122: Chapter 60 Crossroads

The latest intelligence briefing from the underground market indicated an unchanging maritime situation: spiritual fluctuations across the entire Storm Cape remained at their annual low, and the tides of the Sea of Wraith would not reach their peak for several months, insufficient to support a high-level Beyonder ritual.

Yet beneath the calm surface, undercurrents were surging once again.

Abraham's handwritten notes were stark and glaring: the black sail ship remained hidden, the old pier in the Reef District showed signs of activity again, and a small boat without sails briefly docked late at night, withdrawing rapidly before dawn, its movements secretive.

Lu Li pressed his fingertips against the paper, his gaze calm.

This was the second appearance of that Aurora Order messenger ship.

Two secret resupplies in just a few days were enough to confirm a shift in the situation. The main force of the Aurora Order remained dormant deep within the Fog Sea, nowhere to be seen, but their secret supply network rooted in the Reef District of Storm Cape was still functioning perfectly, never interrupted.

Ince Zangwill was continuously obtaining external material support.

He carefully folded the briefing and put it into his pocket, confirmed that the seals on the doors and windows were correct, and after ensuring there was no abnormal spiritual surveillance nearby, he pushed open the door and stepped into the cool autumn wind, walking quickly toward Water Pump Street.

Inside the spiritual materials shop, the cold aura of the Southern Continent Spirit World dust lingered.

Abraham was lowering his head, organizing and classifying the newly arrived goods. After listening to Lu Li's summary, he immediately took out a detailed case file of the sightings in the Reef District and revealed the core difference between the two resupplies.

"The last handover was a small, square lead box, limited to crystal core consumables." He pointed his fingertip at the record in the file, his tone grave. "But this time, the witness confirmed that they exchanged a long, canvas-wrapped package. It was long, narrow, and straight, with a length similar to a short sword, wrapped layer by layer in waterproof material, with extremely high sealing properties."

"A weapon."

These two short words exposed the crisis.

Lu Li instantly cleared up the opponent's complete layout.

Stable crystal cores, Beyonder weapons, and secret anchors—Ince had already secured two of the three core resources.

He was no longer just hoarding basic consumables; he had begun to arm himself and perfect his combat power, all to wait for the arrival of the autumn tidal peak and launch the long-dormant ritual in one go.

"He is more familiar with the underground network of the Old Industrial District than anyone else." Abraham analyzed in a low voice. "His decade-plus experience as a Nighthawk allowed him to memorize every abandoned fork in the road not recorded on the Secret Order's distribution map. Those old seal nodes deemed completely abandoned have most likely become his privately set backup anchors, used to activate hidden runes and accumulate spirituality."

At the same moment, at 15 Mingde Street, the Moriarty Detective Agency.

The warm yellow light isolated the autumn chill outside the window, the faint aroma of black tea filled the room, and the atmosphere was quiet.

Sherlock Moriarty had just sealed a finalized commission report into an envelope and raised his eyes to look at Audrey sitting opposite him.

A week later, she had already participated in the internal salon of the Psychology Alchemists and brought back key intelligence.

"At the salon, several people showed a strong desire to investigate the snake-shaped patterns and the Antigonus Ruins. Among them, a young man was the most suspicious, highly consistent with the person I met previously at the Old Book Exhibition Hall."

Audrey spoke at a steady pace, recounting the details with clarity: "He actively asked questions at the salon, focusing on Beyonder abilities related to dream prophecy. His questions were professional, his entry points precise; he was definitely not an ordinary curious layman."

"Throughout the process, Isabelle was exceptionally friendly toward him, with an attitude far superior to that toward the other participants. After the salon ended, she specifically kept him behind alone for a closed-door private conversation of nearly an hour."

She paused slightly, recalling the secret scene at that time: "I was pretending to flip through an art magazine in the lounge. Through the glass partition, I observed that inside the closed consultation room, Isabelle was holding a sealed small lead box."

Sherlock's gaze deepened slightly, immediately seeing through the crux of the matter: "Inside the box, it is either the complete potion formula for the Spectator Pathway or a finished potion that has already been prepared."

"This is a signal of formal recruitment. The hour-long private conversation indicates that the other party did not immediately agree, remained hesitant and observant, or needed Isabelle to continue lobbying and throw out more bargaining chips."

"This person was originally bait laid out by the Psychology Alchemists in advance. With a clean background, basic knowledge of the Beyonder world, and strong plasticity, he is a core reserve member they are focusing on absorbing."

Audrey then asked: "How should I conduct myself next?"

"Maintain your current posture and do not act rashly." Sherlock gave a precise judgment. "Isabelle's focus at this stage is entirely on this person, and she has no energy to conduct deep probing and recruitment of you for the time being. You can just take this time to observe in secret and collect information; there is no need to actively push for any contact."

He immediately handed over a concise profile of the person and revealed his background: "This person is named Philip Nolan, the son of a retired officer from the Royal Guard. Two years ago, he resigned from his decent job as a bank clerk and opened a small art gallery in the Dock District. His father was once a subordinate of Count Hall, and his family foundation is solid."

Aristocratic circles, a clean resume, high-quality connections—these are exactly the kind of recruits the Psychology Alchemists favor most. They never just recruit talented Beyonders; they are also after the intricate family relationships and circle resources behind them.

The undercurrents of Backlund have always been intertwined from top to bottom, layer by layer.

Several days passed in the blink of an eye.

The autumn wind was bleak, the weeds in the Old Industrial District were gradually turning yellow, and repeated autumn rains completely washed away the dust on the surface, exposing many secret traces.

Lu Li completed his routine perimeter inspection and walked again toward that half-exposed abandoned branch pipe fork.

The rusted and mottled iron fence was still dilapidated and old, blending in with the surrounding desolate scenery, except for the gap in the hinge, where the layer of pale amber mineral lubricating oil was brand new and bright, the traces left were extremely fresh, evidence of recent human application.

On the surface of the soil at the entrance of the fork, there was a set of very shallow footprints. The edges were neat, the wear on the forefoot was even, and the force applied was extremely light. The walker's steps were cautious, testing every step, deliberately trying to conceal their own tracks.

Lu Li bent down and walked slowly into the underground along the narrow fork.

The pipe walls on both sides were covered with dried, blackened mold traces. The mycelium that had spread wantonly during the spring and summer seasons had long since withered, leaving only large patches of pale brown marks attached to the stone walls.

Completely different from the previous anchored mycelium patterns that had been blocked, the growth direction of these traces did not point to the main seal node on the periphery of Chanis Gate, but instead extended all the way deeper into the underground along the deep fork.

Walking to the end of the passage, an abandoned anchor that had been sealed for many years suddenly came into view.

On the base stone, it was covered with fresh traces of spiritual activation, and the core position still retained a weak, slow spiritual pulsation that had not been cut off.

The anchor core was intact and not broken; it had not been completely scrapped, just temporarily stabilized by someone using extremely rough methods.

Surrounding the core were several hastily outlined seal runes, with twisted and crooked lines, messy spacing, and extremely poor neatness, not at all like the rigorous, orderly, and meticulous style of Ince Zangwill during his Nighthawk period.

Lu Li's gaze narrowed, instantly discerning the root of the abnormality.

These were traces left after corruption erosion.

Ince, whose mind had been damaged by the long-term, subtle erosion of 0-08, was no longer the steady man he once was.

Coupled with the consumption of several rituals in spring and summer and the aggravation of spiritual overdraft, the old scar on the palm of his left hand continued to spread, affecting his limb control and mental stability. When he drew the runes, he could no longer maintain his past standards.

Rough, hasty, barely maintaining stability—this was his truest state at present.

Beside the anchor base, several emptied small lead bottles were scattered. The bottle mouths were slightly open, and the faint aura of the Sea of Wraith spiritual dust still lingered.

The clues were closed one by one.

Ince had already completed multiple small-scale spiritual extractions here.

He had learned the lesson from the summer solstice anchor, where one-time excessive extraction caused spiritual fluctuations to explode and expose him, and changed to a safe but time-consuming method: the amount of each extraction was extremely small, the frequency was extremely high, and he accumulated spiritual dust in batches in a long-term, steady manner.

This not only allowed him to continuously reserve the resources needed for the ritual but also perfectly avoided large-scale spiritual fluctuations, dodging all monitoring charms on the periphery.

Lu Li took out the spiritual detection needle and probed it into the anchor core.

The cool needle body quickly sensed the residual warmth; the heat had not yet faded.

The last time he activated it and extracted dust was within just a few days.

He collected the empty bottles one by one, sealing them as evidence, and then took out his notebook to accurately map the topography of the fork, the coordinates of the anchor, and the extension trajectory of the mold mycelium, recording all details completely.

The situation was already clear.

Crystal cores, weapons, secret anchors—Ince was all set.

Relying on this unknown abandoned fork, he activated the remaining old anchor, barely maintaining stability with rough seals, accumulating spiritual dust in small amounts at high frequency, silently accumulating power, and waiting for the autumn tidal peak in a few months.

It was just that this temporary anchor had extremely poor stability, the hastily outlined runes could not support it for too long, and there were many hidden dangers.

Exiting the underground pipe network and returning to the quiet apartment in the River Bay District, the gentle afternoon sunlight spilled through the window lattice.

Lu Li spread out his notebook, updating and sorting out Ince's complete movements item by item.

Resources secured, anchor enabled, dust accumulated, dormant layout all completed.

The tidal peak had not yet arrived; this was Ince's last buffer period and his only preparation time.

This unstable fork anchor could not be supported for a long time. According to his cautious and forbearing style of acting, he would only have two choices next: either continue to dig deep into the underground pipe network, looking for more abandoned old anchors as backups; or re-cultivate and activate brand-new mold marks, building more secret spiritual pathways to solidify his trump cards for the ultimate ritual when the tide comes.

Closing the thick notebook, his tense mind relaxed slightly.

Lu Li stood up and added fresh water to the ivy on the windowsill.

The cool autumn wind blew through the window, brushing against a few newborn tender leaves, swaying gently.

Under the glass plate, the oak angel road sign hand-drawn by Old Kohler's daughter lay quietly, the old copper button catching the afternoon sun, refracting fine, faint silver-white light spots.

The undercurrents of wind and rain were still surging, but the momentary tranquility after the dust settled was rare and peaceful.

Autumn was deepening, the game had not stopped, and all the dormant forces were waiting quietly for an explosion that was destined to come.