Before leaving, Caine casually tossed a coin, asking whether today was unfavorable for visiting "The Bolders' Bar." Upon receiving a negative response, he glanced around, then spoke softly into the air: "Is anyone monitoring me today?" After a few seconds of silence, a faint, ethereal voice from behind suddenly echoed: "No." Caine instinctively turned to look, but still couldn't see the bodyguard. His attention quickly shifted to the answer, and he murmured under his breath: The Nine Office must simply not have me on their suspect list! After confirming that Rosagó had never reached out to me, they've completely set me aside. Should I feel honored, or rather, offended? Moreover, how could a detective constantly busy investigating cats' infidelities possibly be linked to events such as the assassination of a national ambassador or the elimination of a Sequence 5 powerhouse? Furthermore, MI9 has been monitoring me to some extent—my anxiety, my sense of helplessness, my determined efforts to save myself—all of these have been clearly observed, and yet, they have not resulted in any substantial harm to the ambassador. As thoughts raced through his mind, Caine adjusted his half-high silk hat, took up his black silver-handled cane, and stepped out of No. 15 Minsk Street, paying two souls for a hired carriage that took him to the "Courageous" tavern located at Iron Gate Street in the Beckland Bridge district. He moved with ease through the crowd of patrons cheering around the boxing ring, and reached the bar, tapping the table. "A South Wylde beer," he said. The bartender glanced up, murmuring, "Caspar is in Room 3." Caine smiled, placed five half-pence coins on the table, and handed them over. Then he carried a wooden cup, sipping the frothy, fine-white South Wiltshire beer, weaving past the two most crowded and bustling, and also most sweat-stained, competition tables, and knocked on the door of the card room number three. Kaspas tossed the two cards in the center and then limped over to the door, addressing Caine. "You'd better have a solid reason!" After stepping out of the card room and into the corner, Caine lowered his voice. "I'd like to know when the next gathering is scheduled—something just like the one we had last time." Kaspas studied him with suspicion. "Weren't you already arranged to meet with Mariichi?" "Not about the security guards," Caine explained. "It's actually about that kind of event—ah, you know what I mean. I've developed a strong interest." Caine spoke the truth. Kaspas hesitated and said, "There's a gathering tonight, organized by the same person as before. But you'll need to wait at least half an hour. I'll go ahead and inform them. You demonstrated good credibility last time—I believe it'll be fine." "Of course," Caine said, patting the bills in his coat pocket. "I'll pay you your fee." "This time, just one pound," Kaspas said, beaming with generosity. "Very worthwhile." Both corners of Klein's mouth curled upward simultaneously. After paying his fee, he found a seat, sipped his richly malty South Willy beer, and watched the boxing match unfold on the stage. "I can take both of them down at the same time," Klein quickly concluded. Fifteen or twenty minutes later, Caspar returned to the bar, surveyed the room, and spoke softly, "The one on that side has agreed." "We'll go there in half an hour. The storm is brewing—hope you didn't forget the mask." Klein confirmed this with a clear affirmative. He slowed his drinking, taking small, deliberate sips, and finished the 500-milliliter large glass of South Willy beer over the course of half an hour. Following the same path as before, and still the same house without light shining through, Klein donned the iron mask that covered only his upper face, and watched as Caspar knocked steadily on the door with a measured rhythm. It was different from last time—the knocking had been changing all along. Carefully listening, Kline noticed the small wooden panel of the door opening, and eyes peering out. After going through the same routine, he donned his long cloak with a hood, concealing his entire face in shadow. It was still the same living room, still the same flickering, dim candle, and Kline settled himself at a convenient spot, sitting quietly. But this time, he no longer held himself tightly restrained—he instead relaxed and casually surveyed the room. ——The cool breeze brushing against his neck confirmed that the bodyguard had also entered, unnoticed. Indeed, the attendees here seemed to lack any members of Sequence 5, and possibly even any from Sequence 6. Kline mused over this. Listening intently, he observed the round-faced "pharmacist" adjusting her posture, as though preparing to speak. Indeed, the pharmacist, with half his plump face visible, quickly raised his hand: "The 'Black Serpent' seems to have died in the sewer." "The beasts are still rampaging." The 'Black Serpent' is dead? Hearing this, Celine was quite astonished. The 'Black Serpent' was the man who had sold him the 'Listener's' relics, enabling him to successfully craft the 'Speech of Filth'—he was believed to be a member of the Aurora Society. He was no ordinary strength, yet he had perished in a straightforward task of clearing wild beasts from the sewers. Celine frowned, puzzled, and suddenly recalled something: when he had first discovered Zerel's body, he had heard a steady, rhythmic thudding deep within the sewers. When he led Ian there, Zerel's body had already been partially devoured by strange creatures. This location was at the very bottom of the Eastern District's Iron-Carbon Street, quite distant from the Beckland Bridge area—whether or not there was any connection remained unclear. Celine had no urge to verify this detail. The news of the "Black Serpent's" death quickly spread throughout the dimly lit living room, sparking murmurs and evoking a sense of shared, palpable fear. The pharmacist cleared his throat and asked, "So, what should I do now?" The hushed voices instantly fell silent, as if the room itself had grown still. Having previously avoided offending anyone, the pharmacist had thoughtfully offered a suggestion, and now, after a moment's reflection,克莱恩 spoke up: "If I were you, I'd abandon the remaining herbs and never go back there again." "Why? They'll soon be ready to harvest, and the beasts hiding deep in the underground passages usually don't venture out," the pharmacist hesitated, asking in return. 克莱恩 deliberately spoke with a rough, raspy tone: "There must be an organization behind the 'Black Serpent.' His death will inevitably draw an investigation. I'd wager you'd rather not deal with them, wouldn't you?" Possessing the belongings of the "Listener" does not necessarily mean that the "Black Serpent" is a member of the Aurora Circle, but his reference to the "True Maker" as a great being confirms this. Moreover, one should not approach such matters with mere hope—rather, one should believe in it firmly. "Hmm," the pharmacist nodded slightly, as though already making up his mind. "As soon as he finished speaking," the elder of the 'Eye of Wisdom' nodded and clapped his hands, "that's a wonderful idea! We fear the official extraordinary beings, yet we can also leverage them—don't always try to handle everything yourself." After all, I come from the official ranks, so my thinking is certainly different from yours, the pure wild ones...克莱恩 smiled and quietly muttered this under his breath. Following his speech, he resumed his role as a passive observer, listening as others pitched their goods or materials, watching the transactions unfold—some successful, others not—none of which piqued his interest. For now, he hadn't yet listed the specific extraordinary materials he needed, intending to observe this circle a few more times. Time passed steadily, and the elder began assigning people to depart, one every three minutes.克莱恩 had been the first to leave earlier, unaware of what followed. Now, he noticed that there were at least five exits. The elder's attendants would guide different individuals through various corridors, deliberately spreading out the departures to extend the duration. Thirty minutes later, three guests remained in the sitting room—besides the elderly gentleman known as "The Eye of Wisdom," the other two were Caine and a man suspected to be a pharmacist. "The Eye of Wisdom" glanced at Caine and chuckled, his voice deep and weathered: "It seems you've had good fortune." He recognized me as the person who had purchased the ill-omened item known as "The Black Serpent" the previous time. Caine smiled and replied: "Indeed, I've won my bet." Hearing their exchange, the pharmacist suddenly widened his eyes, scrutinizing Caine carefully before finally saying: "Could it be that you possess another lucky, magical item? I thought you were already dead." You're quite direct, aren't you? Caine responded gently: "Perhaps I've always been fortunate." In truth, he too had hoped to find such an item. "The Eye of Wisdom sighed, 'Young man, don't always rely on luck—especially in matters like this. Even if you've won many times before, as soon as you lose once, you're done.' 'I know,' said Kline casually. 'That's precisely why I've come to this gathering—to see if I can acquire some useful items. Honestly, I think we're kindred spirits.' 'Kindred spirits?' the pharmacist gasped, exaggerating his sigh. 'I should have listened to my teacher back then!' The teacher... himself possibly a 'pharmacist'... the 'pharmacist' path is held by both the Church of the Earth Mother and the School of Life... the School of Life follows a master-apprentice tradition... Kline's mind stirred, and he asked curiously, 'Why do you say that?'" "The pharmacist sighed, saying, 'My teacher assigned me to choose the path that would make people sufficiently lucky, but in the end, I became a pharmacist specializing in compounding remedies. As a result, I've still been unable to gather all the primary ingredients for the next-level magical potions—your luck has made me envious.' Making people sufficiently lucky... this is remarkably similar to the path of the 'Monsters' sequence. Truly, a life-based school of thought! The Klein smiled and asked, 'What was your reason for choosing this path?' The pharmacist suddenly straightened up, declaring, 'This is a man's choice!' 'Once I understood that I could prepare potions enhancing those specific abilities, I immediately made my decision and chose this path.'"