Above the gray mist, Caine leaned back against the high-backed chair, holding the "thirsty hunger," remaining silent for several seconds. Finally, he followed the predetermined steps and released the soul of the "psychologist." Soon, a tall figure emerged from the side of the bronze long table—a woman, her face somewhat blurred, her expression marked by evident pain and distortion. Caine looked at her and asked casually, "Do you remember who you are?" In this mysterious space, he could communicate directly with the spirit. The "psychologist's" resentment softened, and she offered a bitter smile. "Of course I do. I was a member of a secret organization, planning to visit a friend on the island of Toscana, when I encountered pirates en route." "Although I used my own abilities to resolve that disaster, the surviving pirates relayed the situation to Zhilingzhi, who, in order to secure my abilities, deliberately altered his navigation plans and blocked our ship. From there, you can imagine what followed. 'Thanks to his caution, I was directly killed—without experiencing anything more dreadful than death,' I was able to say." Kline paused for a moment, then gently nodded. "Have you heard of the ancient book, *The Grolser Travelogue*?" He believed that since the book originated from the dragon race, the 'psychologists' might have heard of it. The female 'psychologist' thought carefully and shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I've never heard of that name." Kline didn't dwell on this point, but shifted to ask: "As you're about to fade and find peace, is there anything you'd like to leave behind?" The "psychologist" lowered her head, smiled lightly and said, "I'd like to be revived. Well, I know that wish won't come true. There's no point in going further— I've been dead for many years now. My family and friends should have heard the news long ago. Repeating the news of my passing would only remind them of that pain once again. Very well, thank you. That's all." Her figure faded swiftly, vanishing completely, leaving behind a vast golden eye capable of reflecting each person's inner thoughts. This was the extraordinary trait bequeathed by the "psychologist." Klein sighed, reflecting on some of the finer details in the "psychologist's" words: "She visited Toskats Island to see her friends, alone, without any relatives accompanying her. Toskats Island lies at the easternmost point of the Sunia Sea, positioned south of the Gargas Islands." "It is the easternmost colony of the Kingdom of Roon, and the Galgas Islands belong to the Fsaq Empire... What kind of friend would be there? What friend would warrant a lengthy ocean voyage just to visit? "She mentioned only that it was a secret organization, but it was likely the 'Psychological Alchemy Society'—wasn't this part of their mission?" Kaine honored the deceased and was unwilling to probe into their secrets, so he didn't press further. At this point, he naturally had no clear idea. He soon set aside these thoughts and turned his attention to another matter. After eliminating the eloquent Misor. Kin, regardless of the reasons, I must leave Bayam in the near term... During this period, I've actually done quite a bit here in this "bountiful city"... Well, I've attended two or three gatherings of the extraordinary ones, checked whether the master materials for the "Secret Puppet" were available, and then departed... Caine made a swift decision, and then materialized the scene of the "World" prayer, veiling it in gray mist and casting it into the deep crimson star symbolizing the "Justice" lady. Has he really acquired the extraordinary trait of "psychologist"? Yet he hadn't yesterday... The efficiency of "World" had astonished Audrey so much that she nearly forgot to thank Mr. "The Fool." Fortunately, she was no longer the naive, inexperienced girl of old; she had witnessed many significant events and quickly calmed down, expressing her gratitude with sincerity, and informed Mr. "World" that she would have to wait two to three days, as she intended to pay off the amount she owed to Mr. "The Fool" at the same time—her cash was sufficient, but she needed to maintain a certain level of consistency, otherwise people would notice something was amiss. As the ethereal gray mist began to dissipate, Audrey glanced down at Suzy, who was quietly admiring the garden on the first floor, and walked back and forth, silently marveling: "Mr. 'World' is truly astonishing..." As he was about to raise his glass to drink, he suddenly heard the bartender speak in a hushed tone: "Misoel, the 'Eloquent One,' has died." "Oh... who did it?" Mise, the 'Blue-Eyed' one, was startled at first, then quickly asked with growing excitement, "Someone challenging the 'Champion in Illness'?" "A man named Gelmann Sparo—an adventurer with no prior fame. Who would have thought he could defeat Misoel!" The bartender couldn't hide his震动 and astonishment. "And he even killed Ozer, the true owner of the Leafy Branch tavern, the 'Hulk' Ozer!" As Mise was about to offer his own reflections, he suddenly furrowed his brow. This morning, Ozer's people had come to him to inquire about the matter of Danyz, the 'Fierce Flame.' He had told them that the captain of the 'Golden Dream' had been living with a stranger—an adventurer—and had used a ritual to provide them with a portrait. Ozler is dead, Misol Kin is dead—killed by a stranger named Gelmann Sparo... "Blue-Eyed" Mis's hand trembled suddenly, and in an instant, a vivid image flashed through his mind: a young man, seemingly refined, standing at the entrance of the tavern, dark hair, brown eyes, slender and sharply defined features, coldly observing the stream of guests, as if searching for prey. "Blue-Eyed" Mis shivered, set down his drink, and rose immediately, taking decisive steps toward the exit. How terrifying! That man was terrifying! Even the Master of Words had fallen at his hands—definitely a general-level warrior! He must be coming for me, to eliminate me as well. No, he couldn't stay in Bayam. He had to return to the ship right away, get away from here! "Blue-Eyed" Mis rushed straight to the "Red Theater," forcibly gathering his companions, and headed toward the city's outer jungle, taking a detour to reach the private port under the rebels' control. The herb shop tucked in the alley across from the "Red Theatre" remains open. Dacwel, the stout pharmacist, sits behind the counter, outwardly calm but internally anxious. He has made various efforts to reach known members of the "School of Life" for the necessary assistance, yet he remains uncertain about who will arrive and when—only able to endure his fears and restlessness, continuing to run the shop as if nothing has happened. "Dacwel, you're clearly uneasy," the plump owl returns from somewhere, landing on the counter. "I don't need you to point it out—I'm very aware of my condition," Dacwel waves his hand impatiently. He still remembers, when studying under his teacher, being constantly cautioned to be careful—especially wary of official organizations and the true vampire lineage. Roy King cited numerous examples: people permanently imprisoned underground, deprived of sunlight and women; those becoming researchers, using their bodies to test the harmful effects of certain seals; others subjected to various experiments, transforming into mere instinct-driven monsters; and those drained of life by the vampires, reduced to puppets. These stories were deeply etched into the fat man's memory, erasing his already fragile courage. After parting from his teacher, he would stay in a city only for a short while, always ready to leave at the first sign of exposure. Dacwel worked hard to suppress his fear, shifting his focus entirely to how he could rescue his teacher. "…The old man has been taken for some time now. Why is he still held at the Governor's Mansion?" With the military's capabilities, the intelligence should have been clear by now—whether through direct executions, material seizures, or by placing researchers in key positions. The old man must have been transferred already. Did the old man somehow conceal the secret, or were they planning to make him an informant? Oh, just say it outright!" Dacquell ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts drifting aimlessly. Gradually, he recalled his last communication with his teacher, Roy King. "The old man always gives subtle hints in the most ordinary, unremarkable places. Could there be a similar clue hidden in that letter? The letter itself said nothing much—only that they meet near the Red Theater and that he'd showcase his gambling skills. Pah, he's clearly relying on luck. Yet he asked me to go to Mapele Department Store on Enmat Street and buy a die, as if preparing me for education. I thought I'd buy it upon meeting him, so I never went. Perhaps there's something hidden there? "Dakwelle had a sudden clarity of thought—like a person drowning, grasping at the last straw."—Bayam. Many streets in the kingdom of Roon are named after its cities. In just a few minutes, Dakwelle gathered his courage, took the owl with him, closed the shop, and stepped out of the alley. While waiting for a hired carriage, he bought a freshly issued copy of *The News* from a newspaper boy, idly flipping through international and domestic news, as well as updates from the island groups. Suddenly, he spotted a familiar face—the adventurer who had informed him of Roy King's whereabouts. "Germain Sparo has slain the 'Master of Words,' Misoel King, who was on a reward of 5,400 pounds—how could I have entrusted myself to someone so accomplished!" Dakwelle murmured in amazement. He quickly set this matter aside and boarded the hired carriage, heading straight for Enmatt Street, where he found the Mapple Grocer's. The shopkeeper was a kind elderly woman who after glancing at Dacwel several times said, "The dice you need are worth one pound." You're robbing me! Dacwel mentally shouted, but this only reinforced his belief that the die might hold a clue. He paid and received a small box of rings. Opening the lid, he saw inside a pale six-sided die with a red four showing on top. Though puzzled by how ordinary the die seemed and how tightly it was packed—almost filling the box completely—he remained cautious and didn't examine it immediately, instead pocketing it and walking toward the other side of the street. Once he reached a quiet spot, he pulled it out and examined it, finding nothing unusual about it. At that moment, a carriage rushed past, startling him. His wrist trembled, and the die slipped to the ground. It rolled several times before coming to rest, now showing a red one facing up. Dakewell scolded the coachman a few words and took a step forward, preparing to pick up the dice. Just as he stepped out, his body suddenly swayed and, without any obstruction, he crashed to the ground with a loud thud, dazed and disoriented. For a moment, he remained茫然, lying there, with the pale white die clearly visible before him. PS: My elderly relative is critically ill and I need to return home. There may be a funeral to attend, so I'll only be able to update once a day, around 12:30 PM, after handling matters. Oh, at my age, it truly feels like grandparents simply vanish when they're ready to go.