Klein crafted his dream around the prototype of 160 Berkland Street, weaving in numerous elegant women to surround Doane Thénardier, perfectly shaping the image of a well-traveled, experienced millionaire who, due to the need to preserve his reputation, endures quiet restraint in the real world—only able to indulge freely in his dreams. Sitting on the sofa, he took a glass of red wine offered by a young woman. Before he could even taste it, he noticed a sudden transformation: the bright, refined, and generously adorned villa gave way to a dim, dark, damp, and filthy underground sewer. Then, he saw five familiar explosive charges appear in his hands. Were these not the ones I placed earlier? Klein was momentarily stunned, then feigned surprise, hastily tossing the charges aside and scanning the surroundings with heightened alertness. When no further anomalies emerged, he retreated step by step, feeling his way to a vertical metal staircase, climbed it swiftly and decisively, and shifted the manhole cover to exit the sewer. As he returned to Berkland Street, the entire dream fragmented, awakening him. Cain opened his eyes, gazing at the golden-ceilinged ceiling in the nearly dark room, reflecting on what had just unfolded: "Was this the 'Thief' making use of the half-god's path? Had he escaped the night wardens' pursuit, remaining hidden nearby, fearful that the 'Black Emperor'—who had revealed his presence—might reappear, and thus guiding dreams one by one to locate his targets? Very likely!" If I hadn’t remained awake and composed in dreams when someone invaded, I would have been driven by my subconscious to repeatedly go through the process of placing explosives and issuing warnings—something I’d done before, and deeply remembered. Fortunately, I’ve established the principle that "master of the secret figures should remain behind the scenes." Whether exploring the underground or meeting Trist, I’ve relied on secret figures. Even when distance required me to go personally, I used my ethereal form, transferring through the gray mist once, carrying with me items that disrupted observation and divination, making it impossible to identify the true orchestrator. Otherwise, I would have been uncovered and targeted, and even if I hadn’t died, I’d have fled Baker Street in disarray. Reflecting on this, Keene felt a deep sense of relief. At first, he had no idea what secrets lay hidden in the underground, nor had he expected to encounter a half-god. Yet, he had still adhered strictly to the principle of the master of secret figures, maintaining rigorous self-discipline, thus successfully avoiding the exposure of his performance. Bekkan is indeed a dangerous place—just a slight lapse and things go awry... As Caine sighed, he found himself unconsciously sipping away at the magic of his "Master of Secret Figures" long before he realized it. Once his composure returned, he muttered to himself, "So the one is still on Berkland Street, likely hidden within Hae Yur's home, perhaps even right beside her. 'Hah,' if that half-god had arrived just a couple of minutes earlier in my dreams, he would have seen 'The Serpent of Fate,' Will Onsait. Though Will, a Sequence 1 angel in his early stages, is relatively weak compared to Ulrolius and the other angels, that doesn't make him any less formidable. Against a stealthy figure who can't even directly parasitize Hae Yur, he should find the encounter manageable—without mentioning his other abilities, simply revealing his full mythic creature form would already inflict serious damage upon the already frail Hae Yur. "I'm certain Willy O'Shane had a clear sense of timing—choosing this very moment to avoid being intercepted by other half-gods. "Unfortunately, I still haven't managed to convey to the 'Thief' half-god just how dangerous it is to intrude upon dreams at random in Beckett... Leonard must have firsthand experience with that. "克莱恩收敛了思绪，装作若无其事，借助冥想重新进入沉眠。待天边朝阳初升，他自然醒来，翻身坐起，化作格尔曼·斯帕罗的模样，轻声祈祷道： "…Please convey to the 'Recluse' lady that the angel has accepted the condition of 'renewing a certain level of strength during the brief recovery phase' and has agreed to conduct the transaction at the end of June or beginning of July. "You may inquire with Bernadette as to when I may meet her." After praying, Caine returned to Daven. Thénardier, rose and went to the bathroom to attend to his personal matters. Only after brushing his teeth and washing his face, feeling remarkably refreshed, did he take four steps backward, stepping into the gray mist, and transformed the content of his prayer into an image, projecting it into the deep red star symbolizing the "Recluse." Though she questioned whether, with her own depth of knowledge, her mastery of esoteric studies, and her array of magical artifacts, she could comfortably outshine Frank Lee, who had been chosen as a Druid, she found herself doubting the simplicity of the matter when recalling his imaginative ideas and his astonishing practical abilities. She didn’t want to show up at the Tarot Gathering atop the gray mist with a watermelon growing on her head and wheat sprouting all over her body. Fortunately, he still hadn’t developed the Druid’s elixir formula—so for now, there was no immediate concern about his advancement to Level 5. Giselle adjusted her glasses and comforted herself with that thought. At that moment, however, the ethereal gray mist swirled around her, and the voice of Germaine Sparrow resonated in her ears. Had the angel agreed? Giselle’s expression, once composed as the "Starborne," softened instantly, and a warm smile broke through. Once she secured that drop of mythical creature’s blood, she would be very close to achieving the status of a half-god. — She already possessed a "mystic" potion formula and had accumulated contributions prior, securing a primary material from the Morse Monastic Order. As for the remaining one, she knew exactly which channel to reach and how to obtain it. By July—by July… Gauthier pressed her lips together, her gaze, shining through the thick lenses of her glasses, slowly swept the length of the captain’s cabin. On a Thursday morning, shortly after concluding a lecture in classical literature, Kline heard the layered, ethereal voices of supplication. Ascending through the gray mist, he found the supplicants to be the "Recluse" Gauthier. This "Star General" had requested that the "Fool" convey to the "World" that the "Mystic Queen" had agreed to their request. Should he be in Bekland, they were to meet at 11 p.m. on the southern bank of the Tassok River, near the bridge entrance, tonight. Bernadette still remained in Bekland… Kline manifested Germain Spalro and gave a clear affirmative. At 10:58 p.m., he entered the restroom and drew out a paper figure from his pocket. Plink! Klein shivered, and the paper figure transformed into Daven Tancé, seated on the toilet, holding a book, as though lost in thought. Then, he seemed to shrink by three to four centimeters, his face growing leaner and his features more defined—now clearly becoming General Man Spalro. Immediately, the gloves on his left hand became transparent, and countless ethereal shadows appeared within. Klein then observed that the colors around him first grew rich, then became distinct, layering one upon another, while himself gradually faded into the realm of reality. He swiftly moved through the spirit world, constantly adjusting his orientation according to his sense of direction—and within just a few seconds, he appeared at the entrance of the Beckland Bridge on the southern bank of the Tassok River. The night was deep, the bridge quiet, with no pedestrians in sight, and only faintly visible a group of soldiers standing at a distance. Klein was just about to seek out the trail of the "Mysterious Queen" Bernadette when he suddenly saw slender, emerald-green bean vines dangling from above, weaving together to form a lush, dense forest. This "forest" stretched upward without an end—each vine forming distinct pathways, either crossing or spiraling—extending all the way into the sky. Klein paused only a moment before casually choosing one of the bean vines that curled into a suspended path, and began walking step by step. After an indeterminate length of time, he noticed the green plants forming hammock-like seats, gently swaying at high altitude. There, seated in that spot, was the "Mysterious Queen," dressed in a white Inthys-style shirt and a deep black jacket, a slender spike sword at her waist. Aside from not wearing her triangular cap, she was dressed in the standard attire of a sea captain. She didn't just appear in her black leather boots as she had when first meeting Sherlock Moriarty in Beckland—this time, her chestnut hair flowed naturally over her shoulders, her deep blue eyes gazing steadily at him, soft yet emotionally neutral. "Thank the presence behind you," she said. She does respect the Fool, doesn't she? Well, the questions I answered earlier must have cleared up several of her uncertainties... With the mask of Germán Sparrow still in place, Klein responded politely, "Certainly." Bernalde's gaze remained fixed, unblinking, as she asked, "What do you have this time?" Klein paused a moment, then delivered the carefully prepared words: "I would like to ask you to assist in presenting him as having been subjected to a prolonged erosion of his core strength by the Night's Church, specifically the Charnel Gate's seal." As he spoke, he summoned the "specter" Senyor to hover beside him. Bernadette gazed deeply at the upright "General Above the Blood," without asking Germain Spalro why he knew she had the means. She spoke calmly: "The seal cores of the Night Church's various chapels differ, and their states after erosion also vary. Is it the 'Night' path, or the 'Death' path, or another? Is it the parish's main cathedral, or a typical city-center cathedral?" She immediately ruled out the serene cathedral of the Night Church's headquarters, a place even the Archangel of Heaven dared not target. Recalling, Caine said: "The parish's main cathedral, the 'Night' path." The "Mysterious Queen" Bernadette nodded gently: "Then I can subject him to the corresponding erosion. However, this will effectively destroy your secret figure. Initially, he may function normally, but as the erosion deepens over time, he will gradually enter a state of slumber and never awaken again." "Can the period of complete erosion be extended as much as possible?" Klein held back his sorrow and asked, "The 'Lord of Blood,' Senior, is one of my most valuable personages!" Bernadette spoke calmly, "For the next two months, at the very least." Klein hesitated for a few seconds inside, then replied evenly, "Very well." He immediately placed his hand on his chest and bowed, "Thank you for your assistance." The mysterious Queen Bernadette said nothing further, turned her gaze, and extended her right hand, sketching out words that differed from the giants' language, the dragons' language, the elves' language, and the ancient Hermes tongue. These words shimmered like stars, weaving together into an unusual symbol, as though opening a secret gate to the deep realms of the spirit world. The gate unfolded, and a breeze flowed forth, revealing a man wrapped in white cloth. "Sleeping Horn," Bernadette said softly, yet with a quiet authority. The man, whose upper body was steady while his lower half seemed breezy, respectfully responded, withdrawing a human skull from within a white cloth. The skull's eye sockets were deep and dark, their bottoms barely visible; elsewhere, it bore numerous irregular holes, scattered with cracks, its surface pure and luminous, like jade. Bernadette took the "Soul's Horn" and glanced at Germain Spalro, saying, "You retreat at least fifty meters." Krain did not ask why, leaving Senior in place and swiftly departing along the path formed by the bean vines. After surpassing fifty meters, he suddenly heard a distant, serene, and melancholy melody, subtly tinged with sorrow. Instinctively, he raised his head and saw Bernadette seated with a slight bend in her waist and back, her chestnut hair gently swaying, her head bowed low, bringing the "human skull" close to her lips, and allowing the breath from each hole to flow out, weaving together a nocturnal symphony. That movement carried a quiet strength and a gentle sadness, spreading out slowly without disturbing the sentries guarding the bridge outside the pea-vine forest. Cain stood there, listening intently, and suddenly felt a deep longing for home. He was a traveler who had wandered for a long time—longing for, yet always just out of reach, the place he called home.