Bekkan, North District. On a night when the red moon was veiled by layers of cloud, the world was dark, save for the faint glow of gas streetlamps along the sides of the streets, illuminating the paths ahead and the doorways of nearby homes. At number 7 on Pinstreet, the mailbox stood quietly at the border between light and shadow, bathed in the cool breeze blowing from the side, as if already asleep. At that very moment, its delivery slot suddenly overflowed with newspapers, bills, and letters sent by unknown hands. These items seemed to be gently lifted by an invisible hand, floating in midair and drifting toward the door, slipping through the gaps to enter. Inside, in the foyer, the newspapers unfurled on their own, swiftly turning through their pages until reaching the final edition, then settled at random upon chairs, stacking neatly with those that had arrived before. Invoices and letters continued their inward flight, entering the living room. The invoices soon came to a stop, shook slightly, and then drifted slowly to rest on the surface of the coffee table, neatly arranged. The letters shed their envelopes—those with envelopes removed them, while those without swiftly unfolded themselves, gracefully assuming their posture in midair. After a while, some of the letters began to drift toward the first-floor study shelves, others surged toward the scissors, assisting them in tearing themselves into fragments, which then lined up and flowed into the bathroom, being flushed into the toilet. Plunk! The mechanical button of the toilet sank automatically, sending the paper fragments down the drain. 7 Prestwick Street now resumed its quiet, unremarkable state—just like any other house that was unoccupied. South Continent, East Byrane, the city of Gularin. Leonard Mitchell, who had only recently arrived, was resting in the accommodation arranged for him by the local night church. Suddenly, the slightly weathered voice in his mind spoke up: "Boy, you have an important letter." "What letter?" While softly asking his question, Leonard had already formed a guess. Only one—or perhaps two—people could send important letters to 7 Prestwick Street without caring whether someone was there: Caine Moretti and Daven Tancred. As for the old man, Palis Zoroastre, who, despite the turbulent sea and half the northern continent, could clearly read the contents of the letters received at 7 Prestwick Street, Leonard likely had a good idea, since he had once helped Palis capture a ghost. His judgment was: Palis must have split off a "thread of time" and embedded it within that ghost, turning it into his eyes, ears, and mouth on the northern continent. At that moment, Palis Zoroastre answered his earlier question: "Caine Moretti's letter stated that Daven Tancred spotted the traces of Inz Zangewell on the island midway through the turbulent sea en route to the southern continent." Leonard fell silent, his mouth opening slightly but unable to utter a word. After a long pause, he spoke in a slightly hoarse voice: "He truly hasn't forgotten his vengeance... 'What can I do?' " "What can you do? You're only at Sequence 6. Even though Iness Zangwei hasn't mastered the '0–08,' you have no qualification to seek vengeance against him. All he needs to partially reveal his mythic bioform, and you'll either collapse under the pressure or go mad. Your chances of successfully avenging yourself are zero—this is the very transformation that divinity brings." Paleis Soloyasde said with serious tone. He paused, then chuckled lightly: "Good thing you've grown more self-aware than before. In the past, you would have immediately said you wanted to pass Iness Zangwei's intelligence to the Church and join the tracking and pursuit team. Now, you simply ask—what can you do?" Leonard tried several times to object, but never managed to speak. Palace Soloyasde continued: "Right now, all you can do is provide information about Caine Moretti to the church, wait for his reply, and then carry out the corresponding actions as outlined in that reply." "Will you not make an exception and inform the church of Inz Zangweil's movements?" Leonard asked, his voice low with surprise. Palace Soloyasde chuckled warmly: "No need to rush—do it when the moment arrives. '0–08' may enjoy causing trouble for its current holder, but it truly doesn't want to return to its sealed state. As soon as you inform the church of Inz Zangweil's whereabouts and initiate the pursuit, '0–08' will immediately become aware and take appropriate measures. This is something you need to remind Caine Moretti of." Leonard paused a moment, then said: "Old man, you seem to know '0–08' quite well! I never noticed this before!" Paler's slightly weathered voice chuckled: "Of course I'm familiar with it. During the Quaternary Period, '0–08' was responsible for the fall of angels. I can't tell you much more, because the moment you learn about it, it learns about you—the more you understand it, the more likely you become part of its story." Leonard truly grasped the terror of '0–08' from the old man's vague words—a terror that now surpassed anything he could comprehend in esoteric traditions. After a moment's reflection, Leonard habitually asked: "Then, how can I hint to Caine Moretti without drawing the attention of '0–08'? Or, even if it does notice, how can I ensure it only gains a superficial understanding, so that I remain merely a passing figure in its narrative?" Before the words fully settled, Leonard clenched his hands tightly and bit down on his teeth, not waiting for the old man's reply, but continuing on his own: "Indirect hints?" Tell him that I will not be passing on the whereabouts of Insch Zangwei to the Church at this time… I believe he will understand from this situation that there is something amiss, that we must be more cautious than ever, and that even if he cannot decipher it, his own secret organization has members well-versed in the Fourth Age who can provide assistance. "Also, simply write a standard sentence: 'You know it, and it knows you'—do not mention '0–08'; use pronouns so that Caine can guess what is specifically meant." Palis Soloyasde listened quietly and smiled softly, "People have to have pressure to grow." Leonard exhaled, sat up, retrieved paper and pen, and put down the message in writing. Then he arranged the ritual and summoned the messenger of Germain Spalro. …… The Stormy Sea, Mid-Island, aboard a passenger ship moored at the dock. Many visitors never disembarked, huddled in the lower cabins, waiting to reach the southern continent and begin their hopeful new lives. ——Even with only a few days' fare, it was extremely difficult for the people of Roon, driven into this risky venture, to gather the means. Unlike them, Klein, who played the role of wealthy D'Artagnan, resided in a spacious, clean, and luxurious first-class cabin, lighting a candle to read the letter just delivered by Renette Tintinac. "We will not immediately inform the Church of Ins. Zangewell's whereabouts... For Leonard, while the source of information may pose some risk, it is not yet to the point of being impossible... He joined the 'Red Glove' precisely to seek revenge, isn't he? That gives him a solid reason not to report Ins. Zangewell at this moment..." Klein mused, glancing at the remaining text on the letter. "Once you know it, it knows you too." "Suddenly, Caine exclaimed, 'Hmm,' feeling that this description was familiar. 'This is very much like the Hidden Elder's way—whatever is said, it is surely known. So, is the '0–08' a seal that viewers pass through? Does Leonard refrain from informing the Church precisely because of this concern, hoping for a better moment? This must have been conveyed to him by the old man within him...' Caine nodded thoughtfully, relieved that he hadn't asked Renette Tiniel for assistance earlier. For the messenger, this was equally perilous. 'Moreover, most importantly, I haven't even prepared anything yet. If I rely solely on the help I've summoned, my plans might be detected prematurely by the '0–08,' who would then orchestrate a series of coincidences and make targeted arrangements...' Caine sighed silently, aware that he should take action, yet unsure of where to begin." From the standpoint of enhancing his own capabilities, the acquisition of materials corresponding to the cunning arts and the spirit-world raiders depends entirely on the follow-up requests from the Head of Silver City, and on how long the "Magician" lady takes to receive specific location details from her teacher—both of which are external factors beyond Klein’s control. He can only do what he can: quickly absorb the "Master of Secret Figures"’s potion. Once the "Rule of Performance" has been largely summarized, practical execution becomes more crucial. Therefore, Klein believes he needs to secure two Secret Figures within a short timeframe. Previously, he had delayed because he lacked clear targets, and since he was based in Beckland with a group of servants, ordinary secret figures were hard to conceal. Now, as he approaches the southern continent, he has decided that regardless of circumstances, as long as someone proves to be a villain worthy of being hung, he will first transform them into his own Secret Figures, and only later replace them when better targets emerge. Perhaps using ordinary seers to accomplish more complex tasks could even accelerate digestion... Hm, my current requirements for seers have been lowered to a minimum—just a basic understanding of the language is sufficient. Then I won’t need additional translators, since sensory sharing is possible. Klein made a swift decision to write to Leonard Mitchell only once he had further plans. ………… East Baryan, the city of Gularin. Klein carried his suitcase and stepped onto the dock, setting foot on the southern continent. He gazed at the tiered urban districts built upon the hills, silently murmuring to himself, “When I leave, I’ll need two seers.” Before that, however, there was one more task to complete—disengaging the military’s discreet ‘followers’. The two gentlemen possessed quite excellent espionage skills, yet to Klein, they seemed no different from fireflies glowing clearly against the night sky, because no matter how well they disguised themselves, Klein could instantly recognize them thanks to the "Faceless Man's" keen observational and memory abilities regarding human physical traits and facial characteristics.