Feeling neither tired nor drained, Caine rubbed his temple and waved his hand, summoning a small metal bottle from the pile of clutter. This contained a vial of blood he had painstakingly drawn from his own veins—blood he had carried all the way to the Gray Mists, waiting for the ethereal form to enter *The Journal of Grolse* and explore the world within the book. After opening the bottle, Caine did not immediately apply the blood to the deep brown cover of the book. Instead, he summoned all the items brought into this mysterious space during the Tarot gathering and arranged them scattered before him. Considering the striking prominence of the "Black Emperor," and given the uncertainty about the specifics of the world within the book, Caine decided not to carry the Card of Desecration, but instead used the Aztec copper whistle to strengthen his ethereal form, thus avoiding sudden, unexpected forces that might have severed his connection and left him unable to return to the Gray Mists. As the ancient, refined copper whistle integrated with his essence, Caine’s ethereal form appeared slightly expanded—though in reality, it had grown notably more substantial. Two dark flames leapt from the sockets of his eyes, as if possessing their own vitality. Through meditation and spiritual refinement, Caine absorbed the cold emanating from death, and the anomaly in his eyes soon stabilized. It was much like a malevolent spirit revealing itself as a ordinary person to lure prey closer. Immediately thereafter, Caine donned "The Thirsty Hunger," and concealed within him the extraordinary properties of "The Bell," the left-hand revolver he had prepared to explore the dreams of the beings in the book's world in search of anomalies. After making all necessary preparations, he opened the metal vial, poured a few drops of blood onto the cover of *The Travels of Grolle*, and then waited. At first, his vision blurred, as though veiled by countless transparent entities, before gradually clearing—revealing a blue sky, white clouds, gray-brown city walls, and people moving in and out. It wasn't the icy land from before, but a city that appeared perfectly normal on the surface… Kline stood by the compacted earth path, observing the residents of this world's book, and noticed that most of them wore linen shirts, brown short coats, and dark, loose-fitting trousers—overall a style reminiscent of Roon Kingdom several centuries ago. He glanced down at his now-materialized tailcoat, stiff collared shirt, and dark red tie, silently changed them all, and instantly blended in with the people around him. He then walked toward the city gate, preparing to enter. At that moment, a soldier in leather armor stopped him. "City entry tax! One riddel." Does my appearance suggest I'm wealthy? I don't even know what a riddel is… Kline chuckled to himself, then skillfully used the "communication" between spirits to redirect the gatekeeper's attention to the merchant convoy arriving behind him. As a near-ghost capable of inhabiting and manipulating others, exerting mental influence on a target is a standard function—while not particularly powerful, it's extremely effective for ordinary people. Once in the city, Kline maintained an outwardly relaxed demeanor while remaining internally vigilant, noting that the public health conditions here were slightly better than those in earlier years in Bakersland, suggesting a well-developed sewer system that no longer experienced incidents such as waste or urine from upper floors being spilled. "It's hard to believe this is a fictional world—everyone seems to have a 'spiritual thread'..." Kline observed as he walked, suddenly noticing a stone building on the side that stood over ten meters tall, yet only had two floors, with the height from the top of its entrance to the ground nearly four meters. A plaque stands beside the building, bearing a few words unlike any text seen outside, yet instantly comprehensible to Caine: "The Pessot Forge Guild." Indeed, the Guild had not yet reached the steam age. As Caine reflected on this, the main gate creaked open, and a giant stepped out! This giant had a gray-blue complexion and a distinctive vertical single eye atop his head, carrying a large, heavy hammer, his mouth slightly curved as he walked toward the other side of the street. The humans passing by showed no fear—seemingly accustomed to such figures. In fact, they even greeted him: "Good afternoon, Grolser!" Grolser... Caine, who had always struggled with facial recognition of giants, blinked in recognition, suddenly feeling familiar. As he turned to follow, he found the giant had turned into another street and vanished from view. Klein stood still, quietly observing the intersection of the two streets, his mind gradually forming some tentative thoughts: "In the book's world, is there another Grossel?" "No—the final chapter of the travelogue states that Grossel died in the Land of Frost." "So this is a different story?" A multitude of questions arose, yet Klein did not immediately set out to find Grossel. Instead, he turned and entered a tavern beside the street. Such places were typically the most chaotic and information-rich in a city, offering him a swift grasp of the overall situation. Inside, the lighting was dim, the ventilation poor, and the air somewhat murky. At this moment, the number of patrons was still modest, most of them gathered at the bar, chatting pleasantly with one another and with the bartender. Klein walked slowly toward them, and then his gaze suddenly froze. He spotted a man seated by the side of the bar, wearing a sharp, stiff black hat and an asymmetrical coat. He looked quite distinguished—light blonde hair, deep brown eyes, a high, straight nose, and thin lips. It was Lord Mobert Soloyasde of the Solomonic Empire! Upon seeing him, Klein recalled the image of this "Dream Thief" rapidly aging, falling to the ground, and struggling to crawl toward the elven singer Chastas, grasping her hand. The scene was vivid, as if it had just unfolded yesterday. Yet here, Mobert appeared once again before his eyes. Klein grew still, and walked over to sit beside him. He said nothing, knowing that Mobert would initiate the conversation. "Stranger, your first visit to Pessot? I swear, I’ve never seen you before," Mobert set down his cup of distilled wine and turned his head to look at Klein. "I come from the Land of Frost," Klein replied casually. Moberg burst out laughing: "You're truly a comedian! This is the Land of Frost—though that was quite some time ago. Since the legendary 'King of the North' was slain by a group of adventurers, no, heroes, the land has never seen snow again. Everyone now believes it should be called the Land of No Winter." Klein remained silent, offering no response. "Why so serious? It seems you too have your own burdens." Moberg gently tapped the bar with his knuckles, took a long swallow of his drink, and said, "I tell you, a man must never marry—this will mark the beginning of lifelong suffering! Do you know? As soon as she shows any emotion, she hits me. Whether she's happy, shy, or angry, she always hits me. In short, no matter what, she hits me! I've decided—I'm never going home again!" Is that how he married Chastel? Klein stared silently for two seconds, studying Moberet's face and noticing no signs of blueness or swelling—proof that the elven singer still valued the man's dignity. With a sigh, he asked, "Then, why marry her?" Moberet paused, offering a bitter smile. "I joined the caravan and the first time I saw her, she was so beautiful, her voice so enchanting—there was a sorrow in her that I couldn't quite put into words. Oh, how deeply I admired her then! Now, how deeply I fear her! I will never return. Wait—why do you look so sad? Don't worry about me. I am free now!" At that moment, the door of the inn burst open with a loud crash, and a clear, sweet voice called out, "Moberet, come out! I've counted to ten. If you don't go home, you'll never go back again!" "Ten, nine…" Moberet leapt up, rushing toward the door, murmuring as he ran, "I know you won't have patience—every time I count to eight, you just jump straight to two!" Kaine turned his body and caught sight of Chastel's figure, yet no longer felt the urge to engage in conversation. The true Moberet and Chastel had passed away; what remained here were merely two characters from the world of the book. Standing up and leaving the inn, Kaine walked into a quiet alley nearby, intending first to ascertain what the spirit realm looked like in this place. In his mind, he quickly sketched one after another layered spheres of light, his thoughts gradually clearing, his body and spirit growing serene. As his spirit extended, numerous ethereal figures began to appear around him—unnameable and formless—but high above, there were no seven radiant, clear streams of light, each glowing with countless accumulated knowledges. "There aren't seven lights... the number of spiritual beings isn't sufficient either... Here, indeed, is a false spiritual realm constructed entirely by books themselves." As Klein stepped fully into the realm, the colors before him suddenly became vivid and intense, overlapping clearly and distinctly. He didn't rush to explore it immediately; instead, he stepped back and wandered through the city of Pessot, chatting with people. Not long after, he found Grossel's residence. The giant ran a forge, currently lounging comfortably on a large bed on the second floor, taking a nap. Klein simply passed through the wall and stood beside Grossel. He gazed at the giant for several seconds, drawing upon the extraordinary qualities of "The Nightmare," using its innate abilities with considerable difficulty. Deep, serene darkness swiftly spread, instantly enveloping both Klein and Grossel, while in his spiritual form, Klein directly observed an irregular, hazy sphere of light. His spirituality immediately spread out and touched the luminous sphere. Various fragmented and scattered scenes instantly materialized and flashed around him, eventually settling on the outer edge of a vast, towering forest that had grown old and withered. Across from this forest, mountains rose prominently, with steep cliffs, and at the summit stood an magnificent, splendid palace. The palace was grand and imposing—so grand that it didn't seem designed for humans, evoking an immediate sense of mythic origin. The setting sun's light, falling upon it, appeared as though frozen in place. Klein had seen this palace before—it was the "Kingdom of the Giants" that appeared within the dream world of the divine wars! Yet his current perspective was entirely different now. He now stood behind the palace, where he had previously been located.