Leonard stared intently at the portrait of Sherlock Moriarty on the table, in his mind reconstructing the man without glasses, with a clean-shaven face. Though this might not perfectly match reality—merely a blend of guesswork and imagination—it only deepened his sense of familiarity, as if he had known this person before. "How is that possible? He's been dead for years! I even buried him myself!" Leonard shook his head, chuckling softly. Before he finished speaking, his expression suddenly stiffened, because the person he remembered wasn't ordinary—he carried significant secrets: This man could inexplicably escape the influence of "2–049," without any assistance from others! This man had used the unique properties of "2–049" to defeat a remarkable Agent of Rank 7, while he himself had only been a passive, non-combatant "Seer" at the time! He distilled the "Role-Playing Method" in a remarkably short span and was promoted to Sequence 8 at an extraordinary pace! He possessed a high-sequence Solar Domain sigil and, in collaboration with Captain Dene Smith—who used sacred ash—managed to defeat Meghios, who bore the offspring of a demon god! The Sequence 8 extraordinary ability of this individual was taken by Inz. Zangewell, while Captain Dene Smith's Sequence 7 extraordinary ability remained in place! Perhaps it wasn't merely a matter of Inz. Zangewell casually seizing an ability that had just crystallized, leaving a gap at the scene—rather, the corresponding entity had never materialized at all! Leonard Mitchell suddenly snapped back to focus, re-examining the portrait of Sherlock Moriati. After a few seconds, he managed to force out a name: "Caine Moretti..." The more he looked, the more he felt that the enigmatic detective Sherlock Moriati resembled his former teammate, the hero who had saved Tinggen, Caine Moretti! This is still the case, even though there are two strikingly distinct features—glasses and beards—between the two parties! Leonard's hands, his ten fingers now clenched tightly at some point, had turned each joint pale. After a while, he drew a clear, audible breath and picked up Sherlock Moriarty's files again. This time, his purpose was exceptionally clear—he directly turned to the approximate time of the other's arrival in Beckett: early September! Not long after the burial of Crane Moretti! Leonard Mitchell's emerald eyes grew even darker, instinctively flipping through the files further. Then, he spotted a name: Larnus! One of the planners of the Lingen city's divine entity descent event, the primary murderer behind the deaths of Dune Smith, Crane Moretti, and the other "Night Watchers." And the second recorded incident involving Sherlock Moriarty in Beckland was his investigation into a series of murders in the dock district, where he unexpectedly encountered the undercover Larnus! Subsequently, Larnus's attempt to establish the "True Creator" was thwarted, and he died in the underground tunnels, covered entirely in Tarot cards—a detail reminiscent of the later style of the "Thief," the Emperor Black. Still, he hadn't forgotten the harm this con artist had caused... Leonard murmured quietly to himself, his expression softening. He quickly flipped through the files again, sitting motionless in his chair, as if already asleep within the shadows cast by the lighting. After several minutes, Leonard finally shifted his posture, leaning back against the chair's backrest, and spoke in a low tone: "Old man, do you think Sherlock Moriarty, the detective, resembles my teammate in Tingen, Caine Moretti?" In his mind, the slightly aged voice hesitated before speaking: "The one involving the Antigonus family's records and the 'Night Watch' position?" "Right," Leonard replied in a steady tone. His internal parasite paused for two seconds and then said: "Somewhat similar." With that response, Leonard grew silent once again. After a long while, he produced his gold-case pocket watch, snapped it open, and glanced at the time—confirming it was still morning. He immediately closed the watch lid, stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over a stack of documents on the table. He quickly reached out to steady the papers, then left a note behind, stating that he had discovered a lead and intended to investigate—possibly returning only in the evening. Let me see—has someone impersonated the hero of Tinggen, or have you always been wearing a mask, a secret member of the "Night Watch," whose true intentions aren't any more noble than those of Inz. Zanggwerl, equally after the items behind the Charnes Gate? Leonard no longer carried his usual casual demeanor; his eyes narrowed, and he hurried away from beneath the sanctuary of Saint Samuel. Caine raised his walking stick, pointing at the building in front of him and smiled. "It has a strong sense of history." Senator Mahert nodded in response. "It's actually a revival-style building, but it itself has over a century of history..." As he spoke, he guided Doane Tan-Tahs into the club and addressed the receptionist. "Doane Tan-Tahs, an informal member—my recommendation." Then, turning to the wealthy man, he explained, "You never served in the Eastern Baylands, nor have you participated in any of the battles there. In fact, you're not even a military background, so you're not eligible for formal membership. However, as an informal member, you'll enjoy full access to the club, use its facilities freely, enjoy delicious food and beverages, and meet new friends." "That's exactly what I hoped for," Caine smiled and nodded. Only after the attractive lady of Southern Continent descent had completed her registration did Mahert add, "There's no membership fee—just an annual charge of sixty pounds." He chuckled, "That's not expensive at all, especially for you. Here, you can access all kinds of weapons, shoot at ample ranges, and even learn horsemanship..." For a club at this level, sixty pounds truly isn't much. After all, the place is often frequented by generals, and boasts several well-known chefs. Klein said little, simply opened his wallet, counted out sixty pounds to the receptionist, and received a badge bearing symbols of a forest, ocean, and sword. "This is a place filled with honor," he remarked, wearing the badge with its numeric back, and turning to Mahert the member. "I deeply admire your efforts in East Baylant. If I wish to contribute to this place, whom should I approach?" "Mr. Mahert indicated toward the front waitress. 'Just give her the gift,' he said. 'She'll record it and post it on the bulletin board there.' Mr. Kline nodded gently. 'Very well,' he replied. He then turned slightly, and with a gesture, asked his personal servant, Richard, to present the prepared sum of five hundred pounds. After the donation, Mr. Kline followed Mr. Mahert through the ornately decorated hall to a room resembling a sitting room, while his personal servant, Richard, was left behind in the adjacent lounge, where light refreshments, tea, and coffee were available. In the smaller room, Mr. Kline met five officers—some retired, others currently serving—introduced by Mr. Mahert. Among them, the highest-ranking figure was Calvin, a brigadier general in the army, currently working at the Roon Ministry of Defense, though his exact position remained unclear. According to Mr. Kline's knowledge, a colonel-level officer within the military who holds such a senior status was likely exceptional, probably belonging to the mid-tier of the hierarchy. Machet and Calvin soon began chatting casually, and Kline didn't feel the need to interrupt, listening attentively as they exchanged ideas, only occasionally adding a few words of his own. In this relaxed atmosphere, Calvin suddenly turned his head and looked at Doane Thon: "Have you heard that you used to be active in the west of Bayland?" The colonel had a rather plain, donkey-like face, yet it was far from comical, and his gaze was deeply thoughtful. Kline smiled and replied: "Yes, the west is actually more chaotic than the east." Calvin chuckled. "Of course—because the Intis have made too many mistakes there." He paused, then asked: "How would you say your relationship with the Intis there is?" Kline wasn't quite sure of Calvin's intent, so he answered as best he could: "It's decent—though they're all quite greedy." In truth, he didn't know any of them personally, having only heard a few names and stories mentioned by Anderson. Calvin nodded and then asked another question: "Are you familiar with the tribes there, with the rebel forces?" "...Partially," said Cline, responding vaguely. He knew only one leader of the rebels from Intis—the former Princess of Intis, the "Mysterious Queen" Bernadette. Calvin smiled, lifted his red wine, and took a gentle sip. During this time, no one else—nor even the Member Mahet—spoke. Setting down his glass, Calvin turned again to Dauin Tangtse and said: "Each year, we eliminate many guns and cannons, either by scrapping them or repurposing them. Either way, it's either wasteful or too costly—neither is a particularly good solution. Have you any interest in purchasing a batch and selling them to the west of Bayran, to the regions under Intis rule, to the tribes and rebel forces?" "Believe me, this is absolutely a profitable venture—though it's also quite dangerous. If the Intis capture you in Xibayang, we won't acknowledge your service to us." That's... that's asking me to become a arms dealer? One of the most lucrative businesses indeed... Although I'm not very familiar with Xibayang, and have no connections there, I can still sell the goods to the 'Mysterious Queen,' to the resistance forces of the Rosted Islands... A spark of inspiration lit up in Cline's mind as he deliberately conveyed a complex, somewhat contradictory tone. "I haven't done anything like this before, but it's certainly compelling." Calvin chuckled heartily. "Don't rush your decision—this is a matter of significant importance and deserves serious consideration. Just let Mahet know your answer by the end of this week." Cline subtly exhaled a sigh of relief, smiled, and nodded. "Alright." ... ... Tinggen City, at the Rafael Cemetery. Although the afternoon sunlight was quite intense, many areas here remained shady and cool. Leonard stood before a tomb, quietly gazing at the stone plaque. PS: The ferry arrived at shore at 6 a.m. local time, which is 12 p.m. Beijing time—let's just update it. I'm tired.