Didn't I just receive the commission, and isn't my ability to find people necessarily tied to when I receive it? If I hadn't waited a full day for "the Serpent of Fate," Wil Aunscite to arrive, I could have been two full days ahead—this is what professionalism means! Caine responded calmly. "You can choose to ignore me." Dr. Dacwell, the plump pharmacist, found himself momentarily choked, his facial muscles twitching. "Go on," he said. Caine spoke plainly. "I've been informed that Roy King has been secretly detained by the military and is currently being held at the Governor's Mansion." Messages received from the mirror, Arodes—his thought quietly added. "Really?" Dacwell could no longer contain himself, his eyes wide, asking aloud. Caine gave a barely perceptible nod. "My information sources are sufficiently reliable." "Yet I can't verify it myself," Dacwell hesitated. "Because it involves a crucial sealed artifact of the Life School," Caine stated directly. The plump apothecary jumped back two steps, scanning left and right with wary eyes, afraid that his words had been overheard. Could something like this be casually mentioned on the street? He knew they were from the Life School, and he knew the old man was involved in a significant sealed artifact—something he only learned about during his very last contact. Dacwell gradually began to believe the information provided by the adventurer before him. Though he was an exceptional person, his profession as a "pharmacist" and "beast trainer" meant that his physical fitness did not always translate into decisive victories in direct combat—he might not have outperformed an ordinary person armed with a revolver. His trained extraordinary pets were also rather weak in combat, while his opponent clearly appeared to be an experienced, well-connected adventurer, likely also a special individual. Even with him and his owl companion, he might have been outmatched. He could only follow the other's lead. I've finally saved up all this money... he sighed internally. Being a pharmacist was indeed profitable, especially in overseas colonies, where there were so many pirates, seafarers, and adventurers, and where the population was diverse and the official administration relatively relaxed. He could sell certain restricted medicines without fear of being pursued. In just the past two months, the guests at the Red Theater alone had generated business that surpassed his earnings from the previous year. Yet, as a remarkable individual, his expenses were substantial. Much of his earlier savings had been consumed by his promotion to "Stablemaster," and later, he had taken in a pet, diligently purchasing recipes, preparing magical elixirs, and acquiring protective talismans for himself—leaving only a few hundred pounds truly set aside. Finally, he poured out the small bills and copper halfpennies of various denominations from the cash box, tucked them into his coat pocket, took the high-value identification documents, and with the brown suitcase in hand, stepped out of the traditional herb pharmacy. Glancing back at the various medicinal materials still unsold, the plump face of Dacwells clearly twitched with emotion. He took a deep breath, held back his pang of sorrow, locked the door, and hurried toward the alley entrance, where he hailed a hired carriage bound for the Bayam Steamship Ticket Office. "Too dangerous, too dangerous—even the old man has been arrested..." "Arrested..." he murmured silently, over and over again, his voice trembling slightly. In this state, he finally reached the ticket office. As soon as he paid for the carriage, he quickly rushed into the hall and joined the line ahead of the steamship to East Bayling. Inhale... exhale... inhale... exhale... Dacwells took deep breaths, following the line of passengers behind him, stepping steadily forward. "Take the latest ship," he insisted to himself. As they moved forward in an uneven rhythm, Dacwell gradually grew quieter. His expression twisted momentarily, then smoothed out, twisted again, and smoothed out once more. When only one passenger remained ahead of him, Dacwell's steps froze. "You fool! You fool!" he muttered under his breath, then sharply turned around, carrying his suitcase and identification documents, and stepped out of the ticket hall. "Behind them stands the School of Vitality—a venerable organization founded in the early Fifth Age, with a history spanning several hundred to thousands of years, even though it has recently experienced internal divisions. Naturally, the plump pharmacist can draw upon its deep roots and secure assistance. If even the School of Vitality fails, then bringing the entire Tarot Circle into play would be of no use. I needn't worry—within the military in Bayam there's a half-god, half-human figure. Of course, he might not be at the Governor's Office; he could very well be residing within the military base." Inside the carriage, Caine removed his wallet, glanced at the thousand-paper cranes inside, and considered whether to immediately send it back into the gray mist. Wait a moment, perhaps Willy Ongentheim, this "Serpent of Fate," has something in store for me. Next time, remember to bring a pencil—this issue has been overlooked all along. How large can a thousand paper cranes really be? With a fountain pen, the space for notes quickly runs out. Without room to send active messages, I'd have to rely solely on passive waiting. And I simply can't carry that crane with me all the time; soon enough, it would end up in the clutter pile at the upper gray mist. I wouldn't want Willy Ongentheim to keep tracking me constantly—better to be cautious. Klein made a swift decision, returned to "The Blue Wind," packed his belongings, and checked out of the luxury suite. To his relief, when Daniz came a second time, he had prepaid part of the room charge, and Klein only paid 5 soules. Soon, Caine changed streets, moving to Otom Street near the Leaves of Sage Bar, and checked into a hotel named "Teyana." He reserved a clean but ordinary room—costing just two sols and two pence daily, with an additional cup of "Teyana," a juice made from a large fruit pressed fresh each day. Sipping the slightly sweet, milk-like juice, Caine no longer needed to worry about his appearance. He sank into the armchair inside the room, deciding to spend the next two hours simply daydreaming and catching up on sleep, before heading up to the gray mist to browse the prayers of his followers and experience the diverse expressions of his devoted ones. "All I need to do is prepare the appropriate inheritance rites or auxiliary potion materials, and I'll become a baron—something quite manageable at this stage," Emlyn thought with eager anticipation and pride. "According to the human system, I'll then be a Sixth-tier extraordinary, holding the title of 'Potion Professor'!" On the red wooden table stood a brass sextant and a shallow blue astrolabe, the latter's surface marked with large expanses of blankness—regions yet unexplored or inaccessible. Gardelia extended her finger, gently adjusting the astrolabe, then half-closed her eyes, waiting for the Fool's call. Not long after, a surging tide of deep red light surged before her, completely engulfing her. Once she had adjusted to the transformation, the sacred palace supported by stone pillars reappeared, along with an ancient bronze long table. In the lively greeting of the "Justice" maiden, Gardelia also paid her respects to the "Fool," still veiled in a gray-white mist. A simple glance revealed that her deep purple-black eyes had momentarily contracted. She noticed a subtle radiance emanating from the "Turner," the "Moon," and the "Sun"—a phenomenon entirely different from the last time! This clearly indicated that they had all been promoted. This shows their promotions have been happening in just the past few days! "Within just one week, three members of the Tarot Circle have been promoted—'The Hangover' and 'The Moon' may even have reached Sequence 6. Is this mere coincidence? Did they all happen to take the elixirs this week by chance? From a probabilistic standpoint, this is certainly possible, as evidenced by the materials previously requested by 'The Moon' and 'The Sun.' Yet it still clearly demonstrates the rapid pace at which members of the Tarot Circle are advancing—otherwise, such a convergence would be unlikely. "Of course, for extraordinary individuals below Sequence 5 who have mastered the art of role-playing and are well-resourced, rapid promotion is not surprising. However, from Sequence 6 down to Sequence 5, formal rituals are required to support the progression, and the process becomes increasingly difficult to sustain—making such events rarer." "The Hermit" Cadricia withdrew her gaze. Then, "Justice" Audrey apologized to "The Fool," explaining that she had recently lost contact with members of the "Psychological Alchemy Circle" and thus could not provide the Rosel diary. The same was true of "The Magician" Fother, whose teacher had been sending replies with increasing delay, and whose own reluctance to leave the house due to the cold weather had made it difficult. As for "The Sun" Deric, he had just been promoted and was busy handling numerous matters, so he had not yet secured the new ancient mythological materials. "The Fool" Klein only nodded calmly. Klein held back the urge to cover his face. PS: Recommend a great book to everyone—"Originally, I Wasn't Ordinary," written with meticulous care, and quite enjoyable.