Chapter 9 - 9

Chapter 40 AmonTitle of the Book:Mystery: From Apprentice to High-Dimensional OverlookerAuthor's name: BambooChapter word count: 3340 wordsUpdate time: 2022-10-03 15:30:07

He knows?

How could he possibly know!?

After understanding the meaning of that sentence, Douglas froze in place as if struck by lightning.

He wanted to rush over, grab Amon's collar and shake him, asking him lots of questions to thoroughly understand the truth of his "travel through time". But his remaining rationality told him that this was a High-Sequence Expert that he could not afford to offend, so he had better not do anything radical.

After getting through the first few seconds of dizzying shock brought about by this news, which was like a heavy blow to the head, Douglas became unusually calm.

Thinking about it carefully, Amon said that he could steal the thoughts in my mind, so there is no reason why he couldn't steal my past memories. After all, it is impossible for me to feel the actions of a Sequence Three, so I cannot rule out the possibility that he is getting something for nothing...

Just as he was thinking this, Amon sighed obviously, or rather deliberately.

"Why do you think I'm willing to sit down with you and discuss a deal instead of directly threatening you with the lives of those people downstairs?"

As He spoke, He raised His hand and snapped His fingers.

With a "pop", the flame of the gas lamp in the room suddenly shook twice, and then suddenly went out.

Douglas could see through the window behind Amon that the lights and lamps in all the surrounding houses, even the street lamps, were all swallowed up by darkness the moment the fingers snapped.

The crimson moonlight poured down, accompanied by many voices of surprise and confusion. Some people had already walked out of their homes to check the situation nearby, or discussed this sudden accident with their neighbors.

Douglas took a breath as he heard the faint whispers coming from outside the window. He said in a trembling voice, "This, this is the North District of Backlund! This is the jurisdiction of the Church of Evernight!"

"So what?" Amon asked back.

Douglas choked for a moment. This was the first time that Amon showed his willingness to threaten during the conversation, and he seemed to be fearless. He couldn't confirm whether the other party was pretending, but he would never gamble with the lives of innocent people in the entire neighborhood on Amon's conscience, not to mention that they included his only family in this world.

He immediately made a decision and pleaded, "I understand. Please, uh, please forgive my offensive speculation. I will cooperate!"

"very good."

Along with Amon's slightly smiling voice, the stolen candles were returned in the blink of an eye. After a few cheers and sighs, the ordinary people outside the window returned to their daily lives safely.

The brightened room did not bring Douglas any sense of security. He could feel the cold sweat sliding down his forehead. In fear and awe, he unconsciously recalled an old advice:

"You shall not tempt God"!

He learned from Roselle's diary that in ancient times, those of Sequence 2 and above could be called subordinate gods. Although Amon had not yet reached the rank of angel, he was only one step away. No matter what, he had no choice but to obey the other party... A huge mixture of powerlessness, fatigue, fear, and grievance accumulated in his chest, making him feel like he couldn't breathe. He glanced at the notarization document on the table, which was covered with the symbols of the Sun Realm, and didn't know what fate would await him.

"I allow you to ask one last question." Amon, sensing his negative emotions, raised a finger and waved it in front of him. "Don't be afraid. I have always been, uh, always a tolerant person."

Well, at least that's what the result shows... Douglas barely pulled himself together and sorted out the information Amon had revealed before. Suddenly, he noticed a blind spot and asked respectfully, "You said that there are many people who have the same experience as me... Then why did you choose me?"

Amon replied easily: "Because you are lucky enough."

...Lucky? Douglas almost couldn't help but look up to confirm whether the other party was joking. He couldn't help but recall his experience since he traveled through time. Not only was he almost killed at the beginning, but he was also targeted by demons one after another recently, attacked by the evil god statue, and troubled by the old boss of the secret organization, and was forced to be a traitor... How could this be lucky?

He was full of doubts, but Amon had no intention of further explanation. He pointed at the notarial certificate with his finger and said, "In the extraordinary world, high-level knowledge represents power, but also pollution. There are many things that you are not qualified to know with your sequence, such as the 'truth' that you care about most.

"So in order to complete this deal, I will help you improve your sequence until you can bear the corresponding information."

Receiving the surprised look, Amon smiled and pushed the monocle on his right eye, looking nonchalant: "I told you, this deal is very beneficial to you. All you have to do is recite my honorable name and become my believer; and do not take the initiative to tell others about my existence."

"Become your... believer?" Douglas repeated in a completely incomprehensible manner, his expression suddenly becoming strange, "Well, I, my current social identity is a clergyman of the Church of Mother Earth, and also a shallow believer of Mother Earth..."

Although he was a shallow believer, the environment he had lived in for more than 20 years in his previous life made it difficult for him to be so-called "pious" to believe in God - even if this was an extraordinary and prosperous world. Douglas's shallow belief in the Mother Earth Goddess was more like finding a company with a corporate culture that suited his taste. He had no extra emotions other than fulfilling his duties. Even if he had any, it was for colleagues like Anthony, not the gods above him.

But Amon's request for him to become a believer obviously would not be so perfunctory... Douglas doubted whether he could do it.

"You can keep your job and social connections, and they won't find out anything." Amon, who had already investigated everything, calmly arranged, "But at least during the transaction, I must be the only one you believe in. As for how to become a qualified 'believer', you can treat it as a performance and digest it slowly."

Acting? This can be acted? Douglas was confused for a moment, then decided not to think too much, since Amon said it was possible, then it can be done!

"Finally, you can use the notarized document to impose a restriction or requirement on me."

As Amon spoke, the blank space surrounded by many symbols on the notarial certificate began to show the corresponding ancient Hermetic language, which was divided into two columns on the left and right, clearly stating the obligations and remuneration of both parties to the transaction. After a brief thought, Douglas looked at Amon and said tentatively, "My request is... During the transaction, you cannot do anything to the people around me."

"Are you sure?" Hearing such a request, Amon keenly felt that the other party was trying to find some loopholes. "People around" was too vague, and "anything" was too broad… But He did not hate this kind of cleverness. It is better to say that no one likes the existence of loopholes more than Him. "Even if you regret it in the future, the content recorded in the notarization cannot be changed."

"Sure!" Douglas was the first to extend his hand, press it on the notarized document to communicate spiritually with this magical item, and solemnly swear according to the contents above.

This was the most direct restriction he could think of in a short period of time. After all, you couldn't just leave a saint there and ask a lawyer to plan it out. In a hurry, he could only expand the scope of the restriction as much as possible so that Amon would have no reason to attack ordinary people.

As each word was uttered, the symbols and magic signs on the right side of the notarial certificate lit up one by one, emitting bright and warm light. Those lights formed a seal-like image and were directly cast into Douglas's spirit, bringing a warm current.

Amon then established a contractual relationship with the notary. Both of them could feel that there was some subtle but invisible connection between them.

"Deal done."

"He" clapped his hands with relief, looked at Douglas, who had the words "life is meaningless" written on his face, and said, "Remember my honorable name: 'The one who manipulates the hands of time, the shadow of fate, the embodiment of fraud and mischief'…"

-

In the luxurious villa of Viscount Grallint in the Queen District of Backlund, a social evening commonly seen among the nobles was in the middle of progress.

As the host, Viscount Glint could not neglect any of the guests. After the opening dance, he would wander around the small circles with a cup of misty champagne, joining in the conversations, livening up the atmosphere, or introducing people to each other. He was busy for quite a while before he finally got some free time.

In the living room area with sofas, Grellant saw several of his familiar friends, including Audrey, the daughter of Earl Hall, Conse, the youngest son of Viscount Learson, and several other noble heirs, who were gathered together to discuss something. He handed the empty glass to a passing waiter, exchanged it for a glass of red wine, and walked over to greet his friends in a more relaxed manner: "It is an honor to see you enjoying this happy night as the host."

Seeing the host of the banquet coming, the friends naturally expressed their full welcome. After sitting down, Grellant leaned back in a casual manner and signaled his friends to continue the previous conversation while he took a short rest.

So Connor, who worked at MI9 and was the focus of the previous conversation, coughed twice and continued the previous topic in a slightly lowered voice: "The civil strife in Feysac this time is not simple. There are three forces in Feysac now, namely: the Einhorn family of the Feysac royal family, the Church of the God of War, and the apostate faction that colluded with the secret organization. In just one month, the royal heirs have been assassinated twice by the apostate faction, and now the atmosphere in their territory is very solemn..."

"Heh, the barbaric Feysac people have brought this upon themselves..."

"These northern giants were too greedy, and now they are reaping the consequences..."

"Does this mean we will have a chance to take back those fertile lands on the east coast of Balam?"

The full-scale war with Feysac had only been over for less than two years, and many people still remembered the hatred brought by that war. Many noble descendants like Connor who served in the military were on the cruel battlefield for the first time at that time. Therefore, after hearing the news of the civil strife in Feysac, many people took a gloating attitude towards the incident.

The slightly more mature Greylint focused on something more practical: "Apostates? In other words, this civil strife was caused by the split of the Church of the God of War?"

"This is the most direct reason we can see." Connor chose his words carefully. Although those present were all noble descendants of high status, it would not hurt to reveal a little inside information, but he was a major in the MI9 after all, and he knew which parts could not be said. "But - the Einhorn royal family also played an important role in this. If they had not had a rift with the Church of the God of War... In short, a nationwide civil war would have broken out in Feysac sooner or later."Chapter 41 Different ActionsTitle of the Book:Mystery: From Apprentice to High-Dimensional OverlookerAuthor's name: BambooChapter word count: 3837 wordsUpdate time: 2022-10-04 15:30:01

Intis Empire, Port of Fos on the coast of the Middle Sea.

With the dull and long whistle, the cruise ship Oasis slowly entered the port and docked at Dock No. 3. This cruise ship driven by steam propellers is still very young. It has been launched for less than three years. It has been working diligently between Intis and the southern continent, lingering in many islands with beautiful scenery and simple folk customs, and carrying batches of tourists, adventurers, and speculators.

The port of Foss where it docked had an even longer history. Ever since the reign of Emperor Roselle, the port of Foss had sent off countless expedition ships bound for the Sonia Sea and the Raging Sea. At the same time, as the port closest to Trier, the capital of Intis, it also undertook great trade and military functions, and the city of Foss had therefore achieved long-term prosperity.

As the cruise ship docked, the sailors on the dock skillfully worked with the crew to set up the gangway and waited for the passengers to file down.

Due to a heavy rain on the way back, the Oasis arrived at the port of Foss two hours late. Although the captain treated all passengers to a sumptuous dinner for free as compensation, it could not completely soothe the passengers' anxious mood.

You know, Foss Harbor handles a large number of tourists every day, and those relatively affordable hotels close to the port will not wait for late guests, but will serve on a first-come, first-served basis. The two-hour delay is likely to leave many tourists with nowhere to stay tonight, unless they are willing to spend more money to take a carriage to the city to find another place to stay, otherwise they will most likely have to spend an uncomfortable night in the lobby of the ticket company.

Therefore, the passengers' disembarkation was inevitably a bit hectic, with adults shouting and children making noises. The dock was crowded with people and was extremely lively for a while.

A tall man carrying a black leather suitcase pushed through the crowd, declined the sailors who offered to introduce him to the hotel and the sex trade, left the dock first, and walked quickly towards the horse-drawn carriage waiting for customers.

The driver closest to him immediately adjusted his felt hat, dusted off the corners of his clothes, and greeted him with a smile: "Sir, you must have been tired from the long journey. Would you like to take a ride and rest? I have been driving for twelve years. It is absolutely stable and safe! Where are you going?"

As he spoke, the driver took a look at the guest in the light of the gas lamp at the dock. The man was well-proportioned, with short brown hair. The exposed skin was a sunburned wheat color, but his facial features were typical of the northern continent, with a high nose and deep eyes. Combined with the man's decent clothing, the driver guessed that he might be a businessman returning from the southern continent. He smiled more attentively and extended his hand to signal the other party to hand over his luggage.

The man saw his intention, pulled back his hand holding the suitcase, rejected the driver's kindness, and said calmly: "Take me to the White Rose Hotel."

"No problem, sir. This way, please watch your step."

The driver helped the gentleman into the carriage, and he sat in the front seat in a good mood. He shook the reins to wake up the dozing horse, and turned onto the road into the city with the sound of horseshoes hitting paving stones.

In the clean and tidy carriage, Vetona Sid placed his suitcase on the seat opposite him, and his tense expression finally relaxed a little.

"This is Intis, the country ruled by Roselle, no, Senior Huang Tao..." He leaned back on the soft seat and looked out the window. Although it was late, the hotels, bars, some restaurants and grocery stores near the pier were still open. The three- or four-story buildings were crowded together, and many windows were lit with warm yellow lights. You could also hear the shouts of sailors and crew members calling friends while strolling on the street.

This is a part of the world that is no different from anywhere else.

Sid, or Zhang Wenheng, a survivor of the old days, looked at it for a while and murmured self-deprecatingly: "Well, it's too difficult to ask the senior time travelers to build this place into a modern metropolis..."

However, due to Roselle's great achievements, Intis is still the country he most wants to visit in person.

As a crew member of the "Elemental Dawn", Sid carried a bounty of 1,200 pounds, and was considered a well-known pirate. In order to get from the "Elemental Dawn" headquarters deep in the Sonia Sea to Intis without being hunted by sea adventurers and the navy, he spent nearly a month traveling between various islands and ships, and finally arrived at the mainland of Intis today.

It's a pity that this trip is not a simple tour, but a mission from a god... Sid raised his hand and rubbed his forehead, and began to think about the next plan.

The first step is to arrive at the capital of Intis, Trier... As a metropolis with a population of millions, the number of Extraordinary people and underground gatherings will be unprecedentedly large. In addition, due to the open customs of Intis and Roselle's outstanding contributions in literature, journalism, and mechanical equipment research and development, Trier is also a veritable cultural capital with numerous newspapers and publishing houses, a wide variety of publications, fast circulation, and wide dissemination.

During Roselle's reign, there was such a bad joke: in Intis, how fast could news come? It was so fast that before the axe fell on the neck of the former king Soren, the people of Brittany, the northernmost city of the country, had already heard the sound of the tyrant's head falling to the ground.

Such conditions, of course, make it easier for Sid to find those "travelers" who come from the same place as himself than in the vast ocean where information is delayed.

Thinking of this, he glanced at the black suitcase. It contained some of Roselle's diaries and original manuscripts provided by Bernadette, the leader of "Elemental Dawn" and Roselle's eldest daughter.

"Well, I'm sorry, senior. Anyway, no one can understand it except my fellow countrymen..." Sid recalled the colorful descriptions of the bed movements in the diary of this senior, and he looked away with a guilty conscience. We are all men, and it is normal to have expectations for certain things, but it is indeed a natural talent for the senior to play so extravagantly.

And who could have thought that I would interpret your long love story in front of your own daughter...Brother Huang Tao has done a lot of harm...

These diaries and manuscripts that have never been circulated in the market will be donated by Sid to the Mechanicus Church and the Memorial Museum through various channels to promote a large-scale Roselle Memorial Exhibition. At that time, he will contact the newspaper and put a huge and clear picture in the headline, a picture with English letters.

As for whether the newspaper would use a false propaganda headline such as "Shock! Only one step away from deciphering Rosel language" or "Getting closer to history and exploring the secrets of the consul's court", it was none of Sid's business. His only goal was to make the picture circulated as widely as possible.

"Travelers" from all over the world unite! He laughed to himself, closed his eyes and began to rest.

Before leaving the Dawn of Elements, he had just been promoted to Sequence 6 "Scroll Professor" with the help of Bernadette. This path always avoided the knowledge inculcation of the "Hidden Sage", and even with the protection provided by Bernadette, Cid did not dare to indulge himself. During the journey, he had no chance to "act", and could only rely on meditation day after day to calm his active spirituality.

-

At the same time, someone knocked on an inconspicuous wooden door in Trier, the capital of Intis.

With a creak, the door was roughly pushed open, and a pungent smell of tung oil and paint followed.

"Who are you and what can I do for you?"

Inside the door, Dulcinea was squinting at the newcomer. Her long hair was tied up high behind her head, with scattered gray hair falling on her cheeks that were accidentally stained with bright blue paint. She was wearing an apron that was so dirty that the base color could not be seen.

Her right hand, hidden behind the door frame, was quietly grasping the claw hammer on the cabinet beside the door. After experiencing several dangerous situations, she had become accustomed to preparing some heavy and handy tools nearby.

As a painter, it makes sense for me to carry a claw hammer for nailing picture frames, right?

The newcomer was standing in a bad position, and was almost squeezed against the wall of the alley by the door that was pushed outward. He moved himself sideways to get out of the gap, took off his hat awkwardly, revealing a mature and handsome face, and stared at her with a pair of calm blue eyes.

"Excuse me," the man whispered, looking around hesitantly, "Excuse me, are you... um, the founder of Hollywood?"

When he pronounced the word "Hollywood", his pronunciation was a little unclear and it didn't sound like Intis.

Dulcinea's eyebrows twitched: "...What? Please say it again and speak more clearly."

"I mean... uh," the man put his fist to his lips as if embarrassed, and then uttered an English word louder and more clearly, "Hollywood, right?"

He stared at her closely. The backlight made it impossible for him to see Dulcinea's subtle expression, so he could only wait anxiously.

Maybe it was just a coincidence. He thought with some disappointment, "Hollywood" is not a rare noun. Its original meaning in English is "holly woods", and it was originally used as a place name. If it weren't for the developed film industry, no one would pay attention to a small town in the wilderness of Southern California. Although he didn't find a similar root in the Intis language, there are still many parts of this world that he doesn't understand. Who knows if some languages ​​will give birth to similar words...

The silence of just one or two seconds seemed to be stretched to infinity. Finally, Dulcinea spoke:

"Do you like watching, 'movies'?"

The word "movie" is very stiff, being a crude combination of the two roots "thunder" and "shadow".

But those who understand will understand. The visitor's eyes lit up and he immediately answered, "I like it, especially the classics, such as 'Titanic'."

"Excellent." She stepped back and invited him in, tucking the claw hammer into her belt. "Don Dulcinea, my real name. How should I address you?"

-

When he regained consciousness, it was already daybreak. Douglas lay on his back on the bed, and in a daze for several minutes, he gradually recalled his experience of the previous night and did a somersault on the spot.

There was no second figure in the room, but his ugly face did not improve at all. Without looking carefully, Douglas could feel the mystical connection he had established with Amon, and the presence of Amon reminded him clearly that what happened yesterday was not a nightmare.

No, it was more like waking up and facing reality was the beginning of the nightmare... He activated his psychic vision and checked the room. Only after he confirmed that Amon had not left any traces did he relax a little. He threw himself back onto the bed and punched the innocent pillow next to him a few times.

"I can still sleep..." After madly attacking the pillow, he let out a long sigh, rubbed his forehead tiredly, and muttered in a low voice in the Loen language that did not have extraordinary power, "'God of Fraud and Mischief', fraud... I actually signed a contract with a God of Fraud! No, the fucking God of Fraud, does he have a brother who carries Thor's hammer?"

After unable to help but complain, Douglas closed his mouth tightly again, raised his head guiltily and looked around to make sure that the figure in the black robe did not appear suddenly.

There is always a risk in verbally teasing a saint, so just stop there… His mind was blank for a while, then he got up for the second time and decided to solve his living problems first before thinking about life problems. After all, he hadn't eaten last night.

It is a tradition in our country not to starve to death... He quickly washed, changed his clothes and went downstairs, and unexpectedly arrived at breakfast time. Mr. and Mrs. Thomas greeted him without any abnormality, and Verity sat on his left as usual. The maid Emma served him muffins with fruit and maple syrup. It seemed that no one noticed the abnormality of last night.

This made Douglas feel relieved. Not letting ordinary people get involved in the extraordinary world was the oath he made in front of the Holy Emblem in the Harvest Church, and it was also one of his sincere wishes.

It was not pleasant to have to bow down to others because of one's lack of strength, but it was still within Douglas's tolerance; but he could not accept that people around him suffered misfortune because of his own negligence. After finishing a normal breakfast and buying a Dixie pie on the way out, Douglas finally satisfied his appetite and hurried to the Harvest Church, and went into the reference room to search.

He vaguely remembered that he had seen the name "Amon" a long time ago. Finally, when he opened the sorted Russell diary, Douglas found the target at a glance.

[Mr. "Men" told me that in the Tudor Dynasty, there are five great nobles, Abraham, Antigonus, Amon, Tamara and Jacob...]Chapter 42 Slight AdvantageTitle of the Book:Mystery: From Apprentice to High-Dimensional OverlookerAuthor's name: BambooChapter word count: 3678 wordsUpdate time: 2022-10-05 17:35:45

He turned over in a half-asleep state and suddenly noticed that the mattress beside him was unnaturally dented.

As a well-trained intelligence officer, Terran awakened his consciousness and opened his eyes in an instant.

Then he saw Cortina huddled beside his pillow, sleeping in a defenseless curled-up position. Backlund's dim sunlight squeezed into this small room through the untightened curtains, casting an ambiguous warm color on her bare arms and neck.

Her long black hair covered half of her face, revealing only her soft eyebrows and eyes. They were so close that a faint fragrance lingered on the tip of Teren's nose. He moved his arm at his side, as if he wanted to reach out and pull Cortina closer and hold her in his arms.

However, the outstretched hand paused in the air for a few seconds and did not fall on her. It just pressed on the edge of the bed and helped Terran support his body and sit up.

As Tyron moved, the thin mattress creaked, waking Cortina up. She raised her hand with sleepy eyes to push away the hair blocking her forehead, watching Tyron turn over and get out of bed with his back to her, and hurriedly grabbed the neatly folded shirt on the bedside table and put it on.

"Don't come into my bed again."

"Hmm…" With one person missing, the bed suddenly seemed spacious. Cortina stretched out her body wantonly and moved to the center of the bed. She replied nonchalantly, "But I'm afraid of the dark."

Terran paused as he buttoned his shirt, then heard the witch's tittering voice behind him: "Just kidding."

Without waiting for his answer, she said to herself in a voice that both of them could hear clearly, "Didn't we often sleep together in the past? What are you afraid of?"

You wouldn't have run into my bed so disheveled before... In order to avoid meaningless quarrels, Tae-rin wisely swallowed his complaints, put on his clothes, and left the room after saying "Come down quickly for breakfast."

Cortina, who was left alone, rolled around in bed in boredom, but couldn't fall asleep. She simply got up in her dishevelled clothes and walked around the room.

She hadn't been back for a long time, but the room still looked familiar to her. As a lieutenant, Tyron's salary in MI9 was definitely not low, but he had been reluctant to replace the old furniture. The desk against the wall even had a puppy pattern carved with the tip of a compass when he was a naughty child.

Cortina ran her fingertips over the uneven scratches and cracked patent leather, then sat down at the desk, which was large enough for two people to work side by side. She casually took out a palm-sized dressing mirror and a small glass bottle from the drawer.

She pulled out the cork and spread the small amount of black viscous liquid in the glass bottle evenly on the mirror.

As the mirror was fully coated, the temperature in the room suddenly dropped slightly, and even the ray of sunlight that managed to get in turned pale.

Cortina, who was only wearing a thin nightgown, was not affected at all. She just lowered her head respectfully after seeing the strange purple-black light reflected on the mirror.

The purple-black light swayed and condensed to form a blurry image, as if someone was spying from behind the mirror. A vague and distorted voice came from behind the mirror, asking hoarsely, "How is the mission going?"

"Very smoothly." Cortina responded in a low voice. "The intelligence from the 9th Military Intelligence Department and the nobles have confirmed that although the Loen royal family has paid attention to the situation in Feysac, King Covington VI is weak and unable to check and balance the various factions within the military. The new party and the old nobles are fighting each other in the parliament, and they are temporarily unable to interfere in Feysac's internal affairs. At the same time, the elite forces of the Church of Evernight and the Church of Storm are still carrying out missions in the southern continent, and they are unable to affect the situation in Feysac in the short term."

"Very good." The figure in the mirror nodded slightly and gave new instructions. "Continue to lurk and seize any opportunity to provoke infighting among Loen's ruling class. Use political disputes to consume their attention and buy more time for our operations in Feysac."

After a pause, the man in the mirror smiled and said, "After this mission, you will become the head of the sect in Backlund. The potion for advancement to Sequence 5 has been prepared for you. I hope you will not disappoint me."

Outside the mirror, Cortina raised her head with excitement, her purple eyes flashing with restrained desire. She raised the corners of her lips and showed a bright smile that would make all men infatuated: "Thank you for your appreciation, Your Excellency 'Black Saint', I will not let you down."

After the brief exchange, she waved her hand and let the black flames engulf the empty glass bottle and the sticky liquid attached to the mirror. The smile on her face quickly disappeared. She threw the mirror back into the drawer, got up, tidied herself in the bathroom, and then went downstairs leisurely.

Terran, who had already sat at the dining table, poured her a cup of coffee and added much more cream than usual.

The secret communication that just took place upstairs did not escape the perception of this Sequence 8 "Sheriff". After all, within their "jurisdiction", they can easily sense the evil and corrupt forces. He pushed the plate of fried eggs to Cortina who was sitting opposite him and asked calmly, "You are not suspected, right?"

The gleaming silver knife and fork cut the white and tender fried egg, and the semi-solidified yolk spilled out from the cut. Cortina fiddled with the cutlery and said nonchalantly, "Maybe. Oh, there must be more than one secret agent of the Witch Cult in Backlund... But we don't need to care about this."

She forked half an omelette into her plate, her voice cold, "As long as revenge is successful, we can leave at any time and start a new life. With the Sealed Artifact '1-098', even the Witch Cult will not be able to find our trace."

Terran swallowed the food in his mouth without commenting. He heard Cortina continue to make arrangements: "Remember to send some informants to keep an eye on Douglas's actions."

"Are you worried that he might leak information to the church?"

"No, he cannot afford the consequences of being suspected by the church. The accusation about the 'Great Smog' is enough to bring him to the Inquisition." The witch took a bite of the edge of the toast stained with egg liquid and answered in a vague voice, "But I don't believe in his loyalty. He is very likely to have reached some kind of deal with Winkel Einhorn in secret, but as long as there are enough clues, he will be useless. By then..."

"I'll take care of it when the time comes." Terran nodded in understanding.

The following meal time fell into a harmonious silence, with only Backlund's rare sunlight quietly shining through the bay window.

-

The weather in Backlund today was too good. This was not good news for the vampires. Anthony did not breathe a sigh of relief until he entered the church. He held a thick handout under his arm and walked down the hidden stairs into the cool and comfortable data room.

What greeted him was a pile of books on the table, and Douglas popped his head out from behind the books to greet him.

Anthony raised an eyebrow in surprise, walked around the pile of books, and sat down on the right side of his colleague. "Good afternoon. I rarely see you so enthusiastic about learning since the end of the course."

Recalling the months of intensive language courses, Douglas grimaced as if he had a toothache. He glanced at the pile of things Anthony had placed on the table, closed the book in his hand, and asked, "Do you need to correct another homework? Sorry, I'm afraid I can't help you this time. I have to go out this afternoon."

As a visiting professor at Backlund University, Anthony taught two elective courses. He often received assignments from students. When he was too busy, he would ask Douglas to grade some of them for him at a price of half a penny per copy.

This is usually the job of a teaching assistant, and the teaching assistants in universities are usually outstanding students in the department. Professors will not let students work for free, and Anthony, who is not short of money, will not fleece his colleagues, so Douglas previously made a small amount of extra money by grading homework part-time.

"I know you have to cooperate with MI9's operations these days... Hmm?" Anthony slowly took out an ink bottle and a fountain pen, and when she moved the books on the table to make room for herself, she glanced at the title of the book. "Fourth Epoch Noble Heraldry. What are you looking at this for?"

"It's just a personal interest."

After a closer look, he found that all the books here were about the history of the Fourth Epoch. Anthony frowned slightly, then took out a few books and opened them. He found that all the books were only about secular research and did not involve extraordinary secrets. His expression relaxed.

Douglas, who saw his actions, felt a subtle pity. He wanted to look up information about Amon, so he would not let go of the church, which was a ready-made resource library, but he had to conceal his intentions so that others would not discover them. So he deliberately selected a few books whose contents were within the safe range to pretend.

But am I becoming more and more skilled at lying? It's much harder to lie to a friend than to a stranger. He thought for a moment, put down the thick ancient book in his hand, and winked at Anthony: "Ahem... Actually, the last sentence was a lie to you."

The young vampire raised his scarlet eyes and stared at him, while Douglas spread his hands and said calmly, "It's related to the mission, but MI9 has confidentiality requirements, so I can't tell you directly. In short, I may come into contact with ancient artifacts from the Fourth Epoch later, so I have to make up for it in advance."

There is one truth in every three sentences, at least the percentage of truth has increased from zero to thirty-three point three percent... The descendants of the ancient family of the Fourth Epoch are also ancient artifacts, well, Amon should not be able to hear it in the church... Douglas complained in his heart and saw Anthony nodded, accepting what he said.

"There are still many mysteries in the history of the Fourth Epoch. It was an extraordinary and prosperous era. You must be careful." Not only that, the kind-hearted vampire also gave further advice, "Don't hesitate when you encounter an accident, just run away immediately."

... Damn it, now my conscience hurts even more. Douglas pushed aside the books that almost took up the entire table, stretched out his body and lay on the table, joking in a relaxed manner: "Shouldn't we sacrifice our lives to protect the people?"

"Because Sequence 9 probably can't do it..."

"…Do we really have to find such a realistic reason?!"

While pulling out the homework that needed to be corrected from the handout folder, Anthony rubbed the top of his colleague's head and said naturally, "But if you need help, I remember that Baron Bathory has arranged shadow bats to be beside you. You can call us at any time."

Douglas laughed dryly and responded sincerely: "Thank you, but I hope this will never happen."

It seems that Baron Bathory didn't realize that his Shadow Bat was taken away by Amon. I really don't know how Amon did it. The High Sequence is so terrifying...

It is somewhat ironic that this made his actions extremely free. He could circumvent the surveillance of the church and openly collect Roselle's diary and look for his fellow villagers without having to bother making up excuses.

Although this is essentially a big lie covering up countless small lies... and this situation is completely maintained by Amon, whose origin and purpose are unknown. Douglas has every reason to believe that Amon is ten thousand times more difficult to deal with than the church.

Just because Amon came in without saying hello and almost took everyone on the street hostage, how can he be a good person? This is a life-threatening situation.

"But for me, things have suddenly become simple... To find Winkel Einhorn, I only need to go to bars and underground gatherings in the East District to post commissions and spread the news widely in English. If I'm lucky, I might even hook up with other potential fellow villagers."

Although this world also uses alphabetic writing and even has 26 letters, the writing style and word structure are very different from the English on Earth, so there is no need to worry about information leakage.

Douglas was worried, but after sorting out the current situation, he had to admit that the cards in his hand had become easier to play. Winkel was a Sequence 6 Beyonder, and was definitely a strong person in the Fifth Epoch when Beyonders were declining. If he could get her help, it would be relatively easy to eliminate Cortina's threat.Chapter 43: You are a bastard if you don't take advantage of an opportunityTitle of the Book:Mystery: From Apprentice to High-Dimensional OverlookerAuthor's name: BambooChapter word count: 5466 wordsUpdate time: 2022-10-06 15:30:08

In the southern part of Backlund Bridge, in a mid-range coffee shop with low traffic.

Tyron was dressed in casual clothes, sitting at a single seat far from the window, sipping a sour, less fragrant mid-range coffee. He disguised himself slightly, drawing a few wrinkles on himself, sticking on a fake gray beard, and leaning a walnut cane with a shiny handle on the side of the seat.

On the round table in front of him was a popular novel filled with elements of adventure in the five seas and a love story. This made him look like a middle-aged gentleman who had found a secluded place to leisurely enjoy his afternoon reading time.

About ten minutes later, the wind chimes at the door of the store and the front desk waiter's greeting rang at the same time. The new customer walked heavily to the seat behind Tai Lun, sat down with his back to him, and simply ordered a cup of black tea.

After the waiter served the refreshments and left, the new customer shook open the newspaper in his hand with a "rustle". The huge page covered his face and also concealed the slight movement of his lips when he spoke softly: "Sir, there is a problem..."

"Tell me." Tyrone raised his cup to conceal his lip movements and uttered a word calmly.

The informant from MI9, nicknamed "Gap Tooth" because of his missing front tooth, looked very...conflicted behind the newspaper. He stared at the printed newspaper that stained his palms, took a deep breath, and reported: "I followed your instructions to carry out the tracking mission, but when I got to the Red Brick Street, I suddenly lost the target... I don't know how he did it, anyway, the guy named Douglas suddenly attacked me from behind."

This is not surprising, Tyron answered silently in his heart while listening. Douglas is a Beyonder with high inspiration, so he naturally has the ability to discover and track. The main purpose of sending people to track is not to monitor completely, but to put enough pressure on the other party so that Douglas dare not have any possible intersection with Winkle privately.

"After he subdued me, he asked me about my purpose, and I told him the same way you taught me." The informant behind him was still whispering, "Then Douglas asked me to help him spread a strange text widely in the East District."

The folded paper quietly fell from Gaptooth's hand and slid under Tyrone's chair. The latter slowly turned a few pages of the novel on the table as a prop, then bent down to pick up the papers and put them into the novel to pretend to check.

There were two pages in total. The first page contained a few lines of strange letters, some of which were similar to the writing style of Loen, while others were completely different. Tyron, who had briefly studied cryptography in the military academy, tried to decipher it.

But without enough reference samples, it was very difficult to decipher a completely new type of writing. He tried for a while, then gave up and turned to the next page, thinking he would see another similar alphabet.

But the next piece of paper turned out to be a bill with extremely detailed items.

Tyron raised his eyebrows as he looked at the names of bars and underground markets written from top to bottom on the bill, as well as the names or nicknames of the bartenders and information dealers in those places, and the last column of amounts ranging from soli to pounds.

"What's going on?"

"Sir..." The voice of "Gap Tooth" behind him suddenly became softer. He hesitated and explained with a bit of grievance, "He pointed a gun at my head and asked me to spread those strange words on his behalf at the rally. I paid for everything that needed to be done. He, he said that he can write you a bill for reimbursement..."

After hearing this reply, Tai Lun was silent for a few seconds, and sneered: "You haven't forgotten our rules."

Although MI9 does set aside a special fund to manage informants, the money is always withdrawn in advance according to the budget, and it is rarely reimbursed afterwards.

After all, their informants are not devout believers in the church who believe in honesty as a virtue, but are mostly people with questionable credibility, such as bounty hunters. And transactions in the underground market are unlikely to leave reliable receipts. Letting informants make up their own bills is no different from letting these greedy bounty hunters reach into the jar and take money at will.

Although "Gap Tooth" knew the rules, he was really forced to pay a sum of money...

Just as he was trying to explain the situation of MI9 to Douglas, the other party said that he understood, wrote out a bill on the spot, and shamelessly said nonsense like "I've calculated it for you. After this money is reimbursed, you can still make a net profit of five pounds. Otherwise, just consider this money wasted today. I won't compensate you."

How could Gap-Tooth refuse this? He was an informant to make extra money, not to lose money! The problem was that he couldn't solve it privately. First, Chief Tyron and Douglas were working together, and he couldn't possibly overthrow his own chief. Second, Gap-Tooth found that he really couldn't win...

"Gap Tooth" quietly wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and said tentatively according to the words Douglas taught him, "Well, sir, Douglas also said that this money can be deducted from his salary, and it doesn't need to be accounted for by MI9..."

Tai Lun: "…"

He thought about the logic carefully and realized that after all this twists and turns, how did it end up being me who was providing money and manpower to work for Douglas?

Indeed, the deal that Douglas finally negotiated did include one hundred pounds in cash, but the problem was that Terran and Cortina were not prepared to actually give out the money.

According to the plan, Douglas should be dead when the deal was completed, or at worst be imprisoned in the Inquisition.

Who would prepare a reward for the dead? Although Terran was not short of the dozen pounds, he was now particularly passionate about how to kill Douglas.

After a brief and awkward silence, he said stiffly: "The money will be deposited into your account before this Sunday, go away."

"Gaptooth" put away the newspaper as if he had been pardoned, and immediately rolled out of Tairen's sight. After all, this matter was handled so badly, and he was too embarrassed to hang around in front of this superior...

After drinking the cold coffee in the cup in one gulp, Tyron calmed down a little, got up and left, and went to another place to meet another informant.

After understanding the capabilities of the "Apprentice" approach, he anticipated that it would be impossible to keep a close eye on Douglas with just one or two people, so he arranged several people to keep a close eye on him at different times and locations.

So half an hour later, facing another similar reimbursement form, Terran fell into deep thought again.

-

Douglas, who had successfully fleeced the enemy, walked into the St. Samuel Church with a brown paper bag in his hand. He showed the Night Emblem to the priest on duty and explained his purpose. He first went down through the secret door, then turned at the intersection with a brisk pace, climbed the stairs, and finally came to the back of Pestfield Street where the St. Samuel Church was located, one of the offices of Backlund's Night Watchmen in the city.

And his occult teacher, Nora Melos, whom he had not seen for a month, was leaning against the corridor with her arms folded, waiting for him.

Douglas was about to say hello to the teacher when he noticed the bright red gloves covering Meros' hands. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and said, "When did you join the Red Gloves... Then should I congratulate you on your successful promotion to Sequence 7?"

"There's no need to rush." ​​Meros, who had just returned to Backlund from the Holy Temple after a month-long training, shrugged. "Due to the lack of potion materials, I haven't really been promoted yet. I was just approved to join the Red Gloves."

After she understood the "acting method", it took her less than two months to digest the part of the potion that she had not digested in the past two years, and she successfully passed the examination of the temple.

Although the digestion time of more than two years was slightly faster than the average, it did not reach the level of a genius. The Sanctuary did not think of the "acting method" and only conducted routine tests.

"Then I'll make up for your gift when you're officially promoted." Douglas smiled and raised the paper bag in his hand. "These are Feynaport Plateau coffees distributed by our church as welfare. I'm not used to drinking them, so I'll leave them for you to savor slowly, so as not to bury their value."

Melos, a veteran coffee lover, brightened up his eyes. He opened the seal of the paper bag, pinched out a few coffee beans and sniffed them: "Hmm... The roasting temperature is just right, removing some of the sour taste, leaving only a strong nutty aroma and smoky flavor... Alas, coffee beans of this quality are not cheap on the market."

She happily took the paper bag, weighed it, and suddenly realized something. She quickly put away her smile and looked at Douglas, lowering her voice: "Wait, so what are you going to bribe me for? I must warn you, even if our churches have a cooperative relationship, there are some things you shouldn't know... and, I am a very principled person."

...Then you should let go of the coffee beans. Douglas was a little amused: "Can't I just, uh, want to give my mentor some thanks?"

"Don't give me that shit." Meros grumbled, realizing that it was not a good idea to chat with him in the corridor like this, so he turned around and led him to the reception room while sighing, "My potion has been completely digested. Let me tell you, martial arts can reflect a person's character. A guy like you who likes to, uh, sneak attack from strange angles probably wouldn't be so conscientious."

"Please put aside your prejudice, respected Mr. Melos," Douglas said with great sorrow, "I like sneak attacks only because I can't even beat you in a head-on confrontation, right?"

He thought to himself, after all, I was a three-good student for many years when I was in school. I was an excellent student in both moral integrity, intelligence and beauty. How could I have no conscience?

Melos invited him into the reception room, and after closing the door tightly, he sat down across from him cheerfully: "Tell me, what's the matter?"

Jokes aside, she knew very well that her cheap apprentice was a young man with many little thoughts, but he would never make a big mistake. It was better to say that in terms of maintaining a sense of boundaries, Douglas's performance was completely beyond the class he belonged to in the past. He was like those nobles who were very particular about etiquette and never offended Melos.

So when Douglas came to his house with gifts, Melos's attitude was much more positive than what he said.

"On the one hand, I really want to give you a little gift to express my gratitude for your careful teaching in the past." Douglas said seriously. In the past few months, Melos taught him step by step, and most of the ritual materials were Melos' own inventory, and he did not ask him for any fees.

His home country has always had a tradition of respecting teachers, and he is not really heartless. Whether out of respect or for the sake of future contacts, it is only natural to give a small gift.

"On the other hand, I do have a small matter to trouble you with. I would like to know the list of underground gatherings controlled by the Nighthawks. I don't need high-end ones with Beyonders participating, but gatherings of mysticism enthusiasts will do."

Melos frowned slightly, but his expression soon relaxed: "Can I know the reason?"

Douglas pretended to be calm and recited the excuse he had prepared long ago: "It's like this. When I was reading some historical materials left by the blood clan, I accidentally found a strange and difficult to decipher text. There was no more reference material within the blood clan. So I thought, why bother myself? Those who love to decipher Rosel's text, those mysticism enthusiasts who are familiar with the unpopular and strange mystical knowledge, will definitely be happy to help me a little. It's just that I don't have so many channels at my disposal."

As he spoke, he took out a piece of paper with an English sentence written on it, pushed it in front of Melos, and said with 100% sincerity: "You can do some divination. It does not involve any extraordinary content. I can swear to the Mother Goddess on this."

After all, it was just a pure and harmless "you jump, i jump" and "April 15, 7p.m., see you at No.18b Black Olive Street, East zone".

One is a line from the Titanic used to recognize his relatives, and the other is the address of a safe house he rented in the East End. Even if the world ends in the next second, these two sentences cannot contain any extraordinary factors.

Unless there is a cult hideout underneath his safe house... Douglas has confirmed this personally, and there really isn't one.

Meros glanced at him, and without hesitation, he took out his amethyst pendulum and performed divination on the spot using the following conditional statements: "This text contains extraordinary elements", "This text will point to the existence of extraordinary elements", and "Interpreting this text will bring unfortunate results".

The amethyst pendulum rotated counterclockwise three times in a row. Although the amplitudes were different, they all represented a negative result. Melos pondered for a moment and divined again, "This piece of paper is the original document Douglas mentioned" and "This text comes from ancient times."

The answer is yes.

"... Let's do this," Melos touched his chin after completing the preliminary identification and made a decision, "I'll leave a copy of this text and ask the Red Gloves for you. They have come across more bizarre incidents, so maybe there will be clues."

"Mystery Voyeur" is a sequence with extensive knowledge and skills in occult science, and Meros is still very confident in his divination results. Getting the "Red Gloves" for internal discussion is another layer of insurance.

If there was something fishy going on, Douglas would never allow the "Red Gloves", who had a lot of experience in the Extraordinary World, to get it... Melos said as he keenly observed Douglas' expression.

There seemed to be a hint of joy on the other person's face, and then he agreed very happily: "Really? That's great, you really helped me a lot."

For Douglas, he wished that this text would spread as widely as possible, to both official extraordinary people and wild extraordinary people.

Hmm... the more I look at it, the more stupid it becomes. Melos shook his head and stood up to select a list for him: "Sit here for a while."

A few minutes later she brought back a list of safe and harmless occult gatherings, transcribed the passage in English again, and then sent Douglas out of the Night Watcher's office.

-

Douglas, who had completed a plan, whistled easily as he returned to the square in front of St. Samuel's Church. He had previously tricked several informants from MI9, not because he intended to disgust them, but because the situation of rushing to send manpower and funds was too tempting, and he couldn't help but have a subtle mentality of "If you don't take advantage of the opportunity, you are a bastard"...

Or strategically speaking, Douglas fully understood Tyron's purpose of putting pressure on him.

So he did not hesitate to turn the pressure over to MI9.

You're following me, right? Try following someone else? I'll empty your wallet!

But after such a small death, he dared not wander around the narrow and dark streets of the East District again. Counting how many brave men have capsized in the gutter, Douglas went to the Church of the Night specifically to give himself peace of mind, and decided to spend the last bit of time before sunset feeding the pigeons in the square to relax.

So he bought a bag of bread crumbs from a small vendor at the edge of the square. As soon as he turned his eyes to the rows of benches where people were resting, he found Amon, wearing a classic wizard hat and a monocle on his right eye, sitting not far away.

Bread crumbs were also scattered in handfuls, and at least dozens of pigeons of various colors gathered around them.

Douglas was completely confused. Is this the life of the three sequence bosses? It is really simple and unpretentious, but there are many flaws...

Before he could decide whether to go over to say hello or just slip away, Amon raised his head, looked precisely in his direction, and smiled as if to say "I noticed you".

After standing there hesitating for a full minute, Douglas walked over miserably and sat down carefully at the other end of the bench.

Amon patted the bread crumbs on his palms and said with a smile: "You are quite talented in deception."

"'The text obtained from the vampires' is the premise of all the lies that follow, and it is also the easiest to disprove." He casually grabbed a pigeon that was pecking at food nearby, held it in his arms and stroked it, "But, precisely because it is too easy to be exposed, it is not taken seriously. Only when the text really has unknown dangers, its origin is worth investigating; if it is safe and harmless, then whether it really existed or is some kind of fiction, what does it matter?"

Douglas, who was sitting next to him and listening to these words, felt cold sweat running down his back.

You know, he first entered Saint Samuel's Church, the headquarters of the Church of Night in Backlund, and passed through the underground passage.

On the other side of the intersection of the underground passage is the Chanis Gate where the sealed objects are stored. There must be the highest level of confidentiality measures of the Church of Evernight to prevent prying eyes.

Then he stayed in the Night Watchers' lair for half a day. Half of the people there were extraordinary people who had sufficient sensitivity to special powers.

In any case, Amon shouldn't know the content of this conversation so clearly... Douglas quietly looked at Amon's expression and secretly complained in his heart: Boss, is this guy coming here specifically to criticize me?

"I, I absolutely did not reveal anything about you..." He expressed his loyalty in a very low voice.

"Ah, I know." Amon snorted and let go of the pigeon. With the sound of wings flapping, he reached into his large robe and fumbled for something, then stuffed it into Douglas's hand. "This is your reward for being obedient."

It was a glass test tube-like container that was three fingers thick and slightly longer than the palm. It was cold to the touch. The liquid in the container looked weirdly viscous, as if it was a whole block instead of drops, showing a mixed but not glaring color.

Douglas didn't know if it was an illusion, but he suddenly had the urge to drink it all up. He looked away curiously and asked, "Excuse me...what is this?"

Amon adjusted his monocle and replied casually, "Sequence eight, the magic potion of the 'Master of Magic'. Drink it, I'll watch you."Chapter 44 PromotionTitle of the Book:Mystery: From Apprentice to High-Dimensional OverlookerAuthor's name: BambooChapter word count: 3871 wordsUpdate time: 2022-10-07 15:30:06

"Sequence eight, 'Master of Tricks' potion. Drink it, I'll be watching you."

After Amon said this, the atmosphere became eerily quiet.

Douglas, holding the glass container, opened his eyes wide in astonishment.

He slowly turned his head and glanced at the nearby St. Samuel's Cathedral.

He looked around at the interweaving flow of people around him and the noisy streets a few steps away.

Finally, he turned his head back with difficulty and met Amon's eyes.

The latter stared at him with interest: "Why, wasn't I clear enough?"

"No..." Douglas replied subconsciously, like a mute who had just learned to speak, stammering, "But, here, I mean... this is a public place... and outside the Church of the Night!"

"Yes." Amon responded cheerfully, "Don't you think it's very safe here? Even if you fail to be promoted, the Nighthawks can quickly control the situation."

"…"

Even though there was no mirror in front of him, Douglas could guess that his face had turned pale.

He was so shocked by Amon's outrageous move that his mind went blank. For a moment, he couldn't think of how to refute, but he seemed to have thought a lot in an instant.

For example, if God gets out of control, it's easy to deal with. Is Amon here specifically to deliver performance to the Nighthawks?

For example, why don't we give performance results to the Church of Mother Earth? Is it because we don't deserve it?

For example, could this guy be a high-ranking member of the Church of Darkness setting up a sting for law enforcement?

Amon, who had spied on these messy thoughts through the parasitic Time Worm, laughed out loud, and was briefly confused about the meaning of the word "entrapment enforcement".

He stretched out his hand and waved it in front of Douglas, then slowly bent his fingers in order: "Don't let me do it myself. Five, four..."

Douglas, who had been hiding at the other end of the bench, saw Amon actually start the countdown, and immediately rolled and crawled to his side. If he hadn't maintained his instinctive awe, he would have almost knocked Amon off the bench...

Looking at the other person's bent fingers, Douglas wanted to just push His hand down, but he didn't have the courage to do so. He could only anxiously call for a stop, and was so anxious that he even spoke with the accent of his previous life: "Wait a minute, why are you in such a hurry? Can't I just take it home and drink it? I'm not going to be reincarnated after surviving today! Do I have to be particular about the date of birth and the auspicious day to drink this stuff?"

Amon's countdown was actually stopped for a few seconds by the old words that came to him.

As a "decryption scholar", it is reasonable for him to be easily attracted by new things... He coughed lightly and said with a smile: "If you lose control at home, won't your family be in danger?"

After hearing this, Douglas looked like he was about to cry: "Please stop saying I'm out of control... Don't I have the option of successfully being promoted..."

What happened to the claim that low-sequence promotions are not risky?

Why is it that the premise of every sentence the boss says is out of control!

Who the hell dares to drink this!!!

My chaotic thoughts were suddenly interrupted, as if someone pressed the remote control to turn off the TV, and the image and sound disappeared.

After a moment of silence, Douglas watched his arm ignore the will of his brain, raise the glass vessel containing the potion in his hand, pull out the cork, and put it to his mouth.

In the futile struggle, the cold edge of the bottle was already against his lips, and the potion with a strange taste was swallowed smoothly. Everything around him was shaking and blurry, as if covered by layers of thick fog.

A familiar feeling of weightlessness hit him. Douglas could "see" his body twitching and shaking. In front of him, thick and chaotic red, blue and black colors overlapped like randomly splashed paint. Countless indescribable shapes, even transparent things that seemed to be non-existent, were wandering around. Deep in the gray and illusory fog, there were bright lights of different colors...

And higher and farther above the fog, there seemed to be some kind of existence casting a glimpse from afar.

Douglas vaguely felt that he was being watched and tried to find the source of the gaze, but he heard Amon's voice clearly ringing in his ears: "Concentrate your spirituality and meditate on something casually."

He was stunned for a moment, then forced his consciousness to sink suddenly and merge with his body. Then he endured the pain in his temple, closed his eyes and outlined the outline of the revolver in his mind.

As his attention gradually focused, Douglas began to meditate further on certain things that did not exist in this world, such as the multi-dimensional space he had seen in science fiction movies in the past, the infinitely extending images in two opposing mirrors, and other abstract things.

During this process, his body and mind gradually calmed down, and he gained some new knowledge from the potion.

Huh... After letting out a long breath, Douglas opened his eyes nervously, and immediately tried to raise his hands and move his ten fingers.

Very obedient, very cooperative... So the hand that moved just now was indeed Amon's doing! He silently but very obviously moved his position, distanced himself from Amon again, and wanted to protest against the other party's behavior of attacking without saying hello, but after glancing at Amon's expression, Douglas immediately gave up this idea of ​​risking his life.

He was secretly familiarizing himself with the changes brought about by the promotion, and suddenly found that the magic potion of "Master of Magic" he had just drunk showed some signs of digestion.

"The emphasis of the role of 'Master of Magic' is on 'performance' and 'fooling', or in other words, 'deceiving'."

Amon changed to a more relaxed sitting position, raised his right leg and placed it on his left leg, and explained casually: "The potion can be digested through pre-acting. And all the lies you tell to cover up your true purpose can be counted as pre-acting."

Although this was the second time he had contacted Amon, Douglas still felt uncomfortable that his thoughts were completely transparent to him. He tried to overcome the chill on his back and, in order to divert his attention, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers several times, simply practicing the new ability brought by the "Master of Magic".

So, on the street not far away, a gentleman who was walking hurriedly slipped and fell forward in embarrassment; at the same time, a strange wind swept past, causing many ladies to scream and hold down their hats with wide brims decorated with lace and tulle on their heads.

The most unlucky one was a diligent postman. He was riding his bicycle quickly among the crowds, when suddenly a blinding white light flashed before his eyes. The postman, who lost his vision for a short time, turned the handlebars in panic and crashed himself into a gas lamp post on the roadside.

Hiss, it seems to be very painful... Douglas, who was watching this scene from afar, gritted his teeth, clasped his hands together, and sincerely apologized to all the passers-by through the air.

The ability of the "Master of Magic" is quite interesting, very suitable for squatting in the corner with a brick in hand... The only drawback is that it still lacks powerful lethal skills and can only be compensated by external forces. But when Douglas thought of all the talismans he had taken from the church being touched, no, snatched away by Cortina, he felt his heart bleeding.

And suddenly he had the urge to turn around and look at Amon who was sitting next to him.

In terms of lethality, a Sequence 3 Saint is far superior to the talisman... This thought flashed through his mind, but he held back and didn't say a word.

At present, it seems that before using me to achieve a certain goal, Amon will provide a certain degree of protection, such as giving me a free potion for promotion. But this does not mean that the other party has a reason to interfere in these trivial matters. After all, high-sequence people will not get any benefits from the fight between the weaklings of sequence eight and sequence seven...

By the way, he really couldn't stand Amon's style of taking action as soon as he said it. Even though Amon was the only one who showed some knowledge of "travel" so far, it didn't prevent Douglas from having a very low favorable impression of Him.

So he just asked cautiously: "Um, can I go home now...?"

Amon said, "Don't worry, do what you want to do. You won't die."

...It's okay if you don't die! Douglas paused as he stood up, thinking that this was a domineering CEO-style statement, with a sense of absurdity, "I have called the world's best surgeons and the world's top lawyers for you, you can chop anyone you want", which was a little... contradictory to the mysterious and powerful temperament embodied by the other party.

"Also," the mysterious and powerful overbearing president added faintly behind him, "Go and learn more about the 'Backlund Great Smog' incident. There will be surprises."

Douglas was so frightened that his legs went weak and he turned around hastily, only to find that the bench was empty except for a few pigeons pecking at the scattered bread crumbs beside the chairs.

Why did you leave? Explain a little more... What does the Backlund smog have to do with my current situation? He walked towards the public carriage station blankly while trying to recall the relevant memory fragments.

According to the official explanation of Loen, the cause of the smog was pollution caused by outdated factory equipment and illegal sewage discharge, which induced respiratory diseases among the elderly and the weak and caused the spread of plague, eventually leading to this major disaster at the end of 1349, with a death toll of more than 60,000 people. Under the propaganda and demands of the media, society and various charitable organizations, decrees on factory sewage discharge were issued one after another after the New Year, and the former King George III even gave a speech on this issue...

Douglas handed a soli note to the ticket counter on the public carriage, and then he found a seat by the window and rubbed his forehead tiredly. He did not understand Amon's intention of mentioning the smog for the time being. But he remembered the scene he saw when he and Verity went to the cemetery in the East District to pay homage at the beginning of the new year.

Unlike the common cemeteries in today's era, there are no tombstones or shady trees. Instead, there are cabinets for storing ashes, one after another, row after row, one overlapping another, like a heavy wall, clearly separating the living and the dead.

Not only were there no portraits or epitaphs on those cabinets, most of them even had no names, and could only be distinguished by numbers. Among them, the number of Victor, the younger brother of Verity, was N8-78, which means the 78th in the eighth row on the north side of the cemetery.

Little Victor was undoubtedly one of the luckier ones among the deceased. He was buried by his relatives, had his own name besides the cold number, and could be worshipped on a specific day. While Verity was remembering his brother, Douglas walked along the narrow path nearby and found that among the hundreds of cabinets in this area, only Victor and another worker named "Kohler" had names and epitaphs.

The huge number of stacked blank cabinet doors left such a deep impression on Douglas that he could still clearly recall the scene months later, and he couldn't help feeling a little depressed.

After realizing this, he consciously slowed down his breathing, looked around casually and let go of his spirituality, actively allowing himself to be infected by the emotions of other people around him in order to dilute the feelings of loss and sadness that came from the depths of his memories and soul.

"Heavy smog?" Douglas chewed on this outdated word and had to admit that he was a little curious about what Amon wanted him to discover from it.

Because around this time period, another major event happened to Douglas.

That is the witch Cortina who suddenly disappeared in Backlund after the "Great Smog" and reappeared recently, becoming one of the central figures of the incident, and also easily dragged Douglas into the water...

He thought about it and realized that if he hadn't been blamed for something, he should have been able to apply to the Earth Mother Church after the demon hunt to become a formal member, with his weekly salary doubled to six pounds... Converted to RMB, that would be 4,300 yuan a week, or 17,000 yuan a month...

I wonder if there is a saying in this world that "blocking someone's financial path is like killing their parents." The public carriage swayed and stopped at the station. Douglas got up and got off with other passengers, thinking that there was still a lot of free time to use before waiting for the English news to lure the fellow villagers to come to the door... Since Amon mentioned it, he might as well go and investigate.

It's not that I trust Amon that much, but from the time they met until now, Amon has not made any unnecessary movements, and all the potions were poured into me. All his actions highlight the purpose of "I want to tie you to my pirate ship"...

Would such a person just randomly throw out some news to tease him? The possibility is too small... Anyway, he has nothing to do! Douglas made a decision quickly and walked towards home with a brisk pace.Chapter 45 Hearing the NewsTitle of the Book:Mystery: From Apprentice to High-Dimensional OverlookerAuthor's name: BambooChapter word count: 3835 wordsUpdate time: 2022-10-08 15:34:05

After breakfast, Douglas collapsed on the sofa in the living room holding today's Daily Observer, and couldn't help but sigh in comfort. He stretched his arms, shoulders and neck, stretched his waist, and felt a kind of pleasure that only comes after a sweaty exercise.

It's not that he really did any late-night exercise, but the overflowing spirituality after the promotion intensified his mental fatigue, making him sleep particularly sweetly and soundly last night.

If you count carefully, he was actually seriously sleep deprived from April 5th to April 10th, which was yesterday.

On the first night, I was attacked by the demon sculpture. On the second night, I was worried that my past and abnormality would be discovered by the church. On the third night, I was worried about how to deal with Tyrone and Cortina. On the fourth day, Amon came to my door. On the fifth night, I considered various ways to lure fellow villagers...

After Douglas counted the money on his fingers, he immediately decided to go on strike today.

Although he still has a lot of things to deal with right now, they all have a certain lag: Cortina is waiting for him to get in touch with Winkle, and will probably not take action before that; similarly, even if he is promoted to Sequence Eight, he will not be able to confront Cortina head-on, and must wait until he meets Winkle before discussing.

As for digesting the "Master of Magic" potion and investigating the "big smog", neither of them can be done in a hurry.

Especially for the latter, three years have passed since the incident, and if there are any clues worth mentioning, they have either been erased by those who know the truth or have been completely forgotten. Douglas estimated that it would be difficult to find a report from three years ago, so he could only go to the municipal library or the university library to see if there were any newspapers and periodicals from previous years preserved there.

As for the church's internal information, he was afraid that it would be too abrupt and would arouse suspicion, so he planned to proceed slowly.

I'm not an "insomniac", and the path doesn't give me any physical bonus. If I keep going, I'll almost catch up with the 996 blessing I had in my previous life... He muttered as he opened the newspaper that was ironed neatly by the maid Emma, ​​and casually browsed the front page of the news.

After reading for a while, I found that serious political discussions in the newspaper were boring no matter what time of day, so I turned to the back page and happily read the popular satirical cartoons and the timeless Soviet Union... No, it was the jokes about Feysac and Intis.

At this time, a series of brisk footsteps came from the direction of the stairs. Douglas looked over the newspaper and saw Verity walking through the other end of the living room with a canvas schoolbag slung over her shoulder. The little girl had braided her shoulder-length hair with a headband today. The light blue fabric and blonde hair overlapped, making her look lively and youthful.

It must be said that being young does have its advantages. In just a few months, Verity's blond hair, which was originally dull and frizzy due to malnutrition, has become shiny, the lines of her face have become rounder, and she looks more energetic.

This is what a young girl should look like... Douglas shook the newspaper with relief and was about to look away when he saw Verity accidentally glance at the sofa and then showed a surprised expression.

"Goddess, you went out later than me today..." Seeing her nominal guardian looking particularly leisurely, Verity couldn't help but glance at the clock in the corner of the living room to confirm the current time.

In the past week, she saw him going out early and coming back late every day, and it was rare for him to see him at the breakfast or dinner table.

Although this kind of life is not unfamiliar to Verity. When Douglas was still a bounty hunter, he sometimes even went to Pritz Harbor to hunt down fugitives, and would not return for several days.

Thinking of this, she suddenly felt a little dazed, as if those days had happened a long, long time ago.

"I will even go home earlier than you today." Douglas didn't care about Verity's momentary distraction and said with a smile, "Well, because of the recent busy schedule, the church gave me a day off."

His words immediately brought Verity back to reality. Upon hearing the good news, she smiled with genuine joy, and only after fully understanding the meaning of those two sentences did she ask, "Are you going out today?"

"Maybe take a walk around the neighborhood and buy some fresh vegetables. Do you want me to pick you up from school, or prepare some 'surprise' dishes for you at home?"

"Of course it's the latter!" Without even thinking, Verity gave his answer immediately.

Then, she realized that she had not been restrained or polite enough, and a faint blush of embarrassment immediately appeared on her face. She added: "What I mean is that the security situation in the North District is very good. I always come back with a few classmates who live nearby..."

Douglas nodded with amusement: "Yeah, but you have to be careful on the road... Go to school quickly, it will be too late."

He watched the little girl, obviously in a good mood, skipping across the corridor and out of the house. He didn't pick up the newspaper again and glanced through it until the sound of her brisk footsteps faded away.

Douglas stayed at home the whole morning. He first chatted with the landlords Thomas and his wife over tea for a while, and then cleaned his room with the help of Emma.

He would occasionally bring church materials home to read through, and in his drawers there were some essential oils, minerals and other items used in mystical rituals. For safety reasons, Douglas would usually ask Emma to wait until he was home to clean and lock the door of the room.

The key is inside the room, ensuring that no one except the "apprentice" can enter without permission.

After a lunch that was several times more exquisite than the fast food in the bar, Thomas and his wife went to visit an old friend according to the schedule. Douglas greeted Emma in advance, told her to buy tomatoes, pork tenderloin and other ingredients when she went out shopping, and then went out alone.

Although he said he was going on strike, Douglas asked himself if he really lay down in the house, he would still feel a little uneasy.

Moreover, there was no entertainment in this era, and it was boring to stay at home. In addition, during a casual chat with Mr. Thomas, Douglas accidentally learned that the Backlund Municipal Library was just a few blocks away, so he happily decided to go and look through some old newspapers.

"What a sin! If I had been so self-aware before the college entrance exam, I would have been admitted to a key university long ago... Alas, grades are valuable, but freedom is more valuable. If it is for the sake of life, I can give up both..."

Douglas was walking across a street square, complaining about himself in a humorous way, with his hands in his pockets, turning his head casually to look around.

Although the possibility was low, he was still cautious about possible surveillance from Cortina's side.

While scanning, Douglas accidentally saw a balloon decorated with silver and red lines floating alone in a corner of the square. Its bright color caught his attention for a moment.

In that corner, several children were looking up at the balloons that were floating away. The oldest boy tried to catch the leash but failed repeatedly due to his height. The younger girl was already pouting and about to cry. She was holding a child no older than three years old in her arms, looking at her older brother and sister with a pair of pure eyes, seemingly not understanding what was happening.

Douglas snapped his fingers and performed the "wind spell". A breeze immediately stopped the balloon from floating upwards and slightly pushed it down. The older boy then managed to grab the hanging string while jumping. The little girl immediately came forward with her brother in her arms. The older boy then put the string back into the younger brother's hands, and the three of them resumed their fun in the square.

Well, it seems that the ability of the "Master of Magic" can work from more than ten meters away... Douglas, who watched this little farce, did not even stop. After confirming the result with his peripheral vision, he left as usual.

Therefore, he did not notice that the little boy who was holding the balloon rope tightly turned his head seemingly unintentionally, just in time to catch his eye's back. There seemed to be a giant silver snake winding through his clear eyes.

-

"Captain, this is the written material seized from the illegal gathering this time."

At an abandoned dock near the Sotak River, the "Made-in-Punisher" wearing a blue and white sailor shirt held several paper materials of different sizes and handed them all to the captain.

The leader of this "Manufactured Punishers" team was a burly, bearded man in his thirties. He said "hmm", took the materials, and quickly skimmed through them as if it were a routine matter.

The "Substituted Punisher" waiting nearby turned around and prepared to go back to help his teammates control the suspicious elements in the underground gathering. After this type of written material is submitted to the church, experts from the "Reader" path will carefully identify the degree of danger. After all, the "Sailor" path does not have sufficient extraordinary knowledge reserves, and the behavior at this time is part of the procedure, commonly known as going through the motions.

However, before he could take a few steps, he suddenly heard the captain shouting from behind: "...Wait a minute!"

The Mandated Punisher subconsciously tensed his muscles, turned around nervously, and asked cautiously, "Captain, what did you find?"

He saw his captain holding one of the pages of information, his face looking extremely gloomy and solemn.

Eh, could such an important thing be found during a routine crackdown on underground transactions... The Mandated Punisher tried to infer more from the captain's expression, but as expected, failed.

The captain turned his gaze to him, raised his hand and handed over the page, and solemnly instructed: "Go find the guy who spread this text and bring him to me. I want to interrogate him personally!"

"yes!"

Seeing that the captain took it so seriously, the "Made-in-Punishment" did not dare to delay and pounded his chest with his right fist. He took the paper and turned around to rush back into the abandoned dock to look for the unlucky guy who brought the information to the underground party.

The captain silently watched the team members disappear behind the secret door. The muddy water of the Sotak River hit the wet land at his feet, piling up layers of gray-white foam and staining the hem of his dark blue robe.

But this devout believer of the "Lord of Storms" did not care. He just repeated the words written on the paper in a low voice that only he could hear clearly.

"April 15, 7p.m.… No.18b Black Olive Street, East zone…"

-

"April 15th, 7pm, Black Olive Street, East District, room number is 18b..."

In the dim room, an ordinary man with no special features in height and appearance looked at several pieces of paper in front of him with the same sentences written in Earth English, and silently recited their meanings.

He touched his chin, his expression did not change significantly. He took out a coin from his pocket, tossed it up and caught it with the back of his hand, then closed his eyes slightly, as if waiting for something.

After a few seconds, he suddenly groaned, and blood flowed from his mouth and nose. At the same time, the "man's" face melted and peeled off strangely like a candle melted by fire, until the original face underneath was revealed.

Dark red curly hair cascades down from behind her ears, her eyebrows are thick and raised, her appearance has a bit of heroism, and it is not difficult to see the unique beauty of a woman...

She was Winkel Einhorn, who had been wanted by the Loen authorities and the church for several months but had miraculously disappeared in the East District.

The fake "face" condensed into a transparent, soft, translucent sheet with openings at the mouth and nose, which slid down her face and fell onto the table.

"Interference from a higher-level figure? Is this another trap set by that 'witch'..." After putting away the sealed object, Winkle raised his hand to press his temple, opened his eyes which were bloodshot due to the shock of the failed divination, and took a breath.

"No, if the 'Witch' is from Earth like me, she shouldn't be so obsessed with killing me!

"Unless she was a damn lunatic!

"And the failure of divination this time seems to be a little different from the previous ones..."

He wiped the blood off his face and lit a red flame to burn the blood and the papers. Then Winkle Einhorn leaned back in his chair and stared at the dusty ceiling, thinking carefully.

In the dimly lit room, she remained in that posture, motionless like a sculpture, for about five minutes.

"...never mind."

Finally, Winkle stood up while talking to himself, picked up the thin "face skin" from the table, and carefully put it on his face. The transparent "face skin" immediately twisted and changed after it came into contact with real human skin, and finally became a female face that looked completely different from Winkle. Her red hair, figure and other appearance features were also appropriately adjusted by the illusion.

She just walked out of the room, out of this inconspicuous building, and blended into the flow of people in the East District.