"Do you have to complete a mission independently to become a formal member?" Klein was stunned for a moment and said, "But we may not even have a mission a week, and it may not be easy."

Doesn't this mean that it will take me about a month or two to officially become a night watchman, and to get a promotion and a raise?

Old Neil sniffed the coffee and glanced at him:

"This is just a ceremony between the Nighthawks. After all, we are at the forefront of the fight against extraordinary dangers. We certainly don't want our teammates to be children who need to be taken care of all the time. This does not affect your salary as a formal member, your corresponding rights, and your fulfillment of necessary obligations."

So it's a ceremony to gain recognition from other Nighthawks. But, Mr. Neil, why did you emphasize that it would not affect my salary as a formal member? Was I that obvious? Klein touched his face, smiled awkwardly, and asked:

"Does it have to be a mission of a supernatural nature?"

"That should have been the case, but you performed really well yesterday and skillfully killed a Beyonder of at least Sequence 1. I think Frye, Luo Yao and the others should have recognized you, so Dunn may just assign you an ordinary task." Old Neil suddenly sighed, "The salary has doubled. I will never encounter something like this again in my life."

Klein laughed twice and took the initiative to mention his own sequence pathway:

"Mr. Neil, do you think the sequence corresponding to 'The Fortuneteller' is 'The Joker' is real?"

In fact, recalling the description in the confidential information, it is quite consistent:

A "profession" that excels in skill-based combat

"I can't give you a guarantee, but I think this possibility is very high. First of all, it is consistent with the records in the data, characterized by agile movements and skill-based fighting. Secondly, other sequence paths also have similar situations. Do you know what the sequence corresponding to 'Secret Peeper' is called?" Old Neil asked with a smile.

“I don’t know. It’s not listed in the church’s information.” Klein shook his head calmly.

Old Neil chuckled and said:

"I am an acquaintance of the two old guys from the Mechanical Heart. They mentioned in a joking tone that the name of the sequence potion corresponding to the Secret Peeper is Combat Scholar. Did you hear that? Combat Scholar. Goddess, I don't like fighting at all. This is totally inconsistent with the image of the Secret Peeper!"

“It’s understandable that the ‘Secret Peeper’ is looking for the secrets behind things. Fighting is also a kind of thing.” Klein thought for a moment and said.

"Okay, don't waste time and continue with your mysticism courses. You still have a lot of ritual magic to master, and you must really learn how to make spells and amulets." Old Neil prepared the hand-ground coffee.

“Okay.” Klein sat down and arranged his schedule for today in his mind:

In the morning, I studied mysticism, read various historical materials, and submitted reimbursement applications. After lunch, I went to the shooting club to practice, and then went to the Deville Library in the Golden Indus District to see if I could borrow academic monographs and corresponding journals related to the main peak of Honachis. After doing all this, if there is still time, I will go to the divination club to sit down. I cannot relax at all when "acting".

After the application was approved and I received the fee, I bought a formal suit on the way home.

Well, I will apply for the materials tomorrow morning and try to make amulets for Melissa and Benson to avoid disasters.

Inside a restaurant with an elegant chandelier hanging down.

Several friends are congratulating Joyce Mayer on escaping the disaster and returning to Tingen.

"We've all seen it in the newspapers. Just the description in the text makes people feel scared." A man with a short beard said with emotion, "Joyce, it's hard to believe that you have experienced such a thing and suffered such hardships. Cheers, the bad luck is gone, the sun is shining on us, and the steam is above."

Joyce and his fiancée Anna raised their glasses at the same time, clinked them with their friends, and then drank the little champagne left in one gulp.

"Anna has been so worried these days. I suspect she cries every night. She was always distracted when I invited her to have afternoon tea. Fortunately, you finally came back, otherwise I suspect she would have died." A young lady with brown hair tied up looked at Anna and said to Joyce. She had a small and cute nose.

"If something similar happened to Anna, I would do the same, or even be even more out of control." Joyce, with a hooked nose, looked at his fiancée next to him tenderly.

Anna was not used to showing her emotions in front of others. She glanced at the other end of the long table and said:

"Bogda, why do you keep your head down? I can sense that you are in a bad mood."

The young lady with the small nose answered for the other:

"Bogda was ill, and the physician told him that there was a serious problem with his liver. Medication could only reduce the pain, but could not really cure it, so he had to undergo a surgical operation."

"Lord, when did this happen?" Anna and Joyce asked in surprise and concern.

Bogda was a young man with very short light hair. His face was yellowish and his usually shrewd red eyes were dull.

"I asked Irene and the others not to tell you about what happened last week because Joyce hasn't come back yet." Bogda explained with a wry smile.

Joyce asked calmly:

"Have you decided when to have the surgery?"

Bogda's expression changed several times and he said:

"No, I haven't made a decision yet. You know, those surgeons are just butchers. The patients are just pieces of meat on the chopping block, and they can cut them at will! I've seen many reports that they even use axes to amputate people! God, I doubt I will die on the operating table."

"But if you delay any longer, perhaps even surgery won't be able to save you." The man with a short beard advised.

At this moment, Anna suddenly interrupted:

"Bogda, maybe you can consider having a divination. If the divination shows that everything will go well, then have the surgery as soon as possible. If the divination result is not good, then look for other ways and follow the fortune teller's instructions. I know a real and magical fortune teller, no, it should be called a fortune teller. I think he can definitely help you."

"Really?" Bogda asked back with obvious doubt, and their other friends had a similar attitude.

"Really." Anna nodded without hesitation. "I asked him to tell the fortune about Joyce's condition, and he told me to go home, because your fiancé is waiting for you at home. At that time, I was just like you, full of doubts in my heart. But when I got home, I really saw Joyce. He really came back!"

"I can testify to that," Joyce agreed.

He did not tell the police that he had come to ask for a dream interpretation because the police told him that Tris had not been caught yet, so he had to keep the secret to avoid retaliation.

"Oh my God, this is unbelievable!"

“Is divination really that magical?”

Amidst the exclamations, Bogda pondered for a moment and said:

"Maybe I should go for a fortune-teller, Anna, Joyce, can you tell me the fortune-teller's address and name?"

Anna breathed a sigh of relief and said:

"You made a wise choice."

"The fortune teller is at the Fortune Telling Club in Howles Street."

"His name is Klein Moretti."

..

In the Golden Indus District, in the Deville Library.

Klein used the letter of introduction that his mentor had included in the letter to successfully obtain a library card.

While flipping through the small card in his hand, he asked several administrators:

"Do you have any research on the ancient ruins of the main peak of Honachis? It was published by the Loen People Publishing House."

One of the administrators immediately responded:

"Please wait a moment. I'll look for it."

He turned around and faced the drawers, pulled out the one corresponding to the first letters of "Honakis", and then flipped out several cards filled with words according to a certain pattern.

After reading it carefully, he shook his head and said:

"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't have this book in our collection."

“What a pity.” Klein replied with a hint of disappointment.

It seems that I can only write to Loen People Publishing House, or go back to Hoy University.

At the same time, he secretly sighed, lamenting that the libraries in this world were still managed in the ancient way.

You need a computer, but unfortunately I can't get a car out. Klein laughed at himself and asked:

“Are there any journals like New Archaeology and Archaeology Review?”

"Yes." The administrator answered affirmatively, "A gentleman just returned it."

He found the corresponding card again and pointed out the location of the bookshelf to Klein.

Klein came there, scanned the issues one by one, and pulled out a few books that his mentor mentioned.

Then, he randomly found a seat by the window and sat down, reading some materials in the quiet library under the bright afternoon sunshine.

"Ancient ruins exist not only on the main peak of the Hornach Mountains, but also in the woodlands, valleys and gentle slopes around the main peak."

"These ruins are composed of towering domes and huge stone pillars, which can be intuitively described as 'magnificent'"

"What is puzzling is how the indigenous people here mined and polished these stones? First of all, we assume that they mined them on site and did not need to transport them up the mountain."

"A strange rule is that the closer to the top of the mountain, the more magnificent the ruins. But surprisingly, there are no ruins on the top of the mountain. According to our speculation, there should be a palace that does not look like a human building, a temple used for sacrifices."

Could this temple that doesn't look like a palace built by humans and is used for worship be the one I saw in my dream? As Klein was lost in thought, he suddenly heard several footsteps approaching from afar.

He looked up and saw a familiar face, a face that often appeared in newspapers.

A square face, thick eyebrows, a strong nose, short dark blond hair, blue eyes, and tightly pursed lips. All of these belong to a celebrity in Tingen City, a philanthropist, entrepreneur, and owner of this library, Sir Deville.

Next to Deville was the middle-aged butler that Klein had met before.

Klein watched them pass by from a distance of about ten meters. Curiously, he raised his right hand and tapped his brow twice.