Mystery: Starting from the Shadow World

Chapter 130 Practice Results

East District, Black Palm Street.

The one-bedroom apartment that Klein rented.

"How are you?" Philip asked, looking at Klein, who was sitting on the bed and looked somewhat listless due to spiritual exhaustion and physical fatigue.

"Uh," Klein shook his head, trying to keep his mind running at last, and after organizing the information, he said succinctly, "Those three people are the Zmanger Party's 'executioners,' sent by a man named Meursault, specifically to stake out Ian there."

"Where's Zeryl?"

"I'll do the divination after I've had some sleep."

Seeing Klein lying on his side on the bed, Philip sighed, straightened his body, covered him with the thin blanket left in the room, and then quietly waited for time to pass.

Two hours later.

Having rested briefly and regained his spirituality, Klein took Philip out again, breaking off a withered branch as a "divination staff" to begin divination of the location of Zereil's body.

"That's great. As expected of a 'diviner,' even though I'm already at Sequence 7, I still can't compare. Without blood, you can't divine someone's location at all." Philip's body, completely covered by a gauze mask, bowler hat, brown coat, and brown trousers, only revealed his slightly helpless sapphire blue eyes.

Using the strand of short, brown hair that Zeril had left in the room, Klein divined countless times to adjust the location and direction before finally leading him to the entrance of a sewer.

After the lid was removed, a pungent stench wafted out, like marsh gas that had been trapped underground for over a decade and hadn't dissipated. It was like a greasy, fat man excitedly gushing out when he encountered a beautiful girl, wanting the person who opened the lid to inhale it all within seconds.

Philip looked at Klein's equally expressionless face and couldn't help but admire him in his heart. Then he took the lead in climbing down the vertical metal stairs.

Little did people know that if the latter did not have the Joker's ability to control his facial expressions, his face would probably have been distorted long ago, as evidenced by his clenched fist.

Unfortunately, the bag was too full. If I had Frye's "Krag's Oil," I wouldn't be suffering like this now. Klein felt regretful, but he was also surprised by Philip's level of acceptance.

Isn't that a bit too much tolerance?

Ignoring his regret and surprise, after confirming that Philip had reached the bottom, he grabbed the metal steps with both hands and began to climb down.

However, the sticky, cold sensation on the ground traveled up his feet and into his mind. The filth around him caused goosebumps to break out on his arms and body, and his regret reached its peak once again.

But he was helpless.

Enduring the nauseating smell, Klein led Philip forward, walking through the empty, quiet sewers.

After a few dozen seconds, seemingly overcome by his inner curiosity, he finally couldn't help but turn back and ask, "Philip, why are you so patient? Or do you have some special method?"

Um, after a normal person experiences being hunted down, cursed by the full moon to become a werewolf daily, bleeding every night, overcoming their bloodlust, suppressing their madness, and still striving to advance further on the path to transcendence...

They all feel that life has no way down except death, or being unable to find release like the extraordinary souls in "The Wriggling Hunger," and that nothing is possible.

"Um," Philip hesitated awkwardly for a moment, then shook his head. "You wouldn't want to know. This is the result of my cultivation. You know what I mean."

"If you want to try, I don't recommend helping, although it's unnecessary for you."

What exactly are the results of the Temperance School's training? Klein, through the "Clown" ability, suppressed the urge to twitch his lips, put down his curiosity, and silently nodded without saying anything more.

Upon reaching the fork in the road, an even stronger stench wafted from the relatively secluded path than from other places, but Klein, who had already begun to adapt, ignored it and turned directly into it.

At the end of the road, in the eyes of the two who had activated their spiritual vision, a gloomy corner reflected the rotting, gnawed corpse.

The rats scattered and fled in all directions. A few remained, greedy for food, but their attention had already shifted to the two strangers, ready to run away at the first sign of danger.

"It's Zeryl."

After saying this, Klein chased away the rats and began setting up a spirit communication ritual on the spot.

Even if several days have passed and no one has specifically dealt with Zeryl's spirit, a psychic ritual can still yield some rudimentary information, though it may be extremely superficial, but it's better than nothing.

"Zeryl's cause of death."

"Zeryl's cause of death."

The recitation ended after repeated readings.

Klein frowned slightly, then finally sighed resignedly, "It's a failure."

This means that someone has already dealt with Zeril's spirit, and the other party must be an extraordinary being who can impersonate Zeril without revealing their identity in front of a group of detectives. This seems to be the same ability as that in "Crawling Hunger".

Philip stared at the rotting corpse, stroking his chin in thought. Having already confirmed that the "Faceless Man" was highly likely behind it, he was now figuring out how to lure him out.

If you bring other helpers, the profits will increase, but it will also be more troublesome. Maybe you could try pretending to be an ordinary person, or a low-sequence extraordinary person?

Having completed their mission objectives, the two, each with their own thoughts, left the side road and prepared to retreat to the exit along the dirty cement road on both sides of the sewage river.

Boom!Boom!Boom!

The abrupt sound echoed through the sewer.

Not a single mistake, not a single poem, not a single post, not a single piece of content, not a single look!

Philip's hand, which was reaching for the metal steps, stopped. He turned around and looked in the direction from which the sound had come from but was blocked. After a few seconds of silence, he gave up on his idea of ​​meddling and left.

"Let's go, let's go straight back."

Philip waved his hand, about to slip away in the direction he remembered, but Klein grabbed his clothes and pulled him back the way he came.

"What's wrong?"

In response to Philip's question, Klein explained, "I need to go back over there to change my clothes; that will effectively reduce the risk."

"I don't need to change it."

Philip replied matter-of-factly.

After a few seconds of silence, Klein nodded. "I know, but I feel safe with you by my side. It's better than being attacked alone."

"Alright."

Morning, 17 Braun Street.

The doorbell rang, and Philip, who was sitting on the single sofa, was about to get up to open the door when he found that Klein, who had been fast asleep, reflexively rolled over and got up.

He straightened his white shirt and black vest, which he hadn't even taken off yet, and when he saw that Philip was still sitting there blankly after he woke up, he got up, walked to the door, and opened it.

The boy named Ian was standing outside the door.

"Good morning, Detective Moriarty."

(End of this chapter)