White feathers?

Klein looked at the tomb without any bones, and suddenly thought of a word:

"Angel!"

The scriptures of the seven major churches are filled with legends of angels and saints, and one of the characteristics of the former is that they have one, two, three, or even six pairs of pure white wings on their backs.

However, in a flash, Klein remembered another past event:

Mr. Azik once described his dreams to him, dreams that seemed like one life after another.

One of the scenes is in a dark mausoleum, with many open ancient coffins beside him, and in the coffins are corpses with white feathers growing on their backs!

Is this a special manifestation of the "Death God" path, or a strange phenomenon created by the Spiritual Cult? Klein did not speak, restraining all his emotions, and calmly looked at the white feathers stained with pale yellow oil at the bottom of the tomb.

He initially judged that the old man was not an angel, because the death of a Sequence 2 or even Sequence 1 Beyonder would definitely have a strong impact on the surroundings. For example, the "Saint's Ashes" behind the Chanis Gate in Tingen City would extend an almost invisible black, cold line to seal the people and objects around them.

Of course, maybe he wasn't really dead... like Mr. Azik? Klein bent his back and picked up three white feathers with his black-gloved right palm.

——He planned to go above the gray fog to do some divination after returning home.

At this time, Copsty recovered and crawled to Klein's side. He looked at the tomb with fear in his eyes and said:

"Where's the body?"

Klein glanced at him sideways and said in a low voice:

"Maybe he left on his own."

"He left on his own..." Kopusti repeated in horror, fully realizing how terrible it was for the dead to wake up.

His legs were shaking, and he muttered to himself:

"But, but, I didn't use the resurrection ritual on him."

Klein turned around, stared at him for a few seconds and said:

“Death is not the end.”

"Death is not the end... Death is not the end..." Copsty was frightened by the ideas he believed in, and blurted out, "Will he, will he come back?"

Well, the messenger summoned by the copper whistle is most likely the old gentleman. In other words, giving the note to the messenger is equivalent to sending a letter to the old gentleman, a letter to a person who has been dead for almost half a year... Oh, I wonder where he is now and what state he is in... In response to Copsty's question, Klein casually mentioned:

"Stop blowing that brass whistle."

"You mean the whistle will draw him back?" Kopusti asked in horror.

Without waiting for Klein to answer, he asked again:

"Can you, can you help me throw this brass whistle into the Tussock River?"

"If that doesn't work, then, I'll go by myself."

Weren't you interested in the philosophy of death before? Klein muttered to himself and reached out to take the copper whistle that belonged to Kopsti.

He planned to try to send a letter to the dead if the conditions were right to see what would happen.

Of course, the premise of all this is that he is sure there is not much danger.

After instructing Copsty to refill the grave, Klein exchanged some thoughts with him about "Spirit Dance" and related mystical knowledge, enriching his own knowledge. He also asked Copsty whether he had buried the old man in accordance with his will, leaving the body face down.

In certain special cases, using "Spirit Dance" to replace some of the complicated arrangements of ritual magic would be more effective and simpler... Seeing that his goal had been achieved, Klein warned Copsty again, telling him not to mess around with the so-called resurrection ceremony.

Then he left the street through the garden and took a carriage to the East End from a long distance away.

After changing into his previous clothes, he returned to Minsk Street, entered the bedroom, and after a series of operations, brought the three white feathers and Kopsti's copper whistle above the gray fog.

Sitting in the Fool's high-back chair, Klein materialized a pen and paper and wrote down the divination sentence he had thought of long ago:

“Its origin.”

Then he held the three white feathers and leaned back in his chair.

As he silently recited, Klein entered a dream. The surroundings were hazy and thick with gray and white.

In such a world, there was a thick, lightless darkness. Suddenly, the darkness was dyed with crimson, and a pale, bony hand stretched out from the yellow-brown soil.

A figure slowly climbed up. He did not lift the stone slab or stir the soil, but just penetrated out.

Under the crimson moonlight, the clothes on the back of the figure were tattered and white feathers grew on them.

The figure with gray hair tilted his head slightly, revealing the obvious red spots on his face and his wooden, dull eyes without any emotion.

It took a step forward, and with difficulty it penetrated the fence, heading into the depths of darkness, going further and further until it disappeared.

The dream was shattered, and Klein woke up.

White feathers really grew on the back of the corpse... Its state was very similar to Miss Sharon, but there were also obvious differences. It gave people a very heavy and substantial feeling... It seemed that it could semi-naturally and incompletely transform between the human body and the spirit body? A messenger that communicated between the real world and the spirit world? Klein reached out and tapped the edge of the long table, thinking for a long time.

Then, he divined whether it would be dangerous to use Kopusti's copper whistle to send a letter, and got a positive answer, and the pendulum was spinning with a large amplitude and a fast speed.

“What a pity, I can’t use the copper whistle directly on the gray fog. The messenger can’t get in at all. Otherwise, there would be no danger…” Klein muttered to himself before falling into the gray fog and returning to the real world.

…………

Early in the morning, in the relatively fresh woods of Queens.

A chubby-faced pharmacist in his thirties appeared in a secluded corner and put the secretly grown herbs into the leather bag he carried with him.

After completing today's task, he straightened his back, stretched his body, and said to himself silently with satisfaction:

"Sure enough, my physical fitness has improved. I am no longer like before, only having a stronger resistance to toxins."

“But… why is my Sequence 8 a ‘Beast Tamer’? What does this have to do with a ‘Pharmacist’?”

"Well, a herbalist domesticates and uses plants and parts of animals that have lost their lives, and an animal trainer domesticates and uses living animals, including supernatural creatures?"

"Then my Sequence 7 will be able to tame and use humans?"

"The old man didn't tell me the name of Sequence 7, nor did he give me the formula. Once I stabilize myself, I will try to contact him."

The pharmacist punched and kicked, adapting to his stronger body, and did not stop until he was exhausted.

While panting, he began to think about a serious question:

So how should a tamer act?

"Animal trainer...what should I do? Find an animal to tame?" The pharmacist muttered to himself, and suddenly he felt something and looked towards the artificial lake.

There was a big golden retriever running happily.

As if noticing his gaze, the big golden retriever suddenly turned its head and looked over.

Their eyes met in mid-air, and the big golden-haired dog was stunned for a moment, then turned around swiftly and disappeared without a trace.

…………

In the luxurious villa of Earl Hall's family.

Susie returned to the piano room and squatted beside Audrey's feet, sticking out her tongue and gasping for air.

When the blonde girl finished playing the song, it said in fear:

"Audrey, I met a terrible guy."

"His eyes are scary!"

"Really? What does he want to do to you?" Audrey asked curiously and concernedly.

Susie thought about it seriously and said, "I don't know either. Anyway, he is very dangerous. This is my intuition."

"What does he look like?" Audrey considered whether to ask the guards and servants at home to warn the man.

"I didn't see it clearly, but I felt that he was my natural enemy!" Susie answered seriously.

Your natural enemy? The nemesis of dogs? Audrey smiled reservedly:

"Susie, don't go to those woods recently."

"Woof, Audrey, you were in a bad mood just now? I heard it from the sound of your piano." Susie asked.

Audrey nodded slightly and said:

"Well... I just received a message from Greylint. Fors and Xio told me that tonight's party has been cancelled. I was planning to exchange it for extraordinary materials for you."

And try to contact the people of the Psychological Alchemy Society... She added silently in her heart.

"Why?" Susie asked puzzledly.

Audrey thought for a moment and answered:

"It is said that it was the impact of the serial murder case."

…………

On Saturday morning, the air in Backlund was as bad as usual.

Klein was trying to make a kind of pasta that he loved to eat as a child. To do this, he bought high-quality flour, added water and sugar, and made a bowl of thin "paste".

Next, he poured oil into the pan, wetting the surface.

After heating, he scooped some batter with a spoon and poured it to the edge of the pot, spreading it very thinly.

Amidst the sizzling sound, he made several pancakes and the aroma of flour gradually spread.

When it was almost done, he peeled off the soft dough-like pancakes one by one, put them on a plate, and added water to make the remaining ingredients into a batter.

As soon as he returned to the restaurant with the pancake and the "porridge", Klein couldn't wait to tear off a piece and put it in his mouth.

The pancake only has a rich wheat aroma and a sweet taste that stimulates the appetite. It is simple, plain, but extremely delicious.

It was the taste in his memory... Klein ate quickly, taking a sip of the batter from time to time.

Just when he had almost finished eating and was starting to slow down, the doorbell suddenly rang, and the ding-dong sound continued to echo.

New commission? Klein took off his napkin, wiped his hands, stood up and walked towards the door.

Before he even grasped the handle, the image of the visitor naturally emerged in his mind.

He was a middle-aged gentleman with graying temples, a thin face, and outstanding temperament.

That is the private detective Eisinger Stanton who was invited by the police!

Why did he come to see me? Klein opened the door in confusion and asked with a smile:

"Good morning, Mr. Stanton, what can I do for you?"

Isengard took off his half-high silk hat and said with a smile:

"Good morning, Mr. Moriarty. I would like to work with you. I think you are an excellent detective. You have previously found the East Balam Dockyard and the Dock Workers' Union purely on your own."

"Cooperation?" Klein did not hide his astonishment.

Isengard nodded his black cane and replied in a deep voice:

"Find the perpetrator of the recent serial murders."

"The police have offered a reward of 2,000 pounds."