Hearing the words of the Pendragon, Caine’s heart suddenly gave a jolt, and an ill omen struck him. Without trying to maintain any particular persona, he set down his lantern, pulled out two notecards from his pocket, crumpled them, and carefully tucked one into each ear. Seeing that Gorman Sparrow didn’t ask any questions and simply followed suit, Alje couldn’t help letting out a deep breath of relief. In his heart, he felt grateful to be working with someone so experienced—no matter how wildly renowned his adventurer status, he listened to sound reasoning and knew what to do and what to leave undone. As he was about to toss the still-warm dead mouse toward the ethereal bell tree, hoping to draw the creature’s attention, he suddenly noticed the shrubs and undergrowth swaying, and from among them stepped a tiger with a yellow body and black stripes. Amid the delicate, tinkling sound of the wind chimes, the tiger moved step by step toward the strange tree ahead, its movements normal yet its gaze vacant, exuding a strange, unnameable sense of eeriness. Alger lowered his arm, temporarily abandoning the attempt to hurl the dead mouse, and, enduring the sharp pain in his head, calmly watched the yellow-skinned, black-striped tiger walk steadily forward toward the ethereal bell tree, its footsteps growing increasingly urgent and resonant. The tiger knelt, raised its right paw, and with a sharp snap of its pointed claws, slashed across its own neck. Blood flowed steadily, yet the tiger seemed to have lost sensation, continuing to pull and tug at its claws, deepening and lengthening the wound. Then, it began to slowly strip away its fur, revealing a raw, blood-soaked, bare body. The bell sounds gradually subsided, and the branches suddenly came alive, spreading downward and rooting deeply into the tiger’s exposed, distressing flesh. With the short blade drawn from his waist and his mouth open, Alger sang in a hoarse, steady voice: "Rush, rush, rush, rush— Oh sea, rush upon the gray, cold rocks!" "Impulse! Impulse! Impulse!" "O sea, shattering upon the rocks!" (Note 1) His song was raw and powerful, yet completely out of tune—utterly contrary to human and biological expectations—and carried a constant, metallic roar, like a noisy, grinding hum that was both irritating and overwhelming, even nauseating and painful. The branches of the hallucinogenic bell tree trembled simultaneously, retracting slightly and drawing together as if curling inward, their delicate chimes offering a subtle counterpoint that softened the terrifying din. Even near Algren, Kline, who had been using folded paper to plug his ears and consciously suppressing his spiritual sensitivity, felt his temples pulse violently. A fierce desire surged within him—wanting to kill the singer, to destroy everything in sight. He even felt as though his body were being torn apart, with his muscles and blood vessels beneath his skin subtly contracting and shifting. Others sing to be paid—this "Hanged Man" sings to be killed! Kline countered his rising agitation with sharp commentary. "Impulse!" "Impulse! Impulse!" Each word from Algier grew sharper, gradually merging with the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks. One after another, silver flashes descended, as if in a series of applause. The silver streaks lit up in succession, striking the surface of the ethereal bell tree with force, causing it to tremble ceaselessly. The swaying of its branches grew stiff and disordered, unable to emit its soothing, rhythmic melody. Seizing the moment, Algier dropped the dead mouse and extended his short blade forward. A sudden gust of wind surged, and a series of invisible blades whistled past, cutting precisely into the slender branch at the very top, closest to the trunk. Crackle! The translucent, colorless fruit, the size of a fist, fell straight down, caught by a strong gust and carried toward Algier's palm. As the tree's surface, marked with crack-like fissures resembling eyes, solidified, the remaining branches simultaneously drooped, losing their vitality. Indeed, once the right information had been gathered and mastered in advance, the extraordinary plants—though less intelligent than their animal counterparts—proved far more manageable... Aljere produced a pre-prepared metal cylinder, securing the fruit of the hallucinogenic windbell tree. Then, he turned slightly, facing Garmen Sparrow and said, "We continue..." His words suddenly faltered, the phrase "forward" vanishing from his throat. At that moment, Aljere saw Garmen Sparrow's stern face subtly distort, the whites of his brown eyes slightly tinged with red, as though about to erupt, about to strike him. Aljere's spirit tightened instantly; he slowly drew a breath, completing his sentence: "We continue forward." "Then let's go," Garmen Sparrow replied, his voice low and hoarse, stepping first past the windbell tree now entering its withering phase, and moving deeper into the Black Forest. He didn't go fetch the tree bark, branches, and other spiritually resonant materials, since he was certain he'd encounter many more extraordinary beings later on, and without any storage artifact of his own, he naturally wanted to reserve space for more valuable acquisitions. Moreover, carrying too many heavy items would clearly hinder his agility—the very essence of his "Clown" persona. Alas, those were lifeless materials, devoid of their own blood, unable to enter *The Travels of Grozsel*... They could be transported via the Secret Doppelgängers, but that would be extremely cumbersome and detrimental to future explorations. Klein silently sighed, calmed himself, and gradually extricated himself from the lingering effects of the "Hanged Man's" song—this was undoubtedly the most difficult and most intense singing he had ever heard in both phases of his life. If the "Hanged Man" continued for just one or two more minutes, he wasn't sure he'd still be able to restrain himself from launching into a full-blown assault. Simply plugging the ears with paper and calming the spirit can only mitigate the effects—it cannot truly isolate them. Even the deaf can still perceive it, including the spiritual "exchange" conveyed through it. This should be the most difficult-to-defy ability of the "Sea Singer," and combined with the inevitable, unavoidable "lightning strikes" that once manifested—definitely unavoidable once they appear, requiring only preemptive evasion—this Sequence 5 is indeed quite strong. Yet, why does the "Hanged Man" gentleman's singing feel so fundamentally different from that of the elf singer, Chastel? While summarizing and analyzing his recent experiences, Caine found himself slightly puzzled. At the same time, the man holding the lantern beside him, Aljer, could not help but ponder a question of his own: "Even Germain Spalro cannot endure my song for long. How am I to embody the role of the 'Sea Singer'?" Amid the quiet atmosphere, the two swiftly advanced through the thick trees, their scales-like trunks, toward the ancient ruins. With a navigator beside him, Caine saved the energy he would have spent on using the divination staff to chart his course and instead remained vigilant, guarding against any sudden attacks from the surroundings. In the profoundly dark and silent atmosphere—evoking a strong sense of eerie tales—the two of them didn’t know how long they had walked before noticing that the trees within the black forest began to gradually thin out in a regular pattern. This was different from the situation they had encountered when they first met the half-divine feathered serpent, where the trees had suddenly thinned, appearing abrupt and striking. Here, the gradual thinning gave the impression that they were nearing the edge of the black forest. "We’ll reach the edge of that ancient ruin once we pass through this area," Aljere broke the silence, saying. He paused, then added casually, "Based on my experience, the closer we get, the more dangerous it becomes. I’ve found traces of half-divine extraordinary beings in this very vicinity, yet it’s quite puzzling that there are no signs of extraordinary biological activity at the very edge of the ancient ruin. As for its deeper interior, I remain uncertain." "It's likely that there's something even more terrifying within that ancient ruin—the area is its territory, so other creatures dare not approach," Klein murmured to himself. He had a clear sense of the dangers ahead, and had already performed corresponding divinations over the gray mist, which had foretold turbulence and difficulties, though a safe departure was quite probable. After the "Turned One" finished speaking, Klein chuckled softly and said, "You should be able to guess what I'm thinking." He said no more and stepped into the area of overgrown vegetation and sparse trees. Aljer walked beside him in quiet contemplation, growing more and more convinced of his judgment regarding Germain Sparo: calm, yet utterly mad! Just a few meters ahead, they suddenly spotted a pair of deep blue eyes emerging at the edge of the lantern light. It was a black baboon perched on a tree trunk, its fur naturally wavy, with clusters of black crystals growing from its head. These crystals rose upward in an irregular, dense formation, crowning it in a strange, majestic diadem. As soon as they saw the baboon, both Caine and Aljer felt an instinctive urge to lower their heads, as though they dared not meet each other's gaze—only to feel that it was the sovereign of the forest, their lord. Lord... Aljer, struggling against the intense headache brought on by the ring of the "Spirit Whip," pushed himself to regain composure and hurried to the left, attempting to step aside and leave the enigmatic extraordinary being to Germain Sparo. This had been their prior agreement. Yet, though he had clearly moved to the left, he ended up walking forward, his legs now limping, as if suddenly requiring a cane. Without thinking, Aljer drew his short blade, sending sharp gusts of wind slicing toward the black, wavy-haired baboon. At that very moment, the baboon opened its mouth and smiled. The wind blades in the air suddenly changed direction—swerving left, drifting right, rising upward, or sinking downward—perfectly avoiding the target. Seeing this, Caine abandoned his plan to approach normally, and his left hand glove became transparent, rendering his body intangible. Alje ceased his reactive movements and observed the silhouette of Germain Spauld suddenly materializing behind the black, curly-haired baboon, the two now less than five meters apart. Immediately, the black, curly-haired baboon stiffened abruptly, as though losing most of its control; it even struggled to raise its hand, half-digging toward its eyes and half-trying to twist something. Meanwhile, Germain Spauld, taking advantage of the baboon's hesitation, raised his iron-black revolver in his right hand and aimed its deep, dark barrel squarely at its head. Then, the passionate adventurer pressed the trigger without any expression.