Tsk, tsk. Gu Lan was disappointed, similarly, Ulrich also shook his head.

  Still, even without obtaining the answer to this question, Ulrich was able to grasp a great deal of information just by noting her attitude. For example, if someone didn't know the answer to a question, they would normally say no, or refuse in a form of gestures.

  However, seeing as this person only remained silent, then, they know the answer, or part of it. Yet deliberately chooses not to answer.

  Just from this, Ulrich can't help but wonder: For what reason, deliberate or not, did they not answer?

  Ulrich noticed the written entry at this point had changed, indicating a change in time.

  "

  "

  Gu Lan's words became rough scribbles; it was like the ravings of a madman. For a second, Ulrich didn't know how to interpret the meanings of his words.

  For instance, what does spirituality refer to? A kind of Qi, like cultivation novels he had heard of before? Or some sort of truths, a divine spiritual sense? Who and what is this Almighty Creator? The Almighty from Western religions? Gu Lan didn't delve in-depth, leaving Ulrich full of questions.

  Gu Lan went on to discuss the existence of the Runes and paths. In his words, the runes were like fragments, a tangible manifestation of the abstract concepts, once split from a single source.

  An example he used was the "Shadow Rune".

  He believed that by refining a shadow rune, then carving it onto the human body, it was possible for a human to exhibit the traits of shadow, and in turn, manifest supernatural abilities relating to shadows.

  This process is known as 'Awakening'. And those who successfully awakened are "Weavers".

  This shadow rune, which contains the manifestations of its corresponding concepts, is then referred to as a 'path'. Suppose that a shadow rune exists, then naturally, it is logical to believe that a light rune exists. If this is true, then how many 'paths' could exist in this world?

  After reading to the end of the last page, Ulrich frowned.

  'He wants to carve the so-called runes onto a human body? What kind of lunatic is this? And these Weavers… do they truly exist?" For a moment, he grew silent.

  This idea gave him a familiar feeling. He recalled the rumors regarding the heretics back in Belham. Are there people, just like Gu Lan, in Belham, who hold similar beliefs and are kidnapping people to perform experiments?

  He was at a loss for words. Other than worshipping evil gods, performing sacrifices, and holding rituals, could this be another reason for their terrible acts? To obtain a greater power?

  Or perhaps, all of these ultimately shared one common goal — A desire for greater power.

  Although Ulrich was not a believer, he couldn't help but pray to the Gods to watch over the people of Belham. He thought that he understood the crazed minds of people, yet it seems like his bar was still set too low.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  However, at this moment, a sound caused him to dismiss his thoughts and made his head turn.

  Click. Click.

  Since the door was wide open, Ulrich could hear it quite distinctly. This was the sound of the doorknob being unlocked. Immediately, he glanced at his watch.

  He was so engrossed in the notes and journal that he had completely lost track of time. Without much time to clean up the scene, he quickly stuffed the notes behind a wooden shelf and pulled the door, leaving behind a small gap.

  Then, he stood against the wall of the narrow hallway.

  Soon, a series of hollow footsteps arrived, slowly approaching from the front. There was a metal clanging sound, perhaps from the keychain, followed by two low thuds.

  Ulrich's face was cold as his ears leaned against the wall. Finally, the thuds of the tiled floor appeared again.

  "Strange…" A deep voice murmured; his movement stopped, as though to look at his surroundings.

  "I don't remember leaving the curtain open…" He said, but quickly, Gu Lan let out a small chuckle," Truly, I am getting more forgetful by the years."

  The footsteps resumed, moving deeper into the apartment, eventually entering his room. At the same time, Ulrich controlled his breath as he moved away from the kitchen wall and leaned against another, closer wall to the room.

  The man moved with heavy steps, his foot echoing in the sparsely furnished space. Ulrich heard the rustle of fabric, perhaps a coat being removed, then the creak of a chair as Gu Lan settled into it with a heavy sigh.

  More movement. The sound of papers shuffling. Then—silence. A long, terrible silence.

  "How peculiar," Gu Lan's voice cut through the dark room, his tone shifting, changing, as though it was two different people.

  "I could have sworn I left my journal on the left side of the desk. Yet here it is, slightly to the right. And this page... I don't recall leaving it open to this entry."

  Ulrich's muscles tensed,' Are old people so observant these days?'.

  "Interesting…." Gu Lan continued conversationally, though his tone had grown cold, "When you are surrounded by spirituality, you can develop a certain... sensitivity. An awareness of disturbances through intuitions. The air feels different when an uninvited guest has been present."

  The chair scraped against the floor, creating a screeching sound.

  "So why don't you come out, whoever you are." He whispered, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

  Ulrich was alarmed as his hand reached for the knife tucked in his bag,'' How does he know of my presence? I barely left a trace, and I'm quite confident in my ability to remain hidden…'

  "How did you know?" He asked, his face wearing a slight smile as his eyes revealed astonishment.

  "Intuitions."

  Ulrich shook his head and walked to the door with apprehension.

  Gu Lan stood in the center of the living room—a thin man with graying hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He looked almost professorial, his appearance utterly at odds with the madness written in his journals. But his eyes held a gleam that made Ulrich's skin crawl.

  'This can't be the same man I first encountered, the resemblance is not there!'

  He maintained a composed appearance and took the initiative to control the conversation," Shadowfins? How did you get that ?"

  Immediately, Gu Lan's face betrayed his thoughts, and facing Ulrich's question, he blurted out," How did you know what this is?"

  "Intuitions."

  Helpless, Gu Lan grew silent. Initially, he thought that Ulrich was just an opportunist, a burglar who happened to trespass into his place. But with just that question, he realized, Ulrich's identity was definitely not an ordinary person!

  "Who are you?"

  Facing this question, Ulrich fell into contemplation.

  What should he say? Should he raise his questions? If so, what question does he need an answer to right now? For example, the so-called lost history? Or the origin of the book? Ancient Hermes? All of these riddled his mind, but with the way things are, he doubted Gu Lan would answer all of them willingly.

  From the journal entries, he could somewhat draw what kind of man Gu Lan was. And this, this kind of man, is not one to obediently answer to those he deemed 'inferior'.

  Unless Ulrich could make Gu Lan see him as equal and or superior to him in his own field, these questions will certainly remain unanswered. To Ulrich, who has little time to spare, this was an extremely undesirable outcome.

  With that in mind, Ulrich ignored Gu Lan's question and repeated one from the journal.

  "Why have the Gods stopped responding to their prayers?" His voice was calm, as though he were merely commenting on the weather.

  The effect was immediate.

  Gu Lan's face went pale, the color draining from his cheeks as if someone had opened a valve. His eyes widened behind his wire-rimmed glasses, and for a moment, his mouth worked soundlessly.

  "You..." he breathed, taking an involuntary step backward. His hand trembled as it rose to his chest. "How do you—that question—"

  But it wasn't just shock that flickered across his features. Fear crept into his expression. His gaze darted to the hallway behind Ulrich, then back again, as though calculating escape routes. With Ulrich's keen observation, how could he not see through his minute actions?

  However, he didn't block the way; in fact, he moved his body out of the way, as though to show him that the path behind him was open, and that he was free to leave.

  This subtle action further unsettled Gu Lan.

  Instantly, his composed, professorial air had shattered completely. Ulrich's small, almost harmless figure grew in his eyes, eventually drowning his visions. This left him dizzy.

  He is reminded of a certain, familiar figure he once consulted with at a gathering—that mysterious lady—The one who wore the clown mask.

  "Who you?" Gu Lan whispered, and this time, the question carried genuine dread.