After exploring the area without further discoveries, Kline returned to the ancient palace supported by stone pillars. He sat at the head of the bronze long table, half-closed his eyes, and assessed the growth of his spiritual strength against the number of potential new members he could recruit. "Including those who haven't yet taken on responsibilities, I can probably bring in four more, though I don't currently have any specific targets," Kline murmured to himself, then rose and returned to the real world, busy preparing for an excellent dinner. He sliced potatoes, blanched beef, added onions, sautéed them, sprinkled in white pepper and other seasonings, then poured the prepared hot water into the pot, covered it, and reduced the flame. No doubt at all, the "Magician's" command over fire is truly a kitchen asset... Since acquiring it, my cooking skills have noticeably improved. If only the mishaps, the monsters, the investigations, and the gods of chaos hadn't intervened, and if everyone had consistently applied their abilities in such harmless, peaceful ways, the world would have been at peace and flourishing. Caine murmured this, then stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room. The glow from the gas wall lamp spilled out. Klein, who had intended to flip through a magazine, waiting for the right moment to add salt to the diced potatoes and carrots, found himself instead preoccupied with the question of how to embody the "Faceless Man": "This morning, upon fully awakening and stabilizing my spirit, I noticed that while the 'Faceless Man' potion had not yet begun to digest, it had begun to resonate with me in a way that was entirely new—something I had never experienced with the potions of the 'Seer,' the 'Clown,' or the 'Magician'." With this thought, Klein looked up at the bulging window, which, now that the outside sky had darkened, appeared like a mirror, faithfully reflecting the image of Sherlock Moriarty—dark hair, brown eyes, a beard along his mouth, wearing gold-rimmed spectacles. Klein nodded thoughtfully: "This might be because I've been playing the role of Klein Moretti... in a sense, Sherlock Moretti is merely Klein's disguise, not a completely different person. Although I've received many fragments of memory and developed some of the original emotions, at my core, I remain an outsider from another world—Zhou Mingrui, the Earth-based keyboard virtuoso. Over the past five months, I've experienced so many things that at times, I even begin to feel as though I am truly Klein Moretti." In silence, a series of thoughts flashed through Klein's mind, bringing him several new realizations. Yet I have always remained Zhou Mingrui in the skin of Klein Moriaty—never relinquished my intention to return. He slowly closed his eyes, then opened them again, and the figure reflected in the convex window had changed: a young man with deep brown eyes and shorter black hair, his features unremarkable, rather refined in appearance, though clearly tired, with evident signs of a double chin forming. This was Zhou Mingrui from Earth. Long time no see... Klein sighed softly, raised both hands, and rubbed his face. When he lowered his arms, he had once again assumed the form of Sherlock Moriaty. After this deep reflection and adjustment, he felt an unexpected closeness and blending between spirit and potion, as though they were gradually merging. "It's no wonder that Rosago's teacher—perhaps even his teacher—said, 'You can impersonate anyone, but you can only be yourself.' This should be the very core principle of the 'Faceless One's' performance method. Once you forget this, you easily lose yourself amidst constant change and eventually become a monster." Kline reflected on the insights he had received through spirit communication, now feeling a sudden clarity. He lifted his right leg and leaned back, quickly forming plans for the coming period: "Explore and distill the specific principles governing the 'Faceless One's' performance. "Gather intelligence about mermaids within the circle of extraordinary beings in Beckland, and prepare for the upcoming sea voyage to complete the ritual. "Secure either directly or indirectly the formula for the 'Sun God's' magic potion, enabling the young 'Sun' to advance to Sequence 7 and qualify for the method to counteract mental contamination from unstable extraordinary traits. "Yet, we shouldn't rely entirely on the young 'Sun'; we must also actively pursue our own sources." Klein's mood gradually settled as he gave a sharp nod, slightly dimming the kitchen's fire and allowing the aroma of the beef to spread. At that moment, he heard the sound of the doorbell being rung. The visitor was Jurgen, the lawyer. Despite the light, steady rain and the damp ground, Jurgen remained impeccably dressed, even wearing a stiff, vertical collar. "Is there something on your mind?" Klein, already quite familiar with Jurgen, didn't offer any small talk, simply asking. Jurgen set down his black umbrella and brushed off a few droplets from his double-breasted suit. "Holmes, I'll be leaving Baker Street next Monday to join my grandmother on a holiday in the south—there, the warm climate and clean air are particularly beneficial for her." "This is wonderful news," Klein interjected with a thoughtful remark, smiling and asking, "Are you thinking of having me temporarily adopt Brody?" Jürgen shook his head seriously: "My grandmother refuses to part with Brody and insists on bringing it along. I've asked about the arrangements—so long as it's placed in a cage and a full ticket is purchased, it can travel on the steam train, but the cage must be cleaned constantly to avoid contaminating the air." In fact, the smell inside the third-class carriage is strong enough to overpower the odor of cat dung... Klein chuckled lightly: "Brody must not be very enthusiastic about going out, then?" "On the contrary," Jürgen replied. "It's more reluctant to leave my grandmother." He adjusted his hat and added: "I'm here to inform you that, should you need bail or legal assistance during this period, you can contact my colleague. Here's his business card—I've already coordinated with him, and he will remain in Beckland this year." "Real professionals—they've even thought about this issue specifically… Still, I don't think I'll need it for now. Right now, I'm an informant for 'The Mechanical Heart,' so I usually don't end up in the police station." Klein smiled, thanked him, took the business card, and slipped it into his coat pocket. Shifted his gaze, Caine leaned back against the sofa's backrest, gazing at the night outside, at the gas streetlamps glowing softly in the darkness. Amid the deep chill and quiet, he sighed: "New Year..." Yet, Deric could glimpse the city's past—definitely one that had endured for a long time, with a substantial population, developing its own civilization through the dark ages. The humans consumed magic potions, maintained their buildings, defended their city walls, and sent out teams of five or more to explore, hunt monsters, and seek the resources essential for survival. In moments of brief stability, they celebrated, honored the gods, prayed for a response, and gave birth to new generations, ensuring hope endured. Yet ultimately, they faded into the darkness, losing all voices, leaving behind only a ruin. This ruin stood like a vast tomb, burying a civilization that had struggled to survive and quietly vanished. Colin the Hunter surveyed the scene, his expression grave, as if he had already seen the future of Silver City. He pointed ahead: "Other areas have been cleared. The temple stood at the very heart of the city." The exploration party had slightly dispersed but maintained sufficient order, remaining vigilant. After passing through one ruin after another, long since abandoned, and walking along streets so quiet they seemed to induce restlessness, Deric finally spotted a broad, elevated platform entirely constructed by human hands. On the platform stood a partially collapsed building, strikingly similar in design to the temples of Silver City—both supported by stone columns and featuring arched doorways. Unlike the architectural style of the other buildings here, it was clearly the work of the later-adhering "Fallen Lords." Deric had just formed this thought when all four lanterns in the party simultaneously went out! Suddenly, the entire exploration party plunged into complete darkness—no lightning flashed in the sky, no candlelight remained on the ground, and the human breaths around them seemed to vanish entirely. Derek's body instantly tightened, as though some monster in the dark had extended its tongue and was gently probing his scalp—yet his inspiration told him that nothing tangible had actually appeared. At that moment, a fresh, fragile, and trembling voice echoed in his ears—childlike, helpless, and anxious. A child was whispering: "Save me... save me..." Derek stood frozen, unsure of what to do, but in an instant, a few shimmering dust particles began to appear before him. These particles burst into life, igniting streaks of silvery light that gradually illuminated the surrounding area. Colin watched Derek, his voice steady and grounded. "What are you thinking?" Derek instantly came to himself, humbly clasping his hands together and placing them before his mouth and nose, as if in prayer. Radiant, clear light surged from his body, gently pushing back the darkness around him. The other team members seized the opportunity and quickly re-lit their candles. Thanks to the timely response of the "Sorcerer Hunters," no team members have gone missing, and no new recruits have been added. Colin shifted his gaze from Darien, turning toward the partially collapsed temple on the raised platform, and said solemnly: "From now on, there must be no complacency—our vigilance must be at its highest."