For the town of Mirrors, Caine had been contemplating its establishment from an early stage, and had already developed three initial concepts. If external influences were excluded, his optimal choice would be to have the Mirror Town rise suddenly and spontaneously in a specific location within a nation on the Northern Continent, directly connected to surrounding cities via railways, rivers, and roads. Under this scenario, the town would see a constant influx of visitors and would engage in strong interactions with its neighboring regions. On one hand, as a town without attached villages, it would need to purchase essential goods—such as grain, salt, textiles, minerals, and sugar—from other areas. On the other hand, it would also produce its own goods, which could be sold to nearby cities, towns, and villages. As a result, the back-and-forth movement of merchants, laborers, and travelers would be frequent, and their interactions with the residents of the Mirror Town would be substantial. Under the various strong interactions, in no time at all, the town of Secrecy will emerge as a corresponding region within the spiritual realm. Once the residents' destinies become more refined and authentic, Caine will be able to consume the elixir and ascend to the first rank—"The Mystical Servant." This entire process may take no more than three months. However, the issue lies in the fact that this plan cannot remain confidential. In the current era, it would be impossible to conceal the sudden appearance of a town in a particular location—government officials, police officers, and journalists would soon arrive to investigate. Moreover, the growing number of interactions would gradually bring increasing awareness of the town, both in terms of its existence and its character—something that cannot be resolved through mere magical illusions, unless the town of Secrecy maintains minimal or no interaction with surrounding cities, towns, or villages. But that would contradict the very requirements of the ritual. Once the news of the town of Caelen spreads, there's no doubt that characters like Zarathos and the true form of Amon will target him. At that point, defense will inevitably become harder than offense, forcing him to relocate the town with his own forces—thus undermining the early interactions, just as happened with the earlier experience of Udark the Wolf. Therefore, while Klein lists this option, he will hardly choose it unless a "visionary" is willing to lend support, making it natural and unquestionable across all beings on both northern and southern continents that such a town truly exists, rather than appearing suddenly. Considering various external influences and his own exceptional abilities, Klein's most secure course of action is to establish the town on a remote, uninhabited island away from the safe trade routes, and to use the "Source Citadel" as a foundation for countering divination and prophecy. At the same time, Cline will rely on the "curtain" to "connect" certain nodes of highways, rivers, and railways to outside the town of Sei-ou, making these points part of travelers' journeys. While this arrangement cannot be entirely confidential, once the "strange phenomena" spread and draw the attention of Chalatu and Amun, Cline can easily dismantle the original connections and irregularly reconfigure the entry points. Under this strategy, only the entry points are transferred—not the town itself—ensuring that the interactions generated in the spiritual realm are preserved and not disrupted, allowing the rituals to proceed steadily. Of course, this approach comes with significant drawbacks: the scope of interaction remains limited, unable to produce deep, everyday impacts across various domains, and the frequency and intensity of interactions are also relatively low. If this plan is adopted, Cline will need to dedicate half a year—or even more than a year—to the rituals. — If, for caution's sake, he insists that each secret figure's fate begins and ends, the ritual would consume at least fifty years. However, there's a clever workaround: once all other conditions are met, simply trigger a meteorite impact, an earthquake, and a volcanic eruption in the town, thereby simultaneously concluding the destinies of all the secret figures. Such an occurrence is realistic and highly plausible. Between the two extremes—aggressive and conservative—Klein proposes a balanced compromise. He suggests replicating a city, assigning each secret figure to correspond with a resident of that city. For the more ruthless approach, the city is entirely erased and replaced with his own town of secret figures. For the more compassionate approach, the city is concealed while ensuring a steady supply of resources—this is done without converting the target city, because it already has a corresponding region in the spiritual realm and was not newly formed, thus fulfilling the ritual's requirements. Klein, benefiting from the extraordinary characteristic of the "Mysterious Servant," which forms a "curtain," has better options: he can seamlessly integrate a specific phase of a city into his town of secret figures. In this way, his town of secret figures effectively becomes the city's shadow side. Visitors arriving during the corresponding time period encounter figures instead of real people, while when that period ends, they return to the real world and resume interactions with actual inhabitants. Throughout this process, Klein also dispatches secret figures to act as visitors, engaging in real-time interactions with the genuine residents, ensuring that when actual visitors return to the real world, they can seamlessly re-engage with the real community. Thus, the same city simultaneously unfolds two distinct realities—yet no one notices, and only occasionally does someone feel that a detail seems slightly off, though unable to explain it, and thus simply overlooks it. This aligns well with the essence of "mystery" and offers a certain degree of subtlety and concealment. Of course, this plan has its own issues—its fate is highly analogous to that of human beings, lacking sufficient independence, which may result in certain aspects of the ritual falling short of expectations. Tap, tap, tap. Kline lightly tapped the weathered edge of the long table, hesitating between the second and third options. After several minutes, he followed the voice of his heart and chose the second plan, willing to invest more time rather than compromise the destinies of the innocent. "Chalatou and Antigonus likely originally selected the third option..." Kline sighed, preparing to return to reality. At that moment, he glanced again at the cluttered area, considering whether to lower the oracle and have the City of Silver revise certain descriptions in the sacred texts. For a deity, the sacred texts are actually not particularly significant—their primary utility lies in facilitating missionary work and adding more anchors. This point, Caine had long concluded from the contents of the holy scriptures of the major divine churches—such as The Book of the Night's Revelation and The Book of the Storm—where most of the material served to elevate the divine beings, exaggerate their virtues, and emphasize their mercy and compassion. If, in ancient times, the faithful's perception of the gods indeed had a negative impact on them, then in the current era—where symbols have replaced images—the risk of such an effect has largely disappeared. At least, deities such as the Goddess of Night and the Lord of Storm openly claim to have originated from a specific part of the primordial Creator, without any concern that this would intensify the revival of their original, intrinsic will. Thus, if there were indeed a genuine issue in this regard, Caine believed that the Goddess of Night would have already revised the relevant descriptions—specifically, transforming the image of the primordial Creator's single eye into that of her own offspring, a development that carries significant dignity. At the same time, the recognition of certain matters by believers does not impose a mystical burden on the deities themselves; otherwise, Amun would have already secretly mobilized a group of followers—either among the current believers or from the earlier "Source Citadel"—to cultivate the belief that the "Temporal Angels" were incarnations of the "Mysterious Sovereign," and through instinctive responses that met specific criteria, established sufficient ties with the "Source Citadel," thereby opening a backdoor. To the deities, the sacred texts serve only two primary functions beyond the need for missionary outreach: first, a clear articulation of the deity’s own authority and title—any error in this would cause prayers to be directed toward an unknown, incorrect entity, posing a serious risk to the believers and destabilizing the deity’s own foundation; second, descriptions involving other churches, which are prone to generating conflicts. As for angels and saints, the deities are generally less concerned—what matters most is the angels and saints themselves, since they serve as anchors that the deities need to secure. Therefore, the various sacred texts provide detailed descriptions of angels and saints, endowing them with authority and honor, allowing different believers to select and incorporate them as appropriate. Yet this still falls short of forming a solid anchor, as it remains situated beneath the broader framework of divine spirit belief. To address this, the Orthodox Church assigns distinct patron angels and patron saints to different churches, precisely delineating their spheres of influence. Precisely because of this awareness, Cline has always held the sacred texts in low regard; after skimming through the sections outlining their authority and titles, he feels awkward and simply resorts to divination to check whether any conflicts might arise with the Orthodox Church. After some consideration, he abandoned the idea of directly issuing a divine mandate to have the Silver City revise the sacred texts, opting instead for a more gentle approach: within the Tarot Circle, through "World" Germaine Sparrow guiding "Sun" to adjust his perception, he subtly shifted the sections involving the "Hourly Angels" toward Palais Solrashad, thereby enabling revisions without raising suspicion among the Silver City. ………… Bayam, Verdu Abraham, had accumulated a wealth of esoteric knowledge within several circles of the extraordinary. He lit the gas wall lamp and, during the night, read carefully and thoroughly. By the time he reached the end, he came across a piece of information he had never known before: "Banshi is a place imbued with profound esoteric energies, possessing an extraordinary connection to the spirit and stellar realms. Even after the Storm Church directly destroyed the port, it could not fully erase its anomalous presence. 'Many esoteric researchers are now purchasing Banshi-related items at premium prices,' the text noted." "Banshi..." Vildu murmured softly, his interest in the port suddenly piqued. He began to consider whether he should also acquire some items from Banshi and conduct an in-depth study. After all, the spirit realm is closely tied to 'transportation,' while the stellar realm and the cosmos are linked to 'journeying'—both of these could potentially be relevant to Mr. Bertil Abraham's release. Perhaps, if the opportunity arose, he might visit Banshi himself. Vildu gave a barely perceptible nod.