The Fourth Guardian of the Museum

Perhaps because of the magic on Salomon, the invisible spirits here became visibly excited.

"I don't feel so good..." Master Wong looked around suspiciously, feeling a cold, sinister presence wrapping around his body.

What Salomon and Master Wong had failed to notice was that their clothing was rather conspicuous—Salomon wore a robe made from red Holy Shroud.

This was to prevent his brain from burning out and his soul from being annihilated by overextending the Holy Marks; Master Wong wore the brown training uniform commonly seen at Kamar-Taj... though brown, gray, and khaki were the only available choices.

But no one dressed like that in the twenty-first century anymore, especially in early autumn, even if the museum had air conditioning. Suitable temperature and humidity were crucial to preserving the exhibits.

When Salomon saw a security guard approaching, he quickly pulled Master Wong deeper into the museum. He assumed their furtive behavior had drawn attention, completely failing to realize that his sense of fashion had already been assimilated—after all, nearly every mage in his memories wore robes.

After passing through the Great Court beneath its dome made of 3,312 triangular glass panels, Salomon and Master Wong arrived at the Egyptian Gallery. Many of the exhibits here had been seized by the British Army from the French when Napoleon was defeated in Egypt. There were more than a hundred thousand artifacts here, and it was also the place where magic was most densely concentrated.

"What exactly are you looking at?" Master Wong seemed irritated that he could not see what he was supposed to see, but Salomon forcefully pressed him onto a public bench anyway. Looking at the plump, huffing Wong, he said, "Enter meditation. Only then will you be able to see them."

To be honest, Master Wong's behavior was indeed disrupting public order somewhat. Sitting cross-legged on a bench was not exactly civilized, so to correct this mistake, Salomon... moved a little farther away from Master Wong.

Don't look at me. I don't know that guy.

When Master Wong opened his eyes again, he did not notice anything strange about Salomon. Instead, he was stunned by the sight before him... countless enormous, twisted spirits hovered over the exhibits.

The power within a single artifact would not have attracted these spirits, but the British had looted far too many artifacts from overseas, displaying them according to different civilizations. The powers of the same pantheon resonated and amplified one another, and these ghosts wandering the world also needed to sustain their strength...

"Do you see them?" As soon as Master Wong came back to his senses, Salomon hurried over.

"I... I see them." Master Wong seemed unable to believe it. He stretched out a hand, wanting to touch those spirits, but seemed afraid of disturbing them and withdrew his chubby fingers. "We actually left so many spirits here without dealing with them..."

"That's because someone is controlling them." Salomon narrowed his eyes and looked ahead, secretly making a hand sign. "Can you still throw a punch? We're about to face them."

"What?" Master Wong did not understand.

"Hungry again, my little darlings?" An old woman in a dark blue wide-brimmed hat held out a finger adorned with a ring. White hair peeked out from beneath the brim, and an orange-red ribbon circled the hat, pinned with a pale blue feather.

She wore a dark blue heavy coat that seemed rather excessive even for this season. Soft pale blue fur around the collar covered her chin and reached all the way to the pearl earrings hanging from her earlobes.

She held out her hand and smiled. "Very well, then. You may devour their souls, but afterward, return to your slumber immediately..."

The old woman was referring to the two visitors standing before an exhibit, while she herself stood behind them—no one could see her except Salomon and Master Wong.

Before the spirits could make a move, a beam of Positive Energy struck one rushing toward the visitors. The twisted ghost let out a soundless howl, pain twisting its face into a horrifyingly elongated shape.

"Who's there?!" The old woman's expression changed instantly as she glared viciously behind her. Although Salomon had told Master Wong not to hold back, still...

"You really want me to hit an old lady?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course, but not now, you stupid mule. You've already lost your chance for a sneak attack. Just protect me." Salomon rolled his eyes. "You wasted the perfect opening."

"Hey, ma'am..." Master Wong tried to step forward and greet her, but he was quickly knocked to the ground by a spell fired from the old woman's ring.

"I smell the stench of foreign magic." She spoke with disgust as a great deal of magic flowed from her ring onto the floor, driving the spirits closer. Master Wong and Salomon, who had just climbed up from the floor, could only retreat again and again.

The old woman remained where she was. "I am Imogen Tutter, the Fourth Guardian. These blind passersby cannot see it... Every day, I use my secret arts to control these dangerous pagan spirits around me and stop witches like you from awakening them!"

Her voice rose higher and higher, as if she were a god standing atop Mount Olympus and Salomon were Tantalus awaiting punishment. Salomon kept retreating, avoiding the spreading magic and spirits. After getting back on his feet, Master Wong stood in front of Salomon with a terrified expression, raising his fists as he tried to drive away the approaching spirits.

"Fists won't work on these things, senior brother." Salomon calmly took out a handful of Silver Dust. As he recited an incantation, he scattered it over Master Wong, where it turned into white specks of light. "Charge over there and take off her ring. Those spirits can't get near you now."

"You sure this will work?" Master Wong asked. In his view, there was still room for negotiation, but after Salomon cast the spell, the inexplicable fear in his heart had vanished. He shouted, "Miss Tutter, we aren't—"

"It's Miss Tutter!"

"All right, Miss Tutter... we don't want to awaken these spirits..."

"Yes." Salomon could only take over. "That isn't our purpose."

"You aren't witches?" Imogen Tutter had neither heard nor seen Salomon cast his spell. Salomon's incantation and gestures had been hidden by Wong's body.

"We..." Master Wong did not know how to answer for a moment. After all, he had not yet made a pact or undergone magical training.

"Stop talking, Wong. The way she restrains these ghosts is by letting them devour souls, and where do those souls come from..." Salomon stopped hesitating. He used words to place his opponent on the side of evil, making Master Wong act—because the conversation was about to collapse.

"All right." Master Wong hesitated no longer. He charged forward, nimbly evading the restraints of magic and forcing his way through the spirits... only to be bound by the magic flowing across the floor. A tremendous force dragged Master Wong down, leaving him kneeling on the ground.

Imogen Tutter had not fought seriously many times either. Before this, the witches who came to the British Museum seeking spirits had all been minor figures who knew a little magic and only a few incantations. They could never have defeated Imogen Tutter, who possessed one of the Vishanti Rings.

After Master Wong was bound, Imogen Tutter became quite smug. In her eyes, Salomon and Master Wong had nowhere to run today—she apparently considered Salomon no different from the lowly witches she had encountered before.

Salomon did not stop casting. Suppressing his disgust, he swallowed a Grasshopper Leg.

The Leaping Technique required a grasshopper leg as a necessary casting material, and this was not even the most disgusting part.

I have to learn to cast without materials. Even that nauseating sensation did not interrupt his incantation. Once the spell was complete, Salomon ran forward along the bench, deftly avoiding the magic on the floor before leaping fiercely from the end of it.

The Book of Vishanti contained the world's most powerful known White Magic and defensive spells. The spells recorded in it could never be used to attack, only defend. Thus, Salomon could only rely on spells supplied by the memories within the Holy Marks to fight—the grasshopper leg, for example, was used to cast the Leaping Technique.

Salomon's jumping distance became three times what it had been, and he leaped straight toward Imogen Tutter. The instant he landed, Salomon's speed doubled.

After landing, Salomon pulled a small dagger from the pouch at his waist and threw it at Imogen Tutter.

The sharp dagger sliced through the air, about to touch Imogen Tutter's coat.

Suddenly, an astonishingly immense surge of magic erupted around Imogen Tutter, throwing back both the approaching Salomon and Master Wong, who lay on the ground. Salomon rolled across the floor several times. It felt as though explosives had detonated beside the back of his head. He could not see anything and was even half-unconscious for several seconds. He could not even think.

He felt as though his brains had been shaken into mush... In the end, Master Wong recovered first and hauled him upright, allowing him to regain consciousness. But half his vision was still black, and every visitor's soul seemed detached from their body, surrounded by colorful halos.

"What do we do now?"

"Hit her!"

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