After gazing at Mr. X's body for a moment, Caine restrained his urge to personally collect the spoils, instead asking the nearby "specter" Senior to step forward and remove the golden ring set with a ruby. Thus, even if Mr. X's personal belongings carried unforeseeably negative effects, those would be borne by the secret companion, leaving Caine unimpeded. After a thorough inspection, Senior returned with the ruby ring, a stack of forty-eight pounds in paper currency, and a plain tobacco-filled pipe. Only that? A divine messenger of the Aurora Circle could possess such meager possessions? Caine watched the scene with growing astonishment, nearly exclaiming, "A poor soul!" Soon, he regained composure and convinced himself rationally that such a situation was entirely reasonable: "Mr. X is a 'traveler' who documents others' extraordinary abilities, belonging to a well-rounded type. Even if he possesses other magical items, he would naturally tend to keep detailed records in his daily life rather than carry them with him. This way, he can enjoy the complementary advantages of diverse abilities while avoiding the potential negative effects that might otherwise overwhelm him and ultimately undermine his own well-being. From this perspective, the ring is likely to have a passive or triggered effect." "The name is 'Blood.'... It allows the wearer to deeply grasp and strengthen their own flesh and vitality—so long as they do not die directly or are completely purified, thereby losing control. In that case, the body can slowly regenerate and restore itself... This essentially grants an innate instinct, a passive effect... I believe my decision to deliver the final blow with 'The Bell of Doom' was correct. If I hadn't fully exerted myself, Mr. X likely wouldn't have truly perished, but instead would have awakened through the intensity of that extreme pain, breaking free from the control of the 'Master of Secret Doubles.' He himself recognized his inherent weakness as a spellcaster—less physically robust—so that makes perfect sense... This ring also carries several blood-based flesh magic effects, which are quite practical." He spoke softly, his expression slightly distorted. Drawing upon the "dream divination" just performed, he had interpreted the negative impact of the "Blood" ring: it would randomly and irregularly cause the wearer to lose thought and rationality. Quite authentic, indeed—Klein bit his teeth together in frustration. Irregular, unpredictable setbacks over time meant the "Blood" ring was utterly unusable! Reflecting on the earlier scene, Klein murmured to himself, a mix of exasperation and amusement: "Could Mr. X possibly dare to wear such a ring? Indeed, once he transitions to being a true Creator, he'll already frequently lose his capacity for thought. So, adding another ring wouldn't make things worse. 'Ah,' he continued, 'losing rationality isn't the same as losing mental clarity—there won't be sudden outbursts of violence. But it will make him appear stiff and rather foolish, acting purely on instinct.' "He exhaled deeply, deciding to set the 'Blood' ring aside among the clutter, to avoid bothering himself. In his eyes, the thing was not only useless for his own use—it wouldn't sell either, unless he sent it back to the Aurora Society for recycling, which would surely please the 'True Maker' immensely. At that moment, his peripheral vision caught the 'Blood Above-Commander' Senior standing beside him. "Of course, for the Seer, this is of no consequence—it doesn't affect the essence. The primary purpose is simply to gain additional flesh-and-blood magic..." A few seconds later, feeling delighted, Caine asked Senior, who wore an old triangular hat and a dark red coat, to take the ruby ring placed on the table and place it on his left index finger. After completing this, Caine returned the "Soul-ghost" to the coin and raised his left hand, spreading his fingers. He was now releasing the "Inquisitor" from within the "Crumbling Hunger!" This had been an early promise. When he first acquired the "Crumbling Hunger," only this final spirit remained unliberated among those being tended. A faint, subtle cold breeze stirred, and a blurry, translucent soul figure appeared beside the bronze long table. The figure was a man in a naval major's uniform, in his thirties, with brown facial hair, his face etched with pain and confusion. "What is your name?" Caine asked softly, "And why did you die at the hands of Zilings?" The man hesitated slightly and said, "My name is Andy Hattan, second officer of the *Nemate*. I died in a naval battle—no, I didn't die immediately. I was captured by a Fasakian and then transported into your glove... I've never heard of Zinglungs, nor have I met him." When Zinglungs received the *The Thirsting Movement*, was the interrogator already inside the glove? Given how effective the 'Spirit Piercing' technique proved, he had never replaced him. The identity of the previous owner of *The Thirsting Movement* remained unknown. Caine asked with genuine interest, "Who was the Fasakian who captured you? What did he look like?" "Andy Haydon thought seriously and said, 'I don't remember his name, only that he held the rank of colonel. I remember his strikingly large nose, his blue eyes, his hair—a golden-yellow hue—and that he was nearly two meters tall...' Such a person is quite common in Fosac... except for the rank of colonel. Thinking further, Klein asked, 'In what year did you pass away?' Andy Haydon's form gradually began to fade, eventually leaving only one phrase: '1338.' 'Twelve years ago—well, Admiral Zilings had risen to fame no more than ten years ago—perhaps that colonel has already become a general in the Fosac Empire.' Klein nodded gently, realizing he had failed to ask Andy Haydon what his wishes were." Well, that would be enough—letting him find peace was already a good deed. . . . Klein soon set this matter aside and manifested the "World," Germaine Sparrow. Forsyth gazed closely, nearly gasping, quickly covered her mouth, and stepped back two paces, drawing close to the "Wall of Spirit." One of the two objects was her "Leyman Travel Journal," while the other was a grim, cracked and fissured head, stained with blood, as though composed of separate fragments joined together, faintly glowing with a glass-like sheen. As a graduate of medical school and a physician who had worked at a well-known clinic, Forsyth had seen many corpses, but none had been as repulsive, strange, or terrifying as this head. Calming herself, she turned her gaze once more to the head and recognized it as Louis Veen. With cautious astrological confirmation, she then softly murmured, her face slightly trembling: "Did the 'World' gentleman shatter the target's head and then piece it back together, fragment by fragment?" At that moment, a vivid image spontaneously emerged in Fols' mind: Germain Spalro, stern and composed, sitting at a table, carefully picking up the blood-streaked fragments of his own skull and assembling them like a puzzle. Fols couldn't help shivering, feeling as though the world itself were a violently mentally ill, frenzied killer. Shifting her gaze, she took a few steps forward and picked up "Lehmann's Travel Notes," flipping through them casually. Her eyes gradually froze as she noticed several entries within the magical book—seeming to relate to wind and lightning. This brought her back to the fleeting thunderstorm she had witnessed in the eastern district, confirming once again that it had been caused by "the World" himself. Fols quickly turned the notebook to the three yellowed pages that were blank, and suddenly formed a hypothesis: she believed that Germain Spalro, "the World," must have relied on the assistance of "the Fool" to document the extraordinary, half-divine abilities. I only realized today that if I had sufficient funds and resources, I could hire each of the Tarot members to document various extraordinary abilities—thus making "Leyman's Travel Notes" truly powerful. Yet, I have neither money nor resources... Well, this time I can request a reward from the Teacher, explaining that I've sacrificed much in my efforts to help him avenge his grievances. Fleur thought for a moment, first thanked the "Magician," then asked Him to convey to the "World": "I feel deeply regretful—my compensation does not match the difficulty of the task. Once I receive my reward, I will make further compensation." After the prayer, Fleur concluded the ritual and busily concealed that head. "If the Teacher discovers this, she'll surely invent a terrifying tale," Fleur thought, as she finished all her tasks. She then raised her hand, settled back, and reflected calmly. Meanwhile, when Fleur responded, Caine had already returned to the real world, hearing only a faint female voice. Yet even so, he could not help feeling afraid and apprehensive, because the "Death Bell" revolver's current weakness was: fear of women! PS: Requesting a guaranteed monthly pass—these days, it's always double!