No. 27 Phoenix Street.

  William parked the carriage and went to open the door on his own initiative.

  After entering, Javon removed his hat and coat, handed them to William, and gave a casual instruction. “Make a cup of hot cocoa. Bring it to the study.”

  William bowed and withdrew, shock still lingering in his mind.

  To outsiders, they had simply gone to visit an exhibition today. Who could imagine that Lucivar—the magician who had rampaged across Wynchester for days and toyed with the Bureau—was just… dead?

  In the study.

  Javon paid no mind to William’s astonishment. He sat behind the desk, spread out his stationery, and prepared to write.

  This time, killing Lucivar could be considered a partial disruption of the Cult of Desire’s scheme—and it had also exposed part of his identity, which would inevitably invite fiercer retaliation. Last time, it had only been a dispute centered on a small church on Mary Street, and the other side had immediately sent a magician to harm him—while also probing the arson case of Baron Jacques along the way.

  This baron matters more than I thought. It must be pulling on multiple sects—The Blood of Decay, The Epicurean Society, the Cult of Desire… hm?

  Javon’s eyes deepened. These three covert factions shared a single trait: they all involved Sanguis or Umbral.

  So… is the mastermind the Night-Mother and the Ossuary Lord—mother and son?

  He pondered for a moment, then set pen to paper, writing the opening line:

  Dear Mr. Havier…

  In the letter, he briefly mentioned the Cult of Desire, the theft of the Iron Crown, and the relationship between the magician and that sect—stating that, if necessary, Havier could release this information. In the middle portion, he warned that the Cult of Desire’s influence was vast, and urged Mr. Havier to be extremely cautious.

  Beyond that, he also asked for the Professor’s contact information—because at present, he lacked only one remnant of Tower.

  Finally, Javon asked Havier to have someone pass a message to Balkin: the bar was in danger, and if necessary, it could be abandoned and he should leave at once.

  After finishing, he folded the letter, sealed it in an envelope, stamped it with wax, and—rather than taking it out to mail—casually stuffed it into a drawer cabinet beside the study.

  An arcane artifact—Transposition Drawer!

  This one was a “monkey version,” crudely made and far from elegant. After Javon had spoken with Mr. Havier, it had been left here on purpose—able to contact Mr. Havier directly.

  After placing the letter into the drawer, Javon waited in silence.

  About five minutes later, a faint click came from within the drawer. He opened it. As expected, the letter was gone.

  “Not bad…”

  Javon left the study, intending to change clothes.

  Then, looking down the corridor, he suddenly realized he couldn’t tell which direction his bedroom was in.

  All right… the negative side effects on this monkey version are pretty severe.

  Realizing he was lost, Javon wasn’t worried. For the wealthy, there was no need to remember directions—there were always servants to guide them.

  Sure enough, not long after, William arrived with a tray bearing a cup of hot cocoa, and asked in surprise, “Mr. Morley… what are you doing?”

  “Bring it to my bedroom.”

  Javon’s expression did not change as he gave the instruction.

  “Yes!”

  William turned and walked toward the bedroom. Javon followed naturally behind.

  As they walked, Javon suddenly thought of Clark’s student—Bruce!

  Guided by a druid sect, Bruce had gone to the druid sacred land to undergo a Historical Regression ritual, and it had been some time.

  When we parted, I said I’d send contact details once I was settled. Now I am settled… but Mr. Cornelius’s shop has been sealed by the Bureau…

  Javon felt a trace of helplessness, and his expression abruptly grew grave.

  With his extremely sharp intuition, things that surfaced in his mind without cause often signified an omen—an instinctive divination.

  Looks like I need to gather some information about Bruce and his people… and his school—the Eye of Gumo!

  While he was thinking, William reached the bedroom and bent to pull the door open for Javon.

  Javon took the hot cocoa and walked straight inside, shutting William out with a casual motion.

  That same night.

  The Bureau’s underground headquarters.

  In a massive conference room, Xistos, Fiona, Jacob, and the other upper ranks sat behind the round table. None of them looked pleased as they listened in silence to a senior deacon reporting from a file held in both hands.

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  “Today’s casualty statistics from the Royal Art Exhibition… on our side, nine dead, seventeen wounded to varying degrees. Collateral injuries among onlookers exceeded a hundred—most of them minor, such as skin lacerations from glass fragments and injuries from the shock of explosions. They’ve all been sent for treatment and should recover soon.”

  “As for eyewitnesses: airships and gliders can be explained as science… but Captain Heisinger’s strike was seen by many. We’ll need to dispatch large numbers of Cleaners for aftermath handling, and also request that the upper levels put pressure on each newspaper so the situation is reported in the direction we want.”

  “Magician Lucivar is merely a thief with stage tricks. In short, everything is normal, reasonable, and there were no supernatural phenomena.”

  That had always been the Bureau’s line.

  Bang!

  Heisinger slammed a fist into the table. “I don’t care about any of that. I only want to know where that son of a bitch ran off to!”

  The casualties were severe—and more importantly, the magician had escaped. It was a colossal joke that made everyone present lose face and lose the royal family’s trust.

  “Ahem…”

  Xistos coughed lightly. When everyone’s eyes turned to him, he spoke.

  “I confirm he has advanced—he is now The Shadowless. Our trackers lost him in the Ethereal Realm, but they discovered a strange graveyard. A higher-tier Transcendent exerted influence there and erased all occult traces completely.”

  “The risk of supernatural forces in Wynchester is climbing higher and higher. I think it’s time for a major purge.”

  A director with pale hair proposed it.

  It was also a way to close other cases quickly and blunt the negative impact of the magician affair.

  That required a new target—arrest some illegal Transcendents, stack some merits. It was frustrating, but this was politics.

  “Then… the target?” Fiona’s face remained hidden beneath her hood, but her voice was as pleasant as ever.

  “Black Queen District… how about Havier’s market?”

  A portly director stood and distributed files to everyone present. “He’s recently developed an arcane artifact called a Transposition Drawer, capable of sending objects within Wynchester regardless of distance—including certain Essence materials! This is an ambitious figure. Once he establishes a complete credit network that doesn’t require face-to-face transactions, he’ll gain a terrifying level of influence and revenue. That is clearly unfavorable to the kingdom!”

  “An ambitious Transcendent. I like it.”

  Heisinger smiled. “It seems Mr. Havier has forgotten his station… a market of this scale, an opportunity of this size—only we are allowed to control it!”

  “Yes. We can’t let him continue.”

  “Black Queen District can’t be swept clean in one net, but against a single market or a specific Transcendent, the Bureau has more than enough strength.”

  “And it neatly redirects the pressure from above regarding the magician.”

  “I second.”

  “I second.”

  The meeting quickly reached a decision: launch a raid on The Displaced Castle.

  After the meeting, Xistos went to the plaza and stared at The Spear of the Sun King, silent.

  “Lord Xistos, is something wrong?” Jacob and Fiona approached behind him, speaking softly.

  “Though this proposal was bound to pass, it went too smoothly.”

  Xistos smiled as he answered. “The speakers came from different departments, yet they coordinated far too quickly—like they were being influenced by some will. Unfortunately, I cannot use the labyrinth of thought on my own people.”

  Jacob and Fiona exchanged a look. “Actually, we’ve just received an interesting report—about Javon Yuggs. He has disguised himself as Elvander, the owner of the Hunter’s Bar. And that bar is also one of the entrances to The Displaced Castle.”

  Wynchester was vast and full of Transcendents, but after the Third Sephiroth, their numbers dropped sharply.

  A Transcendent Artisan—especially one who appeared out of nowhere—stood out. And the magician’s high-profile stunt had shoved the Hunter’s Bar into the spotlight.

  Following that thread, the Bureau found the problem.

  “We finally have a lead.” Xistos nodded. “How likely?”

  “Seventy percent.”

  “Not precise enough. Have Madam Firework confirm again, based on the clues.”

  Jacob’s lips moved, but he did not object.

  Generally, divining high-tier beings brought harsh backlash—especially if there might be an Immortal behind the target.

  But with sufficient preliminary clues, with conditions extremely complete, and with the divination reduced to a simple yes-or-no question, the backlash would be far weaker—down to an acceptable level.

  Fiona bowed and withdrew. Not long after, she returned with Madam Firework’s answer.

  “The divination result confirms the hypothesis!”

  “So after arriving in Wynchester, that Sothos boy disguised himself as a bar owner. He likely possesses a high-rank item that changes appearance.”

  Xistos sighed. “Unfortunately, the magician cut off our thread again, and the target vanished once more…”

  Morley’s house and identity were separated from Elvander. Javon’s early arrangements were paying off now.

  “Then… our raid?” Jacob hesitated. “If Javon became the owner of the Hunter’s Bar, does that suggest the Immortal has a layout on Havier?”

  “We fear an Immortal, but we cannot be so afraid we behave like mice before a cat—especially when the matter may threaten the kingdom’s security.”

  Xistos said, “If Javon Yuggs stays there, we can delay and observe. But now that he has left, we must act. Once we take Havier and his faction, we can more conveniently investigate what this ‘piece’ called Javon is doing here—and we may lift a corner of the Immortal’s layout…”

  At that moment, another senior deacon hurried over and bowed. “Urgent report from the Head of the Faith Theory Department—this concerns the aftermath of the Mary Street church case!”

  Jacob took it, and frowned.

  “What happened?” Fiona asked calmly.

  “After the church case, the Bureau conducted a general inspection of all Holy Spirit Church churches across Wynchester. The results are not optimistic.”

  Jacob passed the report to Fiona. “Every church has issues to varying degrees. In the past it was only embezzlement, which isn’t our jurisdiction. But now some churches are declaring that The Holy Spirit has displayed miracles. Note—real supernatural phenomena, not tricks or stage magic! We suspect it’s connected to the Cult of Desire!”

  “What is Feret trying to do?” Xistos’s expression darkened at once.

  Given the scale of the Holy Spirit Church, even in Wynchester alone there were countless churches and over three million believers.

  If anything happened, the consequences were impossible to estimate.

  One thing was certain: it would be horrific.

  “This is too serious. We must submit a report to His Majesty the King, and issue an inquiry letter to the Pontiff!” Jacob decided quickly.

  But Xistos suddenly felt an ominous premonition.

  As far as the Bureau was concerned, their weight before Arthur VI… might truly not compare to that butt-selling Feret.

  Inside The Displaced Castle.

  Gantiss entered the room and saw Havier sliding a letter into a drawer cabinet.

  In this castle’s most important communications room, more than a dozen drawer cabinets were packed tightly together, forming a rough logistics network.

  Havier was like a queen bee in a hive, savoring the feeling of squatting at the center of information and goods.

  “Gantiss… I’ve just finished writing my reply to Elvander.”

  Havier smiled. “He told me that magician had the Cult of Desire behind him… warned me to be careful of retaliation. I’ve heard of that covert cult. They used to be very low-profile, but lately… they’ve been unusually active.”

  “I’ll instruct our people to stay alert,” Gantiss bowed in acknowledgment, his expression faintly troubled. “I’ve also heard intelligence on the Cult of Desire… if they can display miracles at preaching points, then behind it is most likely a pseudo-god—a The Crowned One in disguise…”

  “I’ve built a market in the Black Queen District, survived plenty of storms. A The Crowned One won’t target me over a small matter like this.” Havier’s expression turned unreadable. He asked, “What about the Hunter’s Bar?”

  “After our people delivered the message, the new owner, Balkin, found a manager—and then disappeared himself…”

  “He’s a normal man, but his nose is sharp.”

  Havier praised him casually—then suddenly heard a sound from one of the cabinets.

  He looked at the cabinet number. His expression shifted. He pulled the drawer open and saw the corpse of a dead pigeon inside.

  “This is… a warning from my mole inside the Bureau. The Bureau is about to move against us!”

  Havier’s face changed dramatically!