With just a little more accumulation, it wouldn't take long before he could fulfill Moon City's requests, cure their deformities, and create a significant miracle—indeed, a substantial one. Moreover, he has already begun to outline the foundational guidelines for embodying the role of a "miracle worker." By proceeding steadily in this manner, the process of internalizing these practices will merely be a matter of time, and he might very well succeed within the year. Klein drew his gaze back from the window, raised his left arm, and gently manipulated the monster puppet worn on his hand, entertaining the child across the room. This made him appear more like a traveling magician. Should he choose, he could even use his "Life Staff" or "Grafting" abilities to endow the puppet with certain lifelike qualities. While playing with the children, Caine's thoughts drifted outward, considering where the city of secret figures—needed for the promotion ceremony—should be established: "The city of secret figures needs sufficient interaction to take root in the spiritual realm. Therefore, placing it in a god-forgotten region won't work. Besides the fact that it's currently sealed off, unable to connect directly with the spiritual realm through ordinary means, even if the seal were lifted, the lack of intelligent life would make it difficult to generate enough interaction. "Setting it in either the northern or southern continents, or in maritime colonies, requires great care. Until the ceremony nears success, it must remain completely hidden as a city of secret figures—otherwise, it will inevitably face interference, disruption, or even attacks from adversaries like Zarathustra and Amun. "Hmm. We must provide a solid reason for the emergence of the city of secret figures, and ensure that in daily interactions with merchants and local human inhabitants, there are no anomalies. Each figure must feel like a real person, with a distinct past, present, and future, following its own unique life path. "This means the city will become highly complex, requiring the emergence of numerous 'spiritual insects' to manage He had previously made several round trips to the forsaken land, transforming countless monsters—of various kinds, not necessarily possessing extraordinary traits—and had, on a regular basis, consciously and in batches, controlled numerous mice, cockroaches, mosquitoes, and flies, striving to make the other side of the secret city feel genuinely authentic. My current accumulation is barely sufficient to sustain a small city; a few more visits to the forsaken land should be enough... Just as Cléen formed this thought, a scene suddenly appeared before him: At the summit of the "Kingdom of the Giant," bathed in the golden light of dusk, the large, open door slowly and heavily closed. It was as if an invisible hand were sealing the entrance to the forsaken land. This... Cléen's gaze darkened slightly, and he faintly sensed that this scene signaled the imminent resealing of the forsaken land by the "True Creator." This was the prophetic ability born from his angelic spiritual intuition and sense of impending danger: such an event would unfold within a few seconds or minutes. Has the True Maker caught Amun, or has it already given up? Has it sealed off the God-Abandoned Lands again to keep others out? Isn't that a bit petty? Klein mumbled a few thoughts to himself, feeling a bit disappointed. Of course, his secret doppelgänger was barely sufficient—though there were still gaps, he could make up for them at sea. At the same time, Audrey was quietly guiding various individuals who already desired such change in reorganizing the worker associations across Beckland, striving to consolidate the strength of the working class. Her experiences had taught her that reliance on the goodwill of upper-level officials was both unreliable and short-lived, and that individuals were extremely powerless when facing governments, nobility, or large merchants—without the collective mobilization of a broader populace and their united action, no balance could be achieved. ——The Roon Kingdom had long featured worker associations across different industries, but their upper echelons were easily bought off, often becoming effective tools against ordinary workers. Susi glanced at Audrey, her expression quite normal, yet her mouth seemed to be out of control, vibrating the air and emitting a low, masculine voice: "Madam Audrey, I am Eric Drake, President of the Psychological Alchemy Guild. I would like to meet you to discuss your appointment as a member of the Guild's Council. I'm right in the nearby park." Upon finishing this, Susi took a long, deep breath and regained her usual voice: "Audrey, there's a strange fellow who's come to see you—I can't quite remember what he looks like. He simply placed his thoughts directly into my mental island!" Audrey's pupils slightly widened before settling back to normal; she remained composed, nodding gently: "Where exactly in the park?" As she spoke, Audrey had already quietly summoned a persona, entering Susi's mental island through the collective unconscious sea, to check whether any distortions or external consciousnesses remained embedded within. "I don't remember... I was just taking a walk at the time," Suzy said as she recalled. Then, she gently wagged her tail: "I think you shouldn't go—it would be very dangerous." After confirming through Suzy's 'virtual persona' that there were no other concerns, Audrey took a barely perceptible breath and added: "If you don't go, you'll be even more suspect; in that case, the danger will inevitably unfold, and it might even extend to the other people living in this house." Moreover, it's also an opportunity, just as the 'Hangman' gentleman mentioned—since the end is inevitable, every effort and attempt that doesn't bring disaster is meaningful." Mentally adding that thought, Audrey then said: "I'll take good care of myself." "Suzy, did you experience anything else just now?" Suzy barked once: "Nothing." "Audrey, are you really going?" "Yes," Audrey replied with certainty. "Then would you be able to take me with you?" "Just as before, in their eyes, I was just a dog," Suzy said with courage. "No, thank you—I'll be back soon. Believe me, I'll be protected by the gods," Odile replied with a gentle smile. Calming Suzy, she used her "psychological invisibility" ability and stepped out of the luxurious villa just as she would have on a normal day. Once she was out of sight, a servant cleaning in a corner of the first floor suddenly lowered her head and softly uttered a series of words she had never learned before: "The fool of a time that does not belong to this era..."... "Consistent with the atmosphere of the 'Justice' lady's home... seemingly guided by the 'virtual persona' intruding upon the island of consciousness... the 'Justice' lady is thus evading surveillance, seeking protection through this means..." The figure quickly formed a judgment and relayed the situation to the main consciousness. A few seconds later, Caine entered the "Source Fortress," allowing the individual "spirit insects" left behind to re-enter his body. "The 'Justice' lady is increasingly embodying the demeanor of a high-sequence 'audience' member..." Caine murmured to himself, turning his gaze toward the deep red star representing 'Justice.' That is to say, the coachman is merely a phantom, a figurehead— the true sovereign of the carriage is the horses themselves. A few seconds later, the large carriage stopped in front of Audrey, and the compartment creaked open. "Please come in," a deep male voice echoed from within. Audrey lifted her skirt and stepped onto the carriage, where she found a gentleman seated in a black wheelchair. He had long, light-brown eyebrows, his hair neatly combed back, a few lines of wrinkles on his forehead, and a strangely pale complexion. "Mr. Delaure? You're not supposed to have passed away, are you?" Audrey recognized the man and expressed her astonishment appropriately. "For an audience, death signifies only the end of a role. In other plays, I remain very much alive." "The dignified gentleman seated in the black wheelchair smiled and replied, 'Besides my title as former dean of the Beckland Medical School and former royal medical advisor, I am also the 'Black Seat King' Bartholomew Hopkins on the sea, the renowned recluse Eric Drake—wait, wait.'" "Then how shall I address you?" Audrey asked politely, her eyes glancing at the automatically closing door. "The gentleman gently stroked the wheels on either side of the seat," he said. "You may call me 'Mr. Chairman,' or continue to address me as 'Mr. Delaure.'" He then indicated the row of seats on the left side of the carriage. "Please sit down. We'll visit a place first, and then discuss your appointment as a member of the Psychological Alchemy Council." Audrey nodded gently and settled herself in silence. She didn't conceal her gaze as she fixed it on the window, momentarily astonished to find that in the span of a single blink, the park had transformed into a foreign city, enveloped in night. Towering within the city were magnificent buildings exuding an air of mystery and dark elegance, with gentlemen in hats and overcoats and women in elaborate, somber gowns strolling about. In a single glance, Audrey noticed a gentleman standing beside the carriage, his face covered with short black hair and sharp canine teeth. He was a werewolf.