On a Friday afternoon, having missed the literary salon due to illness, Klein once again arrived at Grey Mists. Before him stood a compact, copper-green notebook—its casing clearly sturdy—exactly the "Leyman's Travel Notebook" provided by the "Magician" Folth. Opening it to a single page, Klein glanced at the warm, yellowed hue, then raised his hand to summon the "Poseidon's Staff" from among the clutter, holding it in his palm. As he infused portions of his spiritual energy into the notebook, causing it to glow with a faint, subtle radiance, he also activated the sapphire gems at the tip of his bone-handled staff, one after another, each emitting bright light. With a series of grating, almost painful, zzzz sounds, one after another, silver-white lightning bolts materialized out of thin air—thick, wild, and sprawling—interweaving into a dynamic, storm-like spectacle. At the same time, on the yellowed page of Lymanno's travel journal, complex symbols and markings swiftly sketched out, overlapping and merging with one another, gradually taking shape. As the page neared a silvery hue, streaks of electric serpents burst forth from within, instantly erasing all the patterns! Another failure... Klein sighed silently and repeated the process once more. This wasn't his first attempt. Since receiving Lymanno's Travel Journal on Wednesday night, he had frequently entered the gray mist, using this magical book to record the abilities displayed by the "Staff of the Sea God," going through the process again and again, until his spiritual energy nearly faded, forcing him to return to the real world for rest. Along the way, there were both failures and successes. Through persistent efforts, Klein finally reached the final step—he captured the long-envied "Lightning Storm!" This was the semi-divine ability of the "Mariner" path. Before this latest failure, Caine had already experienced nearly twenty setbacks—his luck could truly be described as poor. Failure, failure again, failure once more—until on the fifth attempt, he was delighted to see the silver-white hue spread across the yellowed parchment, causing the ancient, mysterious, and intricate symbols to contract inward and merge into a striking pattern that merely to behold evoked the sensation of being struck by lightning. "Ah… finally, it's successful," Caine said, running his fingers over the parchment and exhaling deeply. He turned the pages of "Lehmann's Travel Notes," admiring his previous achievements. In the past few days, while he hadn't completely been fixated on the "lightning storm," he had also recorded two other semi-divine abilities: first, the "Paper Angel," a subtle force generated by his own manipulation of the mysterious space above the gray mist, which could be used to disrupt divination and prophecy; and second, the "Tornado," which originated from the same "Sea God's Staff." When recording them, Cline was relatively fortunate—success came on the ninth attempt for one and the twelfth for another. As for exceptional abilities like flight, gliding, or lightning strikes, which were below sequence 4, only one or two attempts were needed, so Cline filled his notebook almost completely. While this magic book wasn't particularly useful for wild exceptionalists, it required a long period of time and sustained patience to gather a sufficient number of valuable abilities, and the failure rate increased for abilities above sequence 6—making them harder to obtain. Nevertheless, with twenty-two paths in the Mystical Domain, it wasn't unusual at all for abilities from the earlier sequences, when well-combined, to defeat those at sequence 5. Cline closed his notebook, murmuring a few thoughts to himself. In his view, for wild exceptionalists, this magic book is indeed equivalent to half a divine artifact. While the early development phase is more challenging than "The Hunger That Crawls," once well-matched, surpassing one's current level becomes a routine feat. However, among exceptionalists backed by major powers, the role of "Lehmann's Travel Notes" becomes even more extraordinary—almost like a bug—because it can record the abilities of a half-god! As long as they're willing, half-gods can demonstrate time and again. The "craving that creeps" is unlikely to overcome a half-god, and even the official "Shepherd" finds it extremely difficult to shepherd a high-sequence entity—first, due to lack of resources, and second, because the entity often becomes unstable under such care. Elder Lovie of Silver City, for instance, has been exceptionally fortunate to shepherd a spirit barely equivalent to Sequence 4. Reflecting on this, Caine turned his gaze toward a dark green stone placed beside him—rough, uneven, with burn marks across its surface, the very stone provided by the "Magician" Fols. After completing these preparatory steps, he walked toward the full-length mirror, gazing at himself within, slightly wearying his appearance. After dinner, Crane excused himself, citing discomfort, and returned to his room. He watched the night scene for a few minutes, then took a mirror from the drawer—about the size of a palm—and placed it gently upon the soft, elastic pillow. Then, approaching it closely, he allowed the mirror to reflect the image of Daven Tanit, with deep blue eyes and silvering hair. He slowly straightened himself and stepped back, and suddenly, another Daven Tanit appeared on the bed! This gentleman wore a dark silk nightgown, leaning against the pillow, holding a book, half-closed eyes, as though resting or thinking. Indeed, the mirror illusion was no less impressive than the paper-man illusion. Returning to his desk, Crane picked up a pen and sketched on the paper a peculiar symbol blending secrecy and observation. After a brief silence, Dauan Tangtse suddenly opened his eyes, beaming with a servile smile: "My noble lord, your humble and devoted servant, Arodes, is here!" Indeed, even Dauan Tangtse's face could not contain the warmth of that smile. Kline sighed inwardly, nearly turning his head toward the other side. "Excellent," he nodded gently, offering praise. He said nothing further. He donned a half-high silk hat, slipped down from the balcony to the first floor, and moved along a quiet garden path, gracefully climbing over the outer wall of 160 Berkland Street—without forgetting to close the windows along the way. With his right hand resting on the hat and his feet firmly planted on the street, Kline slowly raised his head. At that moment, his features and contours had subtly transformed: dark hair, brown eyes, a lean and sharp-faced appearance. This was none other than Gelmann Sparrow, the daring adventurer of the Single Nation with a reward of 50,000 pounds. The hunt had begun. ……… In the Chawton district, as Hugh was about to leave for the East District to attend the extraordinary gathering convened by Mr. X, he was stopped by Fotherst. "You're going out for material?" Hugh carefully repeated his friend's usual phrase. Fotherst smoothed her hair and said, "No—this is about earning money! I've just taken on a commission to locate dust left behind after spirits have passed away. As you know, there are no ghosts in the cemetery—those spirits have long been sent off to their respective divine realms by the priests and bishops. So, I have to go to the East District, seeking those who have died due to various issues but have yet to be discovered. Would you be willing to watch me, this elegant and delicate woman, enter that chaotic place alone?" "But can't we postpone it until tomorrow?" Hugh hesitated, "I was just planning to attend Mr. X's gathering." Fotherst shook her head immediately: "No—we must deliver the commission tomorrow. Fifty pounds, right away!" "The deadline is tomorrow—so why didn't you work on it a few days ago?" Xu frowned, looking at his friend. Folse chuckled and said, "You just met me, haven't you? Didn't you know I have a severe case of procrastination? Besides, you're broke. What's the point of attending Mr. X's gathering if you don't even know which extraordinary materials you'll need?" "True," Xu conceded, then smiled. "Does every writer suffer from procrastination?" "Mostly," Folse replied casually, secretly relieved. ... In the eastern district, at a budget hotel, Caine entered the room that the "Magician" had booked under a false name. Here, having a single room with one bed and one occupant is a luxury—yet even then, such rooms cost only twelve pence per night. Of course, many budget inns in the East have no single rooms at all; the best available are small alcoves, priced at five pence per night, featuring just one bed and some panels that shield the occupant from prying eyes, allowing for convenient dressing and undressing. As for the basement spaces housing fifteen or twenty beds, each bed costs one and a half pence per night, with guests expected to manage their personal belongings themselves—losses are not covered. There's even a mirror, which is quite good... Caine set down his hat and stood before a full-length mirror, its surface speckled with cracks, donning the long, hooded robe prepared by the "magician" lady. Immediately, his body visibly shortened, his skin gradually turning paler, with a hint of wheatish tone, the protuberance at his throat disappearing, and his hair lengthening considerably, now turning golden. — After "The Magician" Folsom presented a friend's image with a disguise that concealed the face, Caine immediately recognized the mimic as Miss Thorne! However, thanks to the hooded cloak providing coverage, he didn't fully feminize himself—only adjusting the features more visible to others. At 1.50 meters, I'm truly at my limit. I'll have to completely absorb all the magic potions within my body to reach that height... Fortunately, Miss Thorne has prepared a height-enhancing disguise, so I don't have to worry about that. Caine glanced at his reflection in the mirror, measuring 160 centimeters, then donned the leather boots from the room. Though they appeared flat, they were indeed flat. Once the disguise was complete, Caine pulled the hood over his head and moved silently from his single-room suite through the corridor to the alley in the eastern district, eventually reaching the building where Mr. X convened the extraordinary individuals. Recalling the knocking code the lady magician had mentioned, Caine bent his fingers, striking the door with a pattern of three light and three heavier taps, spaced with two long and three short intervals. After a few seconds, the door opened silently, and a servant wearing an iron mask studied the visitor for a moment before making way. Caine remained calm, moving smoothly past him and entering the room.