Clayne's first morning in Beckland began with pale mist, a low visibility sky, a cold and damp atmosphere, and inexpensive tea at one penny per liter, served with two slices of toast streaked with subpar butter. He was busy throughout the entire morning, first visiting the headquarters of *The Beckland Post* in the Joewood district, where he paid thirty pounds to secure a one-month advertisement. Starting on Tuesday, loyal readers of *The Beckland Post* will find a small notice folded at the crease of the seventh and eighth pages: "Sherlock Moriarty, a private detective skilled in handling a wide range of matters, offering reasonable fees and strict confidentiality. Resides at 15 Minsk Street, Joewood district." Clayne had chosen not to advertise in larger regional papers such as *The Tassok* or *The Beckland Daily*, as his current business would remain focused solely within the city of Beckland, and he did not wish to establish a high profile. Thus, the locally popular, affordably priced《Bekland Post》became his preferred choice. After leaving the headquarters of the《Bekland Post》, Caine held a map in his hands and purchased various plant powders and silver sheets from different herb shops, apothecaries, jewelry stores, and accessory shops, preparing thoroughly for the ceremony—under ordinary circumstances, the majority of esoteric materials could be found in regular stores, though they were less concentrated and required visits to numerous shops to gather them all. For this, Caine spent an additional five pounds, reducing his substantial fortune of 200 pounds to just 92 pounds, falling below the hundred-pound mark. "Money is just like a steady flow..." Klein found a small restaurant nearby, ordered a steak with black pepper sauce for eight pence, mashed potatoes with pork sausage for two and five pence, coffee for one pence, vegetables for one pence, and since the total exceeded one sou, added another pence for a buttered value bread. At 1 p.m., he returned to No. 15 Minsk Street, not pausing to rest, but instead taking time to blend a powder of herbs—sleeping herb, dragon's blood, deep red sandalwood, and mint—into "Holy Night Powder," the material used to create the spiritual wall. — Until he could acquire genuine ritual silver spoons, this was the best he could do. Klein speculated that he would need to reach rank 7 in the hierarchy to escape these limitations. "Ah, Miss Justice, Mr. The Turned, and Mr. The Sun have all yet to take leave—then the gathering will proceed as scheduled... I'm curious to know what surprise Mr. The Turned might bring, and how many pages of Roscel's journal he can offer..." Kline lay back on his bedroom bed, drifting thoughtfully through various matters. As a private investigator, it was a profession that balanced both earning a living and engaging in active pursuits, allowing him to meet people across different fields and gradually uncover the extraordinary circles of Beckland, inching closer to the clues of the Conclave. Of course, if his luck were particularly good, he might even directly determine what the "Jester" corresponds to within Sequence 7 among certain circles of the extraordinary, and secure the corresponding potion recipes and primary ingredients. As for Zangewell's whereabouts, Crane currently has no intention of actively seeking him out—indeed, he might even choose to slightly avoid him. However, if he stumbles upon the rival by chance without revealing his own identity, he wouldn't mind doing a good deed, anonymously sending a letter to the Church of the Goddess of Night. "A private detective's income can only sustain a middle-class lifestyle. To have enough money—particularly to purchase potion recipes and extraordinary materials—one must rely either on the 'Justice' lady or on certain investments, using the remaining £100 in the non-named account... Well, the £92 currently on him can't be touched, and perhaps for a long time to come, he won't have any funds to record in the books." With this thought, Crane suddenly sat up, went to the first floor, and began reading the various newspapers he had picked up earlier. These newspapers often featured news items—such as someone inventing a new device and seeking investment, or someone aiming to partner with others to launch a particular venture. Klein relied on his earthly experience and his understanding of this era, carefully selecting projects—unfortunately, today's people weren't very reliable. At 2:45 p.m., he returned to his bedroom, locked the door, drew the curtains, and used the "Saint's Night Powder" to create a spiritual barrier. Taking four steps backward, he reached the gray mist and sat in the high-backed chair of the Fool, extending his spiritual presence and gently touching the deep red star symbolizing "the Sun," in response to the request. This was one of the few things that had remained unchanged in the life he had completely transformed—suddenly, he murmured. No matter how many extraordinary beings from Silver City have paid the price in blood, they have all learned this lesson: never lose vigilance—monsters lurking in the dark may very well be right behind you! On nights when lightning is scarce, the flame must be kept burning, the light must be maintained. Should the darkness become complete, it is not impossible that every member of the patrol will vanish without a trace—no one can quite explain what truly happens in the pure, unbroken dark, as the reality continues to surpass their imagination again and again. "The gathering is ready," the Fool's voice echoed in Derek's ears, yet none of his teammates noticed. Pulling his gaze back and observing the surroundings for several seconds, Derek moved to the edge of the fire, leaning against the broken wall with his side facing everyone, pretending to sleep. Since he'd first discovered the members of the "Six-Table Council," Elder Loviya had been unable to detect the presence of the "Fool" anymore. He had come to believe that, as long as he remained vigilant and didn't inadvertently reveal any inconsistencies, he could quietly attend the Tarot gatherings above the gray mist, even under the constant scrutiny of others' eyes. Two weeks have passed, and Mr. The Hangings is surely ready with the pituitary gland of the adult seven-colored iguana... I'm about to be promoted to Sequence 8! Audrey thought, her eyes sparkling with excitement. To her, this was more thrilling and eagerly anticipated than receiving a £30,000 reward or even a plantation worth at least £8,000. Finally, she saw the familiar, ethereal deep red light surge forth like a tidal wave, engulfing her. ........ On an ancient-sounding sailing vessel. Algier Wilson locked the door to the captain's cabin and sat behind the sextant and navigation logs, continuously memorizing the content written on the thick stack of papers before him. After completing his investigation and receiving high praise from senior management, he had no desire to remain in the bustling city of Beckett, and instead chose to return to the sea, bringing with him a collection of secretly transcribed entries from the Rousell diaries. "Once I've fully digested the 'Voyager' potion, I'll be able to advance normally—my contributions are sufficient to secure both the recipe and the materials... though this will reveal that I know about the 'acting' technique, which has both advantages and drawbacks..." Aljer shook his head, suddenly losing focus. At that moment, he felt the call from 'The Fool,' and instantly, the face of 'Wind Commander' Zinglars appeared in his mind—his flesh rapidly decaying, peeling away in swift, cascading fragments. Instinctively, Aljer lowered his head, allowing the deep crimson tide to engulf him. "At this point, I must thank you for sending your attendants to assist me in eliminating Qilin-gus—these journals are my due compensation!" Page 19? That's quite good... Caine didn't elaborate on the attendants, merely smiled calmly: "That's the principle of equivalent exchange." Truly, the 'Fool' gentleman... A pirate general carrying magical artifacts is entirely overlooked by Him... I no longer need to mention the bounty matters... I wonder how many high-tier attendants the 'Fool' gentleman possesses. Audrey, unconsciously, began using 'Him' to refer to the 'Fool'. Upon hearing the 'Fool's' response, the 'Hanged Man' Aljer said humbly: "My current memory limit is six pages—please allow me to present them in installments." "Certainly," Caine nodded gently, the thick gray mist surrounding him. "The Sun" Deric watched the 'Hanged Man' page by page materialize the journals, expressing keen interest in their contents. With the experience from the previous几次, he believed that the items of interest to the "Knight" surely held many mysteries. He glanced at the "Justice" lady, who showed no immediate desire to inquire, and thus remained cautious and silent. Soon, the six-page journal was completed and came into his hands. Audrey and the others began to wait quietly, now accustomed to such occurrences. Lowering his gaze, Caine read the first page: "December 16th: I reconnected with that unfortunate fellow trapped deep within the storm, lost in darkness." Finally, a follow-up to one of the earlier notes! Caine felt a surge of delight and grew even more focused: "He called himself 'The Door' and attempted to teach me a complex, difficult ritual, promising to help me return to the real world, and to fulfill three of my requests." "Does he think I'm foolish? Having lived sixty years across two lifetimes, haven't I recognized this as a consistent pattern of the demonic gods?" "But the certain historical accounts he described from the Quaternary period truly are fascinating."