Second Tarot Gathering

Second Tarot Gathering

After returning to the ground, Angel quickened her pace and left Blackthorn Security Company as if she were fleeing.

The biggest reason was, of course, Dunn Smith's scrutinizing gaze down in the basement. It was right then that Angel realized she probably hadn't gained the Nighthawks' trust yet.

No, it should be said that they almost certainly didn't trust her. If the Nighthawks, who were armed forces of the Church and specialized in dealing with Beyonder crimes, so easily believed and accepted an unofficial Beyonder, that would be the strange thing.

Identity vetting, all sorts of assessments, being monitored—these were the problems she should be facing, instead of being brought back for protection and surveillance like a suspect one day, and signing a contract to join the job the very next day.

They even generously provided materials and let her exhaust her spirituality every day to make ammunition and hand it in?

If all of this was just to steady her and prevent her from running away, then everything made sense.

Angel believed that the letters or telegrams requesting an investigation into her identity must have already reached the Nighthawks or the police station in Backlund, the capital of the Ruen Kingdom. She wondered how efficient the civil service organizations of this era were, and whether they were faster than Hagg, who sold fake identities at Wild Heart.

Although Mrs. Sharon was dead and no one knew the relationship between Angel Granger and Cole Granger, as long as her forgery was discovered, under layers of investigation, all kinds of suspicious points about her would be magnified, and flaws would eventually be found.

And her only hope was that the forger would do things with a clear conscience and really, as they claimed, put her files into Backlund's archives within a week.

Carrying her material case and boarding a public carriage, Angel gazed at the bustling streets outside the window, a thought popping up in her mind once again:

Should she just run away again?

Returning to 6 Narcissus Street, she took out her key, unlocked the door, and walked inside.

Tromi had already finished cleaning the house and left, but it seemed she had just departed not long ago. A trace of wiping still remained on the tea table, the tea set was turned upside down to avoid collecting dust, and water droplets slid down by gravity, leaving a ring of un-dried watermark on the tabletop.

Coming to the study, Angel carefully put away her copy of the contract and entered the basement, carrying the wooden box filled with materials.

The dim basement only had a sliver of light spilling down from the exit. Under her dark vision, the internal furnishings were consistent with when she last left.

Placing the received materials into their proper categories, she returned to the study along the stairs. She didn't plan to craft Storm Convergence bullets during the day; this task would rapidly exhaust her already scarce spirituality, so it was better to leave it for right before bedtime.

Besides, today was Monday, the day of the Tarot Gathering.

The mysterious feeling and pressure brought to her by the Fool above the gray fog far exceeded everyone she had ever seen in this world.

Although Mrs. Sharon was strong, her identity wasn't mysterious. Through Cole Granger's memories, Angel could roughly understand the abilities of the low sequences in the Assassin Pathway, which was also an important reason why she was able to kill Mrs. Sharon with the help of the Nighthawks.

Dunn Smith and Daly Simone were both Beyonders of the Nighthawks. The former, as the captain of the Tingen Nighthawks, possessed the Nightmare ability to pull people into dreams from a distance, while the latter displayed the ability to quickly control opponents and make them at the mercy of others through spirit mediumship during the fight against Mrs. Sharon.

However, these were all Beyonder abilities within Angel's comprehension. Even with her rich combat experience from her past life, she could find quite a few flaws in these people. As long as her own abilities progressed further, defeating them wasn't an impossible feat.

Only when facing the mysterious The Fool did she not have the slightest clue.

Perhaps it was truly as he himself said: this was just a whim of a trial?

At three in the afternoon, carrying these doubts and guesses, Angel watched crimson light surge from the teardrop-shaped mark on the palm of her hand, enveloping her.

Just like the gathering last week, the ancient bronze long table appeared before her eyes, surrounded by a magnificent temple with eternal gray fog floating around. Besides herself, three hazy humanoid figures took their seats among the twenty-two high-backed chairs, their positions completely unchanged compared to last time.

The figure of the mysterious The Fool was shrouded in the gray fog. He sat leisurely at the head of the long table, chin resting on one hand as if pondering something, while his other hand lay flat on the edge of the long table, fingers tapping rhythmically on the tabletop.

Miss Justice, the long-haired young lady beside her, still maintained her inherent curiosity. She looked around, as if she couldn't believe she had come here once more. If one could see her face, it would surely be plastered with excited and thrilled expressions.

The Hanged Man opposite her leaned calmly against the back of his chair, his body distant from the bronze long table. He glanced at The Fool, then, seemingly feeling it was somewhat disrespectful, quickly withdrew his gaze and shifted his sight to Angel.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Fool." The enthusiastic young lady first greeted the initiator of the gathering, then turned to the other two, offering greetings in the same tone.

Angel and The Hanged Man also politely returned the greetings. To her surprise, even the mysterious The Fool responded to Justice.

After the pleasantries, Angel took the lead in speaking to express her gratitude to The Hanged Man: "Mr. Hanged Man, thank you for your help last week. My friend has already obtained their proof of identity."

Fearing that haggling over a little bit of money would affect her image in the gathering, she didn't mention the matter of Hagg temporarily raising the price.

"You're welcome. Although that fellow is quite greedy, once he takes money, he gets things done properly. To tell you the truth, I've also cooperated with him, and the police in Backlund can't find any problems with it."

I hope there really are no problems found, otherwise by the next gathering, I might not be able to make the appointment...

Thinking of her current predicament, Angel could only pray that The Hanged Man's cooperation partner was indeed as reliable as he claimed.

"Mr. Hanged Man, has the blood of the ghost shark been received?"

As soon as their conversation ended, Miss Justice impatiently inquired about the transaction results from last week.

"Thank you very much. The item is perfect. According to last week's agreement, I will tell you the potion formula for the Spectator."

Last week, Miss Justice had exchanged the ghost shark's blood for The Hanged Man's Spectator potion formula. They adopted a transaction model guaranteed by The Fool: Justice would first send the ghost shark's blood to a designated location provided by The Hanged Man, and after the latter confirmed the item, he would state the potion formula aloud.

It seemed it was time for The Hanged Man to fulfill his promise.

Judging from the memories left behind by Cole and her experiences during this period, potion formulas in this world were extremely precious resources, either passed down among major churches and secret organizations, or handed down generation after generation by long-standing families. If outsiders wished to obtain them, they could only spend a high price to purchase them, and there was no guarantee they would even buy the right ones.

Angel had only just managed to mooch the Diviner formula from the Nighthawks that morning, and seeing the two of them planning to trade publicly, she instantly grew interested.

As wise men say, if a formula is shared with everyone, it becomes many formulas.

Clearly, The Hanged Man had also heard similar proverbs. He didn't read out the formula directly, instead looking hesitantly at Angel. On the other hand, Miss Justice, who had paid money to buy the formula, didn't seem to care about this knowledge being known by a third party.

Right at that moment, the figure of The Fool, shrouded in gray fog, stirred. The hand resting on the table lifted and gave a forward wave.

A curled piece of parchment and a steel pen appeared in front of The Hanged Man, as if they had been placed there right from the start and were only just noticed at this moment.

"It appears your transaction has encountered a slight trouble," a deep voice came from the head of the bronze table. "Mr. Hanged Man, try picking up the pen, imagine the content you need to write in your heart, imbue it with an urgent desire to write, and then put the pen to paper."

"Thank you for your help."

The Hanged Man tentatively touched the paper and pen in front of him, confirming they were real existences rather than illusions in his mind, before picking up the steel pen, pondering for a moment, and flattening out the parchment.

Guarding against even your own people?

As she watched the parchment, obscured by the gray fog, rapidly fill with text under the Hanged Man's will, Angel's little scheme vanished with a pop like a punctured balloon.

After recording the Potion Formula from his mind, the Hanged Man picked up the parchment, checked it carefully, rolled it up, and gently pushed it forward. The parchment rolled a few times, moving along the mottled surface of the Bronze Long Table to Miss Justice seated diagonally opposite him.

Watching the potion formula worth hundreds of pounds roll past her, Angel very much wanted to intercept it, but thinking of the actual controller of this place—the unfathomable ability of The Fool—she still did not dare to pull such a foolish stunt.

Preventing a third party from free-riding was the only way to keep transactions going long-term—she could only comfort herself this way.

Justice took the parchment, unfolded it, and looked at it carefully for a long time before raising her head to say excitedly to the Hanged Man, "Thank you, Mr. Hanged Man, I have memorized it."

"This completes the transaction. Brewing a Low Sequence potion is very simple. You add the ingredients in the formula in order. Pay attention: it is better for the amounts to be slightly less rather than more..."

The Hanged Man imparted knowledge on brewing potions to Justice, who was obviously a newcomer to mysticism. He did not avoid Angel with these details, but just this morning she had watched Old Neil brew the Diviner potion for Klein, and coupled with possessing the memories of Cole Granger, she was not unfamiliar with it.

Miss Justice nodded as she listened like an attentive student, even using the Steel Pen provided by The Fool to record key points on the parchment from earlier. This atmosphere, reminiscent of a university classroom, made Angel rather bored, especially when she had already heard all the classroom's contents.

Utterly bored, she turned her head to look around. The temple shrouded in the gray fog was grand and mysterious, and the surrounding space seemed to stretch out infinitely while remaining indistinct.

Angel shifted her gaze to the head of the Bronze Long Table. The master of this space, Mr. The Fool, was gently tapping the table with his right index finger resting upon it, and his intangible gaze seemed to be looking right at her.

She was startled to realize: could her attempt to secretly view the potion formula have been discovered by this being?