Dixie County, Conneret City, 67 Red Elms Street. Klein stepped forward with a face typical of the Royal Luon Kingdom and rang the doorbell. Less than a minute later, the door creaked open, and a maid in a black-and-white gown peered out, studying him for a few seconds before asking, "Good evening. May I ask which of the family you're looking for?" "I'm here to see Madame Nielu. I'm a friend of David Raymond, her father," Klein replied calmly. David Raymond was the "Night Watchman" known as the "Red Glove," the one Klein had freed from the "Glowing Hunger." Among his final concerns was his daughter, Nielu Raymond. He deeply regretted not being able to accompany her through her formative years, having lost both her mother and, nearly, her father. At the time, Klein had promised David that, should the opportunity arise, he would come to this beautiful seaside city to visit and see how his daughter was doing. Having gathered information in advance, Caine had already gained a general understanding of Nielu Remon's background. After graduating from the grammar school, she joined the "Care for Women and Children Foundation" of the Church of the Night Goddess, earning a weekly salary of two pounds and ten shillings—a figure that made her a admired figure among her neighbors. She also inherited a sum from her merchant father, though the exact amount was not well known; it was only clear that she was wealthier than most of the middle class. Typically, such a financially secure young woman would be very cautious about marriage, carefully selecting and evaluating potential partners, often delaying her wedding until later in life. Yet, just one year into her career, Nielu married a government employee. Since both shared the faith in the Night Goddess, she retained her maiden name, continuing to be known as Nielu Remon and residing at No. 67 Red Elms Street, never having moved. Upon hearing Caine's response, the housemaid hurried to ask him to wait a moment, then turned to enter the living room to report the news. Not long after, a woman in casual attire approached the door. She had black hair and blue eyes, a somewhat slender and elongated face, with a decent set of features, resembling David Raymon in a few ways. "Good evening, sir. I'm Nellie Raymon, daughter of David Raymon. When did you first meet my father?" Nellie Raymon asked politely but with a touch of reserve. Ninel nodded and led Caine all the way into the study, where her husband, a government employee with an ordinary appearance and refined demeanor, set down his newspaper and joined them. After both parties sat down, Caine looked at the couple on the opposite sofa and carefully said, "Mr. David Raymond once experienced a disaster in which he lost his father, mother, wife, brothers, and sisters." Ninel nodded without much expression. "I know." Caine paused and continued, "On the surface, he is a businessman, but in reality, he is actively pursuing the perpetrators responsible for that disaster." "I know," Ninel replied, showing little reaction. Caine glanced at her and added, "He has been fully devoted to this matter, and it's a great regret that he hasn't been able to properly accompany you during your growth—so that, in losing your mother, you've also nearly lost your father." Ninel remained silent for a moment, then responded quickly, "I know!" Klein's eyes swept over the old books around him, and he sighed silently. "He said his greatest hope was to see you married and establish a family under the goddess's witness, no longer alone. I think he must be deeply satisfied now." Nirel's gaze slowly shifted from Klein's face; she opened her mouth, paused for two seconds before responding. "…I know." Klein leaned slightly forward, clasped his hands together. "He mentioned that he might die at sea, and he wanted me to tell you it was an accident. All the perpetrators before him have already been punished—you needn't hold anyone against you. He also said he loved you deeply, and that he was truly sorry." Nirel remained silent for a few moments, blinked, turned her head toward the side, and exhaled with an indistinct sound. "I understand..." Klein looked at her deeply, then rose slowly. "I've delivered his message. It's time for me to go." The response from across the room was silence. Nīlu's husband gently nodded, indicating his thanks. Kline turned and walked toward the door of the study. As he turned the handle, a low, strained voice—Nīlu Raymon's—suddenly reached him from behind: "Do you think he is a man of what kind?" Kline paused for a moment, then turned back, smiled slightly, and said, "A guardian." Without further hesitation, he opened the study door and moved toward the wardrobe area. As he donned his hat and stepped out of No. 67 Red Elms Street, a soft, restrained sob suddenly broke through, entering his ears. Shaking his head silently, Kline left the neighborhood and entered the church of the Night Goddess. Walking through the deep, quiet corridor, he settled into the seventh row from the back, facing the dark saint's emblem adorned with half a crimson moon and brilliant stars. He removed his hat, lowered his head, and clasped his hands together over his mouth—just like most of the faithful present. In the silent stillness and peace, time flew by swiftly. Carefully and gently, Caine opened his eyes and rose to his feet. At the seat where he had been sitting, a mass of something wrapped in paper remained. Caine walked down the aisle, out of the prayer hall, and reached the church door. Facing away from inside, he donned his hat and raised his right hand, tapping once. *Tap!* Suddenly, the paper at his former seat caught fire, drawing the attention of the priest. When the priest reached there, the flames had already died, leaving behind a deep, dark, gem-like gelatinous residue. "This...," though the priest did not know exactly what the gelatinous mass was, a sense of importance stirred within him. When he and the other priests reached outside the church, the gentleman in a tailcoat, wearing a half-high hat, had already vanished. The following morning. Having secured a new identity through the local black market, Caine arrived at the steam train station. He held in one hand a second-class ticket worth 18 sures and his identification documents, and in the other, a black leather suitcase, standing straight and poised on the platform, waiting for the train to Beckett to arrive. Now, he appeared as a middle-aged man in his late thirties, standing about 180 centimeters tall, with black hair streaked with silver, deep blue eyes as calm and serene as a night lake, possessing a refined and mature appearance, exuding both elegance and grace. He glanced down at his identification documents, and in the reflection of his eyes, he saw his current name: "Dowen Tangtse." After a moment's thought, he set the suitcase down on the ground, unfolded it, and carefully placed all his documents inside. Within the suitcase was a small black wooden box containing the ashes of Dragonzelle Edward, a former soldier of Roon. Klein had just arranged his boxes when a low whistle sounded, and a steam train, belching smoke, rolled in, slowing steadily to a stop. He lifted his head, glanced forward silently, and then murmured to his suitcase: "It's time to go back..." He straightened up, picked up his personal belongings, and stepped steadily toward the now-open carriage door. Melissa glanced at him casually and said, "You weren't always like this." She didn't dwell on the exact difference between the person and the curly-haired baboon, but instead asked, "Do government employees usually finish work only now?" "Not exactly. Recently, there's been a lot going on—knowing what I know, oh, you probably don't, the transitions between roles, the smoothing out of various relationships, all of that is incredibly complicated." Bensen scanned the mirror in the living room, then reached up to smooth his hair, speaking with a somewhat less than cheerful expression. "I'm just a small employee at the Department of Finance, but that doesn't mean I don't have a lot on my plate. The only thing that gives me comfort is that I've finally made it through the dreadful internship period. From now on, I'll have a weekly salary of three pounds!" Melissa set down her book and, as she walked toward the dining room, said to Bensen, "It's time for dinner." She paused, speaking seriously: "I read in the newspaper that there's a substance called the sap of the Dunsmann tree, which is very effective for hair growth." Banse's expression immediately became complex. ... Ah! The long steam train groaned and rumbled into Bekland, its whistle echoing. Kline carried his suitcase and once again stepped onto the land of the 'City of All Cities,' the 'Land of Hope,' finding the mist much thinner than before, no longer noticeably pale yellow. The gas streetlamps at the station had not yet been lit early to dispel the overcast and gloom. Surveying the surroundings, Kline exited the steam train station, transferred to the subway and a carriage, and arrived directly at a storm church cemetery outside the western district. Then, he spent a modest amount of money to place the ashes of Dr. Lonzel Edward into a cabinet. It had now been over 165 years since this Ruin soldier had left Bekland. Step back, gaze intently. Klein shook the paper into firmness and inscribed upon the cabinet door: "Longzeler. Edward." He closed his eyes and wrote again: "Every journey has an end." (Part Three complete) PS: Grateful to Sea-豹 and Silver Alliance for the third update—thank you all. Tomorrow I'll write the concluding summary. (This chapter complete) 737. Summary and Leave of Absence for Part Three Summary and Leave of Absence for Part Three Part Three is titled "The Traveler," so my intended tone is relaxed and the structure remains simple—as I mentioned before—someone walking, pausing, encountering landscapes, meeting people, accomplishing tasks, yet not deeply involved. To be honest, writing content with a travelogue feel still proves quite challenging. Once you've carefully developed a character, become familiar with a place, and captured its cultural nuances, you're inevitably forced to leave and continue your journey—this demands strong skills in quickly introducing distinctive characters and engaging events. Now that I reflect on it, I did fairly well when Xiao Ke was promoted to "Master of Secret Characters." After that, however, I became preoccupied with buttoning up my coat, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of material to write, and mostly ended up revisiting the same places—thus, I naturally began to omit earlier details, which left me feeling somewhat rushed. I often hear people say my outline is very detailed, but in reality, it's not. What I do in depth is the world-building and character settings. My outline typically focuses on the central theme, the overall structure, which story threads to bring forward, what new plot threads or foreshadowing to introduce, and which suspense points to unfold. After that, I freely develop the narrative. I only plan the detailed outline for the next story once the current one concludes. With such a volume of content—over half a million words—I wouldn’t have the time or flexibility to fully anticipate every single scene in advance. It would be both time-consuming and rigid, because until I actually write it, I simply can’t grasp how a particular scene unfolds or how it transitions into the next. Throughout the writing process, new inspirations frequently emerge. Just as, when I wrote the ending of the previous book—specifically, the scene where Xiao Ke left Beckland—I already had in mind the image of this final chapter unfolding amidst turbulent currents, with a pivotal moment, and the pre-arranged appearances of my brother and sister; while during the outline refinement process, I also established markers for the world of the book to make appearances. Yet, compared to the ending, the specifics remained less defined. It wasn’t until I wrote about the release of "The Nightmare" that I gained the inspiration to have him convey a message to his daughter, thus presenting a new interpretation of the journey’s destination. And when I began crafting the narrative of "The Travels of Groesel," and introduced specific characters—such as a soldier from Roon—I suddenly found myself inspired to explore the theme of homesickness and return. Together, these elements have now made the final chapter of Book Three feel exceptionally clear and coherent. The third volume is overall rather understated, a result of its inherent structure and intended tone, which I mentioned earlier. Readers hoping for a dramatic climax at the end might find themselves somewhat disappointed. As I've just described, I aim to create a sense of underlying tension and looming crisis throughout—embodied by the entrance of Iness, the malice of the Mother Tree, and the assault by the Rose School—building up these elements to contrast with the quiet return of Xiao Ke to Beckland. In the third volume, there are two main challenges: first, the difficulty of writing the travelogue-style passages at the beginning, and second, the need to write two major dungeon descents—the Divine War Ruins and the world within the book—both of which present a significant test. Those who have read my earlier novels are likely aware that the sections involving the destruction of the Fate and the Aural descent tend to be drier and more straightforward, lacking strong narrative appeal. The former shines particularly in its climactic moments at the end of the dungeon, while the latter—I've carefully reflected on this—feels most engaging in the dream analysis and the scene where the new world boasts the divine prestige. The rest fall short in comparison. By the time we reached the first world, many quests had expanded into full worlds, allowing for gradual development, introduction, and setup—often with companions present, which significantly enhanced their appeal. However, standalone quests, such as the True Martial Suspects' Tombs, still suffered from dryness and roughness, relying heavily on suspense to hold readers' interest. The martial path had very few quest segments, with only a brief stretch in the war-torn regions, offering little to summarize. By the third volume of *The Mysterious*, I seriously reflected on how to address these two major quest arcs. Drawing from the experience of the first world, I established the elements of "suspense" and "companionship," and based on prior and ongoing writing insights, added "interest." Yet, I still felt something was missing. Later, I recalled our conversations about storytelling in the past, and realized that our approaches to creation were different. Mine was to first envision a specific story and a world, then develop a few distinctive main characters based on that story and setting, gradually adding more characters over time. His approach, on the other hand, was to first imagine a group of interesting individuals, and then determine how their interactions, collaborations, and conflicts would unfold into a compelling narrative. Although I have consistently adhered to my own creative philosophy, I have also been gradually absorbing his experience. So I began to wonder: could we, in the副本, replace the term "companions" with "characters," crafting a diverse group of unique and engaging individuals who would naturally collide and spark stories, thereby enriching the content and making the overall experience more compelling? This led to my experimentation with the "Divine War Relic" setting. The results were quite promising—this marked the first time in my experience writing episodes that the demand didn't decline but actually steadily increased, with a consistent flow of engaging content reaching nearly ten thousand words. In the world of the book, I made another attempt, because this copy's initial exploration would be brief, making it impossible to unfold the pasts of its characters, and thus unable to deeply and vividly convey their joys and sorrows. Therefore, I focused on how to express these experiences. Ultimately, the title "The Traveler" solidified my approach: as a traveler, one cannot deeply immerse oneself in others' lives and only observes their outward appearances, which leads to varied impressions. For instance, encountering a girl stumbling and weeping on the roadside, vomiting while drunk, one might think she lacks self-care, another might wonder if she has endured a painful past, while a third might find her presence disruptive. Based on the fundamental premise that human joys and sorrows are not always the same, I deliberately chose not to write about the pasts of characters like Groserl and Moberth—nor to dramatize their emotions. Instead, I recorded their words and behaviors with fidelity, objectivity, and calmness, without delving into their inner monologues. If you look closely, you'll notice that in that section, I've largely left unspoken Xiao Ke's inner feelings—intentionally creating space. As a result, some readers find the emotional moments forced and awkward, others feel moved to tears, while others deeply imagine and extend the narrative, trying to reconstruct it. This is exactly the effect I aimed for—human joys and sorrows are never the same, especially for a traveler. With all this written out, the third volume's summary is that the characters and stories blend well, but when it comes to tying the narrative together, there's a sense of urgency, and certain sections could be more relaxed and expansive. As I write further, the process grows increasingly difficult—requiring time to clear my mind, organize the outline, and take time off. This week, my stomach has been particularly unsettled, so I've scheduled an appointment for tomorrow to see a doctor. I'll take three days off—counting from this summary, that's just over two and a half days. Starting this Saturday noon, I'll begin updating the fourth volume. Shortly after, I'll go ahead and update the character profiles—please feel free to share any suggestions or thoughts here so I don't forget them. By the way, some of you guessed correctly—the fourth one, "The Immortals"!