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I Loaded the Mysticism Panel

Chapter 157 - 146: Legal Principle · Oct 26, 2026

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Chapter List (281)

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151 Chapter 151 - 142: The Lovers Card 2026-10-26
152 Chapter 152 143: She Who Eats Shadows 2026-10-26
153 Chapter 153 - 143: She Who Eats Shadows 2026-10-26
154 Chapter 154 - 143: She Who Eats Shadows 2026-10-26
155 Chapter 155 - 144: Christmas Eve 2026-10-26
156 Chapter 156 - 145: Lamb and Cross 2026-10-26
157 Chapter 157 - 146: Legal Principle 2026-10-26
158 Chapter 158 - 146: Legal Principle 2026-10-26
159 Chapter 159 - 146: Legal Principle 2026-10-26
160 Chapter 160 - 147: Wilderness Hunt 2026-10-26
161 Chapter 161 - 148: Highland Summer House 2026-10-26
162 Chapter 162 - 149: Fall-Inducing Fire 2026-10-26
163 Chapter 163 - 149: Fall-Inducing Fire 2026-10-26
164 Chapter 164 - 150: Peat Bog 2026-10-26
165 Chapter 165 - 151: Ether Burst 2026-10-26
166 Chapter 166 - 151: Ether Eruption 2026-10-26
167 Chapter 167 - 152: Adipocere 2026-10-26
168 Chapter 168 - 153: Exoteric Division and Esoteric Division 2026-10-26
169 Chapter 169 - 154: The One Who Steals the Young People’s Shadows 2026-10-26
170 Chapter 170 - 154: The One Who Stole the Young Man’s Shadow 2026-10-26
171 Chapter 171 - 154: The One Who Stole the Young Man’s Shadow 2026-10-26
172 Chapter 172 - 155: Card Array: Crossing Bridge 2026-10-26
173 Chapter 173 - 155: Card Formation: Crossing Bridge 2026-10-26
174 Chapter 174 - 156: New Year’s and the Crossing Veil 2026-10-26
175 Chapter 175 - 157: Spirit Lodging Artifacts 2026-10-26
176 Chapter 176 - 158: Her Children 2026-10-26
177 Chapter 177 - 159: Forged Blade 2026-10-26
178 Chapter 178 - 159: Forged Blade 2026-10-26
179 Chapter 179 - 160: Judgment 2026-10-26
180 Chapter 180 - 160: Judgment 2026-10-26
181 Chapter 181 - 161: Returning to Sleep 2026-10-26
182 Chapter 182 - 162: We Must Rise 2026-10-26
183 Chapter 183 - 162: We Shall Rise 2026-10-26
184 Chapter 184 - 162: We Must Rise 2026-10-26
185 Chapter 185 - 163: Automatic Secretary Doll 2026-10-26
186 Chapter 186 - 163: Automatic Secretary Doll 2026-10-26
187 Chapter 187 - 163: Automatic Secretary Doll 2026-10-26
188 Chapter 188 - 164: Boundary Stone 2026-10-26
189 Chapter 189 - 165: The Essence of Encryption 2026-10-26
190 Chapter 190 - 166: I Have an Expert Ancestor 2026-10-26
191 Chapter 191 - 166: There Was an Expert Among My Ancestors 2026-10-26
192 Chapter 192 - 167: Tribute 2026-10-26
193 Chapter 193 - 168: Mortal Enemy and the New Generation 2026-10-26
194 Chapter 194 - 169: Saint Anne’s Spring 2026-10-26
195 Chapter 195 - 170: Everything’s Fine at Home 2026-10-26
196 Chapter 196 - 170: Everything Is Fine at Home 2026-10-26
197 Chapter 197 - 170: All is Well at Home 2026-10-26
198 Chapter 198 - 171: Observation 2026-10-26
199 Chapter 199 - 171: Observation 2026-10-26
200 Chapter 200 172: Well Forbidden Song 2026-10-26

Room Four was at the far end of the east wing on the second floor.

Richard walked down the hallway, suitcase in hand. As he passed the other rooms, he could hear the rustling of people rummaging through their belongings.

He turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

The room wasn’t large, a bit narrower than his own bedroom at home.

A brass bed stood against the north wall, the posts of its headboard worn to a smooth shine.

On the nightstand, a folded note was pinned beneath a pot of hot water. Beside it lay two hard biscuits wrapped in oil paper.

Richard set his suitcase in a corner.

He walked to the window and pulled the curtains apart.

The window faced east, offering a view of a stone wall at the eastern edge of Whitcomb Village. Beyond the wall was a vast expanse of low shrubs and rolling highlands.

The sun was already dipping in the west, bathing the wilderness in a rusty-red glow.

A river valley was faintly visible in the distance. According to the map, that was the direction of Whitcombe Mill.

He left the gun case and the Enchanted Bullet Box in his backpack, which he set down next to the nightstand, within easy reach.

He placed his notebook and Inscription materials in the center of the writing desk.

Once he had arranged his things, he hung his coat on a hook inside the wardrobe door.

When he went downstairs, several more people were already at the long table.

The first to see him was a young man in a black priest’s robe.

The young man stood up from his chair.

He was slightly taller than Richard, with neatly cut, golden-brown hair.

His light brown eyes were direct, yet not aggressive.

”You’re Richard Williams, aren’t you?”

”You know me?”

”Mr. Hutton mentioned you’d be arriving today.” The young man extended his hand. ”Edmond Wickliffe. Saint Peter’s Monastery Divinity School, Scholar direction.”

Richard shook his hand. He could sense that the man’s internal circulation had been stable for over a year.

Following the other man’s lead, he replied, ”Greenwood Middle School, Scholar direction.”

”I know Greenwood,” the preparatory priest said with a nod. ”I grew up in Brighton, too.”

”You’re from Brighton?” Richard was a little surprised.

”Go south from Waste Rock Lane, cross Central Avenue, and three streets further is Cornwall Road. My house is right behind the little chapel on Cornwall Road.”

Richard was familiar with that area.

The little chapel on Cornwall Road wasn’t large, but the building was very old.

”Is your father a Deacon at the church?”

”The Parish Priest. He’s been there for twenty years now.”

”Before I went to the Divinity School, Mr. Hutton also mentored me for a while,” he continued. ”I was about fourteen or fifteen at the time.”

”Mr. Hutton has never mentioned his former students.”

”He wouldn’t bring it up himself.” Edmund smiled. ”Mr. Hutton never treats his past as a topic for idle chatter.”

Richard silently agreed.

Mr. Hutton almost never spoke of his own past.

”The year the Divinity School was accepting new students, my father told me to apply,” Edmund said.

”For admissions to the Saint Peter’s Monastery Divinity School, they look at more than just academic performance.

”My family having several generations of priests, plus a letter of recommendation from Mr. Hutton, made getting in quite a bit easier.”

”They teach this kind of thing at the Divinity School, too?”

”They do, but only a certain type.” Edmund’s reply was cautious.

”As for which type, we can talk about that later when we’re all seated.”

Another person stood up from behind Edmund.

He was shorter, about half a head shorter than Richard.

His brown hair was as stiff as a brush, and he wore a suit vest that was clearly a size too small.

”Theodore Hargrave.” The boy spoke with a hint of a mining district accent. ”West Yorkshire, Secret Direction.”

”I don’t really have a school to speak of. Mr. Penbrook himself picked me out from a horse farm.”

”Mr. Penbrook?”

”He’s a shareholder in my family’s horse farm,” Theodore explained. ”Two members of his family have achieved Minor Mastery, and he himself is a Senior Practitioner in the Secret Direction.”

”How did he pick you out from the horse farm?”

The boy from the horse farm grinned, revealing two slightly yellowed front teeth.

”When I was twelve, I was crouching in the stables, helping an old mare give birth.

”Mr. Penbrook was passing by and asked me if the mare would make it.

”I said she would. He asked how, and I told him the foal’s legs were backward in the womb, and that I had to turn it around before pulling it out.”

”You actually turned it around?” Richard asked, fascinated.

”Turned it around,” Theodore said. ”The foal lived, and the mother did too.”

”And then?”

”Mr. Penbrook asked me how I knew its legs were backward. I told him I couldn’t see, but I could feel it.”

”And that’s why he chose you?”

”He found other excuses to come by a few more times, always making me do something while he watched.”

The boy from the horse farm recalled, ”One time, he took a Copper Whistle out of his pocket and told me to say what was different about it.”

Richard now understood completely. This whole process was similar to the inspiration test Old Big had given him back then.

At that moment, Mr. Hutton, who was sitting a bit farther away with a teacup, spoke up.

”Penbrook and I were apprentices together in the Imperial Capital back in the day. We’ve stayed in touch ever since.”

”It’s a shame his health has always been poor. He couldn’t come to this godforsaken, freezing place.”

’Why would a Practitioner of the Secret Direction have been an apprentice with Mr. Hutton?’

Richard was puzzled, but he didn’t ask out loud.

The third person to speak was a girl with red hair in two thick braids. She had a scattering of faint freckles and a plain face.

She was wearing a long, thick woolen dress and was huddled next to the fireplace, seemingly very afraid of the cold.

”Maggie Macfee. I’m a local here in the Gael Highlands. Scholar direction.”

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