In the room filled with the serene fragrance of "Amande" essence and "Eye of the Spirit" potion, Cardin's subordinates were manipulated by Caine, continuously chanting the name of "The Fool." Amid the monotonous yet rhythmic murmurs, the scent that was hard to focus on, the man's spirit gradually diffused, leaving him hazy yet retaining a certain peculiar clarity—much like undergoing self-hypnosis. With the assistance of Caine's ethereal form and under the cumulative influence of the chanting, he slowly entered a state of "artificial somnambulism," his stellar essence drawing nearer to the gray mist at the infinite height, and further toward the mysterious presence above it. Seizing this opportunity, Caine concluded the summoning, returned to the majestic and ancient palace, and took his seat at the place designated for "The Fool." He saw a clear glow radiating outwards around him, outlining the ethereal figure of one of Carpín's subordinates, while the mysterious space, affected by the ritual, experienced a subtle tremor, with certain forces being subtly stirred and slowly flowing. Cain picked up the "Black Emperor" card and summoned a paper figure into his palm. With a flick of his wrist, the paper figure launched itself, adhering to the scattered points of energy stirred up in the gray mist, transforming into a man wearing a dark-gray baseball cap and a thick coat—identical to Carpín's subordinate, down to the very breath and sensation. The paper figure overlaid and merged with the ethereal image of the target, taking on the mysterious and unknown limitations within the spirit body. At the same time, Cain held the "Black Emperor" card, extending his spiritual presence and gently touching the clear glow that had outlined the ethereal figure of Carpín's subordinate. This represents an application of a mystical element—where a humble human gradually aligns with a great existence, receiving corresponding knowledge and experiencing profound spiritual insights. Unlike the usual case, here, Klein embodies the role of the great existence. Within this state of close resonance, the interaction is reciprocal: humans gain knowledge of the great existence, while the great existence, in turn, can naturally retrieve desired scenes through inquiry. Had Klein not possessed exceptional abilities in the realm of the mind, he could have further employed subtle suggestions. "Who are the key figures at the Capin Villa?" Klein asked, speaking through their shared spiritual connection. The ethereal figure instantly transmitted the memory-image, allowing Klein to experience it as if viewing a holographic film: A man wearing a baseball cap stood upright in the room, simultaneously respectful and apprehensive, with a middle-aged gentleman in a black tailcoat and a white hairband standing before him. The gentleman had a lean, serious face, his mouth naturally pressed together, giving off an unusually cold impression. He followed the golden chain of his watch, withdrew a matching pocket watch of the same hue, opened it and glanced at the time, then spoke in a steady, measured tone. "Look at me." The man wearing a cap hesitated, lifting his head to meet the gaze ahead. "Yes, Mr. Hélas." As soon as he finished speaking, he was struck by a pair of eyes glowing with an unusual radiance and heard the commanding words: "Keep the secret! Nothing you see or hear within this villa must be revealed to anyone outside." The man wearing the cap felt an inexplicable tremor run through him, sensing that he must follow the man's instructions precisely. He lowered his head again, saying, "Yes, Mr. Hélas." ... The man in the cap carried a young woman who was unconscious, ascending the stairs to the entrance of the underground area. There, a room had been set apart, and within it sat a bearded man whose exact age could not be determined. The bearded man had cold, commanding blue eyes and was carefully wiping a gray-white, complex rifle placed on the table with a fine cotton cloth. The rifle was thick and long, connected to a large, matching mechanical cabinet via pipes. This was a high-pressure steam rifle—military-grade equipment. "Mr. Beris..." the man wearing a baseball cap bowed respectfully, already prepared. ... The man in the baseball cap entered the well-organized, almost prison-like underground building and placed the unconscious young woman into one of the smaller rooms. He locked the door and returned to the corridor, lifting the lamp assigned to him. At that moment, he noticed a figure walking slowly toward him from the deeper end of the corridor. The figure's gaze seemed to penetrate the darkness, carrying no lighting device at all. With the light from his lamp, the man recognized her as a woman in her thirties. A woman wore a brown soft hat with a slight upward curl, dressed in a thin white blouse and breeches, and stepped forth in a pair of brown leather boots that reached to her knees. Several old scars adorned her face, and a cruel smile always lingered at the corners of her mouth. The man wearing a baseball cap looked both startled and afraid, lowering his head and stammering, "Madam Katie..." The woman paid him no attention, moving steadily closer, stepping over him as if he were nothing but air. Only when the woman known as Katie had gone did the man purse his lips and exclaim, "A whore!" He lifted his lantern and left the underground area. . . Then, in the magnificent, gleaming hall, the man in the baseball cap encountered two gentlemen. One of them stood about one meter sixty-five, slightly rounded in build, with an unremarkable appearance, yet his gaze always sent a chill down one's spine. The other, just over one meter seventy, carried a more seasoned look, with a few forehead lines; his high nose bridge and bright brown eyes gave him a steady, yet unimposing presence. "Mr. Kapin..." the man wearing a baseball cap greeted the slightly heavier middle-aged man first, then turned to the other, "Mr. Parker..." ... Early morning light filtered in as the man in the baseball cap encountered the reserved middle-aged gentleman known as Mr. Heralds at the entrance to the underground area. Mr. Heralds, wearing a white hairband, glanced at the man standing respectfully beside him, then casually extended his right hand toward the entrance, speaking with a dignified and resonant tone: "Seclusion!" And suddenly, the sensation around them shifted subtly—without a sound. …four extraordinary ones, at least four… The strongest should be Mr. Heralas, at least Sequence 6, possibly Sequence 5… The path isn’t entirely clear, somewhat similar to the "Black Emperor’s" route—perhaps based on order, issuing decrees? Based on the scene just witnessed, it can be preliminarily judged that the seal only applies to the underground areas, not the villa as a whole—makes sense, since people come and go during the day; once sealed, access would become extremely inconvenient. It’s unclear whether the same applies at night. While analyzing the just-acquired information, Caine asked again: “What is the overall layout of the villa?” He promptly received feedback, seeing the magnificent hall, the elegant and spacious dining room, the corridor spanning the first floor, as well as the bathrooms and the underground areas. From these details, Caine mentally reconstructed the general layout of the Capin Villa. Feeling a spiritual drain, he asked his final question: "Who are Cardin's close associates among the prominent figures?" Before him unfolded the scene of that magnificent hall from earlier: young girls either bowing low to serve guests with drinks or enduring relentless scolding and abuse as they were shouted at. They were all young, their faces marked by pain and numbness. Any slight hesitation or lack of enthusiasm prompted the maids or servants under Cardin to whip them with whips. These servants, witnessing the unfolding injustice, showed not a single trace of compassion, but eagerly vied for recognition, striving to earn praise. Among the guests, Kline spotted Cardin himself, the coldly reserved Mr. Hiras, a frequently featured Member of Parliament from the House of Commons, Va德拉, and a stout man known as the Deputy Director... Was that indeed the Deputy Director of the Beckland Police Department? This is a senior official from the police department... How could the junior staff possibly be any better? After all, the villa must have undergone careful screening to ensure reliability. Klein rubbed his forehead, breaking the close alignment between himself and the man—after all, the one wearing the baseball cap was merely a deputy, and his knowledge or involvement was limited to what he had just shared. Yet, until now, the mysterious, unseen constraints remained untouched. Klein concluded the ritual, and the figure dissolved into the gray mist, returning himself to the real world. In that ethereal, delicate room, he sat by the bedside of the unconscious man in the baseball cap, reviewing the information just received, assessing the feasibility of the performance, and formulating one plan after another. In the end, Klein settled on a clear idea, speaking softly to himself: "Perhaps I don't even need an assistant. In fact, the assistant might become a hindrance, making it harder for me to escape when danger arises." "The timing had to be just right—this was absolutely crucial."……Forty-five minutes later, a man in a dark-gray baseball cap appeared in the East District, heading straight for the streets under the control of Zmang Party. As soon as he spotted a few高原 figures—dark-skinned, lean and agile, with stern, formidable expressions—he immediately moved closer, pretending not to be looking at the path, and bumped into one of them. "For heaven's sake! You lot are all trash!" the man in the cap shouted, swinging a punch. The高原 figures, who already enjoyed combat, met him with equal vigor, and the two soon became entangled in a fierce struggle. During the fight, the man in the cap drew his dagger, and the高原 figures likewise drew their weapons. *Plink!* A dagger, unable to avoid it, pierced the man's neck, striking precisely the artery. The man in the cap collapsed, his bright red blood spreading out around his head. He soon lost consciousness and then life, and at that moment, a translucent, ethereal figure within him faded away. Klein returned to the gray mist, using it as a stepping point to re-enter his own body, and opened his eyes in the budget hotel in the Joewood district. He attended to the remaining traces and checked out at the front desk. On his way back to Minsk Street, Klein once again entered the gray mist. He needed to make a simple yet crucial inquiry! He picked up his pen and wrote a line of words: "What time is Captain's dinner today?"