100 Burkleth Street, Portland. The Monmote home, in a garden corner. Many ants and small insects gathering here began to disperse, and the eerie, cold atmosphere gradually softened. The supernatural being present seemed to have little experience—Seihōr saw that her efforts had taken effect, barely nodding her head, then gracefully turned and began walking along the garden path. She didn’t hurry back inside, instead savoring the deep crimson moonlight, the crisp air, and the faint scent that drifted through. After a while, Seihōr finally gave up walking, stepped out of the garden, and entered the first-floor hall. At that moment, aside from those playing Texas Hold’em, several guests had already left. As Seihōr just found her mother, Lady Liāna, she saw her father, Mr. Machet, the Member of Parliament, and a few gentlemen descending from the second floor, chatting warmly and with evident pleasure. "Are you ready to go home?" he asked. "You still have an important appointment tomorrow morning." Liana gestured to her daughter to come closer while walking toward her husband, smiling and inquiring. "If it weren't for this matter, I'd probably have another Portland cigar," Mahert nodded. Liana glanced at Willis, Dowen Thantès, and the others, and casually asked, "What are you all talking about? The topic seems quite interesting." Mahert leaned slightly forward, smiling. "Dowen claims he encountered ghosts during his time on the southern continent. One night, he and his companions suddenly woke up, yet found they couldn't open their eyes—feeling heavy, as though someone were pressing down on them. After exerting great effort, they finally managed to rise from their beds and discovered the room was extremely cold. You might not know that the climate in Bélyan is usually quite warm. Then, each of them held a double-barreled hunting rifle and stayed overnight, only to rush out of the town as soon as the sun rose." After listening to this, Lady Liyan turned with genuine interest to Doun Tangtases's face, asking, "Is this truly so? Are there really ghosts?" As she watched, her face gradually grew pale, as if recalling once again the painful and fearful experience. She forced her gaze away, took two deep breaths, then turned her body and walked toward the bedside. Throughout this process, she gently bit her lower lip, murmuring silently, "That should be a vengeful spirit... definitely..." "I need a sigil or object from the 'Sun' domain..." While sea-hyler gazed toward the entrance of the sewer, Kline was also observing that area. After so many days, she wondered how Tris the mage had recovered—whether she had already left. Fortunately, sea-hyler had been startled by me, and hadn't dared approach the sewer entrance during this time. Kline's eyes swept over the rows of iron-black gas lamp poles, giving only slight nods. Then he opened his iron cigarette box, causing his vengeful spirit companion to materialize within the full-length mirror. He had decided to send Senior, to inspect the sewer and verify Tris's condition, so as not to have the witch cause any untoward incidents. Moreover, given how close the sewer was to the identity of D'Artagnan, Caine did not wish for Tris to remain in the vicinity for long; he only hoped she would recover swiftly, begin her activities, and move away from Burckland Street. Hmm. "The General of Blood," Senior, appearing periodically, aligned with my earlier character setup—living not nearby, since the sewers held secrets and often echoed with his presence as he came seeking them. While thinking this, Caine had the secret figure, wearing an old triangular hat, use the mirror to leap onto the surface of the gas lamp beside the street, then, in the form of a spectral being, penetrate through the manhole cover and swiftly approach the hidden side alley where Tris had taken refuge. Even before reaching the end, Senior, with his night vision, noticed that the spot was already empty. Had she already recovered and left? Klein thoughtfully allowed the spectral figure to proceed, stopping at the area where Trist was previously seated. He noticed that the space had been meticulously cleaned—not only was the floor no longer damp and muddy, but even the moss growing on the walls and corners had vanished. There were no food scraps either. Had she become a woman and developed a neatness obsession? Or perhaps she had always been like that? Using Senior's vision as a guide, Klein surveyed the surroundings and concluded that either Trist had not yet left or had only been gone for no more than a day—otherwise, the level of cleanliness would have been impossible to maintain. As he formed this thought, a faint sound of footsteps reached Senior's ears. Under Klein's direction, Senior turned and walked toward the outside, where he unexpectedly found Trist, dressed in a muted black gown. The sorceress's long, smooth black hair flowed naturally, without the variety of hairstyles common among other young women of her age—simple, unadorned. Against the now flushed yet still pale complexion, Thiraz at that moment seemed like a dreamy bloom quietly unfolding in the night. Indeed, a true sorceress—thank goodness I had the secret doublet between us, or I would have been quite at a loss, gazing at her with obvious admiration... Hah! The dead were never susceptible to charm! No matter how enchanting a sorceress might be, she could never turn the deceased into the living, nor could she coax them out of their graves. Klein muttered these thoughts, addressing Thiraz, who appeared茫然 but actually held a quiet watchfulness, her invisible threads now subtly extended. "Where have you gone?" Thiraz arched an eyebrow. "Did you perhaps prefer to attend to your personal hygiene while asleep?" Ah... I had assumed sorceresses didn't need to go to the bathroom at all... Klein chuckled, prompting the "spirit" Senior to laugh heartily. "You mean, urinate and defecate?" He deliberately had the doublet say this, to better align with the rough, pirate-like persona of the "Blood Commander." Tristel slightly furrowed her delicate brow, asking, "Are there any others?" The "Spirit of Resentment," Senior, didn't pursue the topic further, but instead remarked, "You seem to be recovering well." Tristel offered a gentle smile. "I'm doing quite well—I'll be leaving here by tomorrow." She paused, her slightly elongated eyes slightly narrowing: "To be honest, at times, I wonder if you're truly the 'General Above Blood'." Of course I am! You should have asked whether I was dead or alive... Klein, intrigued, asked the spirit Senior, "Why do you say that?" Tristel's gaze swept over Senior's face. "It's said that the 'General Above Blood' is a man who indulges his desires, unable to resist beautiful women or men. Yet, when I'm in your presence, I don't see a single spark of desire." "I thought the true 'General above the Blood' would have included a binding clause that would compel me when we finalized our agreement last time." Kline paused for two seconds, letting a self-deprecating smile play on Senior's lips. "I'm afraid I've become too immersed in 'pleasure,' and that you've been able to control me." Tris's expression shifted instantly—this was indeed one of the reasons she had brought up the topic herself. For female magicians who mastered 'pleasure,' it was natural for exceptional beings who indulged their desires to be prime targets. Kline had deliberately passed over this subject, allowing the secret companion to speak. "You're going to seek your target tomorrow, aren't you? Clearly, the royal steward must recognize you and know your appearance." After all, you were the one they had assigned to the Prince of Edessa, Kline thought to himself. Tris lowered her head, gazing at her toes, and chuckled softly. "You can rest assured—I have a well-thought-out plan." "As she spoke, she leaned slightly to one side, pointing casually toward the depths of the sewer: 'From here, take the sixth left turn, and at the end of that branch, there's a hidden passage—evidence of long-term human activity, which I've noticed during my recent walks. I think this might be connected to the girl we met last time. Isn't that also your reason for coming here?' The hidden passage? Kline neither confirmed nor denied, letting Senior chuckle. 'Have you found anything?' Trist shook her head. 'Nothing yet. Perhaps only someone with a specific path or a particular item can uncover the clues.' Maybe the intuitions of the 'Thief,' or the object on Heihour's person? Kline didn't let Senior pursue this line of thought further. He placed a hand on his chest, smiled, and bowed slightly. 'Since you've recovered, I can now feel at ease.' As soon as he finished speaking, he suddenly vanished. Trist watched intently, gaining nothing, until a gentle breeze brushed against the invisible threads extending from her, at which point she turned away, confirming that the "Lord of Blood" had truly departed. At that moment, Caine had already guided the "Grieving Spirit" back to the entrance of the underground passage and had not attempted to explore the place Trist had mentioned. His primary reasons for this decision were threefold: first, the area had already exceeded a hundred meters from his starting point; second, he doubted he would find much there, as he was not a "Thief's Path" traveler and did not possess any corresponding items; and third, Trist was still there. "...Has the teacher already arrived in Beckland?" Folsen quickly scanned the page, murmuring in surprise. At the same time, she watched the toast she had been holding drop straight to the ground.