Hearing Gais say he had no money, Ivan wanted to appear on the spot and give him a look of deep skepticism and disdain.
"This guy's been swindling people for ages, and he dares to say he's broke?"
"Mr. Gais, you look like you should be quite wealthy..."
Little George looked at Gais in surprise. In his mind, a respectable gentleman in a tailcoat, glasses, and a top hat was rarely short of money—especially a missionary like Gais.
"Good one, Little George!" Ivan realized he really needed an innocent mouthpiece like this to ask the questions he couldn't.
Gais shook his head and sighed.
"I used to be, but unfortunately, I can't spare even a single Gold Pound now."
"This Small Chapel may be in the East District, but the rent is still six shillings a week. I rented it for three months upfront when I arrived in Trino City, which cost me three pounds."
He explained with a smile as he spoke.
"Then... I spent quite a few Gold Pounds greasing the Night Watchmen's palms while spreading the faith of the great Lord of All Spirits."
"Most importantly, that... vessel of the Lord's Spirituality that I bought for a fortune was actually lost by the Night Watchmen!"
At that, Gais smacked his thigh hard, stirring up a cloud of dust.
"Isn't the great Lord of All Spirits supposed to be right here with us? How could Gais not know?"
Little George opened his mouth, but before he could voice the thought, Ivan's telepathic message interrupted him.
"Gais is only a missionary. Only you can glimpse my incarnation."
Ivan curled his lip and couldn't help thinking, Looks like Gais spent quite a bit to buy me back then. He's practically beaten his thigh to pieces...
Little George swallowed his words and gulped. "Mr. Gais, how much money do you have left? I've only got fifteen shillings."
He fished a handful of crumpled banknotes and coins out of his patched pocket and set them on the table.
Gais didn't answer. He emptied his own pockets too, laying out all the money he had left: exactly five shillings.
At most, we can last two weeks. The same thought came to both of them.
Clearly, the Holy Spirit Society's biggest problem was its financial crisis.
Seeing how gloomy the two of them felt, Ivan encouraged them.
"Heh, don't worry."
"My Gift will guide you to wealth."
Gais seemed to understand. He raised his head, a smile once again spreading across his face beneath his gold-rimmed glasses.
"Oh, my great Lord, forgive your faithful servant Gais. Under your protection, I actually forgot to think!"
"With your guidance, every difficulty will naturally be resolved!"
"Praise the great Lord of All Spirits!"
As Gais showered him with praise, Ivan gradually began to lose himself in it.
Mm, he's right. I can't conjure Gold Pounds for them, but it's not as if they can't last two weeks.
They're bound to find a way to earn money in those two weeks. If all else fails... their great Lord can turn invisible and rob a bank!
He secretly resolved to keep bank robbery as a last resort. The banks here were merely tools for the rich to fleece the poor, after all, and he had no qualms about staging a bit of robbing from the rich to give to the poor.
After Gais and Little George finished praising the great Lord of All Spirits, they each left, ready to carry out the Lord's task the next day.
Ivan found a corner in the chapel and soon fell fast asleep.
Meanwhile, in an alley in the South District, Abel leaned against a wall, expressionlessly watching the wooden door ahead.
"Captain! We didn't find anything valuable. I'm guessing it was another false lead."
Tom, the young man who was often at his side, emerged from behind the battered wooden door and shook his head.
Abel nodded, seemingly unsurprised. He produced another cigarette from somewhere, and as a spark flared, smoke drifted slowly into the air.
When the captain said nothing, Tom muttered quietly beside him.
"Ever since that incident, the bishop has kept a close eye on the campaign against cults. Even the city government has started making public statements in support of the church on a regular basis."
"I wonder what sort of cult showed up to make that always-smiling bishop so jumpy..."
Hearing Tom's comments, Abel quickly coughed twice to cut him off.
"All right, watch what you say. If we didn't find anything, let's head back and get some rest."
He straightened his wrinkled collar, but his brow remained furrowed as he turned in the darkness and headed toward the church.
Tom hurried after him, sidling up to Abel with a mysterious air.
"Captain, haven't you forgotten something lately...?"
Abel raised an eyebrow and quickly ran through the recent cases and investigation results in his mind. Finding nothing unusual, he asked, "What?"
Tom glanced around, then lowered his voice further. "Ahem, well... you forgot to tell me how to get supernatural abilities."
"You said you'd tell me after I'd spent a month going on missions with you..."
Abel stopped and looked Tom in the eye, speaking earnestly.
"My dear Tom, believe me, the supernatural world isn't wondrous at all. On the contrary, it's full of dangers beyond your imagination."
"Of course, I promised you, so I'll tell you.
If you want to obtain the same Order Aspect as me, you just need to submit a written application to the bishop..."
His gaze swept over the mouth of the alley in the faint moonlight, and his voice dropped even lower.
Tom held his breath and leaned his ear close to the captain's lips, his toes tensed tight.
He had spent every night patrolling Trino City with Abel, working hard for a whole month. From brawls in the slums to smuggling dens at the docks, he had long been captivated by the idea of becoming a Beyonder. At last, he was about to hear the answer.
Abel slowly breathed out a mouthful of smoke, his words carrying a note of gravity.
"Then... you have to pass the church's trial of will to ensure your mind can withstand the corruption of supernatural power."
"I still have to take a trial?"
Abel paused and saw the disappointment hidden in Tom's eyes.
"Of course. Becoming a Beyonder isn't as easy as you think.
"But after all those nights of dealing with one case after another, your will should have been tempered enough. I can provide the bishop with a certificate stating that you've passed the test."
Tom's heart, which had sunk, leapt again. He could no longer hide the excitement in his eyes.
I've already passed the trial of will. Does that mean...
Looking at Tom's hopeful gaze, Abel nodded helplessly.
"That's right. According to procedure, I can tell you now:
the Magic Potion formula for the Order Aspect, the Hand of Arbitration."
Before you continue