I Loaded the Mysticism Panel

Richard opened his eyes at six o’clock sharp. The springs of the brass bed let out a dull THUMP as he turned over.

He put on his coat and wrapped his scarf twice around his neck.

His Webley was in a holster on his hip, its shape concealed by his coat.

No one was downstairs.

He didn’t disturb the others, who were still asleep, and gently slid open the wooden latch behind the door before leaving through the main entrance.

It was much colder outside than indoors. Smoke was already beginning to drift from the chimneys of a few village houses.

Richard walked out, following the stone wall on the east side of the village.

About half a mile past the village boundary, the terrain began to slope down to the southwest.

The wilderness was covered in grayish-white reeds and shrubs bent low by the frost, with scattered piles of sheep dung dotting the landscape.

He stopped on a high slope with a view overlooking the valley.

From this position, he was a little over a mile from the mill.

The square on the map was at the bottom of the distant valley, and from this angle, he could see the dilapidated roofline of the mill.

He stopped there, not wanting to get too close.

Mr. Hutton had mentioned something last night: the one locked within the Seal was sensitive to human microcirculation. Having had little contact with living people for thousands of years, each encounter made her very excited.

He first did a quick scan with his Spiritual Vision.

The Ether Field throughout the valley was extremely uneven.

The deepest pockets were all concentrated around the abandoned stone building in the center of the valley.

This was proof that the Seal was still working.

If the Seal were to fail completely, the Ether Field would spread out and creep toward the village.

On the way back, he encountered an old man.

The old man was coming up from the direction of a sheepfold below the slope. He was leaning on a brightly polished oak Shepherd’s Staff, its head carved into a curling ram’s horn.

Six or seven goats followed behind him, shuffling up the path.

Richard stepped to one side to let him pass.

The shepherd stopped when he was beside Richard and said something.

It was in the Gaelic Language, which Richard didn’t understand.

He replied in the Albion Language, ”Good morning.”

The old man raised his free right hand, first touching his own chest, then drawing a diagonal line across Richard’s.

After doing this, the shepherd turned and continued up the slope, the goats fanning out behind him.

Richard stroked his chin.

He had seen that gesture in the supplementary materials Isabella had left for him.

There was a section in the appendix titled *A Brief Study of Ancient Celtic Rural Folklore*, which mentioned a category of gestures labeled ”kinship recognition.”

This type of gesture was not used with strangers. It was only exchanged between two locals to convey the meaning, ’we both stand upon this land.’

After the Romans came, the Priests were scattered, and this custom trickled down from the clergy to the shepherds and blacksmiths.

Richard started walking back toward the village.

He recalled last night’s conversation at the inn. The senior members had discussed many things in front of the innkeeper, and Mrs. MacNeil had even announced the mission arrangements on the spot.

At the time, he’d thought the innkeeper’s family were also part of the Mysterious Side.

Now it seemed that circle was even wider.

The locals in the Whitcomb area knew in their bones how to deal with this land.

Neolithic Era Priests had erected Stone Arrays here, Pre-Roman Era Druids had lit midsummer fires here, and the Gaels had told stories here for over a thousand years.

Every generation knew some of the land’s rules, and those rules included cooperating with Practitioners of the Mysterious Side.

As he walked back to the inn’s entrance, the bell of the small church to the east of the village struck seven.

The inn’s main hall was already bustling with activity.

Behind the bar, the innkeeper’s wife was frying bacon in a large iron skillet.

Edmund was sitting at the table by the window. Theodore was huddled across from him, a tuft of hair sticking up that he hadn’t flattened.

”Morning,” Edmund said, looking up at him. ”You went out?”

”Went to check things out on the east side,” Richard said, unwrapping his scarf.

”See anything?” Theodore asked, picking up his tea.

”A flock of sheep and an old shepherd,” Richard replied, sitting down.

Theodore chuckled. ”No wonder you’re back so late. Once old folks get started talking, they’ll tell you stories from their grandfathers’ time to their grandsons’.”

”He didn’t talk to me.”

”Not a single word?”

”He said one thing, but I didn’t understand. And he drew a diagonal line across my chest.”

Maggie came downstairs just then, wrapped in a woolen cloak a size too big for her. She looked even more sensitive to the cold than last night.

”That’s an old custom of the Gaels. He was greeting you.”

The innkeeper’s wife came out of the kitchen with the bacon and placed it in the middle of the Newcomers’ table.

”You four young gentlemen, eat up.”

Her accent was thick, but she spoke Imperial Mandarin with perfect clarity. ”You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

The topic of conversation at the breakfast table quickly shifted from the fat on the bacon to more serious matters.

Mrs. MacNeil dabbed her mouth and placed her folded napkin beside her plate.

”Starting today, the reinforcement ceremony will officially begin. It will take about three to four days.”

She held up one finger.

”Mr. Hutton and I will be focusing our efforts in the village for the next few days.”

”This will include drawing the master schematic for the ceremony, preparing the ritual tools, and gathering local mediums—things like slate, salt, flint, and specific plants.”

”We also need to coordinate with the chief administrator for a small-scale relocation in the village.”

”Relocation?” Theodore asked, puzzled.

”On the night the ceremony begins, there can’t be any ordinary people within three miles of Mill Valley.”

Mrs. MacNeil explained, ”There are a few families here in Whitcomb who live on the outskirts of the valley. We’ll have to ask them to stay in the village for a night.”

”Will they be agreeable?” Edmund asked.

”The people around here,” Mr. Hutton interjected, ”are all very agreeable.”

”As for you,” Mrs. MacNeil’s gaze fell upon the group of Newcomers.

”For the next two days, you’ll be with Captain Field and Lady Sarah.”

”What will we be doing?” Maggie asked.

”Patrolling a ten-mile radius around the mill,” Captain Field answered this time.

He put down his fork and laid his knife horizontally across the rim of his plate.

”Before the ceremony begins, we need to clear out a number of weak spots on the outskirts of the mill.”

”Weak spots?” Theodore already had his pen out.

”I’ll explain later.” Captain Field raised a hand to stop him. ”Listen first.”

”Clearing the weak spots is one task,” Mrs. MacNeil continued.

”The second is to take you into the Nearshore Layer behind the Curtain for the first time.”

A palpable tension fell over the four Newcomers at the table.

”Of the four of you, I’m guessing only Maggie has been inside,” Mrs. MacNeil said, glancing at the red-haired girl.

Maggie set her cup down. ”I went a few times as a child. I could see my great-grandmother in there. She’d always pat my head a couple of times. My mom called it ’an ancestor’s blessing.’”

”Edmund?”

”The Divinity School taught us about it,” Edmund said, a bit uncertain. ”But they taught the Church’s version of the ’nearshore,’ which they call a ’Spiritual Window.’ It’s different in nature.”

”How is it different, exactly?” Theodore asked, seizing the opportunity.

”We look in from behind a Cross,” Edmund said, choosing his words carefully. ”They open a door and walk right out.”

Theodore thought for a moment but didn’t press the issue.

”And Richard?” Mrs. MacNeil turned to him.

”Never been,” Richard said frankly.

”Good.” Mrs. MacNeil folded her hands. ”Then we’ll use these next two days to get you caught up.”

She glanced at Mr. Hutton, ceding the floor to him.

”What the four of you have learned about the world behind the Curtain,” the old gentleman said, glancing at the four young people, ”is most likely very superficial.”

”Today, I will go a little deeper.”

”Are you familiar with a psychologist by the name of Jung?”

”I’ve heard of him,” Edmund was the quickest to reply. ”He was mentioned in our philosophy class at the Divinity School, but we didn’t go into much detail.”

The old gentleman nodded.

”In the last twenty years, he and another psychologist formulated a theory.”

”He believes that all of humanity is connected at the deepest level of consciousness.”

”Within the depths of human consciousness are stored all the emotions humanity has repeatedly experienced.”

”Fear, hatred, love, jealousy, violence... He called this the ’collective unconscious.’”

At this point, Mr. Hutton paused to gauge the four’s reactions.

Edmund seemed to have a realization, Maggie’s expression was unchanged, Theodore was furiously scribbling notes, and Richard was listening quietly.

”I use Jung’s theory because it stands at the forefront of academia.”

The old gentleman continued his explanation.

”But long before Jung proposed this theory, our ancestors had their own explanations for the phenomena behind the Curtain.”

”When people saw a gray mist drifting out of a swamp, they would identify it according to the legends they had heard.”

”The Gaels would say, ’That’s an Enchanting Lamp.’ The Saxons would say, ’That’s a Night Traveler.’ The Celts would say, ’That’s a Fall-Inducing Fire.’”

”The names are different, but they are the same thing in essence. The Ether is influenced by these stories and actually produces related phenomena. This is the true nature of Evil Beings and the various things found behind the Curtain.”

He turned his teacup halfway around.

”The Evil Beings you’ve heard of—Ghouls, Vampire Species, the Headless Knight, Water Ghosts, Banshees, Black Hounds... they were all molded into existence by dozens of generations on this land through a combination of fear and storytelling.”

”They are the products of humanity’s own imagination.”

Silence fell around the table for a few seconds.

”So all the ’ghost stories’ we’ve ever heard... are real,” Theodore said, still trying to process it.

”That’s not entirely accurate,” said Mr. Hutton. ”It depends on which side you’re standing on.”

”From the side of the material world, they are fictional.”

”And from the side of the Curtain, they need to be repeatedly spoken of to even exist.”

Richard then asked a question.

”Sir, what is the ecology of these Evil Beings like behind the Curtain? And is it related to our mission these next few days?”

Mr. Hutton nodded, pleased with the question.

”The Lower-rank and lowest-rank Evil Beings of the Nearshore Layer possess only the most basic instincts.”

”Their instinct is to feed on residual Ether and occasionally materialize where the Curtain is thin.”

”One or two of them pose no real threat,” the old man said. ”The real trouble is when they ’gather.’”

”’Gather’?” Maggie pressed.

Mr. Hutton folded his hands on the tabletop.

”A single Swamp Corpse will draw scattered, floating Enchanting Lamps toward it.”

”When the number of Enchanting Lamps reaches a certain point, they attract a higher-tier predator.”

”The predator consumes a batch of the Enchanting Lamps, stays behind, and then attracts the next tier.”

”A food chain is thus established. And as Ether accumulates, these Evil Beings will grow more numerous and more powerful.”

”That’s why Hunters have to enter the Nearshore Layer to ’thin the herd’ periodically,” Captain Field interjected.

”We don’t let the Evil Beings gather in large numbers,” Sarah added. ”It’s a rule that’s been in place for thousands of years.”

”Since industrialization, the younger generations have left the land, and tradition is fracturing.”

”The old Hunters have retired, and new ones haven’t taken their place.”

”Meanwhile, the Curtain itself is also thinning. The workload for the various Branch Offices has doubled in recent years.”