The Holy Spirit Society's Financial Predicament

Hearing Gais claim he had no money, Ivan felt a strong urge to manifest immediately and fix him with a look of profound skepticism and disdain.

"This guy, after swindling and deceiving people for so long, dares to say he has no money?"

"Mr. Gais, you really should be quite wealthy..."

Little George looked at Gais with some surprise. In his impression, a decent gentleman wearing a tuxedo, glasses, and a top hat would generally not be short of money, especially a missionary like Gais.

"Well done, Little George!" Ivan realized he really needed such a naive mouthpiece to ask the questions he found inconvenient to pose himself.

Gais shook his head and sighed:

"I once was, but unfortunately, I cannot even produce a single pound at this moment."

"Although this small chapel is in the East District, the rent is 6 shillings per week. When I arrived in Trino City, I paid for three months upfront, which cost me 3 pounds."

He explained with a smile as he spoke.

"And then... while spreading the faith of the great Lord of All Spirits, I spent quite a few pounds greasing the palms of the Night Watchmen."

"Most importantly, the vessel for the Lord's Spirituality that I spent a fortune to acquire was actually lost by the Night Watchmen!"

Having reached this point, Gais slapped his thigh hard, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Shouldn't the great Lord of All Spirits be right beside us? Does Gais not know this yet?"

Little George opened his mouth, but before his inner thoughts could be voiced, they were interrupted by Ivan's telepathic transmission.

"Gais is merely a missionary; only you are permitted to glimpse my avatar."

Ivan curled his lip in his heart and couldn't help but think:

"It seems Gais spent a lot of money to buy me back then; look at how he's practically breaking his own thigh..."

Little George swallowed his words and gulped. "Mr. Gais, how much money do you have left then? I only have 15 shillings."

He pulled a handful of crumpled banknotes and silver coins from his patched pocket and placed them on the table.

Gais did not answer; he emptied his own pockets as well, revealing his remaining cash—exactly 5 shillings, no more, no less.

"At most, we can last two weeks." Both of them reached the same conclusion internally.

Clearly, the primary issue facing the Holy Spirit Society right now was a financial crisis.

Seeing the two of them feeling somewhat discouraged, Ivan spoke up to encourage them.

"Heh, do not worry."

"My grace shall guide you to wealth."

Gais seemed to have an epiphany; he raised his head, and his face beneath the gold-rimmed glasses was once again filled with smiles.

"Oh, my great Lord, please forgive your faithful servant Gais for forgetting to think under your protection."

"With your guidance, all difficulties will naturally be resolved!"

"Praise the great Lord of All Spirits!"

Ivan gradually lost himself amidst Gais's endless stream of praise.

"Hmm, that's right. Although I can't conjure pounds for them, they can still last for two weeks, can't they?"

"I'll surely find an opportunity to make money within these two weeks. If all else fails... their great Lord will just go invisible and rob a bank!"

He secretly made up his mind, deciding to keep robbing a bank as a final fallback plan. In any case, the banks here were merely tools for the rich to harvest the poor; he wouldn't mind staging a scene of robbing the rich to help the poor.

After Gais and Little George finished praising the great Lord of All Spirits, they each departed, preparing to begin the tasks the Lord had given them the next day.

Ivan found a random corner in the chapel and fell into a deep sleep.

At this moment, in an alleyway in the South District, Abel was leaning against a wall, staring expressionlessly at a wooden door ahead.

"Captain! There are no valuable findings; it's likely another piece of false intelligence."

Tom, the young man who often followed him, walked out from behind the dilapidated wooden door and shook his head at him.

He nodded, seemingly not the least bit surprised. He fished a cigarette from somewhere, and as the spark flared, smoke slowly drifted away.

Seeing that his captain didn't speak, Tom muttered quietly beside him.

"Ever since that incident happened, the Bishop has been keeping a close eye on the progress of purging the cults. Even the municipal government has started making frequent public statements expressing their support for the Church."

"I wonder what kind of cult appeared to make even that Bishop, who is always smiling, become so nervous..."

Hearing Tom's speculation, Abel quickly coughed twice to interrupt him.

"Alright, stop talking nonsense. Since there's nothing to find, let's head back and get some rest early."

He smoothed out his wrinkled collar, but his brow remained furrowed as he turned in the dark and walked toward the cathedral.

Tom hurried to catch up, leaning in close to Abel to whisper mysteriously.

"Captain, have you forgotten something recently..."

Abel raised an eyebrow, quickly reviewing the recent cases and investigation results in his mind. Finding nothing unusual, he couldn't help but ask in return:

"What is it?"

Tom glanced at the surrounding environment, his voice dropping a few notches. "Ahem, it's just... you forgot to tell me how to obtain Beyonder abilities.

Didn't we agree that if I followed you on missions for a month, you'd tell me..."

Abel stopped in his tracks, stared into Tom's eyes, and said earnestly.

"My little Tom, believe me, the Beyonder world isn't magical at all. On the contrary, it is filled with countless unimaginable dangers."

"Of course, I gave you my word, so I will tell you.

If you want to obtain the same Order Aspect as I have, you only need to submit a written application to the bishop..."

His gaze also swept across the alley entrance under the faint moonlight, his voice lowering even further.

Tom held his breath, leaning his ear toward the captain's lips, his toes tensed tight.

He had followed Abel on nightly patrols through Trino City, working hard and running errands for an entire month, from brawls in the slums to smuggling dens at the docks; he had long been filled with yearning for the word "Beyonder," and now, he had finally waited for the answer.

Abel slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke, his words carrying a heavy scent.

"And then... pass the Church's trial of will to ensure your spirit can withstand the erosion of Beyonder power."

"There's a trial, too?"

Abel paused, seeing the trace of disappointment hidden in the depths of Tom's eyes.

"Of course, becoming a Beyonder is not as easy as you imagine.

However, your willpower should have been sufficiently tempered through countless nights and various cases, so I can issue a certificate to the bishop stating that you have passed the test."

Tom's heart, which had just dropped, hung back up again, the excitement in his eyes no longer able to be concealed.

If I've already counted as passing the trial of will, does that mean...

Abel looked at his hopeful gaze and nodded helplessly.

"That's right. Following the procedure, I can tell you now:

The Magic Potion formula for the [Hand of Arbitration] of the Order Aspect."