Klein, who had read numerous magazines, knew well that the circle he wished to enter hosted many galas and was thus not surprised by Walter's suggestion, simply nodding in agreement: "Very well." Then, turning to his personal servant Richard, he said, "Arrange for the carriage; I'm going to Saint Samuel's Church." He remembered clearly that his primary objective was to present himself as a devoted follower of the Night Goddess, meet the relevant clergy, and thereby gain access to the gates of Charnes. Therefore, he intended to visit the church whenever he had the chance, offering prayers to demonstrate his sincerity and build familiarity. "Yes, sir," Richard replied respectfully. Not long after, Klein, dressed in his coat and hat, boarded the rented luxurious four-wheeled carriage, enjoying the scenery along the way while sipping tea with lemon slices. In fact, the carriage featured a small bar area where Walter had prepared distilled wines such as Golden Chant and Winter Blackland, as well as various red and white wines from Intis. Yet Caine wasn't particularly fond of wine. As a非凡being, he disliked the drowsy, giddy feeling it induced, which often reminded him of losing control. Therefore, instead of citing the excuse of being unable to drink at church, he instructed his personal servant, Richard, to prepare a壶of the Marquis's tea in advance. "If possible, I'd actually prefer a sweet iced tea—it's a taste from the south," Caine said to Richard with a half-joking tone. "I'll make sure to have it ready next time," Richard replied promptly. Caine shook his head with a smile. "No, that won't do. It's not quite fitting. Once I've grown familiar with the neighbors here, I'll host a dinner party with a distinctly Darcy touch, and then I'll serve the sweet iced tea—ah, I'm sure their children will enjoy it." Seeing that he had misunderstood Caine's intention, Richard spoke up with a slightly nervous tone. "I'll certainly remember that." From the 160th street to St. Samuel's Church on Peasefield Street, a twenty-minute walk is all it takes—unless one values appearances and has already hired a carriage with a driver, in which case, Crane would rather walk, to digest his meal and strengthen his body. Soon, the carriage stopped at the edge of the square outside the church. Crane, holding his gold-handled cane, stepped down and paused to watch the white doves perform their dance. Upon entering the church and reaching the main chapel, he handed his hat and cane to Richardson, took a seat near the aisle, lowered his head, clasped his hands, and began to pray quietly and attentively. Richardson sat to his side and rear, arranged his belongings, glanced at the dark saintly emblem on the altar, and then closed his eyes as well. In the serene and quiet atmosphere, Caine felt a slight dispersion of his spiritual awareness, which was no surprise, as parishgoers praying in the church often experience something similar—the steady gathering of small, devout spiritual energies, one drop at a time, providing strength to seal the Charnes Gate beneath. After an indeterminate length of time, his inspiration suddenly stirred, and he quietly opened his eyes, glancing subtly toward the diagonally opposite corner. There stood an elderly man dressed in a black clerical robe, with sparse hair the color of frost, and a face pale as if lifeless. From a distance, his breath seemed cold and his expression subdued, blending somewhat with the dim, diffused light of the great prayer hall. Caine made a quick assessment of the internal guard upon a glance and then closed his eyes again to resume praying, though he had already noted the man's distinctive features: a broad nose, gray-blue eyes, loose facial skin, and no beard. The elderly cleric, dressed in solemn attire, now sat down and began to pray intently to the goddess. Throughout the prayer hall, only a few holes in the wall directly ahead allowed pure light to filter through, casting a luminous glow like brilliant stars, softening and sanctifying the otherwise dark atmosphere. Time passed slowly, and Claryn's inspiration stirred once more. With care, he opened his eyes and saw the internal guard in the black robe rise from his seat and enter the side corridor. That must be the path leading to the church's back wing—did all the internal guards live within the church? Did they have no families, no relatives, no homes of their own? Given their condition, this seems far from surprising, and it's entirely normal that the guards inside Charnes Gate are placed under the supervision of the bishops... It means I truly have to become friends with the bishops of Saint Samuel's Church and gain the opportunity to move freely within the church's rear areas. Kline didn't linger, closed his eyes, and pondered various issues. After a while, he rose slowly, walked toward the altar, stood before the offering box, and with solemnity deposited fifty pounds in cash into it. This action drew the attention of the bishops and priests on duty today, whose gazes became warm and friendly, and who took note of his appearance. Having completed these steps, Kline gave a gentle nod to several clergy members, turned, and walked down the corridor toward the exit, with Richardson holding his hat and cane, following closely behind. Outside the great chapel, he moved through the exquisite frescoes and the light filtering through the stained-glass windows above, making his way toward the main gate. At that moment, several figures entered. Leading them was a middle-aged man with deep, flowing hair and gentle facial features, dressed in a black coat, neither wearing gloves nor carrying a cane. To his left rear stood a younger man in a black coat as well—dark hair, green eyes, handsome in appearance, though his hairstyle seemed casually tousled, as if he had simply risen from bed without a careful combing. Leonard Mitchell glanced indifferently at the congregants passing by, then looked away and sighed, saying, "I hope this time I can stay a few more days in Beckett, rest properly. This case has been not only dangerous and exciting, but demands constant alertness." Their team of "Red Gloves" had just solved a case involving a demon that had been wearing human skins, capturing two of its targets. On the surface, it seemed straightforward, but in reality, it had been far from easy—filled with setbacks and fierce resistance. The team had struggled through numerous challenges, and each member was physically drained and mentally weary. Team leader Sostre shook his head and smiled, "That's the life we lead as the 'Red Gloves.' You should have known this when you joined." "Congratulations," he added, "you've earned the promotion to 'Soul Healer' now." Leonard Mitchell frowned and chuckled, "I thought it would happen sooner. And finally, Sostre, you've finally reached Sequence 5." "This isn't really the Church's problem. If I could have endured it well, I would have become a 'Spirit Witch' five years ago." Sostre smoothed his smile and walked toward the great chapel. "Go pray to the goddess. This will effectively alleviate your psychological stress and restore your mental state." As he spoke, the group of "Red Gloves" entered the dimly lit, tranquil hall and took seats at various spots. While Leonard was about to focus on his prayer, a slightly older voice suddenly echoed in his mind: "That person just now had an issue." "Who?" Leonard bent his head, speaking softly. "One of the people you met at the entrance," the voice replied. "I reside within you, but my strength hasn't fully returned, so I can't see clearly." Leonard recalled, asking quietly, "What issue?" "He carries an ancient aura," the voice in his mind said simply. "A remarkable being who has lived for a long time?" "Leonard mumbled, 'I'll try to look into it.' At the same time, he thought to himself: The old man must be hiding something. He rarely gives me such proactive reminders about people being problematic, yet he's so vague about it... He'll only keep someone on the sidelines once he's identified the issue and confirmed they pose no immediate threat—so as not to get drawn into the struggles between the fourth-age immortals. If the person truly brings disaster, he'll then report directly to the Archbishop... "I must tell you, this gambling venture is definitely a scheme and a trap—designed to make you win only so that you might eventually lose even more! Though you're a master of illusion and have successfully deceived them before, similar gambling events may very well conceal other extraordinary beings!" "Stop, stop, stop!" Fotherstall pressed his hands together, speaking with both impatience and amusement. "Do I seem to be the kind of person who'd engage in illegal gambling?" "Absolutely!" Hugh replied without hesitation. "If I hadn't stopped you, you'd never have simply smoked your cigarette—you'd have wanted to try marijuana!" That was because the pain caused by the full moon's murmurs had driven me to seek relief through anesthesia. Now, that's no longer the case... Fotherstall didn't argue with Hugh; he simply explained: "I sold my knowledge of mysticism at a gathering of extraordinary beings—quite a generous offer, actually, several hundred pounds." "Oh, I see," Hugh instantly set aside the question he'd just had. Turning to him, he said, "There's a new gathering of extraordinary beings in the East District, and I've been invited." "An entirely new gathering of the extraordinary ones?" Vorthis was first taken aback, then became increasingly enthusiastic. According to her teacher, Dorian Gray, and the words of the "Fool," she knew that Louis Vain was the divine messenger of the Aurora Order. This visit to Beckland was likely meant to replace the previously missing A先生 and reestablish the Aurora Order's influence within the city. Therefore, it was quite possible that Louis had disguised himself and created a new gathering of the extraordinary ones. Vorthis thought for a moment, then casually asked Hoo, "Would you like me to join you?" "Of course—I'll need to prepare the elixir formula for the 'Inquisitor.'" Hoo responded with decisive clarity. Vorthis nodded, then covered her mouth and yawned. "When you invite new members, don't forget to bring me along." PS: No script prepared.