108: Chapter 46 April

In late April, Backlund finally shed the damp cold of the continuous rain.

In the Underground Commercial Street, the prices of various Beyonder materials for the Spectator Pathway had completely stabilized after weeks of surging.

Many shop owners who had been hoarding goods gossiped privately, saying that the Psychology Alchemists had completely pulled out.

That group of mysterious observers had disappeared for weeks and had not surfaced to sweep the market again. It seemed the supplies they needed had already been procured.

In his weekly briefing, Abraham used a precise word: "saturation."

Inside his apartment in the River Bay District, Lu Li read the briefing word for word.

The craze for the Spectator Pathway was a trivial matter, ultimately irrelevant.

What truly made him pause was the latest shipping record from the Dock District.

A few days ago, a cargo ship returning from the Southern Continent had quietly docked.

The declaration list stated it was ordinary ore samples, but the unloading location was extremely subtle.

An abandoned dock at the junction of the River Bay District and the East Borough.

It was the very place where the black sail ship had briefly docked before.

The lessee of this dock was a mid-level employee of a dock freight company.

Old Kohler.

Lu Li silently recited the name, his eyes devoid of ripples.

Nowadays, Old Kohler had long escaped the desperate situation of being plagued by usury.

A stable long-term employment contract, a clean and decent livelihood—all came from the gift of that anonymous client.

And this client held controlling stakes in several freight companies; leasing an idle dock was just standard procedure, nothing unusual.

But the timing was too coincidental.

On the same day the Psychology Alchemists stopped, this batch of Southern Continent ore was quietly put into storage.

How could there be so many perfect coincidences in the world?

Lu Li put away the briefing, picked up the dark trench coat hanging on the coat rack, and pushed the door open, walking towards Water Pump Street.

At dusk, the Underground Commercial Street was still noisy, the clamor no less than it was during the day.

Passing through the crowded main alley and turning into a quiet side alley, Abraham's small shop had lights on as usual.

He pushed a yellowed shipping document onto the table.

"The declaration says Southern Continent serpentine ore samples, to be sent to the Geological Research Institute for analysis."

"But the box seals are of a private laboratory standard, specifically the laboratory under that client's name."

Lu Li lowered his eyes and scanned the document.

"Where was it shipped to?"

"It wasn't shipped anywhere." Abraham shook his head, his tone grave. "It was all stockpiled in the warehouse at the abandoned dock, sealed in place, without moving an inch."

"The messenger I arranged investigated at close range last night; two sealed charms were added to the perimeter of the warehouse."

"One of them carried the spirituality characteristics of the Secret Order."

He opened an old book of Sealed Artifacts beside him and pointed to the patterns recorded on one of the pages.

"The structure is of the Secret Order standard, but the engraving technique is crude; it was not officially issued, but a private imitation."

Lu Li tapped his fingertips lightly on the table.

"Not an insider of the Secret Order?"

"Not necessarily."

"The Secret Order's charms are hard currency in the black market; they are expensive, but there is never a shortage of buyers."

"He used this kind of charm to seal the warehouse for only two reasons."

"Either to prevent people from prying, or to lock in the leaking aura of the things inside the warehouse."

The two looked at each other, no need for more words; they knew it clearly.

Serpentine ore samples.

After the Antigonus Ruins were completely sealed, this name had long been silent for a long time.

Previously, the Secret Order had held an old book exhibition in the Dock District and made public the investigation report that the ruins' seal had completely closed.

The two major evidence chains cross-corroborated, and it had long spread through the underground world of Backlund.

Everyone believed that the terrifying traces left by the Snake of Fate had completely dissipated.

But there were always those who would not give up.

Even if the ruins were closed, the underground still retained spirituality pollution, pedestal fragments, and faint remnants of authority that were difficult to eradicate.

These fine residues could still be used to refine special potions or modify low-Sequence Sealed Artifacts.

The undercurrents had never stopped surging.

Lu Li put away the document, turned to leave the small shop, and walked straight to the old bookstore at the street corner.

Old Eye was squatting between the bookshelves, head down, organizing newly received ancient book fragments, not even lifting his head.

"The people from the Psychology Alchemists have completely vanished; they haven't shown up again."

"The Secret Order has unanimously concluded that the ruins' seal is closed, and all non-confidential reports have been publicly displayed."

He stood up, wiped the dust off his hands, and handed over a folded note.

"Internal news sent by Vera."

"The upper echelons of the Secret Order have detected abnormalities; recently, someone in the black market has been bulk-recycling spirituality dust and pedestal fragments from the ruins."

"It is suspected to be a targeted, secret procurement of unknown origin. The internal review committee has already begun self-inspection and screening."

Lu Li unfolded the note, his gaze sweeping over it quickly.

"It's not an internal faction embezzling them."

He said softly and firmly, giving his judgment.

"It's an external force hoarding goods."

"That client hoarding serpentine ore samples is not for academic research, but for low-level reserves."

"He knows the scarcity of the ruins' residues, so he is locking in the source of goods in advance while they are still circulating in the market."

"Being able to imitate the Secret Order's charms shows he has access to samples—either purchased at a high price on the black market or supplied by someone in secret."

Old Eye pushed up the copper-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, his tone sinking a few degrees.

"This person's identity is far more complex than it appears on the surface."

"A debt manager for Roselle, a behind-the-scenes boss of a freight company, an imitator of Secret Order charms."

"Every step of the layout is incredibly precise."

"Helping Old Kohler get out of trouble, settling his livelihood, using the dock to secretly hoard goods—it's all paving the way in advance."

"He is not hoarding for himself; he is reserving essential supplies for someone else."

After a pause, he looked at Lu Li.

"You should go to that dock warehouse yourself."

...

At the same time, 15 Mingde Street, private detective agency.

Warm light shone through the glass window onto the neat desk.

Sherlock Moriarty put down the fountain pen in his hand and stuffed the organized commission report into an envelope.

On the table, the enamel mug with a knitted cup cozy stood quietly.

A crisp sound of the door being pushed open rang out.

Audrey Hall walked in slowly, took off her wide-brimmed hat adorned with a light blue ribbon, and sat down elegantly.

She spread out her notebook and looked up, speaking seriously.

"Mr. Moriarty, I would like to ask some questions about the basics of Beyonders today."

"You previously said that Beyonders need to follow the code of conduct corresponding to their Pathway to avoid losing control."

"After consulting the materials, I found that the guidelines for each Pathway are completely different."

"Spectators pursue objective observation, while Marauders are accustomed to theft and deception."

"I want to know, are these guidelines absolutely fixed? Will I lose control immediately if I violate them?"

Klein nodded slightly, choosing his words carefully, his tone calm.

"You won't lose control immediately."

"Pathway guidelines are never mandatory laws, but a way to balance the potion's adaptation."

"A single, brief deviation will only leave minor hidden dangers and will not cause distortion."

"What is truly fatal is long-term deviation."

"Once you continuously violate the essence of the Pathway, the potion's characteristics will constantly accumulate, eventually distorting your spirit and causing you to lose control completely."

He simply dismantled the underlying logic.

"Seers revere fate, Spectators remain as bystanders, and Marauders control information."

"All actions are to align with the potion within the body and stabilize one's own sanity."

Audrey listened very carefully, her pen tip recording rapidly, and she followed up with several basic questions about self-protection for low-level Beyonders and avoiding spirituality pollution.

Klein answered them patiently one by one.

He grasped the measure perfectly.

He did not touch the taboos of the Tarot Club, did not leak high-level secrets, and only solidified the other party's Beyonder cognition.

After sending Miss Justice away, the office returned to quiet.

Klein leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a short rest.

A moment later, he took a paper figurine from the drawer and wrote a line of small characters with a pen.

[Audrey's state of mind is becoming more stable, and she is progressing very quickly.]

[The identity of the anonymous client will not be investigated or exposed for the time being.]

At the end, he noted a latest change.

[At the abandoned dock in the Dock District, a large amount of Southern Continent serpentine ore samples are being stockpiled, suspected to be related to the remnants of the Antigonus Ruins.]

After finishing the writing, he put away the paper figurine. He stood up, picked up his trench coat, and prepared to go out.

The reason was ordinary and trivial.

The old lady he had helped a few weeks ago had lost her cat again.

The three-shilling deposit was enough to buy a week's worth of cheap tea.

The other party also promised to knit another pair of matching heat-insulating pads for his enamel mug.

The last time he searched for the cat, it took an entire afternoon.

He finally found it next to the old book stall at the dock's second-hand market; the little guy was squatting on a pile of newspapers, basking in the Sun.

Hopefully, this time, it hadn't run far because of its laziness.