In the damp, chilly kitchen of 15 Minsk Street, Crane retrieved a newly purchased large iron pot, filled it with fresh water, and carefully scrubbed it several times. Then, he tossed in a few matches and snapped his fingers. At once, a vibrant crimson flame erupted, swiftly drying the residual water droplets without scorching the pot's surface. ——This time, pure water was not one of the ingredients in the potion formula, so Crane was more cautious than in the previous two attempts, striving to avoid any additional auxiliary measures that might compromise the process. Although he could foresee through divination whether the potion would succeed without endangering his own life, the outcome would still be that the potion failed, and extracting its extraordinary qualities would become extremely difficult—much like removing a mental contamination from a失控 subject, which required specific techniques, methods, or rituals that Crane couldn't currently assemble a second batch of. All preparations complete,克莱恩 glanced at the neatly arranged boxes and took one final moment to mentally review the potion formula: "Faceless One: primary ingredient, the altered pituitary gland from a Thousand-Faced Hunter; the characteristic of human skin shadow, secondary ingredients, 80 milliliters of blood from a Thousand-Faced Hunter, five drops of black mandrake juice, ten grams of dragon's tooth powder, and three strands of deep-sea Naga hair." He first picked up the box from the vampire Emlyn White, opened it, and removed the glass bottle containing 100 milliliters of the Thousand-Faced Hunter's blood. Aligning his gaze with the scale markings, he turned the bottle's lid and, with steady wrist motion, poured the viscous liquid—its color shifting constantly with the changing light—into the iron pot. As a secondary ingredient, he did not demand precise measurement and simply used the bottle without resorting to chemical laboratory equipment for separation or titration. The blood of the Hundred-Faced Hunter flowed like thin honey, slowly filling the base of the iron pot. When Caine judged it was sufficient, he stopped tilting the pot, allowing the liquid to return to its resting state. There remained nearly 20 milliliters—remarkably accurate, indeed. Caine drew his gaze from the scale markings on the glass bottle, then carefully tightened the lid. This 20 milliliter portion of the Hundred-Faced Hunter’s blood could be used to craft magical items, extraordinary weapons, transcendental scrolls, or to inscribe symbolic sigils in certain ritual spells—still highly valuable. After placing the glass bottle back into the paper box filled with supplies, Caine added the black mandrake juice and dragon’s tooth powder in sequence, observing bubbles rise within the liquid in the pot. Without pause, he lifted three deep-blue strands of hair, resembling small serpents, with his right hand, which was gloved in black, and gently placed them on the surface of the liquid. A soft hiss emerged within the pot, and the liquid’s color deepened to a rich blue. Such a remarkable effect already, without even adding the primary ingredients... Truly a sixth-sequence potion. Caine reached for the silver-white, gray-toned tin box gifted by the vampire Emlyn White. With a crisp snap, he opened the lid, revealing the item inside—like a shelled walnut. He did not directly touch the enigmatic, multi-faceted brain-variant hypophysis of the multifaceted hunter. Instead, he placed the tin box atop the iron pot and tipped it over. The yellow-brown item, with its brain-like ridges and depressions, settled into the deep blue liquid, where it collided gently. At that moment, no droplets splashed—instead, the hypophysis melted silently, its form continuously shifting. The gray-white and yellow-brown tones swiftly blended with the deep blue, and the bubbles that rose began to grow in size and number. By this point, Caine was slightly nervous, yet he managed to remain composed, lifting the final box and carefully inverting the large, diamond-like human skin silhouette within it into the iron pot. In an instant, all the mist receded, and even the glow of the gas wall lamps seemed to be drawn in and swallowed, dimming noticeably. Only when everything had returned to normal did Caine clearly see the final form of the potion. It was uniformly black and green, occasionally slowly releasing bubbles the size of a human eye, as if the potion itself were alive, belching out a deep, steady sigh every few seconds. When these bubbles reached the surface, they burst immediately, reflecting and casting a spectrum of colors during the process. These colors combined to form various facial shapes, with features seemingly randomly assembled. Caine picked up the iron pot with one hand and carefully poured the liquid into a pre-prepared glass bottle, leaving not a single drop behind. Confirming through divination that the potential risks were acceptable, Caine then carried the bottle—now a "faceless one"—with steady steps back up to the second floor and entered the bedroom, whose curtains had already been drawn. He locked the bedroom door, sat down by the edge of the bed, and calmed his slightly excited and restless mind through meditation. After sitting in stillness for several tens of seconds, Caine opened the bottle, raised his right hand, and forcefully poured the entire potion into his mouth. A tingling and numbing sensation spread through his mouth and esophagus, eventually evolving into a complete numbness that erased all sensation. Caine’s spirit seemed to withdraw from his body, observing as his mouth melted, his nose melted, his ears melted, his eyes melted, and his entire face dissolved. Within just a few seconds, his face and head transformed into white wax heated by fire, and his body exhibited similar anomalies—his bones and skin appeared to be dissolving into his blood. No, he could not let this situation continue unchecked! Caine knew that if he failed to maintain control, he would soon reach the brink of total collapse. He, observing from the sidelines, made a concerted effort to bring his thoughts back to his body, to visualize the layered spheres accumulating, and to maintain his meditative state. After brief yet repeated attempts, he finally reconnected with his physical presence, striving to control each subtle part of his body, thus securing his final ground. Waves of melting and dissolution came again and again upon him; he didn't know how long he had sustained this, until finally, the storm abated, and he regained his body's inherent sense of self. At that moment, he knew he had truly crossed the threshold, entered Sequence 6, and become an "Unfaced One!" Klein saw that his face and exposed skin were covered in dense, pale flesh-like growths—so delicate that mere observation would cause any normal being to feel a tingling sensation throughout their body, instinctively recoil, and even lose their senses in the more timid. Having fully absorbed the "Magician" potion and mastered the art of performance, he had found the advancement to Sequence 6 particularly difficult, barely managing to stay stable, with only a few steps away from collapse. As for the extraordinary beings who had accumulated experience over time and only recently qualified to consume the corresponding potion, the risks they faced must have been immense, with a very high probability of failure. That’s why Sequence 7 positions—typically serving as relatively junior captains and bishops—were common within the major churches, while the numbers at Sequence 6 began to decline sharply. Klein closed his eyes and sat back in his chair, using meditation to calm the overflowing spirituality and restore his strength. After about ten minutes, the unpleasant flesh growths completely disappeared, seamlessly blending back into his flesh. Inhaling deeply, Caine walked back to the full-length mirror, studying the man now streaked with a circle of beard. Suddenly, the beard began to ripple, the flesh and skin shifting like semi-melted wax, undergoing a strange transformation. In just a few seconds, Caine reverted to his former self—black hair, brown eyes, ordinary features, a clean face with a deeper contour and a slightly slender build. He gazed quietly at the man he had once been, then extended his right hand and gently pressed it against his face. A light stroke, and Caine’s features changed once more—his nose high and refined, his lips thin, handsome yet delicate, with an unyielding pride evident in his eyes. This was the vampire Emlyn White. A little shorter, he chuckled to himself. At that moment, the bones and ligaments within him clicked and snapped, and he shot upward suddenly, now standing completely indistinguishable from Emlyn White in form. I found that I could recall with precision the physical appearance and demeanor of every person I had met, and grasp their unique scent—Clayne's pores would ripple, his internal state shift, and his body's aroma change accordingly. Once again, he turned to the full-length mirror, letting his hairline recede slowly and his eye color deepen into a profound gray. In silence, Dunning Smith seemed to come back to life, now gazing steadily at the team member who had consistently reported anomalies. He exhaled slowly, returning to his original self, though a gentle smile still lingered at the corners of his mouth. After a moment's thought, he stepped back a few paces, glanced at the magazine he had bought for its fashion coverage of women—The Lady's Aesthetic—and noted the appearance of the dramatic actress on the cover. Then he returned to the mirror, brushing his face with his right hand. When he looked again, the reflection now showed a young woman with long black hair flowing past her shoulders, delicate features, and refined facial contours. It really works... Kline looked down at his chest and found no outward prominence. He struggled to control his body, shifting fat and some flesh, managing to shape a pair of As. But his lower body—there, he was completely helpless. That is, merely superficial changes, without touching the essence... Also, at present, I can only grow or shrink by ten centimeters; beyond that, it becomes difficult... Furthermore, the enlargement or reduction of my head is limited—something like the giant-headed Father Utzlovsky that I simply cannot replicate... Also, I can only momentarily perceive the subject's appearance and demeanor, not their inner qualities; when encountering someone like the "Justice" lady, an observer, I often become exposed... Hah! In the "Clown" phase, the "Clown" dominates the "Observer"; but in the "Faceless" phase, I find myself increasingly being controlled by the "Observer"—quite interesting... Reflecting on this, Crane ceased changing and returned to his Sherlock Moriarty appearance. Divination, combat, and the magician's extraordinary abilities have all been enhanced, though the exact degree of improvement can only be confirmed through practice. He'll make a visit to the Crag Club tomorrow—when he has a moment. Finally, Klein took one last look around and descended to tidy up the mess. After settling all loose ends, he quickly washed up and settled into bed. Lying there, gazing at the soft crimson moonlight filtering through the window, he gradually found himself calm and at ease. A few minutes passed, and then Klein slowly closed his eyes, smiling softly to himself and saying, "Good night, Faceless One."