Hearing Caine's question, the infant wrapped in silver silk lifted his chubby arms and spread them out, saying, "I can't do much—I'm still inside my mother's body! The crane made of paper, though it can't write anymore, can still help me locate you. Whenever something happens, I'll notify you!" Caine had anticipated such a response from Will. Ongenthein, so he maintained his posture and smile, explaining, "The crane has already sustained a slight damage; I suspect there might be issues with the location tracking." Immediately afterward, he proposed a suggestion: "Perhaps, after you're born, you could summon my messenger and send me a letter." He was concerned that Will. Ongenthein's birth might be accompanied by some unusual circumstances, which might force this "serpent of fate" to relocate while still in infant form—thus making it truly impossible to stay in contact. Inside the black stroller, Will. Aunsett opened his mouth, then closed it again, and for a moment, said nothing. After several seconds, the infant spoke softly, his lips slightly flattened. "Does this feel real to you? Not only having a newborn write a letter to you, but also arranging ceremonies and summoning messengers?" Klein chuckled dryly. "But you're the 'Snake of Fate,' aren't you?" "Then we must still respect the natural laws!" Will. Aunsett waved his arm and tapped the cushion beside him. The infant paused and then suggested, "Here's an idea—have someone stationed here. As soon as a newborn is born, they should immediately inform you." Klein glanced around, his eyes moving from side to side. "Alright." In this regard, he had more than enough "people" to draw upon—Sharon could hire mob members, messages could be relayed through messengers, he could assign work to the usually idle Emlyn White, enlist Miss Hoo to assist, and the outcomes would be reported to "The Magician" Miss Gorman Spalro. Meanwhile, "The Mirror" Araldus could keep a watchful eye on the surroundings and provide updates through his one-line communications. Yet Emlyn had a keen sense of smell—perhaps he’d already detect the scent of umbilical blood outside the house, even discern its essence. If so, it might strike him as if he were witnessing mythical creatures, leading to a loss of rationality, mental breakdown, and bodily transformation. While Wil昂赛汀's cradle was still in the shade, Caine hurried to ask: "I have someone—well, a teacher, whom I haven’t seen in a while. Could you take a look at his current fate?" "He's Azk Egers." Since Mr. Azk had never replied, Caine couldn't help feeling a bit concerned. He had previously performed divination on the Gray Mists using a bronze whistle, but all he saw was a deep, quiet darkness, and only a continuous, distant, resonant breath—no clear meaning emerged from the dream. Will Oncetin sucked his thumb and said, "He's in a state of transition—this could be good or bad, depending on the specifics. As it is, you can only see this far because there's something particularly special about your teacher." What a special thing? Something directly stemming from the divine nature of Death? A state of transition? Did this mean Mr. Azk had regained more memories, and was once again restoring his strength through sleep? Caine nodded thoughtfully and said, "Thank you for your explanation." Will Oncetin immediately turned his head to look toward the side. Klein thought for a moment, then added, "As far as I know, Amun has arrived in Beckland—though likely in the form of a duplicate." Will. Oncetin paused, then chuckled, "To you, this is a setback, but to me, it's quite favorable. Amun and Ululius, that dull serpent, are absolute rivals—no, more precisely, Amun holds deep hatred toward the 'True Creator,' constantly striving to dethrone Him. Ululius, on the other hand, remains loyal to that evil deity." With that, the black stroller retreated back into the shadow within the mirror, and everything returned to normal. Does Amun harbor hatred toward the 'True Creator'? I'm growing more and more convinced that the 'True Creator' was one of the participants in the ancient solar deity's division—perhaps even the dark infant at the heart of the Storm, the Pure White, and the Wise Angels... Klein exhaled, took a few steps forward, and turned on the faucet to wash his hands. Klein didn't immediately meet Colonel Calvin with the驴 face, but after placing the leather box containing ten thousand pounds in the heavy safe, he followed the Member of Parliament and enjoyed the buffet offered by this premier club. The menu featured distinctive South American specialties: cheese bread made from cassava flour, ice cream poured with purple hibiscus juice, a mixed seafood soup seasoned with coconut milk and palm oil, beef offal stewed with black pepper, tomatoes, and onions, Haga-style grilled meat, a hearty soup from the Pas Valley, and fried steak and grilled squid. Compared to other establishments, the ingredients used here were exceptionally high-end, and the flavors were authentically South American. Klein found himself thoroughly satisfied—had it not been for the need to maintain his image, he would have thoroughly enjoyed every bite of Haga-style grilled meat and a serving of purple hibiscus ice cream. Indeed, I prefer heartier fare... Today's highlight was the aperitif—I almost thought it was a light fruit juice, hadn't Mahert the member of parliament casually mentioned it was a more robust style. The pale golden liquid features two slices of lemon, a few crushed ice cubes, sweet with a subtle acidity, completely free of wine notes, refreshing and instantly soothing the body's heat. Klein places the napkin on the plate and savors the moment. Meanwhile, Mahert, who has just returned from the restroom, smiles and leans in close to Daven Touta's ear: "The room we used earlier." "Understood," Klein says, rising to first visit the room with the safe, where he retrieves a small leather box containing one thousand pounds in gold notes, before proceeding to the sitting room where he had previously met with Colonel Calvyn. Calvin, with his donkey-like face, had been waiting there, glanced at the small leather trunk in Dunstan de Tancrède's hands, and smiled as he rose. "You are indeed a man of action," he said. "I greatly admire your proactive approach." As he spoke, he extended his right hand and shook it firmly with the now silver-haired Dunstan de Tancrède. Klein deliberately paused, organizing his words, and after a few seconds said, "I'd like to head to the southern continent, specifically to Xibayan, soon." Seeing that both Colonel Galvin and Senator Mahet had shown some surprise, he added, "There are certain matters that simply don't work well when accompanied by a large quantity of military supplies—preparation is essential to ensure a smooth transaction. 'Honestly, I can't afford to overlook this. It's a business worth several thousand pounds.' My plan is this: I'll first go to Xibayan, reach out to potential customers, resolve any immediate obstacles, and then, at the agreed-upon time, send you a telegram to coordinate the pickup of goods at the eastern border of Xibayan." Colonel Galvin pondered a moment and then said, "You can send me a telegram after June 20. I'll provide you with specific details then. In the meantime, as soon as I receive your telegram, I'll immediately notify the officers there, who will then instruct the designated individuals to go to the warehouse and present the agreed-upon signal and password." "Um... do you need any protective support personnel during this period? When are you planning to depart?" I just want to head to Xibian and find a place outside the Rosicrucian school—everything else I'll let Daniz handle. As for departure, of course I'd like to leave and arrive today, but that might raise suspicion. After thinking for a few seconds, Kline replied: "For now, we don't need any. In certain regions of the Southern Continent, such support personnel themselves can become a primary source of conflict. Rest assured, I have many friends in Xibian. Without any valuable cargo, safety is well guaranteed. As for the timing of our departure, my answer is: the sooner, the better." Colonel Calvin thought for nearly a minute, then slowly nodded. "After dinner tomorrow, I'll send someone to fetch you. The military has a flying boat transporting supplies and personnel to the Dici Gulf, from where it's only a short boat ride to the Southern Continent. Under good conditions, we can reach there in two or three days. Even if storms delay us and some routes need to be rerouted, we'll arrive within a week." "Thank you," said Kline, sincerely rising to bow. In his view, following the military out of Beckland represented a safe, unquestioned option. After discussing a few additional details, Kline stood to leave, joining Senator Mahert and returning to the hall to prepare for departure. At the hall, near the self-service dining table, ten or so men—some in uniform, others in business attire—were gathered around, each holding a glass of wine, chatting about the latest rumors. Kline glanced over, and suddenly felt that one of the figures seemed familiar. The man was over 1.85 meters tall, but under 1.90, with slightly longer arms and a moderate outward tilt in his legs. His shoulders were unusually broad, creating a tight fit in his black formal suit. In an instant,克莱恩's thoughts raced, and his mental focus suddenly sharpened—he recalled the source of the familiarity: This was the half-deity he had met that evening with "Mad Captain" Connors! The half-deity seemingly serving a particular royal faction, leading the population trafficking operations! Though at the time, this high-tier strength wore a black cloak, obscuring his face and hindering the divination,克莱恩 had memorized his physical build. This was precisely the half-deity's specialty!