Alchemy Principles of Type-Moon World

In 1999, Kyoto's technology was not as advanced as it is today, and the coverage of cameras was extremely limited, concentrated only at a few key transportation hubs.

However, the fact that they were able to quickly confirm Xing Qingjiu's identity with these limited resources in such a short period of time demonstrates Fujiwara no Shigenobu's efficiency. You know, that's how efficient the Japanese government, known for its tedious and slow processes, is! The fact that the Fujiwara clan was able to handle all this in such a short period of time clearly discredits the claim that they lacked manpower.

"Just because the process of proving identity exists here, Xing Qingyu can make such an inference..." He thought secretly. Although he wanted to say all the words in his heart, if he said it out loud, it would tear each other's faces apart.

"Next time, I should let Kiritsugu handle something like this, or call that Waver guy from England. No, considering his combat effectiveness, Kiritsugu is more reliable." Xing Qingfeng thought, "The truth is right at my fingertips, but I can't say it. It's so painful..."

"And, Dad, I just found an excuse to sober up and went out for a while." He spoke in a relaxed tone, as if he was just chatting casually. "To be honest, before your identity is confirmed, I still have some doubts about you."

As he spoke, Fujiwara Shigenobu maintained his usual smile, as if this were nothing more than a trivial matter. He straightened slightly, his smile fading slightly, and his tone grew more serious. "So, I personally set up the barrier around the warehouse. Inviting you here is also a way of expressing my apology and demonstrating my trust."

"However," he suddenly changed the subject, revealing a sly smile, "I actually have a selfish motive. I want you to see if there are any loopholes in this barrier."

Fujiwara no Shigenobu's attitude made Xing Qingqi feel helpless for a moment. You could say that he was frank, but he just didn't give any useful information. You could say that he was hiding things, but he didn't hide his actions at all from other people's perspective.

It was obvious that he knew it would be annoying, but not so annoying that it would cause a fight. In this situation, even if Xing Qingfeng wanted to get angry, he couldn't find a reasonable reason.

Xing Qingjiu and Fujiwara no Shigenobu emerged from their Japanese-style room, encountering the scenery of a late December afternoon in Kyoto. Sunlight streamed through the courtyard, bringing a touch of warmth, yet the air still held a distinctly wintery chill. As they walked along the stone path, sunlight filtered through the courtyard's pine trees, casting dappled shadows. The branches rustled gently in the breeze.

The bamboo surrounding the courtyard shimmered in the winter sun, its emerald green. The pond reflected the sun's shimmer like a shattered mirror. The stone bridge, covered in a thin layer of frost, shimmered in the sunlight.

The two walked along the path, one in front of the other. The sound of fine gravel scraping beneath their feet, mixed with the gentle rustle of the winter breeze, was particularly crisp. Fujiwara Shigenobu walked in front, his hands still hidden in the wide sleeves of his kimono, his steps firm and calm. Xing Qingqi followed behind him, his eyes sweeping every corner of the courtyard, quietly observing the surrounding scene.

The decorative stones, rockery, and even the moss along the paths in the courtyard all shared a common characteristic in Xing Qing's eyes. Even if nothing outwardly changed, Xing Qing's perception of these subtle fluctuations revealed the Fujiwara family's profound skill in setting up barriers. These subtle arrangements, through extremely covert means, formed a vast protective net that enveloped the entire mansion.

—Is this a Shinto method? Xing Qingfeng thought to himself as he observed.

As the two approached the warehouse in the backyard, the air began to fill with a faint woody fragrance and the distinctly cool air of winter. The warehouse stood beside a bamboo grove, and sunlight filtered through the cracks in the trees, illuminating the wooden door. The mandala pattern on the door stood out against the light and shadow. On the stone pavement outside, the sun melted the snow, leaving a few wet streaks that shimmered and shimmered.

On the flagstones outside the warehouse, the sun melted the snow, leaving a few wet streaks that shimmered faintly. Fujiwara Shigenobu paused in front of the warehouse and raised his hand slightly, signaling Xing Qingjiu to pay attention. He slowly pushed open the heavy wooden door, letting sunlight stream through the crack, illuminating a portion of the space. The air inside was slightly cold, carrying a stale air.

The first thing that catches your eye is a thick, woven straw rope, adorned with a few paper pendants. These ropes are strung in a specific pattern across the center of the warehouse, forming a "shimenawa" (a type of rope) symbolizing a sacred barrier. Each rope is meticulously woven, and the pendants shimmer like runes, creating a faint aura. The arrangement of these pendants and the weaving of the shimenawa are among the most traditional Shinto methods of exorcism.

Looking deeper, there were barrier pillars placed at the four corners of the warehouse, but what made Xing Qingjiu a little uneasy was that the inscriptions on the pillars looked like Sanskrit.

"Why do I feel like this guy's magic foundation is a bit... stitched together?" Xing Qingqiu thought secretly.

Xing Qingfeng carefully sensed the magical characteristics of the surroundings and found that they all seemed to be pointing to the same thing, probably something like the center of the formation.

——But this feeling inexplicably reminded him of his memories of the Intirimi Festival in Peru. Xing Qingjiu felt a sense of...

...Could it be that Fujiwara no Shigenobu completed these barriers while performing shamanic rituals?

"It's that box." Fujiwara no Shigenobu stood at the door and pointed to a corner deep inside the warehouse, his voice low and steady.

Xing Qingqiu stared at the wooden boxes in the warehouse. He walked slowly to the door and gently brushed his fingers against the door frame. Sunlight filtered through his fingers and reflected on it.

"It doesn't even have a friend-or-foe identification function..." Xing Qingyu whispered.

"Yes, after all, he is a servant famous for his cross-dressing." Fujiwara Shigenobu stood outside the door, his hands still hidden in his sleeves, and did not move closer to the warehouse.

Xing Qingyu stood in front of the door. After a moment's thought, he gently pulled the door of the warehouse. Fujiwara Shigenobu saw this and quickly explained, "Ah, the barrier there isn't fully activated yet. I'll have the servants prepare the special locks later."

"Well... I don't think there is any need to add anything else." Xing Qingyu said, although he really wanted to ask why not just throw the things into the imaginary space and let the Twenty-Faced One get them from the imaginary space.

"If I must say...are you sure this door won't be opened again later?" Xing Qingwu asked.

After receiving a positive answer, Xing Qingwu nodded, raised his hand slightly, closed the door again, and added something to the door frame.

"Are you sure..."

"If it's just to ensure that this is a confidential room, why would there be such complicated steps?" Xing Qing waved his hand, his tone relaxed, as if he was talking about a trivial matter.

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"It seems like the time is almost up..." Fujiwara Shigenobu raised his head slightly, his gaze settling on the clock hanging on the wall of the Japanese-style room. The hands moved slowly but steadily, the minute hand about to close on 12, the clock about to hit six o'clock. The air in the Japanese-style room seemed to grow even quieter with the ticking of the clock, as if even the sound of breathing seemed intrusive.

"Do you want to wait a little longer or go now?" he asked calmly, as if this was just an ordinary matter.

Xing Qingjiu didn't respond immediately. His gaze lingered on the wine glass in his hand, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He swirled the glass slightly, and the sake rippled lightly, casting a faint halo of light. His expression remained unchanged, as if Fujiwara Shigenobu's words had fallen on deaf ears. After a moment, he casually replied, "It's all up to me."

In fact, what Xing Qingyu was thinking at this moment was whether he could drink a few more bottles of wine from this old man if he stayed a little longer.

However, there was absolutely no need for Xing Qing to stay here any longer. He could have left as soon as the suspicion was lifted.

——He stayed at the Fujiwara family just to verify some of his guesses and see if the Assassin's methods were as he expected.

Although Xing Qingwu's reasoning was, in a sense, just a matter of reversing the process from the answer, when he noticed that the man with twenty faces had never left, combined with the contents of the letter, he roughly deduced his method.

However, rather than Xing Qingfu seeing through the Twenty-Faced Man's disguise, it's more likely that he simply, with his keen perception, sensed the presence of some "inhuman presence" within the Fujiwara residence. If that person truly was the Twenty-Faced Man, he would have likely accomplished his theft long before the notice was posted on the door. His continued presence was likely simply to ensure he "reached his target at exactly six o'clock."

But if it weren't for the twenty faces, it would be a bit interesting.

In Xing Qingqiu's perception, that person possessed some of the characteristics of a Servant, making Xing Qingqiu quite familiar—

——He couldn't help but think of the spirits that appeared at night and also had the nature of servants.

Although Xing Qingfeng was more inclined to believe that the Twenty Faces had to reveal a flaw in order to hide it, given its physical form, he still had enough suspicions about the Fujiwara family. Xing Qingfeng suspected that the spirit was the work of a local family, and the Fujiwara family, the current land vein managers, were undoubtedly the most suspicious.

For the above reasons, and because the quality of Fujiwara family's wine was indeed good, Xing Qingwu stayed.

"I don't recommend anyone approaching alone at six o'clock, even if it's just the two of us," Xing Qingqi raised his eyes from his wine glass and took a sip. "Similarly, I suggest sealing off the Fujiwara residence around six o'clock and not letting anyone in or out."

"That's true. Look at the description in the novel. Even Kogoro Akechi dared to disguise the Twenty Faces." Fujiwara Shigenobu laughed loudly, and his voice echoed in the room.

"That story is very similar to our current situation," he said, his tone becoming more meaningful. "Putting your trust completely in a detective you've never met, and ultimately being tricked by a thief."

"I'm no detective..." Xing Qingqiu put the wine glass back on the table and sighed slightly, "I'm just an ordinary magician who likes to do some research."

He suddenly missed Weber very much, and always felt that if he replaced himself with Weber, he might be more suitable for the current style of painting.

--------

I enjoyed playing guitar on stage, even though I still used the octave effect. My bass part was handled by a chorus instrument, but I felt like I might as well have played bass...

But I feel much better now. Maybe I have been under a lot of pressure recently.

But the hard part is that when I started taking the medicine, I found out it was expired. It happened to be in August of 24. Damn it.

--------

Actually, the method should have been hinted at already. Xing Qingqu's subsequent reasoning is just a speculation on the effect of the Twenty Faces Noble Phantasm. This trick... I feel the writing is just average, too old-fashioned, but if it's too long, it will be a bit overwhelming. For the time being, I plan to arrange a trick that will satisfy me in the interlude after this volume. What do you think?

The above is for new author and new book, please give me some feedback, thank you!

Volume 13: The Quiet Kyoto Holy Grail War: . Twenty Faces

Kenta had just emerged from the guest room and looked up to see that the sky was gradually darkening. It was already evening, and the courtyard outside was shrouded in a deep blue twilight. The moon had not yet risen, leaving only a few faint orange-red tints in the sky, reflecting the unique silence of Kyoto's winter.

The lanterns in the corridor were lit, emitting a soft yellow glow that cast long, thin shadows on the wooden walls. As Kenta hurried past, his footsteps were particularly clear in the silent night, and the wooden floor creaked slightly under his hurried steps.

As soon as he walked out of the guest room, he ran into Fujiwara no Shigenobu who was standing not far away. Fujiwara no Shigenobu stood quietly at the side of the corridor, his hands behind his back, his eyes stern in the dim light of the lantern.

"Kenta, what are you busy with?" Fujiwara nobu's voice was low and calm, breaking the silence of the night. Kenta stopped walking, turned around in a panic to face Fujiwara nobu, and quickly lowered his head to respond.

"Don't be busy, let's go to the warehouse now." Fujiwara Shigenobu said lightly.

"Ah? But..."

Fujiwara Shigenobu didn't wait for him to finish his explanation before interrupting, "Alright, hurry up and call anyone else if you meet them on the way." There was a hint of urgency in Fujiwara Shigenobu's voice. "Don't be so slow. Move faster."

"Yes, yes!" Kenta hurriedly replied, bowed slightly, turned around and walked quickly to the other side of the corridor. Fujiwara Shigenobu remained standing, watching Kenta's back gradually disappear until he disappeared at the end of the corridor.

Kenta hurried down the hallway, his stiff steps a bit hurried, his footsteps blending in with the rustling of the bamboo trees in the breeze outside. He had just come out of the kitchen, his hands still greasy.

This afternoon, Kenta was busy in the kitchen trying to make fried eggplant boxes. Since they looked very similar to tempura, he tried the method specifically.

Unfortunately, he couldn't even make tempura, so no matter how hard he tried, the results were always unsatisfactory. He was almost out of eggplant and low-gluten flour.

"This is going to be tough, this is going to be tough," Kenta muttered to himself. He turned the corner of the corridor with a somewhat stiff gait and ran into Grandma Umeko, who was carrying a pile of bedding. Her figure was hunched, but her steps were steady. Under the dim light, she wore a kind smile.

"Granny Umeko, the master asked everyone to gather at the warehouse." Kenta hurriedly stopped and stretched out his hand to block Grandma Umeko's way.

Grandma Meizi raised her eyes slightly and looked at Kenta, a hint of surprise flashing in her eyes, "I know, I received the notice." She looked down at the bedding in her arms and said with a little embarrassment, "But this newly dried bedding still needs..."

"Oh, there are so many beddings. Why don't you ask me to carry them?" Kenta quickly wiped his hands on his clothes to clean off the grease. He quickly stepped forward, took the beddings from Grandma Meizi's arms, and said with a smile, "Let me carry them over for you."

"Then I'll leave it to you." Grandma Meizi showed a comforting smile on her face and patted Kenta's arm gently.

"Okay, then if you meet other people on the way, remember to call them over as well."

Kenta held the bedding in his arms and watched quietly as Grandma Umeko walked towards the warehouse with a somewhat unsteady gait.

Granny Meizi, clutching her blanket, walked slowly down the dim corridor. Chilly air seeped in through the cracks in the paper windows, bringing with it the chill and stillness of a winter night, making the corridor seem even quieter.

After walking for a while, Grandma Meizi stopped in front of a door. She raised her hand and knocked gently on the door, her voice gentle and rhythmic, neither hurried nor slow, as if she was afraid to disturb the people inside.

"Please come in. Ah, you want me to go to the warehouse, right..." A middle-aged man's response came from the room. There was a bit of fatigue in his voice, but still a hint of majesty.

Granny Meizi pushed open the door, stood sideways at the entrance, and said to the housekeeper inside, "Yes, I happened to be passing by. I was afraid that you might have forgotten because you were busy. So I came to remind you."

The light in the room was dim, and the butler was sitting at the table, staring at an old surveillance device on the table.

"Ah, I'll be there in a minute," the housekeeper looked up at the bedding in Grandma Meizi's arms, then turned back to continue adjusting the image on the screen. "Why don't you put the bedding here first? I'll arrange it when I get back."

Grandma Meizi nodded and gently placed the quilt in a corner of the room. Her movements were extremely careful, fearing any noise. After she finished, she stood up and prepared to leave. But as she turned around, she suddenly stopped and turned back to ask, "Aren't you coming over?"

"Haha, I'm still debugging this recording function." The housekeeper laughed awkwardly and scratched his head. "Because it was a temporary installation today, I still don't quite understand it."

Granny Meizi smiled slightly, shook her head, and gently said, "Then I'll be leaving first. You must hurry over too."

"Yes, it's terrible when Master Fujiwara gets angry." The butler said as he continued to work on his task.

Grandma Meizi closed the door quietly, her movements still gentle, as if she didn't want to disturb the stillness of the night. She left the room and pulled out an old pocket watch from her wide sleeve. The silver face gleamed faintly in the light. She glanced down. The hands on the dial were approaching six o'clock. She nodded slightly and slipped the watch back into her sleeve.

Then she continued to walk slowly along the corridor, her steps still leisurely.

Judging by the time, Kenta should meet Fujiwara Shigenobu and the Master pretending to be the supervisor of the Holy Grail War in the warehouse in about a minute.

Well, there's only so much time left before I'm exposed. After all, if everyone gathers in front of the warehouse—

——The shadows and corners used to hide will no longer exist, and the space for oneself to stay will be completely deprived.

He stood in the shadow of the corridor, his eyes flickering slightly, silently calculating the time in his mind. Every passing second seemed to be knocking on his nerves.

Even so, seeing the housekeeper staring at the surveillance camera still made me break out in a cold sweat. If that surveillance camera could cover the entire house, my trick wouldn't work. My, criminal investigation technology is really getting more and more advanced these days. I bet the younger generation will have to spend more and more brainpower to come up with new tricks when writing mystery novels.

There is about one and a half minutes left until exactly six o'clock, and in another minute, his disguise will be completely exposed.

Oh my, these thirty seconds are really going to be tough. Twenty Faces muttered to himself, the opponent's Servant is Tokugawa Ieyasu, the founder of the Edo Period. He is just a thief who is good at disguise. How can he possibly withstand a few moves from such a legendary figure?

However, since it's Tokugawa Ieyasu, and the Tokugawa Ieyasu who still loves eating tempura...

Just as he was thinking, a gentle and slightly concerned voice suddenly came to his ears: "Hey, Meizi, why are you still going out at this time?"

Twenty Faces was startled, nearly losing his composure. He didn't sense anyone approaching, but the familiar voice was Tokugawa Ieyasu. Despite his surprise, he maintained the kind, gentle smile of a plum-bearing woman and turned to look at the old man standing nearby, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Hahaha, put aside what you're doing and eat on time. That's the most important thing. That was one of my secrets to staying healthy back then."

"Ah, it's okay, it's okay. We servants always eat later." Twenty Faces quickly adjusted his attitude and replied with a smile in Grandma Meizi's slightly hoarse voice, "I was just about to buy some eggplant and flour. Kenta said he wanted to make you something called fried eggplant boxes, but he was never satisfied with anything he made."

Tokugawa Ieyasu laughed even more heartily after hearing this, as if he had no doubt: "In the end, they actually used up all the eggplants? Really, that kid is really focused."

"Yeah, it seems I have to buy some back quickly, otherwise Kenta will be very worried." Twenty Faces still maintained the tone of Grandma Umeko, trying to end the conversation.

"You should take care of yourself lately, Meizi. Your legs and feet are a bit inconvenient. Why don't you let someone else do it for you?" Tokugawa Ieyasu blinked. "The same goes for Shigenobu. Why do they leave everything to you alone?"

"Alas, I'm not yet too old to be of any use."

Tokugawa Ieyasu smiled, his wrinkles appearing even more amiable. He didn't seem to want to continue arguing with the Twenty Faces. He slowly moved one hand from behind his back to the front of his body and offered the object he held. "Since you insist so much, take this. It'll be useful for self-defense when you go out."

Twenty Faces looked down and saw that the other party was holding an exquisite scabbard in his hand.

"...When did you discover it?"

"Hmm...it was just a hunch, so I just gave it a try." Tokugawa Ieyasu paused, then raised the scabbard in his hand and shook it gently. "I don't have any other intentions. As you can see, I'm just an old man who doesn't even have his own Noble Phantasm—"

"—After facing an Assassin like you, I simply can't guarantee I'll escape unscathed." His words revealed a hint of helplessness and sincerity. His fingers gently passed the scabbard to the Twenty Faces. "Why don't you take the scabbard? Once you have it, you won't come here again, right?"

Twenty Faces hesitated for a moment, but finally chose to take the scabbard. At this moment, Granny Meizi's disguise was revealed—

The twenty-faced figure's fingers swiftly slid into his bosom, tearing open his kimono. Unleashing from within was the gleaming, impossibly sharp Muramasa sword. The blade, approximately seventy centimeters long, gleamed with a cold gleam in the setting sun. Previously concealed within his clothing, the blade now stood out in the soft light, like a snake about to be released. It was the Muramasa sword, treasured by the Fujiwara family.

At this moment, the originally short-statured "Grandma Meizi" turned into a man with messy hair and a pale and stern face.

It is hard to imagine that the Twenty-Faced Man hid a katana in his clothes and concealed it from everyone for a whole afternoon. While the Twenty-Faced Man kept changing his identity and moving through the gaps between interpersonal relationships, he always had an unsheathed sharp blade hidden in his arms.

He sheathed the Muramasa in his hand, but found that there was a subtle incompatibility between the sword and the sheath.

"Ah, that scabbard wasn't originally meant for this Muramasa," Tokugawa Ieyasu scratched his bald head, "but it shouldn't be a problem if we can just make do with it."

"It's exactly six o'clock. With that, I'll take my leave." Twenty Faces bowed solemnly and said, "I will take extra care to keep the artwork safe, so please rest assured."

Then, the Twenty-Faced Man hurriedly opened the gate and left the Fujiwara household with swift and decisive steps. His figure gradually blurred in the afterglow of the setting sun, and he disappeared into the twilight, carrying the Muramasa sword.

Tokugawa Ieyasu gazed at the twenty-faced figure and muttered softly, "Really? This would be better." His tone was filled with a hint of helplessness. "That guy Shigenobu went to so much trouble to do all this useless work, only to end up with something stolen or some unnecessary fight?"

"You have to show your cards to others, really..." Tokugawa Ieyasu shook his head with his hands behind his back. In his hand, which was always hidden behind his back, he was holding a pitch-black flying kunai.