explosives." Prometheus nodded. "And not just the kind where you carve a couple of inscriptions on lead."

"And the price?" Richard asked.

Prometheus said that because this thing was so rare, his master might also intervene.

The fees charged by highly skilled craftsmen are not cheap, he admitted frankly:

"A master craftsman can personally start a furnace, starting at £150, and there's a waiting list; the wait is from this year until next spring."

Hercules gasped.

"One hundred and fifty pounds?"

"That's the going rate." Prometheus then looked at Richard. "The amount given to Hermes certainly wasn't that."

"He was still talking to me last month about how he was short of such experimental materials."

He held up his finger.

"For you, I only need thirty pounds in cash."

"Five pieces of etheric condensate, at least of medium concentration."

"We will keep records of all the research on the production process. In addition, you will have 70% of the finished product, and the workshop will keep 30% as samples."

Richard did the math in his head.

Thirty pounds, plus five pieces of coagulant.

There's definitely enough cash: fifty pounds from the Imperial Cultural Promotion Committee, sixty pounds from Demeter, and the money from splitting the proceeds from the sale of Donald's two cursed items.

The condensate was not a problem either; Hercules used it to pay every bill, Demeter received a batch every quarter, and his maternal grandfather received a batch every quarter as well.

"make a deal."

:

Prometheus carefully put away the three items one by one, even more carefully than Richard himself.

He paused when he received the last item.

"Oh, right, I have some news too."

"Speak," Hecate said.

"On the 17th of last month, a master of traditional furnaces in the capital took the lead in preparing for a counter-gas war."

"All the relevant experts within the country responded; not a single one was absent."

"The Quartermaster Department approved a separate line, which was organized as a special engineering company."

"Where are the accounts hung?" Hecate asked.

"Chemical firefighting"

Prometheus hadn't finished speaking.

"My mentor also took on several orders, mostly for filter materials and coatings."

"There was a blueprint that was laid out with its back to me. After I looked at it, he rolled it up and locked it in the cabinet."

After locking it, he said: "Don't learn this."

Everyone present understood that the Empire not only wanted to defend itself, but also wanted to retaliate with poison gas.

"There's one last thing to do tonight."

As Hecate spoke, the people at the table began to pack up their things.

"Apophis, the head of the table at the Black Earth River, sent over something."

Upon hearing the name, they all stopped.

: