The sky outside was overcast, yet without the familiar mist that克莱恩 usually saw. Waves came in阵阵, sweeping away the gray haze and allowing the high-altitude clouds to roll and unfold into various shapes, reflecting golden and red sunlight. This was Prizh Port, the largest and busiest port in the kingdom of Roon. Wearing a light jacket and a white shirt,克莱恩 stood by the window, gazing out at the scene for a while, until his watch prompted him to return to the table made of heartwood. By the warm fireplace, he picked up his deep black, rounded, absorbent steel pen, unfolded the letter paper, and wrote slowly: “…The specific details are as follows—I suspect the original owner of this bronze whistle was a high-level member of the Spirit Teachings Order who attempted to revive the deceased god. Perhaps you can discern something from this very whistle. Before leaving Beckland, I wrote a letter to the ‘Heart of Mechanism,’ describing the vast underground sanctuary where you and Ins. Zangwei fought, hoping they would use this information to uncover the truth behind the events. Through indirect and careful inquiries, I’ve confirmed that they currently hold no hostility toward me or you. Should you encounter difficulties, I recommend reaching out to them for assistance. Lastly, I have one more question: is there any way to eliminate the lingering spiritual contamination within the now-solidified extraordinary traits? …My journey ahead is set to begin. I wish you all the success in your quest to recover your memories, and may my own voyage be safe and smooth. Your student and friend, Caine Moretti.” After setting down his pen and reading the letter from beginning to end, Caine folded the paper and placed it, along with the "Black Emperor" card and the copper whistle believed to have been left behind by a member of the spiritual order, into the envelope. Then, he took the copper whistle given by Mr. Azk and used the gesture of blowing to summon the messenger. The messenger remained nearly four meters tall, composed entirely of white bone, with blazing black flames in its eye sockets—but Caine’s spiritual intuition told him this was a different messenger altogether. Taking a quiet breath, he raised his arm and placed the letter into the messenger’s outstretched palm. The messenger bowed slightly, then rapidly dissolved into individual white bones, which fell like a rainstorm and sank into the ground. Observing this, Caine lightly tapped his right tooth, closing his spiritual vision. He then turned his gaze back to the table, where a pale yellow identity document lay—something required to purchase a regular sea passage ticket. For this purpose, he specifically sought out Sharon and secured a new identity through her network. This identity belonged to a bounty hunter—a madman determined to seek fortune through sea adventures—whom, according to Klein's intention, was named Germán Sparrow. "Hunting evil..." Klein murmured, securing the suite of documents proving this new identity. Then, he drew the curtains, stepped backward four paces, and entered the gray mist. There was still some time until the Tarot gathering, so Klein quickly produced "The Hunger That Crawls," donning it on his wrist. Closing his eyes, he sensed the distorted, ethereal souls one by one, attempting to release the "Faceless One." If in the real world, "The Hunger That Crawls" would happily consume this gift and expel the corresponding extraordinary trait, yet in the gray mist, it remained utterly hesitant, allowing the soul of the "Faceless One" to smoothly emerge from the glove and appear on the side of the bronze long table. He was a middle-aged man with a somewhat indistinct appearance, his sense of distortion and pain having significantly eased. With difficulty, he bowed to Caine, who was leaning against the chair back, and his form gradually faded, about to sink into the gray mist below. Inside the grand palace, Caine did not need to perform any additional rituals to establish a connection—he simply extended his spiritual presence, stabilized the man, and spoke in a low tone: "Do you know where living mermaids can be found?" The man replied faintly: "Beyond those nurtured by the Church of the Night Goddess, one must sail from the Galgas Islands at least a week into the deep waters of the Sunia Sea to find them—this is precisely my destination." So, another 'Faceless One' striving for advancement... he had ventured out at sea in pursuit of mermaids, only to meet his end at the hands of the 'Hurricane Lord' Zilings. The Church of the Night Goddess raises quite a number of mermaids, didn't it? Caine asked himself, somewhat enlightened. "To which organization do you belong?" Or, where did your potion recipes originate from?" The middle-aged man, whose face was blurred and indistinct, suddenly trembled, and after a pause of two seconds, spoke: "The Conclave. I am part of the Conclave." The Conclave? Didn't the Conclave have a few mermaids of their own? After a moment's thought, Celine asked: "Have you ever met your leader, Chalatu?" The ethereal, translucent "Faceless One" remained silent at first, then his voice sharpened into a sharp cry: "Yes! He—he's not normal! He's a immortal monster!" As he spoke, his form grew increasingly thin and translucent, on the verge of dissolving. Chalatu was indeed still alive! What exactly had happened to make Conclave members so afraid of him? More precisely, one should refer to Him—Celine quickly pressed another key question: "Beyond the treasures bequeathed by the Antigonus family and the internal holdings of the Conclave, are there any other sources where one can obtain high-sequence potion recipes through the 'Seer's Path'? The "Faceless One" grew increasingly transparent, more ethereal, until only one phrase remained: "The Night Goddess' Church... the Tranquil Church..." Klein silently watched as the ethereal form of the "Faceless One" achieved complete liberation, his mind repeatedly echoing a single word—the Tranquil Church being the headquarters of the Night Goddess' Church, the "Sanctuary" spoken of by the Watchers. Indeed, it must have hidden countless secrets, especially the high-sequence potion formulas of the "Seer" Path. As he sighed, he allowed the black-green, gel-like substance that had coalesced on the surface of his gloves to slide onto the bronze long table. Ultimately, the extraordinary nature of the "Faceless One" took shape as a jelly-like, semi-transparent object. Against its deep black-green background, various faces occasionally drifted in and out, like figures hidden behind a richly colored curtain. Klein glanced at it, barely nodded, and murmured to himself: "Wait—make use of the 'World,' and have the 'Turner' gentleman sell this remarkable quality, sell it to the 'Craftsman,' to any exceptional one who needs it." Although, through the divination observed above the gray mist, he had identified the official exceptionalists' oversight in their monitoring of No. 15 on Minsk Street, he ultimately chose not to return there to avoid provoking them or revealing the secret of the ethereal beings. Instead, he purchased a full set of laundry items and essential household goods, totaling twelve pounds. Adding the eight pounds he spent on documentation for his new identity, his wallet was nearly empty, almost without purpose. As for the 10% share in the bicycle company, Klein arranged a meeting with Detective Eisinger-Stanton, signed the legal documents, and entrusted the shares to him for management—since, in the eyes of the Watchers and the Mechanic Heart, their relationship was no longer a secret. There are still five pounds in cash and five gold coins left... To reach the Rossendale Islands, it costs four pounds—this is just third-class tickets in the lower deck... And from there, to transfer to the Galgacus Islands, another four pounds at minimum will be needed... It's essential to sell off the extraordinary traits of that "Faceless Man" as soon as possible... That way, at least a second-class ticket can be secured, with decent meals... Thanks to Emlyn's chest, which has remained above the gray mist, otherwise I'd have had to purchase another one... Klein silently calculated his financial situation, as if once again returning to the time right after his arrival, when he had barely managed to afford a proper suit with advances from the night watchmen. "The extraordinary traits of Sequence 6 range from 3,000 to 4,000 pounds, and if someone urgently needs them, the price can be increased... But beyond covering basic living expenses, I also need to account for the auxiliary materials required for the 'Master of Secret Doubles,' as well as the ritual costs to cleanse the primary material of spiritual contamination." Klein sighed, pulling out his watch and opening it to check the time. By the time it was about right, he sent the message to the little "Sun" about the gathering. ... Suddenly, Folshe's vision sharpened, and she saw three figures seated across from her at the weathered long table. One more member? A thought flashed through her, then settled quickly. At this very moment, she didn't care whether the Tarot Circle had acquired a new member—her mind was occupied entirely with the major smog episode and the epidemic last week. She clearly remembered from the last gathering that "The World" had reminded her and "Justice" Miss that something significant was brewing in Becland, possibly leading to a major disaster, and that "The Fool" had affirmed this prediction, further identifying Prince Edsack as the key figure. She didn't doubt "The Fool's" ability, but had assumed the disaster would unfold gradually, giving ample time for investigation. Who would have thought it would arrive so swiftly and unexpectedly! It was reported that Prince Edessa also fell ill during that great smog and passed away... It truly happened, it truly happened... Fores thought back to the newspaper articles from the previous few days, and seemed to grasp something, yet could not quite hold onto it—feeling suddenly apprehensive and uneasy. As a member of the sequence 9, I had seemingly stepped into this dreadful event involving a major city, a prince, and the lives of tens of thousands of people—just by joining the Tarot Circle! Only now did Fores deeply feel the weight of being a member of the Tarot Circle. Then, she heard Miss Justice greet her as usual, yet with a noticeable lack of her usual lightness: "Good afternoon, Sir 'The Fool.' "You've saved Beckland once again!" Ah? What? When exactly did I save Beckland? Emlyn, the 'Moon,' found herself momentarily bewildered.