The steady rain, the faint mist, the rows of gas streetlamps gently asserting their soft glow, and the occasional horse-drawn carriage gliding past the streets—these together form the most common night view of Beckland. Beyond these, standing behind the windows, Caine had noticed a few encouraging changes. Tink-tink-tink! A clear, resonant sound echoed as a strange, two-wheeled machine sped along the roadside, heading swiftly toward the other end of the street. Its overall structure was black, with certain sections revealing a steel-gray hue, shimmering with a metallic elegance under the gas-lit glow that pierced through the rain. A man dressed in postal uniform sat atop the machine, his legs continuously pedaling with effort, while a green-painted wooden crate was securely fastened behind him. "Well promoted indeed," Caine murmured, his mature, white-shirted, black-jacketed demeanor reflecting quiet admiration. Within just a few hours of returning to Beckland, he encountered numerous similar odd machines—precisely the bicycles he had invested in and championed! From the newspaper, Klein learned that Beckland Bicycle Company had launched extensive advertising campaigns and organized bicycle races in the Chorwood district and around the Beckland Bridge area to capture public attention. Beyond these efforts, they actively promoted their bicycles to government departments such as postal services and the police, with reports indicating positive results. Their pricing strategy followed Klein’s initial advice, avoiding the upper and middle classes who frequently used horse-drawn carriages and instead targeting technical workers earning over one pound ten shillings weekly, students from relatively well-off families, and public officials who needed to travel frequently. Thus, a bicycle priced between three and five pounds was within reach for this group, who could afford it with some effort, while also allowing them to display it proudly to those with lower incomes. "The current issue is that Beckland rains frequently, and cyclists can't carry umbrellas... next comes raincoats." Klein withdrew his gaze, shook his head, and smiled softly. Currently residing in a luxury hotel in the Hillsdown district, where the nightly rate is ten soules—quite expensive, and one that Klein finds somewhat painful to bear—yet he has to endure it for the sake of his persona. According to his vision, Doun Tangtse, the character publicly presented, should be a wealthy, enigmatic entrepreneur from the Dese Gulf, devoted to the goddess of Night. Having sold off his original land and mining properties, he is now seeking new opportunities in Beckland, with a moderate interest in donating to secure a title, though not possessing sufficient financial strength to pursue it fully—instead, he is primarily focused on expanding his network and making strategic financial investments." The advantage of this identity is that it is distinctly different from all the roles克莱恩 has previously assumed, offering clear differentiation and enabling natural access to certain upper-level figures—particularly those at the officers' club and the bishops of the Night Goddess Church in the Beckland district. This allows克莱恩 to continue investigating the truth behind the Beckland smog crisis while simultaneously gathering intelligence and formulating a detailed plan to steal the Antigonus family's notes. Thus, Klein, an expert in the art of impersonation, crafted and prepared a secondary identity for Doun Tangtse to address background investigations. In this second identity, Doun Tangtse is a traveler who, for some reason, ventured into the eastern and western regions of the Southern Continent, where he operated under a pseudonym. Over a period of more than a decade in that perilous yet promising region, he amassed a substantial fortune. However, the origins of this wealth are not entirely clean—so he secretly returned to Dici Bay, forged a new identity, and prepared to begin a fresh life in Bekerland, gradually legitimizing his wealth. Such individuals are not uncommon in Roon; their stories are ones that investigators can readily accept and envision. To support this secondary identity, Klein had left behind subtle traces in the city of Conneret, providing indirect assistance in unveiling the truth. These clues include, but are not limited to, stubs of black ship tickets from Dong Bailang to Conneret City, long-established habits of survival on the Southern Continent, and an origin of wealth that remains unexplained. Crane believes that as long as "Dowens Tangtases" does not directly become involved in significant extraordinary events, such preparations will suffice to evade routine background investigations. Should a particularly thorough official extraordinary investigator wish to pursue the matter further and even enlist colleagues from the Southern Continent for assistance, then Dowens Tangtases would have a third identity—a skilled con artist adept at countering divination techniques. By posing as a mysterious millionaire and making substantial investments, he stages a final deception. This identity would be sufficient to lead to Dowens Tangtases' arrest, though his case would not receive high priority, thereby providing Crane with the opportunity to exit gracefully and fade into the background. "Compared to when I first arrived in Beckland, I've truly grown into someone capable of handling such a three-layered identity." Kline slowly walked back to the center of the room, his gaze fixed on the full-length mirror in the corner. In the reflection, his black hair carried subtle streaks of gray, his eyes deep and weathered by the many experiences he'd endured—elegant, mature, and possessing a refined presence. While the identity of "Dowen Thonathes" now felt natural and straightforward for Kline, the feat of stealing the Antigonous family's records from behind the Charnes Gate of Saint Samuel's Church remained an impossible task for any external extraordinary being—no matter how powerful, even the King of Angels could not guarantee success. Of course, unlike other extraordinary individuals, Kline had two advantages in this matter. First, he had once served as a Night Watchman, giving him sufficient insight into internal procedures—knowing where opportunities existed and where they did not. Therefore, his earliest strategy was to become one of the Night Watchmen, blend into the internal operations, and seek a chance to pass through the Charnis Gate. However, this approach had a key limitation: Night Watchmen—regardless of rank, even the captain or steward—could not freely enter the Charnis Gate. They required a specific event to gain access, and beyond the gate, there were internal guards who would attack and initiate combat if they wandered or took items. Kline did not wish for his theft to result in casualties among the Church’s personnel. After careful consideration, he shifted his focus to the internal guards. These elders are retired "Night Watchmen" who have volunteered to serve within the Charnes Gate, responsible for guarding the sealed artifacts. They belong to a separate department from the Night Watchmen and move through the underground passages of the church, neither disrupting the Night Watchmen's duties nor being disturbed by them. Perhaps due to their long-term residence within the Charnes Gate, these internal guards exhibit certain anomalies—cold in demeanor, expressionless, pale as if creatures suspended between life and death in the depths of darkness. Klein believes that once he encounters any of them, identifying his target will be straightforward. His initial plan is to rent a residence in the northern district, near the Saint Samuel Church, hire a housekeeper, male servants, female maids, gardeners, a chef, and a carriage driver, establishing the appearance of a wealthy household. Then, he will frequently visit that church, offering sincere prayers, attending Mass, contributing financially, and gradually becoming acquainted with the bishops and priests. During this process, he would actively seek out individuals suspected of being internal guards, select two or three targets, observe their daily lives, and at the right moment, imprison one of them—transforming into their likeness or directly inhabiting their body—then, through the Charnel Gate, monitor or seize the Antigonos family's records. This is a rather preliminary plan, more of an initial concept, one that will rely on Caine refining it continuously as he gathers more intelligence. His second advantage lies in his access to the Tarot Circle, a support network the Night Goddess Church and the "Night Watch" could never have imagined. He could also consider developing a Night Watch member or guardian from the Beckland parish into a key participant, using an insider to facilitate the theft—just as Chalatu had done by leveraging Emperor Roscel to obtain the Antigonos family's records. "I'll still need to visit the church regularly—only then will I be able to identify suitable targets," Caine said, nodding silently at the mirror. It must be said that at this moment, his inner thoughts are quite contradictory. If there truly existed a "night watcher" or guardian willing to betray the Church and serve the gentleman known as the "Fool," his very first instinct would be to bring down divine punishment and eliminate this obnoxious traitor! Exhaling and chuckling to himself, Caine donned his double-breasted formal suit, put on his hat, and stepped out of the room, onto the street. Holding an umbrella, he turned down another street, taking advantage of the distant streetlamps and the hazy, light rain, and suddenly transformed back into Sherlock Moriarty. Glancing at the creased hem of his trousers, Caine stopped a carriage and prepared to head to the Esingstone-Stanton household, which was also located in the Hillsdon district. Half an hour later, the slightly old-fashioned and dimly lit building came into view. After paying the carriage fare of two sou, he walked steadily through the rain, his steps steady and sure, arriving at the doorstep of the great detective. Withdraw the umbrella, reach out and ring the doorbell. After a brief wait, Klein saw a young man with a broad face open the door. The man had golden hair, gray-blue eyes, and high cheekbones, clearly bearing the characteristics of the region around Lünborg and Masi. Was this Mr. Esgarrouth Stanton's new assistant? A representative from the Church of the Gods of Knowledge and Wisdom? Klein removed his hat and smiled. "Good evening, is Mr. Esgarrouth Stanton in?" "Yes, he returned from a busy day and just finished dinner," the young man with golden hair replied politely. "May I ask who you are?" "Tell Mr. Esgarrouth Stanton that a friend of his has just returned from vacation," Klein chuckled. The young man paused, then asked aloud, "Mr. Sherlock Moriarty?" P.S. Recommended a new book titled "I Possessed the Mage-Emperor"—a solid entry point.