I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Wednesday's sky was a uniform gray, with a layer of clouds stretching from the east end of Briston to the west end, making it impossible to tell where it was thick or thin.

Richard sat in the classroom until the last class of the morning, then put his textbook into his bag.

The four sets of inscriptions on the gargoyle base were traced twice. The structure of the first two sets was barely legible, but the latter two sets were completely incomprehensible.

He searched through his entire knowledge base, but the two sets of symbols did not match any known substitution rules.

If you keep blindly working on it, the efficiency will be so low it'll be despairing.

Moreover, the regular gatherings of the "Divine Salon" also require him to find ways to supplement his knowledge of higher-level mystical fields.

He needs new tools, a new direction, and a new key.

Mr. Hutton will not bring the keys over voluntarily.

It was the same from beginning to end; he was waiting for the students to come knocking on the door themselves.

Then go knock on it.

At lunchtime, Warren, as usual, ordered him a steak with cream soup.

Richard ate quickly, cutting the steak into neat little pieces with his knife and fork, stuffing them into his mouth one after another.

Warren, munching on a chicken leg across from him with grease on his lips, said, "You ate too fast today."

I have something to do this afternoon.

"What is it?"

"Go find Mr. Hutton."

Warren paused for a moment while chewing the chicken leg.

In Greenwood, very few students actively seek out Mr. Hutton.

It's not that the old gentleman was unapproachable; he was humorous in his lectures and would occasionally chat with students about the weather and sports games in the corridor.

But everyone vaguely sensed that this kind old gentleman was different from the other teachers in the school.

There was an unwritten rule in Greenwood: Mr. Hutton would miss two days of class each month, at the beginning and middle of the month.

Those days will be made available in advance on the academic affairs office's class schedule so that other teachers can cover them.

The principal never inquired about the reasons, and the head of the teaching and research group would never urge them.

If any other teacher were absent for two days without explanation, the academic affairs director would be furious that very day.

But Mr. Hutton was an exception.

He taught in Greenwood for decades, and through two principals, his schedule was never changed.

Besides that, there is something else that few people notice.

Greenwood’s faculty offices are divided into two types: large offices are open areas with a dozen or so desks pushed together, and small offices are individual cubicles.

There are only five separate rooms, which belong to the principal, the heads of each subject's teaching and research group, and Mr. Hutton, respectively.

Why should a history teacher with no administrative position have the same level of office space as the principal and the head of the teaching and research group?

Richard hadn't paid attention to these details before becoming Mr. Hutton's "official student".

Looking back now, the answer isn't hard to guess.

After finishing his meal, he walked eastward along the corridor on the first floor of the teaching building.

Mr. Hutton's office was at the end of the corridor, around the corner, with an inconspicuous brass plaque hanging on the door.

The door was ajar, and a faint smell of tobacco wafted out.

Richard raised his hand and knocked twice on the door frame.

"Come in."

The sound wasn't loud, but he could smell the freshly brewed black tea even before he opened the door.

He paused for a moment after the door opened.

Mr. Hutton sat behind his desk, flipping through a lesson plan with his left hand and resting his right hand on the table.

Both hands were occupied; the lesson plan was in his left hand, and his right index finger was pressing down on a line of annotations.

"sit."

Richard sat down in the chair and habitually glanced around the office.

Previously, when Mr. Hutton kept him after school, the conversations always took place in the classroom; this was the first time he had entered Mr. Hutton's office.

The space is small, more than half the size of a classroom.

Hanging by the window is an old map. Unlike the map of the New World coastline in the classroom, this one depicts a panoramic view of the entire Western Continent.

The old man pushed the lesson plan aside to make room on the table.

"You came to see me because something you're holding is stuck, right?"

"Yes." Richard didn't beat around the bush.

He took out his notebook from his bag, turned to a certain page, and pushed it in front of Mr. Hutton.

Several sets of symbols were traced in the notebook, scattered haphazardly between the grid lines.

These symbols are fragments he salvaged from the inscriptions on the gargoyle base.

The order was deliberately disrupted, and several other symbols he had collected in the Imperial Capital University Library were mixed in to cause interference.

It looks like a collection of obscure characters gathered from various places by a student with a strong thirst for knowledge, and its specific source is unknown.

"I recently came across some inscription symbols. Some of them have a readable structure, but a few sets don't match the known system at all."

He used the tip of his pencil to tap the scattered symbols.

Mr. Hutton glanced down at it.

Although those symbols have been broken up, disordered, and mixed with other things, the curves and turns of the strokes still carry the essence of the original carrier.

These characters were not copied from a book, but traced from objects.

There are subtle differences between the inscriptions printed on the book pages and the inscriptions carved on the surface of the artifacts.

The former has undergone layout standardization, while the latter retains the tactile deviation from the carving process.

Mr. Hutton probably noticed the difference.

But he didn't ask where the symbols came from, nor did he investigate why a middle school student would have a copy of an inscription on an artifact.

"These groups," he said, pointing to the scattered target symbols on his notebook, "are not part of the Western Continent system."

I also believe it is not.

"You're right."

Mr. Hutton pushed his chair back half a step and pulled a folded piece of paper from the second shelf behind him.

The paper is very thin, with deep creases, and when unfolded, it is about the size of two sheets of letter paper.

It was covered with dense symbols and corresponding vocabulary, the handwriting was finer and the arrangement was more compact than the previous reference table.

"Here you go." He pushed the paper over.

Richard opened it and glanced at it; the symbol system covered by this comparison table was completely different from the last one.

The previous table addressed code substitution at the Latin level; this table corresponds to a different language.

"Ancient Greek?" He recognized a few letters.

"Yes." Mr. Hutton leaned back in his chair.

"The symbols you encountered belong to an encryption system based on ancient Greek."

Specifically, it refers to the terminology system of the Alexandrian school, which developed from alchemical texts of the Ptolemaic era.

He picked up the cup of tea and took a sip.

"This system is more complex, with deeper layers of encryption."

The old gentleman didn't ask Richard why he suddenly became interested in the inscriptions on artifacts, nor did he ask which artifact the symbols came from.

He only places a lamp by the roadside at the appropriate time; whether it illuminates anything depends on the pedestrian.

Richard's fingers traced the surface of the comparison chart.

Multiple clues converged in my mind.

Some of the original materials collected from the Imperial Capital University Library, as well as the two sets of inscriptions behind the gargoyles... both locks use the same key.

But then again...

"Sir, my knowledge of Ancient Greek is almost zero."

To me, this comparison chart is no different from a piece of scrap paper covered in illegible writing.

"It's not entirely worthless paper." The old man's white eyebrows twitched. "At least you know what to learn next."

Richard folded the comparison chart and tucked it into his notebook.

Mr. Hutton flicked the corner of the lesson plan with his finger:

"Ancient Greek grammar is much more complex than Latin, with verb conjugations, noun declensions, and dynamic voice... Just the basic framework alone is enough to keep you busy for a while."

"But language learning is much faster for you than for most people. In half a month to three weeks, you should be able to reach the threshold where you can start trying to decipher it."

"Half a month," Richard calculated the time in his mind.

It's already mid-November, and the Christmas holidays are at the end of December.

If he works hard, he might be able to build the basic framework of Ancient Greek before the holiday.

Mr. Hutton, holding his teacup, shifted his gaze from Richard's face to the hazy sky outside the window.

"Speaking of the Christmas holidays..."

His tone became slightly more subdued from the usual casual conversation.

"I've arranged a winter break internship for you."

"What kind of internship is it?"

"It's related to the scholar's primary job." Mr. Hutton did not provide further details:

"We'll discuss the details after Christmas; you'll receive a notification then."

He twirled the teacup in his hand.

"If you perform well during your internship, it can be considered as your empirical evidence."

Empirical evidence, Probatio.

One of the three conditions for a newcomer to be promoted to a professional.

"You'd better be mentally prepared; this internship isn't just your responsibility."

Richard sat up slightly.

"I will contact a few colleagues I know, some hunters and some hermits."

Mr. Hutton drew a small circle on the table with his finger.

"They have been operating in the northern region for many years, are experienced, and are reliable."

We'll work together on some tasks, giving you a glimpse into the world behind the scenes.

He glanced at Richard.

"You've been in Greenwood for so long, and everything you've been exposed to is on paper—the documents on the bookshelves, the symbols in the inscriptions, the derivations in the notebooks."

No matter how much is written on paper, there's always a layer separating it from reality.

"The world behind the curtain cannot be fully understood by reading books."

Some things you have to see with your own eyes, touch with your own hands, and experience with your own body to truly understand what they are.

"In addition," he added, "you'll also meet some other newcomers from the northern region."

"Other newcomers?" Richard asked, somewhat surprised.

"You don't think you're the only young person in the entire northern part of the empire who wants to take this path, do you?"

Mr. Hutton's white eyebrows twitched:

"Every year, many talented young people emerge from the major cities of the northern industrial region, such as Bristol, Sheffield, Leeds, and Newcastle."

Some were discovered by guides like you, some were through family tradition, and some stumbled upon it on their own.

Most people don't know each other, each goes their own way, and each has their own guide.

But every now and then, there are occasions where these people meet and get to know each other.

He turned a page of the lesson plan.

"Winter break internships are one such occasion."

"A group of newcomers get together, follow experienced seniors to do some practical work, and see where their peers have gotten."

Richard nodded, not asking for any further details.

Since Mr. Hutton said "we'll talk about the specifics later," we won't get anything out of him by asking now.

But the old man said, "There won't be any major problems."

However, "no major problems" and "no danger at all" are completely different.

This shows that while the internship content will not exceed the scope of what newcomers can handle, it is not as simple as flipping through books in the classroom.

There will be actual contact, actual operations, and perhaps even actual... confrontation?

Richard mentally assessed his current equipment and abilities.

The Fog Wall spell can only confuse ordinary people, and the lesson learned last time on Central Street is still fresh in our minds.

The trainee inspector hasn't even bought his sidearm yet, and even if he did, he's only done so little shooting practice so far; he's still far from being proficient.

The spell on the gargoyle has only been deciphered to less than half its extent, and it is still far from being able to actually cast the spell.

If he encounters any unexpected situation during his winter internship, he will have very few resources at his disposal.

Mr. Hutton said that all you need to bring is your brain and eyes.

But Li realized that just bringing his brain and eyes might not be enough.

We need to intensify our firearms training.

The spells on the gargoyles also need to be accelerated.