I loaded the Mysticism panel.

The "Available Points" field is located in the upper right corner of the panel, and the numbers remain unchanged.

Richard repeatedly turned the coin over with a ruler, then held his right hand above the coin, less than half an inch away, and waited for a full minute.

The numbers remain unchanged.

Even if something is sealed away, there will always be some omissions that allow the panel to absorb a small amount of points.

But this pottery coin has nothing on it; it is simply a man-made artifact from a relatively recent period.

Richard stroked his chin. The fact that the other party hadn't left the items directly at his house made him less wary.

From a purely rational perspective, they probably knew that the people invited were not simple individuals.

Many of the invitees' families are under strong protection and sealing.

Therefore, they deliberately chose locations with weak security, but where their targets could appear regularly.

This organization is very sophisticated, at least tactically.

Richard gently wrapped the pottery coin in oiled paper without touching it.

He stood by the window on the second-floor corridor for a while, watching the younger students running laps on the playground outside.

He soon arrived at the school's public telephone booth.

The phone rang three times before the housekeeper answered it.

"This is Ashford House."

"I am Richard Williams." He lowered his voice. "Please pass me to my grandfather. It's urgent."

"Young master, please wait a moment."

The receiver could be heard the butler jogging away, followed soon by another series of footsteps approaching.

"What is it?"

Gerrard's voice was the same as in the previous two phone calls—no preamble, no small talk.

Richard recounted in its entirety what had happened in the storeroom.

How the moth appeared out of thin air, how it decomposed, the patterns on the pottery coins it left behind, the contents of the letter, the Latin motto at the end, and all the preliminary judgments he had made.

He did not omit any details.

After Richard finished speaking, the person on the other end of the phone thought for about ten seconds.

Where are the pottery coins now?

"It's still in the storage room. I haven't touched it. I used a ruler or oil paper the whole time."

"Very good," Gerald praised. "You're calmer than I thought."

Richard didn't respond to that sentence.

"Grandfather, I have a judgment I'd like to confirm with you."

"explain."

"I don't think the other party only submitted one copy to me."

The recipients should be a specific type of sample, such as Cicero Cup winners or teenagers who have demonstrated talent in public in recent months.

"The other party is screening resumes. In addition to the applicant's abilities, they may also want to see the reaction of the applicant's family."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

Richard.

"Um."

"You made the right judgment."

"Based on your analysis, this matter is basically correct."

The other party is screening resumes, specifically the later ones.

Gerrard spoke a little slower than usual.

"But I must tell you something first, so that you don't make the wrong judgment next."

"What is it?"

"The Ashford family can offer you less support in this matter than you might think."

The lights were dim, and Richard frowned.

"How small?"

"As a small matter, the first thing I could do after receiving your call in Beijing wasn't to send someone down."

Gerald said, "Given the distance, even if our family hires a secret guide from the capital to get to Bristol, it will take at least until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Richard had a bad feeling.

Gerrard continued.

"I know you might think Ashford House looks pretty good from the outside."

At the height of our family's glory, there were indeed three ancestors who possessed profound knowledge of various arts, while those in collateral branches started with lesser expertise.

"But that happened before your great-grandfather."

Once he started explaining, he stopped hiding anything.

"My father's generation started to decline. The family had several accidents, and my younger brother died young as a result."

By the time it comes to your mother's generation, there will only be one and a half people, including myself, who can hold their own in public.

The other half is your aunt Isabella; she's an academic and doesn't usually do fieldwork.

Richard listened as a cold wind blew through the phone booth.

"I don't want to complain to you too much," Gerald said.

"I'm telling you, the protection the Ashford family can offer you right now has its limits."

"Since the other party can send a spirit messenger into your daily activity space, it means that you are already under the continuous observation of the other party."

Simply locking up the pottery coins isn't enough; you need a powerful enough person to always protect you.

"The Ashford family cannot do this."

The old man spoke slowly, and Richard could sense the apology in his words.

"Among the upper-class nobles in the capital, there are families like Montagu and Gretham that can establish connections with the royal family."

Each faction has its own independent sealing array, a dedicated secret advisor, and a small group of highly skilled combatants that can be mobilized at any time.

Gerrard continued to explain:

"If their children encounter something like this outside, they can just ring a bell and someone will arrive at the scene within half an hour."

"These families have produced many outstanding individuals in their ancestors, and each generation can guarantee that several highly skilled individuals are alive at the same time."

They were deeply entrenched within the royal and official systems, mutually supporting each other.

"We are not."

"For decades, the Ashford family has been struggling on my own."

Richard's throat moved slightly upon hearing this, but he remained silent.

"So..." Gerrard didn't drag out the outcome for too long:

"I suggest you handle this matter in the following way."

"Give the pottery coins and letter to your guide."

He has taught in Greenwood for decades, has a permanent position, and has an established local network of connections.

The forces he can mobilize locally within hours are much faster than the people I could send from the capital.

The old man spoke very frankly.

Richard stood in front of the phone, and for a second, he didn't know what to say.

He had heard his grandfather speak concisely, sternly, and coldly, but he had never heard him admit so directly that he couldn't do it.

"I understand," Richard said.

"And don't let this give you any other ideas about the family," Gerald added.

"The promises the Ashford family made to you remain unchanged, and those promises will not change because of what happened tonight."

"I see."

"Hang it up."

"Hang up."

Richard put the receiver back into the fork spring first.

The light in the phone booth flickered, as if the current was unstable.

………………

In the western part of Beijing, a private study room for senior students at Harrow School.

Phillips is one of the regular users of this study room.

Harrow allows high-achieving students, once their application is approved, to rent a small private study room as a space for preparing for entrance exams and studying independently.

Phillips' study room was on the third floor, east side, with a window facing the school's rugby field.

He comes here every afternoon at four o'clock sharp and stays for two hours. He has a habit of placing his teacup in the same area slightly to the left of the center of his desk, with an error of no more than half an inch.

The surface of this spot is a shade darker than the surrounding area, likely from years of exposure to the heat from the bottom of cups.

On Monday afternoon, when he pushed open the door, the moth appeared out of thin air and then disappeared, and there were ceramic coins and letters on the teacup holder.

He was holding a cup of freshly brewed black tea, not even putting it down.

Looking at the two items, Phillips hesitated for less than ten seconds before picking up his teacup and leaving the study room the way he came, without even glancing at the contents of the letter.

He locked the door again, went downstairs and went directly to the Harrow School gatehouse, where he borrowed an internal phone.

He dialed the direct line to his father's office.

The phone was answered by an unfamiliar male voice.

"I'm looking for your Inspector General," Phillips said, stating his name and identity.

He stood in the phone booth for less than a minute before his father's voice came through the phone.

Bartholomew did not ask, "What happened?"

The fact that my son would specifically call my office means it can't be a trivial matter.

Phillips described what he had just seen in three sentences and then stopped to wait for a reply.

There was a silence of about five seconds on the other end of the phone.

"Don't go back to the study room," Bartholomew said.

"clear."

"Wait for me at the school gatehouse. I'll have a secret acquaintance come over."

"it is good."

"Did you touch it?"

"no."

"very good."

The phone hangs up.

Westwick was a minor mastery level hermit who, upon arriving at Harrow School, followed Phillips into the study room.

The man stood in front of the pottery coins for about a minute, then placed the suitcase on the floor, squatted down, and opened it.

The suitcase was neatly divided into more than a dozen small compartments, each containing various spellcasting mediums.

Westwick took out a porcelain bottle and sprinkled a small amount of gray powder around the ceramic coin.

After sprinkling the powder, the man began chanting incantations.

After the last syllable was pronounced, the pottery coins in the circle started to burn.

Unlike igniting with a combustion aid, pottery coins burn from the inside out on their own.

Soon, it turned into a small clump of powder, which quietly scattered on the desk.

Westevik took a small copper spoon out of his suitcase.

Carefully scoop the powder into a small glass bottle, seal the bottle, and place it in the sealing box.

Having finished the final touches, he spoke his first words: "The token itself has been processed."

"The delivery traces have also been erased."

His gaze swept back and forth across the study room.

"The delivery locations were chosen very carefully."

"The other party didn't go to your house. Your house is protected by a seal of the highest level of expertise. The directional spell of the spirit messenger cannot penetrate that shield."

Therefore, the other party chose the location where your protection was weakest during your daily activities, but which you would regularly appear in.

"The study room," Phillips said.

"Hmm." Westwick nodded. "This study room has no mystical protection, but you'll be here for two hours every day."

"To be able to penetrate the outer shielding layer of the Hello and accurately deliver the token to your teacup, the other party must be at least a minor expert, or even more advanced."

Phillips looked at the table, feeling somewhat uneasy.

He never imagined that such an ordinary-looking private space would one day become the entrance through which someone else's hand reached in.

………………

In the Department of Classics at the Royal Academy, Montagu had a dedicated research cabinet in the department library.

The Royal College allows certain outstanding preparatory students early access to the departmental library and to use research space.

Montagu had held this qualification since he was fourteen years old.

The study cabinets are shared by all students in the Department of Classics, but each cabinet is assigned to a specific user, and the key is only issued to that user.

When Montague opened the cabinet door, he found the ceramic coin and the letter.

The Montague family are practitioners of the Sun Tradition, and the current head of the family is Montague's grandfather, the Earl of Salisbury.

He was one of the few traditional sun hunters in the Empire.

While the five traditions may have some biases, the three main directions can actually be arranged and combined in any way.

Sometimes, special combinations, such as the Hidden Direction choosing the Moon Hunting Tradition, the Scholar Direction choosing the Web Weaving Tradition, and the Hunter Direction choosing the Sun Tradition, can produce all sorts of wonderful chemical reactions.

Montagu calmly closed the cabinet door again, strode down to his office on the first floor, and used the phone to dial his grandfather's private number.

After listening to the description on the phone, the old count asked only one question.

"Did you touch it just now?"

"No, Grandfather."

"good."

The old count ordered him to leave the library immediately, not to stop on his way home, and to suspend all external communications once he got home.

The old count himself led a group to the Royal Academy.

After he met with the department head, the entire department library was temporarily closed that night, with the stated reason being "pipeline malfunction".

The old count stood in front of Montague's research cabinet for about five minutes before deciding that his grandson should not participate in any public activities for three months.

Montagu was not present; the instruction was relayed to him afterward.

Why?

"They've set a trap, but we don't need to bite. Three months is enough for them to shift their attention elsewhere."

The old count invited his friend, a highly knowledgeable master of the solar tradition, to join him.

His approach was more "direct": he didn't chant any incantations, but simply placed his right palm down over the coin and gently pressed it down three inches.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

After the loud explosion, when he raised his hand, not even ashes remained of the pottery coin.

Throughout the entire process, the old count stood by the library window, looking out at the central lawn.

"Very cunning," he said to his friend beside him.

"Oh?"

"I didn't go to his bedroom, I didn't go to the family mansion, I went to his research cabinet."

"Our generation's protection of children has always focused on the 'home'."

He turned around: "I need to change my approach from now on."

………………

Catherine Blackwood discovered the pottery coins at a small branch library in the Imperial City.

Cheltenham College's main campus is in Gloucestershire, but it has a small branch in the capital for alumni and senior students to use for research visits.

Catherine was granted special permission by the college to use a small reading room in the branch library, which contained a narrow table, a lamp, and a wall-mounted bookshelf.

In the evening, she pushed open the door to the reading room and found a grayish-white moth on the table.

Under her gaze, the moth slowly disintegrated, its scales turning into bluish-gray tobacco wisps that slipped out through the cracks in the window frame.

Two more things appeared where the moth used to rest.

The obverse of the pottery coin is stamped with a bow and a crescent moon, which is the emblem of Artemis.

Catherine's right hand was still on the doorknob, and her left hand was still holding her handbag.

She held that position for about twenty seconds, staring at the pottery coins, then gently closed and locked the door.

She walked around the table to the pottery coins, but didn't reach out to touch them.

Catherine has no knowledgeable elders in her family to ask for help.

My father died five years ago in an "accident." He was just a professional and didn't leave much of an inheritance.

If someone had scanned her using some means, the most obvious signal they would have detected would probably be the lingering traces of the Moon Hunting tradition in her blood.

She had heard from her uncle that etheric traits could be passed down to offspring through blood.

Although her family has declined somewhat in recent generations, her ancestors included several highly skilled hunters.

Even though she herself had never undergone any training related to hunting, a faint trace still flowed in her blood.

The other side detected this trace and assigned her Artemis.

The goddess of the hunt corresponds to the tradition of hunting the moon.

It makes sense logically.

But Catherine realized the problem almost immediately.

I have never walked the hunter's path before.

Catherine studied Classics in Cheltenham on a scholarship in Latin and Rhetoric.

Her performance at the Cicero Cup was about speeches and debates, not about wielding a sword to slay monsters.

If the other person truly understood her, Nemesis would be a more fitting comparison than Artemis.

She was the embodiment of revenge; the flames of reckoning burned in her very bones.

Catherine flipped the pottery coin over and over, her chin slightly raised.

The other party's understanding is very superficial.

They've only scratched the surface, relying on ethereal-level detection to label people, without even conducting the most basic intelligence gathering.

Catherine put the ceramic coins back into the hard box and closed the lid.

She didn't call her uncle.

My uncle is a hunter at the level of minor proficiency, but his abilities are limited.

The advice he could most likely give is, "Don't touch it, I'll hand it over to my superiors."

But Catherine didn't want to give the choice to someone she didn't know.

Besides the four people who received the Cicero Cup, there are a total of more than a dozen scattered tokens.

However, most people cannot even meet the minimum activation standard, so the spirit messenger leaves as soon as it sees them from afar.