Unable to repay my student loans, I had no choice but to work part-time as a demon hunter.

Gordon stared at the speck of powder and slowly exhaled.

So-called spirituality is actually extraordinary activity, and its relationship with the source is like radiation.

It seems these are the pollutants from the Blackwater River.

It can accumulate in living organisms; fish are full of this stuff in their flesh and bone crevices.

The fish first turned into a strange fish.

If the strange fish takes another step forward, it might become a demon.

What about people?

People who drink water, people who fish, people who live on the riverbank, people who depend on this river for their livelihood. Gordon shook his head and stopped thinking about it.

……

A couple of days later, Gordon found a time when Professor Winslow was free and showed him the spiritual powder.

Professor Winslow glanced at it briefly, then paused, stunned.

Spiritual powder.

This isn't something you can find by simply waving a broom on the ground.

"Where did you get this?" Professor Winslow asked in surprise.

"Professor, it's the fish I caught that day," Gordon explained. "Dozens of strange fish. I dissected them all, scraping every last bit of bone from between the crevices. It took me a long, long time to get this little bit."

Professor Winslow remained silent.

He took out a magnifying glass from the drawer. It had a brass frame, a silver handle, and tiny scratches on the edge. It had been with him as he looked at many strange and unusual things.

That's right, it's spiritual powder.

"Visible spiritual powder was scraped from the contaminated fish." Winslow nodded. "My assistant needs this kind of inquisitive spirit."

To be honest, he always thought Gordon was a person who was eager for quick success and instant benefits, but now it seems that he still has some scholarly rigor and patience.

Looking at the powder, Gordon felt for the first time that his all-nighter hadn't been in vain.

  

"You're probably wondering how much this thing is worth, right?" Winslow said.

"Professor, you really understand me," Gordon said.

"Actually, such a small amount is completely insufficient; no one would look at it, and no one would buy it. But when I was young, I developed a method. Spiritual fumigation can attach some extraordinary properties to ordinary objects, turning them into wondrous items. It's now an industry, but it's also effective for small amounts of powder," Winslow said.

As expected of Professor Winslow. Gordon was filled with respect.

This seemingly incredibly advanced technology was, in the professor's words, simply "a method he developed when he was young."

In this way, the powder can not only be used as a research sample, but also give ordinary objects extraordinary properties.

"Professor, is spirituality something that comes from the source matter?" Gordon asked.

"Spirituality, you could say that. A certain source of quality brings about a certain kind of spirituality," Professor Winslow said succinctly.

Gordon raised his biggest concern.

"If I can scrape spirituality out of fish bones, then that means... there's a source in the Blackwater River?" Gordon asked.

"Perhaps," Professor Winslow pondered. "If you really did find spirituality in the fish, there's definitely a source substance in the Blackwater River. You'd better keep this a secret. Source substance hunters will fight over it, the city hall will be on high alert, and the discoverer will be the first to suffer."

Gao Deng understood.

So he changed the subject.

"...What I'm thinking is that if that kind of process can really imbue objects with spirituality, I want to use the reaction of the objects after fumigation to deduce the source of pollution in the entire river," Gordon said.

"That's the theory," Winslow nodded.

"So I'd like to try the process you mentioned, but I have absolutely no idea what equipment to use," Gordon said. "If that equipment is chargeable, I'll immediately lose my enthusiasm for research."

Winslow picked up his pen.

"I'll fill out a form for you, just go straight there. It's on the third floor of the Sherwood Laboratory Building, room 302. There are operating instructions on the wall." Winslow paused, then tore off another piece of paper. "...Never mind, just take my signature, that's enough."

……

Gordon prepared the materials and arrived at the Sherwood Laboratory Building.

This is one of the most significant places in the entire Royal Academy of Sciences University, where the source, spirituality, and things beyond human comprehension are analyzed.

After seeing the professor's signature, the administrator Chester's attitude immediately changed from "Who are you?" to "Would you like another set of protective goggles?"

Gordon got the key and entered the fumigation room, room 302 on the third floor.

The room was small, with white tiled walls, brass ventilation pipes on the ceiling, and exquisite tableware in a glass cabinet.

He was very clear about his thoughts.

He wanted to make a compass.

It's very simple, because the silver fish box inspired him; these things seemed to be constantly attracting each other.

For this purpose, he specially prepared an inexpensive compass, which cost 50 copper coins.

Gordon read the craft manual on the wall three times to confirm the purpose of Winslow's steps before he began to work.

He first disassembled the compass, took out the magnetic needle and bearing, clipped the magnetic needle onto the bracket, and suspended it above the evaporating dish, ready to receive the spiritual mist.

Next, Gordon added the separation liquid to the evaporating dish and sprinkled precipitated salt to ensure that the spiritual properties were fully released.

Then he closed the glass cover, tightened the four brass buckles in turn, and started shaking the negative pressure pump, keeping his eyes on the pressure gauge.

Once the pointer landed on the first black line, Gordon created a partial vacuum to facilitate the ascent of the spiritual mist.

"And then there's... temperature..." Gordon lit the alcohol lamp.

The high temperature evaporated the powder, and soon tiny specks of light appeared inside. The spiritual energy gradually evaporated and coalesced into a visible fluorescent mist.

The mist sometimes drifted to the left, and sometimes clung to the wall of the enclosure and sank down.

To control it, Gordon pressed the pressure regulating knob with his fingertips, turning it only a little bit each time. If the air pressure was too high, the fog would sink to the bottom; if the air pressure was too low, the fog would dissipate.

Once Gordon finally found the balance point of the pressure, the fog gathered into a bundle, forming a miniature spiritual vortex that enveloped the tip of the magnetic needle.

Finally, the magnetic needle was able to absorb spiritual energy little by little.

After a few minutes, a faint ring of shimmering scales appeared at both ends of the needle.

It became.

Gordon turned off the fire and opened the glass cover, doing so with extreme care.

Once the magnetic needle and bearing are put back into the compass, it will start to rotate.

At first it veered northward, but then it turned eastward and started spinning wildly, like a little windmill.

Gordon felt this meant two things.

First, the fumigation method worked; this thing is indeed imbued with spiritual power.

Secondly, there are too many and too chaotic sources of spirituality, so it doesn't know which one to point to.

That's not surprising. He felt that there was more than one answer to the Blackwater River issue, and there must be a bunch of clues waiting to be followed.

In any case, he was very satisfied.

This is the first marvel he created himself.

Although it doesn't look very appealing and won't sell for much money, it would only be rejected by dealers.

But it only used a cheap compass, a pinch of spirituality dug out of fish bones, and a borrowed laboratory.

"Alright. Let's call it... the Living Water Compass." Gordon named it. From now on, its mission will no longer be to point north; it will track any spirituality related to the Blackwater River.

[Living Water Compass. Reporting to you.]

Gordon also knew how to conduct the next test.

He returned to the dissection room, where the silverfish box was still quietly "nurturing" in its sealed container.

Gordon brought the living water compass into the house, and at first it was spinning in place.

Then, after walking a certain distance, it suddenly stopped, about twenty meters away.

Just like a dog smelling its owner's scent.

Gordon picked up the compass.

At this moment, the fine needle, pointing straight at the sealed box containing the silver fish, stopped trembling.

Seeing this, Gordon couldn't help but laugh.

At that moment, he knew he had gained another ability.

……

Later that evening, Peter poked his head in, holding a letter in his hand, his face looking very grim.

"Gordon," Peter said with a pained expression, "I just got back from old Buzz's. He said someone's asking about us."

"Is he a patrolman or a reporter? Is he asking around or trying to buy something? How much information do you know?" Gordon asked without turning his head.

"Look, they've even sent threatening letters." Peter placed the letter on the table.

The living water compass immediately turned its pointer toward the letter.

Gordon frowned and opened the letter.

It looked damp; the letter contained only one sheet of paper with a wet handprint on it and a line of malicious words written below.

"We know," Gordon read aloud.

"Yes!" Peter shuddered. "Old Buzz received this letter and asked me to bring it to you, and he also told us to be careful. We're all in this together now; who knows, the next one might be sent to us."

"A wet handprint and a threatening letter..." Gordon pondered. "What are you thinking about?"

"The water monkey thing?"

"Ordinary citizens wouldn't care if a few Deepclaws were missing from the water."

"Could it be... the cult!" Peter exclaimed in surprise. "Don't tell me the cultists are targeting us."

"If it's not a cult, then it's a water monkey protection association."

"Oh no!" Peter paced anxiously. "I just wanted to study properly... I knew I shouldn't have gotten involved in that demon hunt..."

This matter has gone beyond the scope of students doing small business.

"What's there to be afraid of? A real man solves problems," Gordon said. "How much did you make from selling the extract?"

"After deducting the cost of the sealing wax, travel expenses, and the expenses of bribing those two fat men in the market, we made a net profit of twenty-four gold pounds."

"Sell the remaining three months later. Then I'll get twenty percent of the money," Gordon said.

"Isn't this ratio too cruel!"

“Not cruel.” Gordon looked at the threatening letter. “Didn’t you say someone was threatening us? Then we need to hire someone who can fight.”

The name Vera resurfaced in Gordon's mind, carrying a very tangible image: trench coat, black sword, thighs.