Alchemy Principles of Type-Moon World

"—The families that later colonized this area should have been aware of this. Did their decline cause them to forget? They really shouldn't have handed over their South American territory to these country bumpkins..."

Kenneth's emotions grew increasingly agitated, and he took several deep breaths, trying to suppress his rage. He fixed his gaze fiercely on the shrunken spirit, his tone filled with menace. "Where the hell is that old bastard's workshop?" He stared coldly at the magician. "You have no idea what you're dealing with. Damn it, spill everything you know!"

The spirit trembled slightly, like a piece of paper in the cold wind, and its voice was full of panic: "I... I don't know anymore. Isidro only asked me to park the car here, and then I had to leave immediately... This is all I know..."

"Why the hell didn't you say it earlier?" Kenneth was furious. He glared at the spirit, then waved his hand and performed several spirit summoning magic tricks, trying to capture the afterimages of the past on this land and look for any clues.

Yet, everything around him remained eerily quiet, devoid of any magical fluctuations. Isidro had clearly meticulously meticulously executed every detail, leaving no trace, as if he had never touched the land.

"Damn it, there's nothing left." Kenneth gritted his teeth in frustration, his emotions almost out of control.

"Don't worry," Xing Qingfeng turned his gaze towards the Amazon Basin not far away, which was hidden in the night. "Since you suspect that they are targeting that ORT, let's go down and take a look. After all, we have a direction—"

"--When was the last time you drove here?" Xing Qingyu turned and asked the magician.

"Mid-April," he answered quickly. "Normally, our agreed timeframe is three months. Unless Isidro captures the magician and urgently needs me to deal with him, I'll bring the processed body here and then drive away with the unconscious person in a car."

"It's been more than two months... Fortunately, it's not the rainy season, otherwise this piece of land would have been washed away by mountain torrents and no trace would have been left." Xing Qingyu murmured softly.

A sudden mountain breeze brought a damp, cool smell, mingled with the scent of rotting leaves, as if drifting from the depths of the dense forest, bringing with it a slightly unsettling chill. Xing Qingqi took a deep breath and whispered, "He wanted to take away a whole truckload of bodies. A disposal of that scale here wouldn't leave any traces. Let's investigate carefully."

He subconsciously wanted to light a flame with his fingertips, but seemed to think of the consequences of lighting a fire in the mountains, so he casually formed a simple magic circle. A faint blue light lit up from his fingertips, reflecting a circle of dim light, illuminating the ground in front of them clearly.

The group walked along the mountain path toward the low-lying basin. The grass rustled beneath their feet, and darkness closed in around them like a curtain, enveloping them in solitude. The moon was barely visible in the night sky, with only a sparse array of stars glimpsed through the clouds.

After walking towards the basin for about half an hour, Kenneth suddenly stopped and signaled Xing Qingqi to change direction with him. After walking for about ten minutes, Kenneth suddenly squatted down, gently pushed aside a patch of grass with the Moon Spirit Marrow Liquid, and carefully observed their growth status.

The slender blades of grass hadn't fully recovered their natural growth; some were even flattened, leaving them with slightly messy creases. Xing Qingfeng touched the bent grass stems and whispered, "Judging from the state of these weeds, they must have been repeatedly trampled here."

They continued to explore the surroundings in the darkness with the help of magic, and soon found several broken branches. Perhaps Isidro was very clever in eliminating most of the traces he left behind, and even did it quite cleanly from a mysterious perspective.

——But there will always be clues of omissions.

As the search progressed, a faint smell of decay permeated the air, and the surroundings were so quiet that only the occasional chirping of insects could be heard. The night was deep and boundless. Xing Qingfeng narrowed his eyes slightly, his expression focused as he shifted his gaze from one clump of weeds to another patch of wet mud. With his patience gradually fading, he finally caught sight of a tiny wheel track among the weeds in a corner of the clearing.

"Found it," Xing Qingqiu whispered, a hint of restrained excitement in his voice. He pointed to the wheel tracks, nearly invisible in the dirt and grass. He leaned in for a closer look. The marks were faint, with only a faint outline left, revealing the traces of wheel pressure, but almost imperceptible without careful inspection. Xing Qingqiu's fingers gently touched the edge of the mark. "Over two months of traces, yet the rain and mud haven't completely erased them. It seems he passed through here during the drought... It's likely him."

The two men followed the tire tracks and headed deeper into the forest path, their steps becoming more cautious. As they went deeper into the jungle, the vegetation on the roadside became increasingly dense, and the smell of decay in the air became thicker, damp and oppressive.

"We should be almost there," Kenneth said suddenly, his fingers gently stroking the unnatural scratches on the tree trunk, which seemed to be the remains of some hastily carved spell. "This symbol... is probably used to repel nearby insects and beasts."

"Two months... Sigh," Xing Qingfeng suddenly sighed, "Two months, and I don't know if anyone can survive. Let's go, faster."

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I also wrote about the setting of ORT in pan-human history, and emphasized and laid the groundwork. In short, the South American route must involve ORT.

The above is a new book by a new author. Please vote and give me feedback. Thank you!

Volume 31: Symbiotic Relationships: . Knotting Records

Xing Qingfeng and Kenneth continued along the muddy path, their path leading them to the ever-deeper Amazon jungle. The surrounding trees were intricately woven, towering into the sky, their thick trunks covered in dense moss and vines.

The air was filled with the scent of moist earth and the sour, astringent aroma of decaying leaves. Perhaps sensing the need for concealment in such a remote location, the deeper they ventured into the basin, the more pronounced Isidro's traces became. At first, only faint traces of talismans etched themselves on the tree trunks, but as they advanced, they grew clearer and more potent, their effects boldly exposed to Xing Qingfeng and the others.

But as they continued walking, the density of the jungle gradually decreased. The ground was covered with thick fallen leaves, which made a slight rustling sound when they stepped on them. Xing Qingfeng also noticed that the surrounding vegetation seemed to have been deliberately trimmed.

After walking for several hours, the eastern sky gradually turned pale, the darkness in the forest gradually receded, and the morning glow slightly stained the sky, adding a hazy glow to the scenery before them. Finally, a clearing deep in the jungle appeared before them, and in the center of the clearing, a brick building stood alone.

"This damn place, a brick and tile building," Xing Qingfeng muttered, "If it's not the work of a magician, I'll just quit drinking for two months."

The building stood in stark contrast to the desolate jungle surrounding it, as if transplanted from another civilized world. The ground around the house was meticulously cleaned, revealing faint traces of trampling. The house looked old and sturdy, its walls slightly mottled, showing the marks of time.

"This environment hasn't rotted yet... This must be a recent sign," Xing Qingfeng muttered, his eyes fixed on the cleared space in the front yard. He squatted in front of the dilapidated tree stump in front of the house and picked up some partially rotten sawdust scattered around the stump, clearly the remains of a rough felling.

The two approached the building carefully, cautiously. The still morning air was broken only by the rustling of the breeze through the jungle. A simple fence surrounded the house, its wood rough and rotten, showing the wear and tear of years. The fence's stakes were staggered, and scattered dirt lay along the edges.

"There's a barrier on the fence," Kenneth muttered after observing it for a moment, his gaze fixed on a few traces of charms nailed to the fence. "But it doesn't seem to be designed to protect against magicians. It seems the owner of this place no longer feels the need to hide."

"Ha, that old man is incredibly cautious. This place is probably his personal lair." Xing Qingfeng snorted softly, a hint of sarcasm on his lips. "With his suspicious nature, he'd never allow anyone to take root near him."

They slowly passed through the fenced entrance and stepped onto the open space in front of the house. The surroundings appeared perfectly tidy. Xing Qingfeng leaned over, his gaze wandering back and forth between the rows of soil. He spotted a few root crops, their leaves gleaming faintly in the morning dew. He drew closer to examine them, and a look of surprise filled his eyes as he saw rows of potatoes and sweet potatoes.

"Hey, this old man still sells these potatoes?"

"Are you sure it's not some unusual plant?" Kenneth approached, crouching slightly. He manipulated the Moon Spirit Marrow Fluid to gently penetrate the soil, unearthing a few rhizomes. The potatoes and sweet potatoes were dry and covered in dirt, looking completely worthless.

"It's really just an ordinary crop." Kenneth took a glance and threw it back onto the soil casually.

Their eyes casually continued to scan the yard. Not far away, a simple wooden cart was parked, with a few bamboo baskets casually placed on it. There was a gap in the edge of the fence, just enough for the cart to pass through. The wheel tracks were clearly visible in the soft mud.

"It seems like this is just a waypoint?" Xing Qingyu scratched his head and asked doubtfully, "Or maybe a transit station or a safe house?"

"Let's go inside first." Kenneth raised his eyebrows slightly and glanced at the neatly arranged vegetable patch. "Maybe we can find something."

They circled back to the front yard and reached the main entrance of the cabin. The heavy wooden door was tightly closed, a few cracks visible on the panel, revealing its weathering. Xing Qingfeng's eyes fell on the doorframe, noticing the faded remains of talismans. The lines of these talismans were still faintly discernible, but they were clearly no longer effective.

"Sealing magic... and it's been abandoned for a long time." Kenneth observed carefully and commented in a low voice.

Xing Qingqiu reached out and gently pushed the wooden door open. The hinges creaked slightly, and the door slowly opened, seemingly resisting the heavy resistance of a long time. Just as the door cracked, Xing Qingqiu suddenly stopped, a flicker of alarm in his eyes. He squatted down and carefully examined the tiny crack.

——I saw a nylon thread as thin as a hair across the crack of the door, connected to a grenade.

"Ha, he even set a booby trap at his own door. This old man is really..." Xing Qingfeng sneered, a hint of mockery in his voice. He dodged slightly to the side, carefully lifted the nylon string with his fingers, and threw the grenade and fuse through the door into the imaginary space.

After confirming that everything was correct, he turned back to signal Kenneth that it was safe to enter, then pushed hard, opening the wooden door completely.

The faint light of early morning poured into the house, barely illuminating the front hall. The furnishings were extremely simple, seemingly designed for everyday living. A thin layer of hay covered the floor, seemingly to keep out moisture. A few wooden chairs were neatly arranged against the wall. An empty ceramic cup sat on a small round wooden table, and a notebook lay open beside it, seemingly still bearing the scent of its owner.

Xing Qingqi casually flipped open the notebook. The pages were slightly yellowed, evidently from years of extensive reading. The pages he opened contained a record of daily expenses, a rough outline of crops, and some scribbled hand-drawn drawings that appeared to be simple outlines of fields and tools. The entire notebook contained no spells or symbols related to magic, merely ordinary daily details, so mundane that one doubted it was truly Isidro's handwriting.

"Nothing useful here." Xing Qingjiu flipped through the notebook casually, then paused as he set it down, as if catching a subtle clue. He frowned, opened a new page, and carefully examined the expenditure and planting records line by line. His fingertips paused on a line of words, and a thoughtful look flashed in his eyes.

"...Alas." He slowly put away his notes, his face heavy, as if he was silently digesting his recent discovery.

He scanned the room. The simple furnishings were devoid of any special features, just a few old wooden cabinets and roughly polished utensils. Then, his gaze fell on a corner where a narrow door led to a half-closed staircase leading to the basement. He raised his hand to signal Kenneth, then slowly walked to the door.

"Nothing else," Xing Qingqi muttered. He put away his notebook, frowning slightly as he glanced around the sparsely furnished room. His gaze then fell on a half-open door in the corner. Behind it were stairs leading to the basement. The wooden steps looked a little chilly in the dim light, and the air was filled with a hint of damp, musty air. He nodded to Kenneth and slowly descended the stairs.

Xing Qingjiu and Kenneth slowly stepped into the hidden basement and were immediately enveloped by its unique atmosphere. The air was filled with a damp, stale smell, slightly musty. The surroundings were unusually spacious, with a high, deep ceiling. The light was dim, but sufficient to illuminate the entire room. The center of the space was nearly empty, with only a vast expanse of floor, and bundles of thick ropes dangling from the ceiling.

These ropes were thick and sturdy, woven from a blend of cotton and wool. Their slightly dark yellow hue betrayed their age. Xing Qingqi looked up at their source and saw them neatly suspended from the ceiling, like silent pillars of history, bearing some ancient and mysterious purpose. Their arrangement was meticulous, as if meticulously designed. Each main rope was tied with knots of varying sizes and thicknesses at different heights, some tightly wound, others hanging loosely.

Xing Qingqiu slowly walked forward and approached one of the main ropes. He lowered his head and carefully observed the intertwined knots. More than forty main ropes were neatly distributed above the basement, and each main rope extended four branches, which were also covered with various knots. The knots of various colors were distributed in different positions. It was obvious that these were not tied randomly, but had specific patterns and meanings. Xing Qingqiu stretched out his hand and gently touched a rope. His fingers slowly slid down along the lines of the knots, feeling the subtle friction of the rough rope surface against his fingertips. He silently memorized the position and number of the knots, trying to find some pattern from them.

He pondered for a moment, then turned and looked up at the magician's spirit, which had been following them silently. The spirit floated in the air, its outline vague, and seemed to be confused by the ropes.

"Do you know anything about this?" Xing Qingyu asked in a low voice, his voice sounding particularly clear in the silent basement.

The spirit trembled slightly, as if startled by the sudden question. It hesitated for a moment, then whispered, "No... I'm not sure. Maybe he designed the code himself?"

Xing Qingfeng nodded thoughtfully, his gaze returning to the ropes. At that moment, Kenneth, standing beside him, was also carefully observing the arrangement of the ropes, as if he had discovered something. He frowned slightly, his gaze wandering over the knots, and finally spoke softly, "This arrangement... looks like the Inca knotted cord system (Quipu)."

Xing Qingyu raised his head and frowned slightly when he heard this. "What do you mean?"

"Quipu, or khipu, is the system used by the Inca Empire to record information. They had no written language, so they used different colors and complex knots to record information like population, supplies, and time," Kenneth explained, gesturing at the ropes. "These knots and color variations were how the Inca transmitted information."

"So what you mean is that this old Hispanic man was still using the record-keeping method of the long-extinct Inca Empire in 2000?" Xing Qingqiu asked with a puzzled look on his face.

"Who knows? Maybe it's just his peculiar interest," Kenneth shook his head helplessly. He raised his gaze to the ceiling and saw dozens of main ropes tightly wrapped around a thicker one. That main rope looked older than the others, as if it had been corroded by time, yet it still firmly held the entire rope system in place. "To be honest," he continued, "my understanding of this system is limited, so I'm afraid I still won't be able to decipher its specifics."

Xing Qingqi nodded slightly, closed his eyes, and felt the magical fluctuations around him, but shook his head after a moment, "There is no trace of any magic. It seems that these ropes are just a simple record -"

"--Perhaps you could try a séance to see if there are any remaining memories."

"If it's only once every three months, I'm afraid the land won't remember anything," Kenneth muttered, pulling a cigar from his windbreaker pocket. His movements were casual as always, his thumb lightly stroking the base of the cigar, and a flame leaped between his fingers. He took a gentle puff of the cigar, then held it between his fingers, quietly waiting for the smoke to spread.

The cigar's smoke, far exceeding that of an ordinary cigar, filled the basement almost instantly, thick and white, like a gradually spreading white gauze. The smoke meandered and flowed, gradually spreading to every hanging rope and every corner.

Kenneth raised his head slightly and closed his eyes. The air in the basement grew stagnant, and the temperature seemed to drop several degrees. A chill washed over him from all sides, making him feel vaguely uncomfortable. As Kenneth exhaled the smoke he had been shouting, the smoke in the room suddenly gathered towards the center, swirling and converging, gradually forming a hazy humanoid shape.

The figure in the smoke gradually took shape, its outline becoming clearer. It was thin, with distinct bones, and slightly hunched, as if bearing the weight of time. Xing Qingqi studied the figure closely, certain that the blurry figure was Isidro.

Isidro's smokey figure walked in, slowly and clumsily into the basement. He walked to a hanging main rope, raised his slightly withered hand, and made a skilled knotting motion.

Isidro's fingertips wrapped around the knots, his movements skillful and precise. He pulled hard on the last knot, and Smoke's fingertips trembled slightly, and the shape was fixed on the rope.

After a moment, the figure in the smoke began to dissipate, its shape blurring. Like sand blown by the wind, it slowly melted into the air. Finally, the entire figure vanished completely in silence, leaving only the thick smoke still lingering in the air, transforming into countless tiny threads that gradually dissipated into the air.

"That's all I remember," Kenneth said calmly, flicking the cigar between his fingers. The ash fell and vanished. He then put away the cigar and clapped his hands. The remaining smoke in the basement gradually dissipated, and the air returned to its previous coldness and silence.

"At least we can confirm that this is Isidro's base." Xing Qingyu nodded. "Let's record the things here first... After recording them, we'll go back and find someone to see if they can decipher them."

"Why," Kenneth raised his eyebrows, "isn't it said that the sooner someone is found, the greater the chance of rescue?"

"That's impossible," Xing Qingfeng sighed, pulling out the notebook he had just found in the front hall. He paused, his fingertips tracing over a line of handwriting, as if confirming a fact he had verified countless times. "This old man records the daily income and expenditure, as well as the harvest and consumption of crops, in great detail—"

"—All the supplies are only for one person," Xing Qingfeng closed the notebook. "That old man has no chance of providing any food or other daily necessities to other people."

"I've read it several times, and I've calculated it several times. I'd rather hope that I'm wrong." His fingers tapped lightly on the cover of the notebook, making a slight "tapping" sound. He took a slow breath, but his expression and tone seemed quite calm. "But no matter how I calculate, I can only be sure of this one thing in the end—"

"—This old man has no intention of allowing anyone other than himself to exist in his base."

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How should I put it? I had a strange feeling when writing this chapter, because the most famous knotted cord system, which became the basis of information recording in civilizations, is the Quipu system in South America. When I was writing this, I was thinking about the plot related to the repair, but in fact, I couldn't do it at all because I was describing this from a humanistic perspective (laughs).

It's a weird feeling, it feels like it's online but in fact it's not online at all.

The above is a new book by a new author. Please vote and give me feedback. Thank you!

Volume 32: Symbiotic Relationships: . Red, Blue, and Green

Patricia put down her phone, the dim light of the screen extinguishing. She lowered her head and let out a long sigh. The dim light in the basement illuminated her silhouette, and her eyes revealed a hint of fatigue and anxiety. All around her was silence, and only her own breathing could be heard echoing in the air.

Xing Qingqi and Kenneth had already left the stronghold under the cover of darkness. They didn't take her with them, nor did they even spare her a glance. They simply grabbed the soul of the Mexican magician they had captured—they had no intention of ever letting him return to his body—and then vanished without a trace in the night.

While being ignored was fine, from another perspective, I was afraid they had never even noticed me. Patricia looked at the direction they left, and an inexplicable feeling of emptiness emerged in her heart.

As for Weber, he also stayed. Although he was no longer completely dependent on a wheelchair and could barely walk, it was still difficult for him to cross the dense jungle.

——⑹ Ling Erer Shan Si Ba 紦俬On the other hand, Xing Qingyu insisted that the lack of results was due to insufficient luck.

He didn't seem to notice that he had been trying to smelt fibrous crystals at a high temperature of two thousand degrees.

This story tells us that theoretical physicists should not try to design experiments themselves or get close to the laboratory, let alone try to design experiments across disciplines. It would be a blessing for experimental physics as a whole if theoretical physicists could stay away from the laboratory.

Even though she and Weber were the only ones in the base, Patricia still didn't dare to risk escaping. In terms of strength alone, she had no confidence she could escape from Xing Qingfeng and Kenneth. If she chose to flee and was caught, the consequences would undoubtedly be even more tragic. After all, her current "treatment" barely qualified as "being alone." If she escaped, she would probably lose even this minimal dignity.

Besides, she had no idea of the true strength of the man who sat in front of the reactor, his wheelchair sullen and dazed, every day. Patricia glanced at Weber, who sat in front of the lab equipment in the distance, seemingly lost in thought. His eyes seemed a little dull... but I mean, they were clear. He supported himself on the wheelchair armrest with one hand, and occasionally raised the other to check the time.

However, Patricia felt that since Xing Qingfu and the others trusted him to stay here alone to guard them, the other party's strength must be much stronger than hers.

Otherwise, it's impossible for you to bring a burden with you. It's not like you are taking students on a spring outing.

In short, the departure of Xing Qingjiu and Kenneth made Patricia feel a little relieved. She lowered her head in thought for a moment, secretly thinking that this was a rare opportunity - perhaps she could try to contact Guanyue Ringo and Okita Souji.

Patricia slowly closed her eyes, clasping her hands together in front of her. A faint glow shone between her fingertips, and surging magic quickly diffused through the air. She silently chanted Guanyue Ringo's name, using her current body and name as a medium to construct a magic trick. However, no matter how hard she concentrated, her senses seemed to hit a wall, unable to reach Guanyue Ringo's figure.

Patricia took a deep breath, feeling a slight unease creeping into her chest. She adjusted her posture and continued to try various variations of magic, but the magic circuits still only responded with an empty silence.

——She even bravely left the workshop temporarily, but the communication magic still had no response. Then she realized that the entire city had become the opponent's workshop.

But magicians aren't usually wary of modern technology. So she whipped out her phone, her finger swiping across the screen until she found Guanyue Ringo's number and dialed. However, all she heard was the cold, out-of-area tone.

It seems they've decided their disappearance is related to the local magician, so they're searching for his workshop. Patricia thought to herself, feeling slightly relieved. Since the owner of this spiritual land has been captured, his workshop might have some self-defense spells, but it shouldn't pose a threat to them—

As for Kenneth and Xing Qingfeng? They were heading down the mountain. The local spiritual veins followed the mountainous terrain, primarily concentrated in the Andes. Xing Qingfeng and the others were heading in completely opposite directions.

Would a magician really build his workshop so far away from the spiritual vein he manages? That would be too unreasonable. Patricia felt relieved when she thought of this.

"Well... I'll explain it to them after this is over..." Patricia sighed as she gazed at the night sky of Cusco. "The longer they spend in the Andes, the better..."

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"There are thirty-three in total, each with four branch ropes. The knots on each branch are of different colors, red, blue, and green..." Xing Qingfu muttered slowly, his eyes scanning back and forth on each hanging main rope, carefully identifying the details of these ropes.

"Are the knots mainly concentrated on the branches...?" he murmured, analyzing the situation to himself. Then, he noticed something strange, his gaze fixed on the main rope in the front row, and he frowned.

"On the first twenty or so ropes, the knots on the branches are almost all red... But towards the back, the blue and green knots gradually increase." He gently brushed his hand over a red knot on a branch, his mind rapidly calculating the possible meanings. "What do the colors represent?"

He silently wrote down the information, looked up and around, took a deep breath, as if he suddenly remembered something, and called out to the magician's spirit.

"Let me ask you, are you sure that the normal appointment period with that old man is once every three months?"

The spirit shuddered at the sound of his voice. It lowered its head and replied weakly, "Yes... yes... every year in the middle of January, April, July, and October, I'll drive over and deliver the processed corpses..."

After hearing the spirit's response, Xing Qingfeng's face darkened, almost to a pitch black. He stood before the dense forest of ropes, his eyes deep and cold. The basement was eerily quiet, with only the sound of one person's breathing echoing in the still air.

Thirty-three main ropes, each with eighty-three branches, each tied with intricate knots. He stared at the knots, his fingers subconsciously clenching the notebook in his hand, his conjecture gradually turning into heavy reality.

"There are four branches on a main rope. Ha, it corresponds exactly to four transactions in a year. How accurate." Xing Qingyu couldn't help but sneer in his heart. He quickly connected this information with the incident they were investigating. Every clue led him to the same conclusion -

——Those knots record every corpse sent here.

Xing Qingyu pursed his lips, an indescribable rage rising within him. He'd suspected this long ago, but when the scene before him matched the known information, pointing to his guess, he couldn't help but feel a surge of anger and sorrow. A searing rage seemed to surge in his throat, but ultimately it only morphed into a few low, hoarse "ho-ho" sounds. He subconsciously touched the corners of his mouth, only to find that he seemed to be smiling, his facial features tense.