Upon hearing Emilius Levet's statement rather than a question, Billt's forehead instantly beaded with a dense layer of cold sweat. He opened his mouth as though to defend himself, but ultimately snapped to one knee with a soft 'pop,' trembling under the indescribable weight of the moment: "Sir, Admiral, the wandering traveler who had been with us suddenly fell ill and passed away. I was thus compelled to find another adventurer capable of changing his appearance." At this moment, Caine felt no particular tension, as Emilius Levet had already noticed him during the banquet hall gathering—there was no reason he should only now recognize him as extraordinary. His willingness to meet him rather than avoid risk altogether suggested he wasn't overly concerned about who exactly Billt had brought. Indeed, he showed no concern at all. This was the confidence of a half-god, or perhaps his own extraordinary path had already preemptively resolved potential issues. Caine struggled to lift his head and directed his gaze toward the naval admiral who had now turned to face him. "Strong capabilities." Emilios Levet said nothing, evaluating him with a steady expression. He continued to gaze at the now-kneeling Bilt: "Don't try to play those petty tricks in front of me. The position of ordinary people and extraordinary ones in this world is fundamentally different, and as a steward of order, I can clearly perceive that distinction." Indeed, consistent with the description in the records, this admiral has a didactic tendency—something I must remember clearly, as it contrasts sharply with my own style, and with that of Germain Sparo... Klein thoughtfully withdrew his gaze, turning it toward the ground, as though unable to bear the weight of that presence. Emilios Levet took a step forward: "Deception is your first mistake; lack of caution, your second. A wandering traveler, who had labored tirelessly, suddenly dies, and then a traveler capable of changing form appears before you—don't you find that rather coincidental?" "Yes, quite coincidental... Kline almost repeated the question back. Hadn't he confirmed it over the gray mist, he'd have doubted whether he wasn't once again being orchestrated by some mythical creature or a 'Level Zero' seal. Bilt, on the other hand, had his pupils dilate, suddenly realizing: He had been so consumed by fear and anxiety, clinging only to the last lifeboat, that he'd completely lost the seasoned caution he'd always carried—never once considering whether Germain Sparo's appearance was anything but a stroke of luck! It was his very first visit to 'Sweet Lemon' bar, and there, the homeless man had suddenly fallen ill and died. The more Bilt reflected, the more convinced he felt he'd stumbled into a carefully laid trap. Emilius Levit, observing Bilt's shifting expressions—first a sudden clarity, then deep regret—gently nodded: "My father, the late Earl Levit, once taught me a simple principle. 'Forgive your subordinate's first mistake.' Bilt, thank him for his mercy." Bilt's tense spirit instantly softened, unexpectedly filled with a deep sense of emotion. He had thought that Emirius Levet, who seemed closer to a god than a mere man, would immediately execute him on the spot as a warning to all the adventurers secretly supporting him. Instead, Emirius had chosen mercy. "Sir General, I—I..." Bilt found himself momentarily at a loss for words. Emirius remained solemn and spoke calmly, "The second part of what I just said was, 'severely punish their second mistake.' Bilt, do you now know what to do?" At once, Bilt straightened his back, kneeling on one knee, and pressed his right fist against his left chest. "I pledge my unwavering loyalty to Sir General!" Emirius nodded, then turned to Caine. "What is your name?" Well, it depends on which identity you're asking about... Caine mentally muttered, then responded calmly. "Germán Sparo." Emilios Levet suddenly fell silent for two seconds, and the atmosphere in the storage room seemed to freeze. Just as Cline began to feel a growing sense of unease, Emilios finally spoke: "It's you, isn't it?" The Admiral, as if he had known me all along—though I'm merely a regular military informant, receiving only bonuses from you, never having even filed any claims yet... Cline muttered to himself, growing more and more convinced. Emilios nodded, turning to Burt and Cline: "The plan will proceed as scheduled. But a contract is required." Contract? Cline struggled against the gravity of the moment, lifting his gaze to Emilios. Admiral Emilios offered no explanation, simply picking up the pre-prepared paper and pen already placed on the windowsill, and began writing swiftly. Each time he wrote, a golden glow seemed to burst forth, creating a solemn, almost legal atmosphere—like he was drafting a formal statute. Klein gradually narrowed his eyes, his vision blurring, and instinctively lowered his head again. After an indeterminate length of time, Emile paused his pen, picked up the sheet of paper, and said to Klein: "Sign your name at the end. If the terms are unsatisfactory, you need not sign." "Do you think I'd dare, or wouldn't dare?" Klein muttered under his breath, watching Bilt rise, take up the paper and pen, and hand them to him. The terms on the paper were simple—only a few points—generally outlining the behavior expected of Germain Sparo when playing the role of Emile Levet, including but not limited to not proactively revealing issues, not leveraging his position as a general to the detriment of Emile himself, not maintaining overly close relations with Miss Sinziana, and so on. I had thought that someone of such stature wouldn't care much about the chastity of a mistress... Indeed, this admiral is quite a traditional man. Still, I'm not one to be so rigid either. Cline concealed his curiosity, approaching the question as if exploring an academic topic: "What if Miss Cynthia wishes to have intimate contact with me?" His underlying message was that appearing too distant or resistant might make Cynthia notice something amiss, and he was seeking the right balance. "No problem," Emilius replied, his expression unchanged. "During the term of the contract, whenever you encounter her, either you lack desire, or your body lacks the necessary capabilities." Really? This contract is quite impressive. Aside from the one with the spiritual beings, I've never encountered another such agreement before. The former draws upon the power of the Underworld, while this one relies solely on the two parties involved. Is this Emilius's half-divine extraordinary ability—the "Arbitrator" path? Cline glanced at the duration and noted it was five days. Is it because he has confidence that he will surely return within five days, or is it simply because his current status allows the contract to remain effective for only five days? Caine read the terms once again, picked up his pen, and wrote down the name of Gorman Sparrow. As the final letter was completed, he watched the words on the paper gradually glow with golden light, gathering into a brilliant radiance. Enveloped within this brilliant radiance, the paper swiftly faded and disappeared, as though seamlessly merging with the very rules of the world. A subtle, intangible gray mist gently rippled around him, and Caine clearly sensed that layers of restrictions—unnameable and ineffable—had now settled upon his being. These restrictions quickly integrated, becoming part of both his spiritual and physical essence. The mist could withstand a certain degree of external misfortune or fortune, yet it could not block the contracts already in place—indeed, if it could, the messenger’s agreement would never have taken effect. Caine looked at Emile Levet with a growing sense of clarity. The admiral had now tempered his dignity, flipping his palm to reveal a symbol of deep, subtle golden hue. Etched upon it were symbols such as "The Sword of Judgment," along with dense, intricate magical inscriptions, radiating a quiet, profound depth that gave the impression of a codex. "This is an advanced sigil I crafted using my own blood, the ancient codex of the Fourth Age, and the royal 'Class Zero' sealing artifact," said Emirius calmly. "It is called the 'Ninth Law.' It allows me to project a sense of authority akin to mine, even if only with a modest infusion of spiritual energy—something even ordinary individuals can achieve. Without it, you would find it extremely difficult to truly impersonate me." Indeed, the aura of authority I projected was limited to surface-level mimicry; it worked well for everyday pretenses, but faltered when I needed to command or impress a subordinate. Klein breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Emirius continued: "With your current strength, you should be able to sustain its use." "With it, you can impose necessary restrictions on your target, forcing him to endure extremely unfavorable circumstances. In that way, even if a half-god makes a试探, you can scare him away. Should no unexpected events occur and it remain unused, it will belong to you afterward. Its validity lasts for one year." Klein was momentarily stunned, then felt a surge of excitement. Since he had used the advanced sigil crafted from the "Varied Solar Holy Seal," he now had another one. Though such items have a time limit and can only be used once, they come with few negative effects—of course, their demanding creation conditions make them quite rare. Indeed, a half-god is far more generous than Bilt. Well, the cost of securing a wandering mendicant and a pirate admiral-level adventurer is quite different... As Klein thought of this with growing delight, he silently raised his hand and received the advanced sigil named "The Ninth Law." Then he saw Emilius unfasten his belt. After a brief silence, Caine controlled his embarrassment, removing his clothes with a neutral expression. Soon, he and Emilius exchanged garments and donned the deep blue, well-fitted admiral's uniform. Watching Emilius and Bilt walk along a quiet, winding path through the garden, Caine carefully buttoned his coat and turned toward the glass window. Against the deep black night and the crimson moonlight, the window seemed like a mirror, blurring and reflecting Caine's current appearance: his neatly combed black hair, deep blue eyes, slightly downturned lips, a clean-shaven face, an austere and serious demeanor, and the deep blue attire adorned with ribbons, medals, and shoulder boards. Caine moved his lips slightly, silently murmuring, "From now on, I am an admiral." P.S.: Wishing everyone a joyful Lunar New Year! Also, a book recommendation—Yang Anping, no, Wen Yan's "Don't Ascend to Heaven"—a solid, unpretentious masterpiece.