Trino City

In truth, Ivan had not answered Gais's question just now because he was pondering the matter of Beyonder materials.

The "Blood of the Lord" worshipped by the Church of Divine Grace corresponded to the Order Aspect, and the Beyonder material was God Blood, which was likely the blood of some animal.

Then, what aspect did the "Eyes of the Lord" correspond to? Surely it wouldn't involve eating animal eyeballs...

His expression turned strange; the thought of eating raw eyeballs still made him feel a bit nauseated.

Although Gais's refusal had been unexpected, Ivan did not feel there was anything wrong with it.

He watched Gais below, who was drenched in a cold sweat from fear, and silently examined himself.

That shouldn't be necessary; I'm not some wicked jellyfish.

This guy, he actually wasn't blinded by the power of the Beyonder, and he even knew how to choose an aspect suitable for himself.

But your Lord doesn't even know what other aspects exist, let alone what would suit you...

Ivan pondered, and a flash of inspiration crossed his mind.

The "Eyes of the Lord" of the Church of Divine Grace!

The corresponding aspect should be related to memory or the spirit; it felt very suitable for Gais.

He carefully chose his words, and his grand voice resonated once more.

"It is right before your eyes."

Gais understood quickly, instantly grasping the Lord's meaning.

Right before my eyes... the Lord must be referring to that ability to tamper with memories.

He recalled his every move from the morning and the kind smile of the bishop of the Church of Divine Grace.

That's right, the bishop of the Church of Divine Grace must possess another aspect, one corresponding to... the Eyes of the Lord.

A smile curled at the corners of Gais's mouth. Ignoring the gazes of those around him, he knelt piously on the ground.

"I shall strictly follow your revelation."

Seeing that Gais had completely adapted to his riddle-like rhythm, Ivan couldn't help but nod again.

"Good, there is no need for impatience."

"At midnight tonight, go to South York to find my other follower..."

His voice gradually faded, leaving behind a sense of distance in Gais's heart.

Gais remained prostrate on the ground, only slowly rising after the Lord's voice had completely vanished.

He straightened his messy, graying short hair, adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, and returned to his signature smile, though his eyes held a newfound, hidden intensity.

Gais walked quickly away from the street, heading toward the factory district in the south under the midday sun.

Ivan remained hidden, watching Gais's retreating back from where he stood.

His tentacles tapped lightly against his body, as if contemplating some secrets.

"Hmm, how should I conduct the baptism ceremony tonight..."

"I wonder if Little George will bring some vessels. To be safe, I should go check the nearby commercial street first."

Ivan flew out of the alley and returned to the spacious street on the west side of the church.

Noon on Drury Street was clearly even more bustling than the morning.

At the entrance, dark green carriages were lined up in long queues. The coachmen wore uniforms of various colors, and men who appeared to be administrators were verifying their identities one by one.

Only those with aristocratic crests printed on their carriages, or those who presented business cards with titles like "Director of the Trino City Bank," were allowed to park their carriages directly in the exclusive area next to the main thoroughfare.

Other gentlemen and ladies of lower status could only begin walking from this point.

Is parking space this tight here, too? Ivan found it quite novel and drifted toward the inner side of the street.

At a shop near the front, a stall was set up under a walnut wood frame.

The stall owner was using a fork to lift a piece of beef with traces of blood, introducing it to the surrounding customers:

"Angus Beef, freshly slaughtered from the farm yesterday! The bone-in loin is only 2 shillings and 6 pence per pound!"

A middle-aged man who looked like a butler immediately stepped forward, pulled three one-pound notes from a leather wallet, and ordered 10 pounds of beef.

This was enough to supply the kitchen of a Duke's mansion for three days of main meals.

Flying further in, the curtain of a tea shop was blown by the wind, and the aroma of black tea wafted out.

The female shopkeeper, wearing a silk dress with a cinched waist, was using a silver spoon to weigh tea for a lady.

The lady wore a black veil, making it impossible to see her face, yet one could sense her grace and nobility from her demeanor.

When she paid, she pulled a banknote from a velvet purse and, without even looking at it, turned and walked away elegantly with her tea.

The Drury Street Royal Theater still had not opened for business; it seemed there were only performances at night.

This left Ivan, who had hoped to watch a play for free using his invisibility, feeling quite disappointed.

He looked at the consumption of the wealthy in the West District Commercial Street and couldn't help but feel a sense of emotion in his heart.

"It's truly wonderful to be rich; that holds true in any era."

"Why can't I find any junk shops or stores selling tableware..."

Ivan's gaze landed on a porcelain shop. The doors were wide open, and the shelves facing outward displayed bone china teacups painted with gilded patterns. The tag below read:

"Promotion: A set of six, priced at only 3 Pounds."

"Only? 3 Pounds? Why don't you just go rob someone?"

Ivan felt that even if he were to ransack all of Gais's worldly possessions, he wouldn't be able to afford a set of teacups here.

He dismissed the idea of purchasing ritual implements, at least for the time being, and did so entirely.

"I can only hope Little George has made the necessary preparations, and I'll just have to show up and play along with some revelation or another."

Thinking this, Ivan wove through the streets. He sensed the direction of Little George's location and then flew toward the east side of the city.

In the villa district behind the commercial street, inside an elegant mansion.

An exquisite marble fireplace was burning expensive, nameless wood.

Opposite the fireplace sat a velvet sofa with soft sky-blue cushions, each seam stitched with glowing pearl buttons.

On the walnut coffee table in front of the sofa sat a bone china tea set and a silver sugar bowl, the latter engraved with a lion-style crest.

In front of a magnificent aquarium beside the coffee table, a girl of about sixteen was staring at the black-and-white tropical fish inside with great curiosity.

Her fluffy, light-gold curls fell to her shoulders, the ends slightly coiled and pinned with a pearl hairclip.

Her skin was brilliantly fair, her eyes a clean, clear sky-blue, and her long lashes brushed against the small freckles under her eyes whenever she blinked—not at all detracting from her purity and beauty, but rather adding a touch of playfulness.

She wore a cream-colored dress with a soft, pale pink hem.

A sliver of lace peeked out from the top of her white stockings, and on her feet were black suede boots.

She wore transparent lace gloves, excitedly pressing her hands against the aquarium glass, shattering her otherwise elegant demeanor.

"Father, this little black-and-white fish is truly beautiful!"

"Haha, as long as you like it. It took a great deal of effort to buy this from the fastest steam-powered fishing boat from the Southern Continent. They say there is only one in the entire Kingdom of Rhine!"

A middle-aged man in a velvet suit was watching the girl with a face full of smiles.

His hair was combed meticulously, with streaks of light gray mixed into the dark brown strands. His right hand gripped a cane with intricate patterns carved in gold wire, topped with an unknown gemstone, and a cross-shaped brooch was pinned to his suit lapel.

He was none other than Mayor Logan Gustav from the Trino Worker's Daily.

"Alright, my dear Diana, I still have to attend Duke Isaac's afternoon tea. As a lady, you must mind your manners even when you are home alone; you cannot be so reckless anymore."

"Your performance when I introduced you to young Master Victor of the Trino Royal Bank last time could hardly be called elegant."

"I know, Father!" Upon hearing she would be home alone, Diana Gustav seemed even more excited.

Cunning stars twinkled in her eyes, completely ignoring her father's lecture.

"Sigh, I don't know who you take after; your mother must have spoiled you rotten."

The man sighed, and the villa door clicked shut behind his footsteps.

Diana peeked out, and once she confirmed she was truly alone, she immediately fished a tome from beside the sofa armrest. It had been hidden in the gap of an embroidered cushion like some secret treasure.

The cover of the tome was dark brown leather, its surface covered in fine cracks, feeling slightly cool to the touch.

This was an old book she had accidentally discovered in the school's library archives today. It had been quietly hidden in a corner of the shelf, covered in dust, and the twisted characters on the spine were in the ancient language she had been studying.

Book of Rituals

Diana recognized the name on the book, which thrilled her, as she had always been interested in mysterious things.

Once before at school, a classmate had claimed that strange bell sounds came from the attic of their old family mansion late at night.

She had volunteered to explore that attic at dusk, only to find that it was just a neighbor's lost pet cat.

Diana had quietly checked the book out of school and brought it home, wanting to study it thoroughly when no one was around.

She excitedly flipped open the cover. The first page was a yellowed flyleaf with a line of ornate ancient script written in faded ink:

"Those who pry into the mysteries must harbor a heart of reverence."

"Prying into the mysteries..."

Diana couldn't wait to flip through the content that followed.

To her disappointment, most of the pages were so old and decayed that they had stuck together, making the content indistinguishable.

Her brows furrowed slightly, forming a cute angle, but her hands didn't stop as she tried to find pages that were still legible.

Finally, she found a page that was relatively clear and intact. The ancient script upon it flickered in and out of view, seemingly recording a mysterious ritual.

Diana translated the characters one by one, her petal-soft lips murmuring as she subconsciously read the translated sentences aloud.

"Great, Lord, of all spirits..."

Before she could even see the rest of the content, a faint, mysterious aura began to erupt from the Book of Rituals in her hands.

Diana felt the surrounding air grow cold. She hunched her shoulders and rubbed her beautiful golden curls.

"Did I summon something!"

She felt no panic at the anomaly; instead, she was pleasantly surprised by her accidental discovery.

"Could it be that I am about to step into that mysterious, legendary world of the extraordinary?"

Diana squeezed her eyes shut, but after a long while, nothing happened.

Unwilling to give up, she searched every corner of the villa, yet found no sign of anything unusual.

The girl's enthusiasm slowly faded. She placed the book back on her bedroom shelf, pouting as she let out a muffled, indistinct sound.

"And here I thought I'd discovered something incredible..."

As for Ivan, he hadn't gone far from the West District when he faintly sensed a thread of faith, thin as gossamer, drifting toward him from behind.

He turned back, looking curiously at the clean and tidy neighborhood.

"Gais has already left, so who could possibly be praying to me in the wealthy West District?"

Ivan shook his head, finding his own thought ridiculous.

These people likely worshipped nothing but their own status and the gold sovereigns in their pockets; even those who attended the "Holy Blood Ritual" at the Church of Divine Grace in the early morning were hardly devout.

He dismissed it as an illusion born of his own desperate craving for faith. His flight faltered for only a second before he continued on his way toward Little George.

In the East District of Trino City, known to the locals as the "Docklands."

Several steam merchant ships were moored along the canal bank. The white steam drifting from their funnels mingled with the fog. There was no true coastal harbor here, yet the workers of the Docklands were more crowded and desperate than those by the sea.

Little George gripped the heavy gold sovereign in his pocket, treading across the gravel path by the canal.

Just as he passed the dock gates, he bumped into a cargo carriage stopped by the roadside.

Before the wheels had even fully settled, the workers nearby swarmed forward like a tide. Their coarse cloth workwear was patched, some even worn through at the elbows.

"Move! Don't block the way!"

A bearded worker rushed toward him. Little George nimbly dodged to the side, but another worker behind him was knocked to the ground. The man didn't complain; he simply scrambled up quickly and squeezed back toward the carriage.

Little George didn't look back. He continued forward, turning into a narrow alley.

At the mouth of the alley stood a dilapidated shop with a wooden sign hanging outside that read "Miller Grocery Store." The paint on the board had peeled away, revealing the rotting wood beneath.

The shopkeeper, Miller, was a limping old man sitting on a small stool, wiping the candles in his display case with a rag.

"Kid, what are you buying today?" Miller's voice was raspy but carried a hint of familiarity. He knew this boy always came to buy the cheapest black bread, occasionally trading scavenged copper nails for half a block of cheese.

"Mr. Miller, I... I want one hundred loaves of black bread." Little George placed the gold sovereign on the counter and said in a low voice.

Miller drooped his eyelids, not even looking up:

"One loaf of black bread, half a penny."

Seeing that Little George didn't respond for a long time, he glanced over, and a bright yellow light pierced the corner of his eye.

A gold sovereign?

"Mr. Miller, I want one hundred loaves of black bread, and ten bottles of table wine." Little George repeated his request.

"Hm? You brat, where did you steal a gold sovereign from, and what do you need so much food for?"

Old Miller stood up from his stool, picked up the shimmering gold sovereign from the counter, and examined it carefully in the afternoon sunlight.

"I've joined... a gang. This is for our dinner. Please have it delivered to the gates of the South York Poorhouse before midnight!"

Little George didn't offer much explanation, instead picking out some worn-out tableware from the grocery store.

"Mr. Miller, how much is all of this?"

"Let's call it 5 shillings total. I'll get the items ready and have them delivered to you tonight." Old Miller smacked his lips, his eyes filled with astonishment, though he suppressed the urge to ask more.

Little George nodded, pocketed his change, and walked out of the grocery store.

Once his figure had disappeared into the distance, Old Miller pulled an envelope from under the counter and began to write rapidly on the paper.

Half an hour later, in a noisy tavern in the Docklands.

The hall was filled with the mixed scent of cheap beer and sweat. Many dock workers who hadn't managed to find work were complaining and drinking their sorrows away.

"Damn it! The cargo volume at the docks has been getting smaller and smaller lately; I haven't found work in two days!" A bearded worker slammed his glass onto the table, splashing most of his beer.

"If this keeps up, we won't even be able to afford black bread by next week!" Several workers nearby immediately chimed in. The cursing and complaining blended together, drowning out the sound of the canal steam whistles outside the window.

Behind them, the stairs leading upward creaked under someone's weight, as if they might fall apart at any moment.

The note detailing Little George's purchase was carried up to a room on the second floor, accompanied by the sound of footsteps.

Sitting at a wooden table by the window was a middle-aged man in a dark blue coat, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms to reveal a neat, silver-gray tattoo.

He had half a cheap cigarette dangling from his mouth. He picked up the note in confusion, read it twice, and then burst into a laugh:

"Heh, a gang in Trino City that I don't know about? Truly a fresh bit of news in the fog!"

His low, slightly raspy voice, mixed with the clamor of the docks outside the window, possessed a strange, piercing quality.

"One hundred loaves of black bread, ten bottles of wine, delivered to the Poorhouse..."

"This is no gang dinner. It is clearly some sort of secret gathering!"

The messenger chimed in:

"It seems the Church and the government were telling the truth; there really have been some cults in Trino City lately."

The man sitting at the table let out another scoff.

"Cults? If you go back ten years, it's hard to say who the real cult was."

He rubbed his index finger, crushing the cigarette butt in his hand.

"The Church of Divine Grace has had it too easy for too long; it's about time they had a headache."

The skin on his forearm trembled with the movement of his hand, and the silver-gray tattoo seemed to come alive, appearing like faint, shimmering scales against the backdrop of the setting sun.