Mystery: When the Lost Homelanders Meet the Lost Homeland Call

"It would take about a week to reliably connect with Leviathan, or we could take a risk and gamble that we won't be contaminated."

Unlike the mysterious world with a clear system, the deep-sea world, built from a massive amount of worldviews, does not allow those with high enough "status" to equally resist the pollution of those below them. The ancient kings are all deadly pollution to each other.

Only the strongest or the luckiest will survive.

Even as a shadow of the warp, Lynn could still be contaminated by Leviathan. Lynn is a visitor from another world relative to the mysterious world, but he is also a visitor to Leviathan!

In terms of being a visitor from another world, Lynn might not even be as good as the local Old Ones; he is too small and has little room for maneuver in being corrupted.

Of course, Lynn could also gamble that he had the same ability to be compatible with other worlds as Zhou Ming, or that he was a powerful ancient king, whose size was actually quite large.

But is it worth it to rush through a week?

White Tower felt it wasn't worth it, while Lynn didn't care; fortune favors the bold. However, White Tower had already decided that he was the main force in this matter, so let him be.

The White Tower will attempt to gradually analyze Leviathan's information and then construct a special compatible structure.

Lynn felt a pang of envy just hearing about this project, and was thankful that he had specifically created a workaholic personality, incorporating all the hard work he had ever put into it.

Faint sounds of reciting poetry drifted from the building as Lynn knocked on Leonard's door.

"Knock knock knock"

A knock came at the door.

Leonard was lying on the sofa, holding a book of poems to his face, his feet propped up on the edge of the coffee table, maintaining a posture that looked rather lazy but could actually spring up at any moment.

Before he could move, Pales's voice rang in his mind, extremely soft and brief:

"It's him, Lynn. You can go open the door, but be careful."

Leonard took the poetry book off his face, sat up straight, and before he could ask, "How can you be sure it was him?", Pales's breath hitched.

The rustling sounds of animals that had been present throughout the night suddenly stopped, and then some of them began to run away into the distance.

Leonard took a deep breath, stood up, walked to the door, and opened it.

Lynn saw that the black-haired, green-eyed poet had just gotten up from the sofa, holding a half-open book of poems in his hand, the cover of which read "Selected Poems of Russell".

The moment he saw Lynn, he clearly pretended to be stunned for a moment; Leonard's acting skills were obviously far inferior to Klein's.

"Good evening, poet of the night watch," Lynn said.

"Uh... Mr. Lynn?" Leonard's voice carried an unnatural politeness. "How did you know I lived here?"

“Spiritual divination. I’m very interested in ‘the protagonist of the era’,” Lynn casually made up a reason, then nodded over Leonard’s shoulder in a certain direction inside the room. “Besides, I’m not here to see you. Who I’m here to see is very clear to that person.”

Leonard's expression froze instantly. He tightened his grip on the poetry collection, causing tiny creases to form on the corners of the cover.

His voice hardened: "Who...are you looking for...I don't know..."

"So your special thing is having an old man," Lynn said, feigning sudden realization.

"What the hell..." Leonard had barely opened his mouth when Pales's voice echoed in his mind, old and calm, carrying a faint sense of weariness as if he had "already expected this kid to do this":

"Let him in, kid. Don't blame yourself too much; he already had a pretty good idea of ​​what to do."

Leonard paused for two seconds, then stepped aside, clearing the doorway.

Lynn walked into the living room, his gaze sweeping over the interior of this house he had never set foot in before: the gaslight cast a soft glow, the furniture was sparse, the bookshelves were piled high with poetry collections and novels, and on the coffee table sat a cup of now-cold black tea and several pages of manuscript paper covered in scribbled handwriting. The handwriting on those pages looked like drafts of some kind of poetry, repeatedly crossed out and rewritten.

Moreover, the quality of the poems declined with each revision, getting worse and worse.

"Please sit down." Leonard put down his poetry collection and gestured somewhat awkwardly to the sofa. He didn't sit down himself, but stood beside the coffee table, his hands in his pockets, his gaze darting back and forth between Lynn and the void, as if listening to a conversation in two directions at the same time.

Lynn stepped over the threshold, paused at the doorway as if waiting for something, then turned to look at Leonard and subtly moved his right hand.

Then he pulled a monocle from his pocket and casually put it over his left eye.

The moment Leonard saw the glasses, his mind felt like it had been stabbed, a sensation that was hard to describe—a cold or numb feeling—spurted down his spine. His body reacted as if controlled.

Then he heard a string of syllables coming from his own throat.

The voice was deep and muffled, with a guttural quality and tremor that was completely unlike any human language, and inexplicably felt a bit like a dog's bark.

That's the language of the ancient demon wolf!

"More sublime than the starry sky, more eternal than ever..."

The voice stopped halfway through the reading, and the air became eerily quiet.

Lynn took off her monocle over her left eye, smiled at him, and asked with genuine curiosity, "Oh? What did you just say? I didn't hear you clearly, it sounded like something about 'starry sky'?"

Leonard opened his mouth, then closed it again; he found himself completely at a loss for words when it came to answering the question.

After he was scammed, the person he was with was scammed.

"Alright, it's confirmed, I'm done playing," Lynn said, taking off his monocle and casually putting it back in his pocket. His expression returned to its relaxed, easygoing state, as if nothing had happened. "It turned out to be quite interesting."

Then he spoke: "Pales Zoroaster. I know you're listening."

no respond.

An aged voice echoed in his head: "He doesn't have enough information to prove it's me; he's probably still bluffing."

Lynn paced around the living room, his gaze sweeping over the several pages of heavily crossed-out and rewritten drafts on the coffee table, then over the row of poetry collections and novels on the bookshelf. He then stopped beside the sofa, turned to look at Leonard, a faint smile playing on his lips:

"So you, 'protagonist of the era,' now have two choices. First, continue pretending to be just an ordinary night watchman, and I'll come over every few days to scare you with something different. Second, sit down and let's talk."

Leonard stood there, looking at Lynn's seemingly harmless face, a complex emotion welling up inside him, one that he couldn't quite categorize as anger or helplessness.

He was silent for a moment, then he heard Pales's voice, not in his mind, but coming from his throat, an old, weary voice with a hint of helplessness:

"...Sit down."

"That's great," Lynn said, tossing the bag she was holding onto the table. "I don't have to try them on one by one anymore."

The items in his pocket appeared on the coffee table as if by magic: a monocle, a white statue of a primordial demon goddess, a black statue of a primordial demon goddess, a red stone exuding a terrifying aura of conquest, a rusty bird-shaped gold ornament, and a scroll of parchment that looked like some kind of ancient contract, printed with dragon shapes.

"I've prepared quite a lot of things," Lynn said.

"...Alright." Leonard said in Palles' voice, a hint of weariness in his tone. "I don't want to see any of this."

Pallas didn't ask, "What do you know?" or "How did you discover me?" He skipped those questions entirely.

Lynn sat down opposite him, casually put the props back into his pocket, and then his playful expression turned serious.

"To make a long story short, I'm here to talk to you because something's happened to the barrier."

Before he could finish speaking, Leonard's body went limp, and he slumped against the sofa armrest, breathing evenly, as if some force had gently pressed him into sleep.

Palles took control of the body, and Lynn realized that he had knocked Leonard unconscious.

"What you just said," Pales began, the smile completely gone from his tone, "where did you hear that from? Matters of the stars are not something you should be discussing at your level right now."

The use of the term "starry sky" is permissible, though dangerous. However, these references are generally safe until they directly involve the Old Ones.

"I heard it from a senior colleague," Lynn said calmly.

"That senior observed some things in the astral plane, and the Church of the Seven Gods also reacted. He told me that there is a barrier between the starry sky and us, and now this barrier is having some problems. He also told me that there are some things related to the starry sky that can only be truly touched by those at the level of angels."

He paused, then added, "I know I'm not at that level yet, but I do have some understanding of the situation."

"Your senior," Pales stared at Lynn for a few seconds before finally saying, "wasn't he from the Antigonus family?"

Pales briefly demonstrated the information he possessed, indicating that "I am not completely ignorant of you."

"No," Lynn answered readily, "but I can tell you one thing: He is in the Astral Plane right now, with the Seven Gods before the barrier."

"What exactly is wrong with the barrier?" Pales's tone wasn't as tense as before, but it still carried a hint of probing.

Lynn organized his thoughts: "Something enormous has come in from the outside. It's stuck in the barrier, not fully inside our world yet, but its presence is altering the barrier's structure. That gap—"

"That crack isn't quite a proper rift yet, but it's already letting something seep in. Is that right?"

Pales took over the conversation, offering his own speculation in an attempt to take the initiative.

"Yes." Lynn nodded. "I didn't expect you to be able to draw the right conclusion in your current state."

"Just a bit of logical thinking," Pales asked again. "What do you want me to do by telling me all this?"

"Cooperation. What I'm looking forward to is cooperation based on mutual trust, which obviously can't be achieved overnight, so my request now is very simple."

Lynn said, "You stay in this body and protect Klein as much as possible, while I will help you stabilize your condition."

He took out several Sequence 9 and Sequence 8 traits from the Lord of Mysteries' three pathways and placed them on the table. "This is an advance payment."

The features on the table disappeared, and Pales said, "This deal was good. What about in the long run?"

Both Pales and Lynn knew very well that people of this rank didn't need to deal with such trivial matters; this was clearly an attempt to build rapport, so Pales directly asked about the long-term purpose.

"You should know what marks are on Klein," Palles said, a subtle suspicion in his voice. "Did your predecessors tell you about the current landscape of the three paths: fortune teller, apprentice, and thief?"

"I have said that."

"Then why did you come to see me?" Pales asked.

Lynn adjusted her posture on the sofa, adopting a more relaxed stance, and spoke in a tone as if chatting with an old friend:

"I've come to offer you a job."

Pales remained silent. Lynn continued:

"You know your current state better than I do. After being severely injured by Amon, you lost some of your abilities and most of your anchors. Now you're residing in this poet boy's body, and the things you can do are very limited."

He paused for a moment: "You need some stable anchors, some adjacent path characteristics, and a stable ally that you don't need to constantly calculate gains and losses. I can provide that for you if you'd like."

"What are the conditions?" Pales asked in a calm and steady tone.

"The conditions are simple." Lynn held up one finger.

"I know you see something in Klein. But you're not ready to do anything right now, and that's the basis of our cooperation. I don't care whether you can't or don't want to right now."

"You should also know that once we make our move, the ultimate battle royale competition will begin immediately."

"This is the long-term deal I'm going to make. I'll help deal with Amon and solve your security issues in exchange for your choice to give up competing for that ultimate position."

"You can keep an eye on Klein's growth and terminate the partnership at any time."

Pales didn't ask what the PUBG tournament was; his tone became subtle: "That's it?"

"That's it." Lynn nodded. "You continue doing what you're already doing, just with one more person to report to, and I'll give you the features and information you need in return."

"Of course I have some other requirements, but those are for other collaborative projects. I guarantee that every project will be mutually beneficial."

Pales spoke up: "You know Amon is looking for me."

"I know."

"You know Amon is looking for that too."

"Know."

"Then why are you letting me stay next to Klein?"

"There are many Amons. If either you or Klein gets caught, it will be a matter of life and death. It's better to put them together, as the probability of them being discovered is lower."

"...You know Amon very well."

"I know a lot of things," Lynn said.

A brief silence fell over the room, the gaslight flickering silently on the wall. The sound of a horse-drawn carriage drifted up from the street outside, then faded into the crimson night.

"What if I refuse?"

Lynn nodded, relaxing his posture: "It's alright, Mr. Pales, you don't want anything to happen to Leonard, do you?"

Pares: "?"

"Okay, I understand."

"Then how can you help me restore the anchor?"

"I have two options," Lynn said, holding up two fingers. "The first is that I will arrange for a church to provide you with an anchor, and the believers will be in an area, right under my nose, so that they won't expose your situation to Amon."

"So, would you be interested in being my angel?"

"Your 'cooking'?"

"Yes," Lynn said with a devout expression, "the Flying Hot Soup God who rides the Flying Henan Man."

"This is the religion I plan to establish in the dock area."

Leonard's expression twisted, and after a long silence, he said, "I'd rather become the Time Angel of the future Lord of Mysteries."

"That means the cooperation is established."

"What's the other option?" Pales seemed unwilling to talk to this extraordinary person any longer.

"A semi-virtual little world where you can place your clones and have them offer you faith. However, in that case, your clones will need to work for me, playing certain roles and interacting with others."

Lynn was referring to the virtual universe project, but not the one on Source Castle. Lynn would create a small server specifically for Pales to exchange information.

The main server of Source Castle obtains user interaction information and sends it to the Pales branch server. The Pales branch interacts with the user and then sends the feedback information back to Source Castle.

This way, Pales can rest assured, and Lynn won't have to worry about the Source Castle being stolen.

More importantly, Lynn can record data on the anchor's operation up close.

"White Pagoda, you didn't expect to be able to cook fish two ways here, did you?"

"With the thief sequence acting as an NPC and the audience sequence writing the script, the Tarot Club is in for a treat."

"Deal," Pales said.

He didn't press for more details. He didn't ask "Who exactly is your senior?", nor "What exactly is that thing you're talking about?", nor "How do you plan to provide the information?". As someone who had been trading for many years, he knew when to stop and when to save the questions for a more appropriate time.

"The deal is done. I'll give you some information every week." Lynn took out a shiny, dark green cube. "This is my payment. You can figure out how to use it yourself; that way you'll feel more at ease."

Lynn stood up, walked to the door, paused before opening it, and glanced back at Pales: "By the way, that poet kid is easier to get information out of than you think. He almost spilled everything he knew during the conversation just now."

Pales let out a very soft hum, which sounded like a sigh or a self-deprecating laugh: "That kid is definitely not clever enough. I'll teach him a lesson."

Lynn nodded, pushed open the door, and stepped into the night of Tingen. The door closed almost silently behind him.

The room fell silent, save for the faint hiss of the gas lamp burning on the coffee table. After a while, Leonard, on the sofa, let out a muffled murmur, as if he had just been rocked awake from a thin slumber. He blinked, looked at the empty chair opposite him, then at his hands, and rubbed the back of his head.

"...Old man? What just happened?"

Pales's voice echoed in his mind, its tone tinged with weariness than usual: "You were tricked into revealing information. And quite thoroughly. Next time that person comes, shut up and let me do the talking."

"Huh?" Lun asked, feeling wronged.

Leonard opened his mouth, then closed it again, finally muttering under his breath, "Then next time you're stressed, don't use my mouth to say your name..."

Pales: "..."