"Residing at number 19 in the Hollows district?" When reviewing the memory records, Caine敏锐ly picked up on this detail. "Indeed, Welch's residence is in the Hollows district, so is the Divination Club, and the textile merchant named Seris Aripis also lives there... It now makes perfect sense that Welch knows Haynes Fensent—indeed, he may have even met him through Seris Aripis." Suddenly, Caine felt the threads of the clues connecting, and his thoughts flowed smoothly. He had initially questioned how Welch had come to know Hinas Van Sant, since the banker’s son was not particularly drawn to esoteric studies—money, to him, was far more practical than divination. Now, Klein felt he could begin to piece together the likely course of their acquaintance: "According to various magazine accounts, middle- and upper-class families are eager to visit neighbors of similar standing in order to build a mutually beneficial social network. Welch and Siris, the cloth merchant, who both reside in the Hauls district, had every incentive and opportunity to become friends." "Siris knowing Hinas Van Sant, who regularly attends the divination club in the Hauls district, was not especially surprising—perhaps a chance encounter, or a simple act of assistance, would have been enough to establish familiarity between two people who appear regularly in the same area." "Hinas, seeking to sell his collection of rare books, approached Welch through Siris’s introduction." "Hinas’s dream featured a vision resembling the suspected deity 'The True Maker,' and he also possessed the correct incantation format—both of these points suggest a deep engagement with esoteric studies, making it plausible that he is a member of a certain secret society." "It is "... As thoughts flowed through him, even without relying on divination, Klein was nearly certain that the materials left behind by the other person held substantial credibility: 'Even if he weren't named Silas Ariphus, weren't a textile merchant, and didn't live at No. 19, he surely belonged to the Hauls district or its neighboring areas!' While mulling this over, Klein re-examined the borrower's records: 'His last visit to the Deville Library was the Saturday before last—right before Selena's birthday dinner, the very day before Hinas Vanse died. Yet, now, several days have passed, and he still hasn't returned the journals and magazines he borrowed.' 'According to earlier records, when he borrowed only two journals, he typically returned to the library the next day.' 'Does this mean Silas learned of Hinas's death, was startled by it, and thus has been hesitant to return to the Deville Library?' "Well, at first he borrowed a lot of unrelated historical books and journals, only gradually clarifying his focus and showing significant overlap with the ones I've read..." "This indicates he had no guidance—no senior associate professor from a history department to consult with—relying entirely on his own exploration." "What would a normally anxious person typically do? Either, when the materials are largely available, he would head straight to the main peak of the Honeysuckle Mountains, or, when key conditions are still lacking, he would retreat first, observing the situation, waiting until he confirms that Hinas's death has no personal implications before reappearing." With this in mind, Caine closed his reading records and returned them to a few library staff members, then produced the portrait, asking if they had seen the subject. Unfortunately, with so many visitors daily, the staff found it difficult to remember someone without particularly distinctive features. "Thank you very much," Caine said, folding his credentials and badge. He had no intention of tackling the investigation alone—both dangerous and tedious. He planned to visit Zothlan Street once more, hand over the next steps to the captain and his teammates, then head home to prepare a tomato-braised shank soup for his brother and sister, and at the same time, use the mysterious space above the gray mist to divinate the current status and whereabouts of his targets. "Officer, is there anything else?" a manager sighed with relief, asking earnestly. Klein nodded slightly. "That's all for now. If any new leads emerge, I'll be back." He held his black silver-handled cane firmly in his left hand and hurried toward the door. At that moment, he noticed a man in a black double-breasted suit, his collar raised high, entering slowly. As they passed each other, Klein caught a glimpse of the man's thick, tousled eyebrows and his gray-blue eyes—details completely visible beneath the high collar! Seris? Seris. Aripis? What a coincidence! Klein was momentarily stunned—hadn't expected to encounter his target so directly! What a stroke of luck! How incredibly fortunate! He assessed himself, feeling the aches in his muscles, then feigned as though nothing had happened, continuing toward the door. Indeed, one should follow one's heart and remain steady! As long as Siris had not yet left Tingen, this missed opportunity would matter little. At that moment, a man in a black double-breasted suit approached the reception desk and handed a journal to one of the administrators. "Return it," he murmured, speaking indistinctly. The library administrator took the journal casually, glanced at it, and then froze. He instinctively looked up toward the other side, his body beginning to tremble uncontrollably. "Is there a problem?" the man with his hands raised in a commanding posture asked calmly. His single remark was like a spark igniting a dynamite barrel, instantly sending the administrator into chaos. He dashed off toward the side, shouting, "Officer! The criminal is here!" At that very moment, Klein, who had still not yet stepped out, could only feel a surge of disbelief echoing through him—his mind filled with "Damn it!" He instinctively reached into his armpit with his right hand and drew out his revolver. The man paused, startled, then turned and began to run—yet instead of heading for the door, he veered toward the projecting window, as if determined to shatter the glass and leap out. Just as Klein was growing increasingly anxious, he turned to see this scene and suddenly felt a sense of calm. He realized that while he himself was afraid of the man, the man was even more afraid of him. In this sudden, unprepared encounter, the man could not assess Klein's strength or determine his capabilities. With his own nerves already frayed, he naturally instinctively avoided direct confrontation and sought an alternative means of escape. "With a steady mind, Caine raised his revolver and snapped off the trigger. At that moment, the man in the black double-breasted suit suddenly rolled, trying to dodge the bullet. Then, he pressed his right hand against the air, launching himself into the air and plunging toward the glass of the bulging window. Pfft! Caine's first shot was a blank. Yet this was precisely what he had anticipated. Seizing the moment when Siris was momentarily unable to evade, he again pressed the trigger, aiming at the most convenient torso target. Thwip! The silver hunter's bullet sliced through the air and embedded itself firmly into Siris's back. Clang! The glass shattered, and Siris crashed outward, leaving a steady stream of crimson droplets and a scattering of sparkling fragments on the window sill. Seeing Siris wounded, Caine no longer hesitated. He sprinted over, used the chair as a springboard, leapt onto the sill, and stepped out onto the lawn. It was the rear section of the first floor of the Devereux Library, bordered by a row of tall trees that formed a lush green expanse." Sirius, wounded by a shot, was sprinting toward the side, trying to enter the narrow alley between two buildings. Caine, still refining his accuracy while running, dared not fire blindly—instead, he held his staff in one hand and his gun in the other, steadily closing the distance on the black-dress figure. *Trot! Trot! Trot!* He followed the trail of blood on the ground, steadily shortening the gap between them. As the corner came into view and Sirius's pace slowed, Caine, who had been poised to strike, suddenly felt a surge of unease—his senses told him that the figure ahead was no longer human, but something wild, something feline, something full of terrifying potential. This was his innate instinct as a seer, this was a spiritual warning! Caine immediately slowed his stride, glancing at the blood pooling on the ground: compared to the initial flow, Sirius’s blood had now turned black! At that moment, a sudden gust of wind swept across his face, and in Caine’s eyes, the image of Sirius’s face came into sharp focus. Those were dense, tangled brows, those were gray-blue eyes, those were one after another raised lumps of flesh, those were cracked lips, and those were the whitish, gleaming teeth. Seris had suddenly launched a counterattack! This made Claine's vision of the face grow increasingly sharp, as if he could now smell a distinct foul odor! Crack! Seris surged forward, covering seven or eight meters—clearly beyond normal human capability—yet due to Claine's timely halt, they had only just come within nearly ten meters of each other. Within less than two meters, the mouth dripping thick saliva and the dense, grotesque lumps of flesh formed a vivid, horrifying tableau, keeping Claine's spirit intensely alert. Without a thought, as Seris momentarily stiffened upon her charge, Claine raised his right hand, snapping his fingers rapidly, sending a steady stream of strikes toward Seris's head. Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Close-range shots sent one after another of silver hunt-mage bullets piercing Siris's head, splattering his blood, blurring his features, and forcing him to stagger back and halt. After emptying his revolver, Caine instinctively reached back to retreat, checking his progress. But at that moment, Siris's effort to stand straight sent Caine into a sudden shock, causing him to sharply swing his left hand-held staff. Crack! The solid black, silver-inlaid staff struck Siris's neck, leaving a deep red mark. Crack! Crack! Crack! Caine instinctively kept beating at him until Siris wavered and collapsed. Huff! Huff! Huff! Caine kept his staff tapping the ground, breathing heavily, his eyes locked firmly on the target, afraid Siris would suddenly rise again. At this point, Siris's head had nearly become a crushed ripe watermelon, with the remaining dense flesh tumors beginning to subside, and his body eventually settling into stillness after a few convulsions. Klein didn't immediately go to examine the body. Instead, he set down his staff, pulled out the magic bullets he always carried, and one by one inserted them into the revolver. Only after completing all this did he steady his composure, suppress his nausea, and half-squat, reaching into the pockets of Siris's black double-breasted suit.