Previously, No. 36 Zothlan Street featured ashlar masonry on the ground floor, with two windows per floor enclosed in curved arches, forming a unified composition characteristic of buildings from the fifth century, around 1300 years ago—lighting was not particularly ample. The reconstructed version now has a small portico sheltering the ground floor, with two-story projecting windows on either side. The window frames feature delicate window surrounds and decorative column capitals supporting slender stone beams, above which a parapet bears the third floor. This is a three-story architectural style that has only recently become popular. For a moment, Leonard felt as though he had wandered into the wrong place. After hesitating for ten seconds, he took up his hand cane with silver-white metal inlay, stepped into No. 36 Zothlan Street, and then ascended the stairs, rounding the corner to see a large black door and a vertical sign reading: "Black Thorns Security Company." By now, he felt more at ease and began to walk briskly, pushing open the slightly ajar door. She stood the *Tinggen Daily Honest* upright on the table, its brown hair blocking her face. As the footsteps approached without concealment, she moved the paper, revealing her smooth forehead, light brown eyes, and pleasant features. "Good afternoon, Rosan," Leonard greeted, slightly hesitating. Rosan first displayed a look of surprise, then settled her expression into a notably cold demeanor. "Good afternoon," she said. "Congratulations on avenging your captainship and the others—Clyne." Leonard opened his mouth, unsure of how to respond; even the gesture of raising his hand to adjust his hat, which he generally disliked, proved difficult. He managed a small, faint smile, nodded slightly, and then remained silent, stepping forward past Rosan, preparing to enter the door separating the two spaces. Just as he was about to step into the office area, he suddenly heard Rosan whisper softly from behind: "Live well..." Leonard slowed his pace and nodded firmly. Upon entering the interior area, he immediately spotted Flea standing at the doorway of the captain's office. This "body collector" still bore the pallor of someone who had not seen much sunlight, with dark hair, blue eyes, a high nose bridge, and thin lips, exuding a cold, shadowed air. Leonard studied him for a few seconds, exhaled, and tried to smile with ease. "Long time no see." "Good afternoon," Flea replied, indicating the captain's office, "I've just received the telegram and am aware of your request. I'll have the two team members join you on this mission. Also, you'll need to complete a seal application form." Leonard responded with a look of mild astonishment. "You're the captain now?" You're not as quiet as you used to be, are you?" Leonard had already finished the "Soul-Soother" potion and was ready to advance to Sequence 5, "Spirit-Witch," but he had deliberately delayed reporting his progress to harness the power of that single drop of "Eternal Sunlight" blood. He had continued to soothe the spirits in the surrounding areas of Beckland, finally finding an opportunity to come to Tinggen. "Yes," Frey nodded gently. "I don't particularly enjoy speaking much, but as captain, I have to." Leonard nodded slightly. "When did you become captain? I never heard anything about it..." "Recently," Frey answered briefly before explaining. "You were gone not long after I became the Sequence 8 'Burial-Worker,' and last month I was finally promoted to 'Soul-Linker.' The previous captain had been transferred at that time." “So fast…” Leonard’s words trailed off as he clenched his fist and pounded it against his own head. “Look at my memory—how could I have forgotten to share some of my experiences with Klein and the others?” He lowered his right hand and turned to smile at Frey. “Then you still have time and room for growth. Who knows—you might one day become a steward as well.” Frey glanced at him, then looked away. “I probably won’t be seeking promotion anymore.” “Why?” Leonard took a few steps and came to stand beside Frey, his expression one of mild surprise. Frey looked up at the ceiling, his voice calm and steady. “I’d like to stay here. To keep protecting this place.” Leonard fell silent, offering no immediate response. He glanced around, noticing that the space had undergone significant changes, yet something fundamental remained unchanged. Frey remained quiet for a moment before adding, “I’ve sent two of my team members to follow you.” As he spoke, he walked toward the bottom of the corridor, and Leonard instinctively followed. Inside the office at the very end, the door was open, and several night shift staff were playing cards, engaged in a spirited game of battle against evil. Noticing the captain's approach, they all set down their cards and stood up. Leonard quickly scanned the room and spotted two familiar faces: Lo Yao, with smooth black hair and long, slender eyebrows, and Xiga, with white hair and dark eyes. At the same time, he noticed several unfamiliar faces, along with the coins, the Sule, and the scattered playing cards on the table. For a moment, he felt a bit dazed, his vision slightly blurred. In addition to these, its trunk bulged with clusters of spores, sending out thick, strong, white mycelial threads that resembled tentacles. Frank studied the giant mushroom closely, then surveyed the surroundings, taking in the wooden walls and floors adorned with mushrooms of various sizes, shapes, and lengths, and remarked to his colleague, Charles: "Indeed, this experiment has made further progress—the mushroom exhibits a strong self-replicating tendency, which will make it hungry and eager to feed on the flesh of the monsters. Either roasted or boiled, its vitality is eliminated, rendering it no longer dangerous. Hmm, how does it taste? Didn't you taste it just now?" Its offspring randomly develops beef, fish, or wheat flavors, some even brimming with rich milk—just one plant can satisfy a full breakfast. Look at this: the crew no longer drinks much wine; mushrooms are now everywhere, ready to be harvested. I wonder—when we venture into the wilderness, how often do we carry provisions or hunt game just to fill our stomachs? Isn't it much more convenient if mushrooms could grow directly on our bodies? "Frank spoke sincerely to the 'craftsman,' 'Without you, the mushroom would never have such a strong self-replicating tendency. Moreover, under moonlight, its vitality becomes exceptionally resilient, allowing it to self-purify and effectively neutralize the toxins accumulated by the devouring monsters. The only issue at present is that pure darkness lacks moonlight—this is the problem we must address next.' Charles said nothing. After exhaling, he suddenly stood up, turned, and rushed toward the outside. But thick, strong white mycelium strands rapidly spread out, wrapping and pulling him back. 'Give me back my magical items!' he shouted wildly, his voice gradually fading, as though his mouth were being blocked. At the same time, somewhere outside the fishing village, a series of greenish vines rapidly retracted, as if growing backward. From among them stepped Gauthier, the 'Lord of the Stars,' her eyes deep purple with streaks of silver-white." Still echoing in her ears were the ethereal murmurs from the "Hidden Sage," yet she no longer found them terrifying—no longer overwhelmed as before. Before her, countless shifting figures of indescribable form swam like shadows, layered upon one another in thick, veiled curtains, and unseen eyes seemed to watch from all directions. Compared to earlier, she now could faintly perceive the unknown beings hidden behind the curtains, and could even witness a succession of moons of varying hues drifting across the sky—some blood-red, others silver-white, deep brown, or deep blue—like eyes gazing down upon the earth. Gadeleia’s mind buzzed momentarily, and she quickly turned her gaze away, unable to bear the sight. Having interpreted the blood of the "Fated Serpent" and completed the ritual, she had now attained divinity, becoming a Sequence 4 of the "Seer" path—the "Mystic"! Yet she remembered the queen had once cautioned her: among the twenty-two paths, in all sequences four, the "Mystic" was the profession most prone to peril, as they frequently witnessed things that should not be seen, heard voices that should not be heard, and touched secrets that should not be touched. Thus, for a "Mystic" to live a long life, one must learn to temper curiosity and regulate corresponding behaviors. Removing the heavy spectacles clipped to her garments, she adjusted them onto her nose, yet the phenomena that did not belong to the real world continued to unfold before her eyes. With a mixture of self-mockery and satisfaction, she curled her lips, realizing that the spectacles could no longer seal her sight of hidden truths. Closing her eyes and then opening them again, the gaze within her had now turned deep black, no longer shimmering with the mysterious deep purple and silver-white hues. Ah… Giselle exhaled slowly, and moved steadily toward the "Future," as though she had merely stepped off the boat for a brief walk. She had no intention of making her ascension to semi-divinity known, nor did she wish to quickly emerge as the fifth ruler of the seas. To her, it was one of her most valuable assets in this perilous world—one she would rarely deploy. ... Nan Bridge District, Rose Street. As Emlyn’s carriage entered the street, he spotted a faint figure seated across from him—hair slightly disheveled, wearing a white shirt and black armor—seeming almost like a spectral spirit. "Long time no see, Mr. Marich," Emlyn said calmly. Marich gave a slight nod: "I’m here to inform you that we’re ready to discuss our specific course of action."