White feathers?
Klein stared at the empty grave, and suddenly a word came to mind:
" Angel!"
The scriptures of the seven major churches are filled with legends of Angel and Saint, and one of the characteristics of the former is that they have one, two, three, or even six pairs of pure white wings on their backs.
However, in an instant, Klein remembered a past event:
Mr. Azik once described his dreams to him, dreams that seemed like lifetimes upon lifetimes.
One scene takes place in a dark mausoleum, surrounded by many open ancient coffins, inside which lie corpses with white feathers growing from their backs!
Is this a special manifestation of the " Death " pathway, or a bizarre phenomenon created by the Spirituality Religion? Klein remained silent, suppressing his emotions, and calmly looked at the white feathers stained with pale yellow oil at the bottom of the tomb.
He initially judged that the old man was not Angel, because the death of a terrifying Beyonder of Sequence 2 or even Sequence 1 would definitely have a strong impact on the surrounding area. For example, the " Saint's Ashes" behind the Chanis Gate in Tingen City would extend almost invisible black, cold lines to seal the people and things around it.
Of course, it's also possible that he didn't really die... like Mr. Azik? Klein bent down and picked up three white feathers with his black-gloved right hand.
He planned to go home and perform Divination above the Gray Fog.
At this moment, Caupsty recovered and scrambled to Klein's side, looking towards the tomb with a hint of fear in his eyes:
Where is the body?
Klein glanced at him sideways and said in a low voice:
"Perhaps he left on his own."
"He left on his own..." Caupsty repeated in horror, fully realizing how terrifying it was for the dead to awaken.
His legs were trembling, and he muttered to himself:
"But, but, I didn't use the Resurrection Ritual on him."
Klein turned around, stared at him for a few seconds, and said:
"Death is not the end."
"Death is not the end... death is not the end..." Caupsty was terrified by his own beliefs and blurted out, "Will he... will he come back?"
Hmm, the messenger summoned by that bronze whistle most likely corresponds to that old man. In other words, giving the note to the messenger is equivalent to sending a letter to that old man, a letter to someone who's been dead for almost half a year... Heh, I wonder where he is now, what his condition is... Regarding Caupsty's question, Klein casually offered a suggestion:
"Don't blow that brass whistle anymore."
"You mean the bronze whistle will lure him back?" Caupsty asked in alarm.
Before Klein could answer, he continued his own request:
"Could you please help me throw this bronze whistle into the Tussock River?"
"If that doesn't work, then I'll go myself."
"Weren't you very interested in the philosophy of death before?" Klein thought to himself, reaching out to take the bronze whistle that belonged to Caupsty.
He planned to try sending a letter to the dead when the conditions were right, to see what would happen.
Of course, all of this is predicated on the assumption that he is not in great danger.
After instructing Caupsty to refill the grave, Klein discussed " Spirit Dance " and related occult knowledge with him for a while, enriching his own understanding. He also inquired Caupsty had followed the old man's will and laid the body face down when burying him.
In certain special circumstances, using " Spirit Dance " to replace some of the cumbersome arrangements of Ritualistic Magic can be more effective and simpler... Seeing that his goal had been achieved, Klein warned Caupsty again, telling him not to mess around with so-called Resurrection Ritual anymore.
Then, he left the street from the garden and went a long way around to take a carriage to the East Borough.
After changing back into his previous clothes, he returned to Minsk Street, entered his bedroom, and, after a series of maneuvers, carried the three white feathers and Caupsty's copper whistle above the Gray Fog.
Seated in the high-backed chair belonging to the Fool, Klein conjured paper and pen and wrote down the Divination statement he had already prepared:
Its origin.
He then grasped the three white feathers and leaned back in his chair.
As he silently chanted, Klein Dream Divination, surrounded by a hazy, dense gray-white atmosphere.
In this world, there was a thick, lightless darkness. Suddenly, the darkness turned crimson, and a pale, bony hand reached out from the yellowish-brown soil.
A figure slowly got up. He didn't lift the stone slab or stir up the soil, but simply walked through it.
Under the crimson Moonlight, the clothes on the back of the figure were tattered, and white feathers grew from them.
The figure with graying hair tilted its head slightly, revealing the obvious red spots on its face, and its blank, emotionless eyes.
It took a step, laboriously penetrating the fence, heading into the darkness, going further and further until it disappeared.
The dream shattered, Klein awoke.
White feathers really did grow from the back of the corpse... Its appearance was very similar to Miss Sharron, but there were also obvious differences, giving people a very heavy, substantial, and not illusory feeling... It seemed to be able to transform between the human body and the spirit body in a semi-natural and incomplete way? A messenger that communicates between the real world and the Spirit World and the Underworld? Klein reached out and tapped the edge of the long table, pondering for a long time.
Immediately afterwards, he Divination whether there was any danger in using Caupsty's bronze whistle to send a message, and received an affirmative answer, and the pendulum spun very widely and very fast.
"What a pity, I can't use the copper whistle directly on the Gray Fog. The messenger can't get in at all, otherwise there would be no danger..." Klein muttered to himself before falling into the Gray Fog and returning to the real world.
Early morning in that relatively fresh wooded Queens Borough.
A round-faced Apothecary in his thirties appeared in a secluded corner, storing the secretly cultivated herbs into his leather pouch.
After completing today's tasks, he straightened up, stretched, and silently murmured to himself with satisfaction:
"Sure enough, my physical condition has improved; it's no longer like before where I only had a stronger resistance to toxins."
"But... why is my Sequence 8 ' Beast Tamer '? What does that have to do with ' Apothecary '?"
"Well, Apothecary tames and uses plants and parts of animals that have lost their lives, Beast Tamer tames and uses living animals, including supernatural beings?"
"So my Sequence 7 will be able to tame and use humans?"
" The Old Man didn't tell me the name of Sequence 7, nor did he give me the formula. I'll have to try contacting him once I've stabilized."
The Apothecary punched and kicked, adapting to his increasingly stronger body, until he was too exhausted to continue.
Panting, he began to ponder a serious question:
So, how should Beast Tamer Acting the role?
" Beast Tamer... what should I do? Find animals to tame?" The Apothecary muttered to himself, then suddenly sensed something and looked towards the artificial lake.
There was a big golden retriever running happily.
Seemingly sensing his gaze, the golden retriever suddenly turned its head and looked over.
Their gazes met in mid-air. The golden retriever paused for a moment, then nimbly turned and disappeared in a flash.
Inside the luxurious villa of the Earl Hall.
Susie returned to the music room, squatted down at Audrey's feet, stuck out her tongue, and panted heavily.
Only after the blonde girl finished playing the piece did it say, still shaken:
" Audrey, I've met a horrible guy."
"His eyes are terrifying!"
"Really? What does he want to do to you?" Audrey asked, both curious and concerned.
Susie thought about it seriously and said, "I don't know either. Anyway, he's dangerous. That's my gut feeling."
"What does he look like?" Audrey considered whether to send the guards and servants to warn the man.
"I didn't see clearly, but I feel, I feel he's my nemesis!" Susie replied seriously.
Your nemesis? The bane of dogs? Audrey revealed a reserved smile:
" Susie, you shouldn't go to that grove of trees lately."
"Woof, Audrey, were you in a bad mood just now? I could tell from your piano playing," Susie asked.
Audrey nodded slightly and said:
"Hmm... I just received news from Glaint. Fors and Hugh told me that tonight's party is canceled. I was planning to exchange you for extraordinary materials."
And she tried to make contact with people from the Psychology Alchemists... she silently added to herself.
"Why?" Susie asked, puzzled.
Audrey before answering:
"It's said to be the impact of that serial murder case."
Saturday morning, the air in Backlund was as bad as usual.
Klein was trying to make a type of pasta he loved as a child. To do this, he bought high-quality flour, added water and sugar, and mixed it into a thin paste.
Next, he poured oil into the pan to moisten the surface.
After heating it up, he scooped up some batter with a ladle and poured it to the side of the pan, spreading it very thinly.
With a sizzling sound, he spread out several thin pancakes, and the aroma of flour gradually wafted out.
When it was almost done, he peeled off the soft, dough-like pancakes one by one, placed them on a plate, and added water to make a batter with the remaining ingredients.
As soon as he returned to the restaurant with the flatbread and "paste," Klein couldn't wait to tear off a piece and stuff it into his mouth.
The pancakes had only a rich wheat aroma and an appetizing sweetness; they were simple, unpretentious, yet exceptionally delicious.
It tasted just like I remembered... Klein ate quickly, occasionally taking a sip of the porridge.
Just as he was finishing his meal and began to slow down, the doorbell suddenly rang, its ringing echoing around him.
A new commission? Klein took a napkin, wiped his hands, and got up to walk towards the door.
Before he even grasped the handle, the image of the visitor naturally appeared in his mind.
He was a middle-aged or elderly gentleman with graying temples, a thin face, and an outstanding demeanor.
That's Isengard Stanton, the private Detective who gets invited by the police!
"What does he want with me?" Klein asked with a smile Door Opening, puzzled.
Good morning, Mr. Stanton. Is there anything I can help you with?
Isengard removed his top silk hat and smiled, saying:
"Good morning, Mr. Moriarty. I'd like to collaborate with you. I believe you are an excellent Detective; you previously investigated the East Balam Dock and the Dockworkers' Union entirely on your own."
"Cooperation?" Klein made no attempt to hide his astonishment.
Isengard tapped his black cane and replied in a deep voice:
"Find the killer in this recent series of murders."
"Police have offered a reward of £2,000."