From the Ship of Fools to Earl of Wugang

What? I'm going to play Ryan Hall directly?

Edmund digested the information in the script, secretly making plans in his mind.

His abilities such as "spiritual perception" and "swift steps" may not be able to be used openly, but his cheat ability of "immunity" should not be restricted by this.

He looked up and around; he wasn't alone in the exhibition hall. Standing to his right was a lithe, unfamiliar woman—perhaps a teammate?

The woman's gaze lingered on Edmund's face for a moment, her pupils contracted, and her eyebrows rose high.

Edmund didn't think he needed to act like that when he saw his teammate—she clearly recognized him, or rather, Lane Hall.

This confirmed his suspicion: he had met with "Torrent" long ago, and the other party had even served him a large meal.

Mika Brooke, who is "Torrent," clearly recognized the previous diners.

Edmund nodded to the other person first: "Speaking of which, I haven't thanked you yet for the meal you recommended last time. Without a doubt, it was the best meal I had in town."

As he expected, the turbulent eyebrows fell back, and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

"Welcome back again, and please remember to maintain hygiene."

Edmund breathed a sigh of relief at the tacit understanding reached between the two sides.

Just then, Star Sword's voice came from the side: "Looks like we agreed to come together, that's great."

Edmund didn't respond; his attention was already focused on the painting in the center of the exhibition hall, illuminated by spotlights.

It was an oil painting that wasn't very large, framed in a dark, carved wooden frame.

The main subject of the picture is a coastal cliff, where twilight and waves intertwine, creating an ambiguous yet rich color palette.

But if that's all there is to it, it's nothing more than a landscape painting with excellent technique.

What truly sets it apart from all the other works in the exhibition hall is its indescribable "aura".

It was as if the waves in the painting were really surging, the twilight was really falling, and the wind on the cliff was really blowing.

When gazing at it, the viewer's breathing will unconsciously synchronize with a certain hidden rhythm in the picture.

This is the painting that resonated passionately with Lane Hall.

Edmund stopped in front of it, and Information Horizon reacted almost instantly.

【Twilight, Tide, Cliff】

[This painting incorporates certain unconventional inspirations during its creation, aiming to exert a sustained "fascination" effect on the viewer. Viewers will be unconsciously drawn to the image, experiencing a strong emotional resonance. Prolonged staring may lead to dream distortion and delirium.]

[Currently suffering from the "Enchanted" effect... now exempt!]

The tugging sensation that tried to pull his consciousness into the painting vanished as soon as it appeared, and Edmund calmly shifted his gaze away from the canvas.

He noticed that Xingjian beside him frowned slightly.

"Interesting," Star Sword said softly. "There's something in this painting, a kind of minor curse?"

His gaze swept over the painting before shifting to Edmund and Mika, where he naturally made arrangements.

"Newcomers first," Starsword explained, extending his right hand to Edmund.

A pale silver light emerged from his palm, enveloping Edmund like ripples on water. The latter saw the corresponding information stream.

"Benevolent Wind," a technique commonly used by extraordinary individuals on the path of knights, can weaken or remove negative status effects from those of lower rank or energy level than the caster.

The "kindness" was like a warm breeze brushing across the body, and then—nothing happened.

Xingjian's hand froze in mid-air, the faint light in his palm flickering twice before finally extinguishing in confusion.

His expression betrayed his inner thoughts: this "newcomer" was cleaner than a Templar who had just emerged from a purification ritual.

"Ha, it seems you don't need it." Star Sword dismissed the matter and turned to 'Torrent,' whose eyes were still glued to the mural.

This time, the silver light surged from his palm and clearly adhered to 'Torrent'.

'Torrent' trembled slightly, then quickly looked away from the mural.

She let out a sigh of relief: "Phew... thank you. I was definitely a little tipsy just now."

"Confirmed." Xingjian withdrew his hand, his gaze sweeping over the painting again. "This painting will induce 'fascination' in the viewer. It's not fatal, and may even be beneficial to some, but for most people, the consequences of staring at it will probably be unpleasant."

Edmund observed silently, making his own assessment.

The Star Sword's ability to dispel obstacles is indeed effective, but it "misses its mark" when applied to oneself. To outsiders, the "immunity" ability appears to manifest as "having no spiritual abnormalities on one's body."

That's a good thing, at least I don't have to worry about my teammates noticing my cheat code.

Starsword didn't press the matter directly, and this sense of propriety earned Edmund's trust in him even more.

"Let's go." Xingjian turned and walked towards the exit of the exhibition hall. "Let's go find the curator first."

The museum director, a well-dressed old gentleman, showed the appropriate enthusiasm to the three "art lovers who came because of his reputation."

But when Xingjian inadvertently revealed his particular interest in the painting "Twilight, Tide, Cliff" and inquired about the painter, the curator's expression subtly changed.

"That painter?" The curator took off his glasses and wiped them, seemingly considering whether it was appropriate to reveal the information. "To be honest, we haven't heard from him for quite some time. As for his address..."

However, Starsword clearly knew how to deal with this kind of person. He dispelled the curator's concerns with a mixture of the enthusiasm of a young gentleman, the persuasive skills of a seasoned veteran, and the airs of a pampered man.

Ultimately, the curator was outmaneuvered by Starsword's social skills, and he took a business card from his card holder.

"His name is Heinrich Pick. His address is 14 Sea Cliff Road, Greygull Town. If you would like to contact him, I can make the introduction, but he's not one to be easily disturbed."

Xingjian thanked them and accepted the business card. Just as he put it away, a voice-over narration sounded simultaneously in the minds of the three of them.

[Phase 1 Mission Completed: The painter's address has been obtained.]

[Second phase of the mission begins: Locate the painter in Grey Gull Town.]

The spotlights in the exhibition hall dimmed, and some invisible curtain was lifted, making it seem as if a thick red smoke was drifting past everyone's eyes.

In the blink of an eye, the group arrived at a train station, and a sign next to it indicated that this was Grey Gull Town.

As I stepped out of the train station, the afternoon sun bathed the entire town in a dim, languid hue.

The sea breeze, carrying salty moisture, blew in from the bay, mixed with the sweet smell of decaying plants.

"Sea Cliff Road." Xingjian glanced at the simple sign at the town entrance. "Go east."

The three walked eastward along the gravel path for about fifteen minutes.

The houses on both sides of the road gradually thinned out, replaced by low shrubs and exposed gray-white rocks.

No. 14 Haiya Road is a two-story building facing the cliff with its back to the sea, and the exterior walls are covered with dead ivy.

The dark green wooden door was tightly shut, and the blinds on the windows were all drawn, giving the whole house an abandoned and desolate feel.

Xingjian stepped forward and knocked on the door, but no one answered.

The three exchanged a glance, and Xingjian had no choice but to continue knocking on the door.

It wasn't until Xingjian pounded on the door for the fourth time with greater force that a series of dragging footsteps came from inside.

A young but haggard face was revealed behind the open door; the man had sunken eyes and a stubble beard.

Upon seeing the three people, he asked in confusion, "Who are you?"

"This is Bryce, that's Emily, and I'm Ryan—we're all students at the Melanie School of Art."

Edmund picked up the conversation with respect and enthusiasm: "We've come to visit Mr. Heinrich Picker, hoping to have the honor of asking him for some artistic insights in person."

The young man's expression grew even more somber: "The Heinrich Pick you mentioned... he's no longer with us."