The past was built upon collecting unique characteristics.

Morian looked in the direction the old man indicated. There was an entrance on each side of the hall. On the left was a softly lit passageway, which should lead to the club's formal reading area. On the right was a staircase extending upwards.

The stairs were made of wood and made a slight creaking sound when you stepped on them. Morian arrived at the corner on the second floor. There were no bright gaslights installed here, only a dim wall lamp that barely illuminated the steps leading to the third floor.

The higher he went, the more pronounced the peculiar smell of old paper mixed with wood became. He didn't stop and continued upwards along the stairs.

Upon reaching the third-floor stairwell, a straight passageway stretched out before us. At the end of the passageway stood the black wooden door the old man had mentioned, unmarked and very simple.

Morian stopped in front of the door, took out a mask he had prepared beforehand from his pocket. This was not the original, damaged one, but a new one he had bought from a vendor. It was also pure white, with that mocking smile painted on it.

Every participant here wears a mask, a point that Earl White specifically mentioned, so naturally, he purchased masks to conceal his identity.

I reached out and gently pushed open the black wooden door. Surprisingly, the door was not locked and opened easily.

The black wooden door has no handle; it can be opened with a gentle push, leading into the room.

Behind the door was a spacious room with walls covered in dark purple velvet, providing excellent soundproofing. The room was lit by candlesticks placed at intervals, each with several candles burning, casting a warm but not too bright light.

A rectangular table was placed in the center of the room, with fourteen high-backed chairs scattered on both sides of the table. Everyone remained quiet, at most engaging in hushed discussions, perhaps because the party had not yet officially started.

As he pushed open the door, several pairs of eyes immediately turned to him, scrutinizing this "new face," but they quickly looked away, only lingering briefly.

Morian walked to the only empty chair, which was near the door. He slowly sat down, leaned back in the chair, and quietly observed the whole room.

With his seat, all fourteen seats were now occupied.

Judging from their physical characteristics, the majority of the people in the room were male, and there were participants of all ages.

From the occasional scattered conversations, although the specific content was unclear, it was evident that no one was using their real names, but rather referring to them as "Mr." or "Ms."

Seeing that the table was full, the person sitting at the far end of the long table in the main seat suddenly made a move. The person tapped the table with their knuckles, producing a crisp sound.

Tap! Tap!

Everyone's attention was instantly drawn, and Morian also turned his gaze to them.

The man at the head of the table was clearly the host of the gathering. His dark hair was neatly combed back into a slicked-back style, revealing his broad forehead.

He was wearing a black tuxedo, and unlike the full-face masks worn by the other participants, he wore a mask that only covered the upper half of his face, revealing his lips of moderate thickness. Just sitting there, he exuded a calm and composed aura of control over the whole situation.

"To be able to host such an extraordinary gathering and maintain its rules and security, one must be quite capable," Morian quickly concluded in his mind.

"Everyone, now that everyone is here, let's begin the gathering as is customary." The host's voice rang out, unusually hoarse, as if he had used some kind of ability to mask his true voice.

"I am the witness and host of this gathering. You can call me 'Mr. Y'."

He paused here, his gaze slowly sweeping across both sides of the long table, before continuing:

"I'd like to reiterate the rules of the gathering."

"First, unless both parties to the transaction are completely voluntary and under my explicit witness, no form of forced transaction or attempt to ascertain the true identity of another person shall be made."

"Secondly, all transactions, item displays, and knowledge exchanges are to be confirmed only at this moment and at this table. Any transactions or disputes arising after leaving this gathering place are the sole responsibility of each participant."

"Finally, and most importantly," Mr. Y's voice deepened, "the proposed transaction requests, especially the items displayed, must ensure the accuracy of their descriptions."

"Otherwise, he will be permanently banned from all extraordinary gatherings held in Bethlehem and beyond. Please take heed."

All gatherings in Bet City are under his control? Morian was secretly astonished. The scope of influence and the level of organization of this Mr. Y and the forces he might represent were probably far beyond his initial imagination.

"Now that the rules have been explained, we will move on to the free discussion session. You may begin." Mr. Y gestured for them to begin, then crossed his hands on the table and watched quietly.

At first, the long table was silent, but this silence did not last long and was soon broken.

The first to speak was a tall, thin man wearing a goat mask with long horns. He looked at the woman across the long table who was wearing a squirrel mask and spoke in a high-pitched voice.

"Ms. Squirrel, I've brought the 'Tranquil Silk' you mentioned last time. Although it's only a small piece, about the size of a palm, and the quality isn't high, it can be used to make protective magical items."

"If possible, I would like to exchange it for spiritual materials of equal value, preferably the kind that can resist mental attacks. I can also pay you the corresponding amount in gold pounds for the price difference."

After the man in the goat mask finished speaking, he took out a flat box and opened it. Inside was a small piece of cloth, as thin as gauze, which shimmered with a pale purple light.

Mr. Y only glanced at it from a distance before nodding to acknowledge its authenticity.

A slender woman across the long table bowed slightly and said in a soft voice:

"Thank you for your concern, Mr. Goat. The 'Tranquil Silk' you brought is exactly what I need."

"However, regarding the spiritual materials you wish to exchange that can resist mental attacks, I have not collected any suitable items of that kind."

As she spoke, she took out a bracelet and began to introduce it, "I only have this magical item that can calm the mind. Although it's not of high quality, it can be helpful for meditation and rituals. I wonder if you would like it?"

A magical item? This is much more valuable than spiritual materials... However, it can only be considered similar in use, and it differs somewhat from what Mr. Goat requested. Whether the deal is reached depends on what he chooses.

Morian watched with great interest, his thoughts gradually drifting away.