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

Late March, Rundnim East, 9 Knightsway.

"Okay, this is it," she said.

Gordon looked up.

It was a decent townhouse, about a twenty-minute walk from the Royal College of Natural Sciences and far enough from the Blackwater River. It was neither deserted nor conspicuous.

The first floor houses the Johns Hopkins Dental Clinic, with an enamel sign that reads: Tooth Extraction, Filling, and Denture Restoration.

The smells of clove oil, alcohol, and massive bleeding wafted from inside the door, followed by the clanging of metal, and finally, a patient's scream echoed from within, reaching the roof.

"This is how the house welcomes us," Gordon remarked.

"It's alright." Charlotte handed him the keys.

Gordon accepted it solemnly.

He slept on a wooden table in the anatomy lab, picked up old blankets that no one wanted in the college corridors, and even calculated how many days a piece of black bread would last him late at night.

Now, he acts as if none of these things ever happened.

He owned the entire second floor.

Two bedrooms, a living room, a small workspace, and a bathroom.

The area is not spacious, but the layout is very compact, with not a single square meter wasted.

Charlotte thought Gordon was looking at the lighting, wallpaper, and furniture. But Gordon was looking at something more important: a sense of security.

  

The door was metal and fitted with a double-tongue lock; it would take at least three strong men to break it open.

There's a drainpipe outside the back window, which leads down to the alley behind. The attic ventilation window can only be opened from the inside; climbing out leads to a continuous expanse of gray tiled roofs.

Across the street is another row of apartments, with tenants coming and going frequently. Gordon won't stand out here, nor will he be remembered.

To the left he saw a laundry house, rows of white shirts fluttering in the wind, sleeves whipping against each other. To the right were the cheap restaurants and small theaters on Knights Road.

The more I look at it, the more satisfied I become.

The workspace is large enough to fit a wooden table, and sample racks can be nailed to the wall.

The smell of medicine from the dental clinic wafts up from downstairs, just enough to mask the smells of blood, disinfectant, and spiritual reagents.

More importantly, there are screams of agony downstairs every day. It wouldn't be unreasonable for him to kill someone here occasionally.

There are two bedrooms, one large and one small.

Charlotte led him into the larger room. Bedding, a first-aid kit, a kettle, clean towels, clothes hangers, and a small safe were already prepared against the wall.

The smaller room was empty, containing only a wooden bed.

"Everything is ready," she said. "This isn't out of concern for you; if you die, I'll lose a very useful advisor."

"Understood. I will try my best to copy all the lecture notes for you." Gordon nodded.

"You'd better stay this smart." Charlotte glanced at him.

Gordon looked around: the living room, the workroom, the bathroom...

He finally has a place to live.

"How was it?" Charlotte awaited Gordon's evaluation.

"Very good, very good." Gordon nodded.

It may seem like a perfunctory response, but it actually comes across as genuine joy.

"Hmph... Keep the money here for now." Charlotte waved the spare key in her hand. "I'll come by occasionally, so don't you dare do anything bad here."

"How do you define 'bad thing'?"

"You know what I mean." She turned her back and walked away briskly.

Gordon was left alone in the house.

Gordon counted the money first.

After deducting miscellaneous living expenses and the money given to Vera, Gordon still had 33 gold pounds, 8 silver pounds, and 97 copper coins.

He folded the money and locked it in the cabinet.

In the past, money never truly stayed in his hands. Today he'd hand it over to the cafeteria, tomorrow to the bookstore, and the day after to the college's cashier.

Now, I have 33 intact gold pounds at home. Not enough to pay off my student loans, but it's my foundation, a start.

A good life is built up little by little like this; once people start saving money, they become addicted.

He cleaned the room, put textbooks such as "Basic Anatomy", "Introduction to the Primitive Phase", and "Imperial History" on the bookshelf, and set up the newly purchased experimental equipment in the studio.

Then, he turned on the brass valve in the bathroom.

After a while, the pipe coughed up a mouthful of rusty water, followed by a steady stream of hot water, and the mirror gradually fogged up.

Although the room is narrow, you need to negotiate with the wall before turning around.

But he no longer has to queue at public bathhouses, endure others singing, or worry about picking up soap turning into fencing.

Gordon then bought butter, salted meat, sausages, and potatoes, which he neatly arranged in the kitchen cupboard.

Although he knew very well that once Vera moved in, these food reserves would most likely disappear at an alarming rate.

But having the cupboard full of food still gives him a sense of security and order.

That's all... It's not exactly beautiful, but Gordon is getting more and more satisfied.

By the time I finished, it was already late at night.

Then, a slight tremor came from the roof. After a while, the tremor moved to the doorway.

Gordon opened the door for Vera.

"The ventilation window won't open," Vera said.

"Otherwise what? Taking the stairs is a sign of good manners."

Vera made no comment on civilization; she simply began inspecting the residence.

"The front door can be guarded, and the back window can be used for retreat. It's definitely a place that can accommodate two people." She looked at her room, "...Why is it so empty?"

"It's up to you to use your personal aesthetic sense."

"no."

"Nothing is something; we call it minimalism."

Vera accepted this explanation. She hid the medicine, sobering salts, spare bandages, a dagger, and gold coins in drawers, the kitchen, window sill cracks, and the floor.

When Gordon saw her putting things into the house, he knew she would fight tooth and nail to protect it.

"Does Charlotte have any leads?" Vera asked.

"Found him, a man named Harold," Gordon said. "A former servant of the Monford family, Octopus Face is very likely one of his men."

"I looked for clues about those giant clam shells; they seem to come from some kind of 'Chequ Demon'."

"A giant clam demon?" Gordon said.

"Hmm." Vera spread her arms wide, demonstrating an exaggerated width. "Anyway, it's definitely very big."

"How strong do you think Harold is?"

"It's uncertain," Vera said. "Without Source Essence, it's useless. Even with a gun, it's the same. But if he has Source Essence, he's an unknown opponent."

"Is there a big difference between trainee hunters and professional hunters? Like between you and Gray?"

"Arthur Gray has fused with more than three source materials. Nobody knows how many trump cards he has," Vera admitted. "I'm at risk of making a mistake."

This is a clear warning.

If the intelligence is true, then Harold is not a lowly, wet-footed man like Octopus Face, and should not be underestimated.

Gao Dengguang, standing behind and giving advice, will sooner or later push Vera into a dead end.

"So if we find Harold, we'll have to go together," Gordon said.

"It will be troublesome without source matter," Vera said.

"What if I had it?" Gordon said.

Vera licked her lips, seemingly unsurprised.

"That makes sense," she said. "People who carry Source matter will attract each other."

"Can you sense that other people possess source energy?"

"Not at first. But after a while, I will," Vera said. "I won't get tired of being with you because I have a gut feeling that you are one of me."

"...Intuition...?" Gordon silently sensed.

"No matter what, we can't go far without source matter, but now we have a future," Vera said.

"Very good." Gordon did not press her to ask what she meant by "we".

"Go to sleep first. If there's any danger, I'll wake up before you," Vera said.

"I'd like to know how Source Hunters are trained so that they don't always have to wait for you to wake up first," Gordon said.

"You want to become stronger." Vera looked up.

"I want to fight against others without relying on luck."

Gordon now has resources, money, a place to live, and friends. He doesn't intend to always rely on luck to weather the storms.

Vera approached, tilting her head slightly.

"...Indeed, one should not waste the source matter."

"So how do you train?"

"Those with special abilities don't need to rush to practice swordsmanship, nor do they need to train their physical abilities first."

"Then what should we practice?"

"Know thyself."

Gordon waited.

"Just these five words?" he asked.

"That's enough," she said. "That's how Hunter School teaches. Source won't change you out of thin air; it will only amplify what you are."

While Gordon was still pondering, a copper coin suddenly flew over and hit him squarely in the chest.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Only when you can dodge my attacks can we go on an adventure together," Vera said.

"..." Gordon took it very seriously.

Vera's so-called attack is probably not the same as the attack that ordinary people understand.

"Know thyself" is the first lesson of Source Quality Training.

That night, Gordon closed his eyes in his bedroom and calmed himself down.

There was nothing at first.

A horse-drawn carriage creaked past outside, the streetlights hissed outside the window, water dripped from the pipes inside the walls, and a cat stepped across the roof tiles.

Gordon stopped listening to anything outside his head and focused his consciousness into his body.

A small piece of source material extracted from the spider demon's body, known as the "Unbroken String".

It is located in the center of Gordon's brain, governing the nerves and limbs.

The human body contains countless transmissions, delays, and feedback mechanisms. Blood pushes and jostles through the tubes, and muscles gently contract in the darkness.

Synchronous transmission allows commands to reach the hands and feet more accurately, essentially eliminating errors.

Then——

What if we extend this "string" outwards?

Let it not only govern Gordon's body, but also touch the floor, walls, air, and pipes, collecting those equally subtle changes and recognizing the things that are constantly flowing throughout the world.

Everything is interconnected.

Before the fist is thrown, the shoulder moves first. Before the foot lands, the center of gravity shifts. Before the bullet leaves the muzzle, someone has to pull the trigger.

Long before the results were announced, the world had already completed a series of previews.

Force transfer, air compression, temperature change...

These trailers are just too fragmented and meaningless to human senses.

What the unbroken string does is collect these wasted vibrations.

Gordon releases his source energy.

The wall trembled slightly.

We've got it!

The rhythmic "shaking, shaking" sound came from next door.

Vera was performing some kind of repetitive action in her small room.

Four times per second.

After ruling out all possibilities, Gordon suddenly realized.

This is... mining.