He is the leader of the Tantric sect in Chagdu.

Generally speaking, infiltration operations in remote suburbs need to be carried out discreetly, but this is not something the foundation needs to consider.

Although most of the countermeasures bureau specialists are still gentle intellectuals, not as rude as the barbarians in the neighboring courthouse, they will not hesitate to use violence if a troublesome matter can be resolved through intimidation.

...

"Do you have anything to eat here?"

Eileen considered herself a kind person, and her appearance was not aggressive at all, but what was going on with this shop manager uncle who looked like he was about to cry?

"Don't worry, I won't kill anyone. Just bring out some normal food..."

"...What did you say? That shipment isn't here, and you want us to go find the stranglers next door? What does that have to do with us? I'm just hungry. Don't people in the suburbs go hungry?"

Watching the middle-aged man trembling as he spilled all his secrets, already preparing to betray the entire neighborhood faction next, Eileen finally lost her temper. She pulled out the miniature spray bottle from her waist and pointed it at the shop manager's head: "I'm telling you to bring out what you can eat, you hear me?"

The manager finally went to the kitchen. Eileen collapsed wearily onto the bar counter, feeling nauseous from the stench seeping into the wooden boards. "I'm starting to regret it. Nothing in this suburban area is normal."

He glanced at Virtue with dead fish eyes: "Virtue sir, you're not normal either."

"Pfft..." Sherlock was about to laugh when he was stopped by Virtue's fierce look, so he had to suppress his laughter and say, "At least it works, right? Otherwise, it would have been a lot of work just to clean up the scene."

"That's true..." Ellen's impression of the Foundation was becoming more and more profound. The organization's influence in the Hive City was much greater than she had imagined.

Virtue's shout was very effective, especially the words "extermination order," which terrified many people.

Eileen exclaimed, "Is it really that exaggerated...?"

"Of course it's not as extreme as an extermination order... The Foundation would only issue an extermination order if a gamma-level event directly threatens the Upper City headquarters."

Sherlock commented on his superior's impromptu performance: "It's just a mere underground location. Any investigator could wipe it out. Calling an extermination order is a bit of an overreaction... Uh, sir, I'm not saying anything bad about you."

Wilting glared at him fiercely, then covered half of her face with her hat. She was still a little dazed. As the fastest-promoted executive officer, the girl had indeed never experienced low-level tasks such as "cleaning up underground dens" and was not yet fully aware of the Nest's "freedom and openness" in certain aspects.

Some law enforcement records from special locations are so difficult to even pass the review process when they are compiled into the archives, which only shows that the dark side of human nature far exceeds the bottom line of morality and even the limits of imagination.

However, for Virtue, she would have to face these things sooner or later—so as a subordinate, Sherlock was just looking for fun, giving his boss, whose career had been too smooth, a lesson.

It's really interesting that Mr. Wei has remained a recluse ever since.

Sherlock nodded in satisfaction, then looked at the other minor on the trip—that mysterious little brat seemed to have no particular reaction after seeing all this, which was rather strange.

What's his situation?

A bored middle-aged man began to observe the gray-eyed boy—

...

Eileen looked around, a little bored. After everyone else had run away, only the bar's original waiter remained. He was a little slow in his movements and was immediately taken over by Eileen and the others, who then recruited him as a cook.

The sugar figurines lying dead on the ground were quickly dragged away, and some drunkards who were out of their minds and shouting that they wanted to "overthrow the foundation" were also knocked unconscious and thrown into the warehouse.

Now it's much quieter here, and Ellen is finally able to search for traces of her memories again—but unfortunately, none of the images surging in the red fluid inside her skull match up with the bar in front of her.

This place is now completely unrecognizable.

The obscure decorative items have probably all been resold, and even the black stones that were originally used to build the wall have been completely removed and replaced with a bunch of inferior ornaments, leaving no trace of mystery.

Ailian casually approached a random-looking young man and asked in a relaxed, conversational tone, "How long have you been operating this place?"

The young man, a canine-humanoid, had his tail tightly tucked between his legs and trembled uncontrollably: "I don't know... I'm a temporary worker, I haven't been here long, I don't know anything about what they're doing, sir, I..."

Shut up...

Eileen impatiently muted his microphone, unable to understand why a bad guy always had endless explanations.

"Are we really that scary...?"

"certainly."

It's Sherlock again. He seems to really enjoy listening to other people's self-talk and then seriously trying to answer their questions. He seems to have an even worse personality than Wilting. "The factions in the suburbs are like the dogs the Foundation keeps... no, keeping dogs is too much trouble, it should be said that it's like keeping fish."

"When they're busy, they don't bother with us; when they're bored, they glance at us; when they have time, they feed us a couple of pills; when they don't, they let us go hungry. Those factions are practically begging us to pay more attention to them, chanting slogans like 'overthrow the foundation' to recruit new members, and when nobody's paying attention, they grovel before us—they're just shameless."

The main reason for this phenomenon is the complete imbalance of power.

How can a force that expands by seizing garbage and a group that survives by parasitizing others fight against the nest that produces all of this?

Excluding the "Cult," whether it's the Mafia, the Stranglers, the alley workshops, the Brotherhood, the con artists' and fugitives' homes... all the factions and armed forces in the suburbs combined are only half a day's work for a Grand Inquisitor.

If you send Sherlock, give him enough time, and he can crush most of the faction leaders in the suburbs one by one, just like crushing a few large ants.

This is the insurmountable chasm between the mundane and the extraordinary.

The suburban factions have never been enemies of the Foundation; they're not worthy. Only the cults, who also delve into the mystical, can put up a fight against the rookie agents of the Countermeasures Bureau, but those cult members, born from humble beginnings, are usually chaotic, arrogant, and foolish, incapable of organizing a sizable force, and in most cases, they never amount to anything…

Even if they do grow stronger, it means that the majority of them are intelligent people, and when faced with the foundation's offer of amnesty, the intelligent people will be the first to surrender.

"The Foundation's attention is mostly focused on the unusual activity at the 'Grand Gift Pool' and the threats outside the nest. Those guys in the far suburbs aren't worth our time and effort..."

As he said this, Sherlock suddenly heard a soft sigh from the girl beside him.

"..."

He thought for a moment, then added in a deep voice, "However, there are exceptions, such as the purpose of our trip to the outskirts. Among a bunch of ordinary people, there will always be some oddballs..."

"A while ago, a secret cult unified all the factions in the suburbs, and their voice became the sole authority here. That mentor almost ended up in the 'forbidden' files; those lunatics almost got involved... Luckily, it didn't cause a major disaster."

"Tsk..."

Sherlock lit another cigarette and smacked his lips:

"But that's all in the past. Even a cult of that caliber, with its bizarre mentor, quickly faded into obscurity. They were ultimately just rats in the shadows, unable to stir up any real trouble..."

Eileen tilted her head: Why do you seem so aggressive towards Tantric Buddhism?

"..."

This topic made Virtin a little uncomfortable, and he was about to interrupt when Ellen cut in at just the right moment: "When was 'a while ago'?"

Sherlock glanced at him, seemingly not quite understanding the question, but considering it wasn't a secret and they'd find it in the archives once they joined, he casually replied, "That secret cult called 'Mirror of Radiance' started active about a year ago, then went silent three months ago. They've been exchanging barbs with the Countermeasures Bureau for over half a year, so they're not exactly powerful... Uh, what's wrong with you?"

.

.

"It's okay." Eileen tucked her head into her sleeve and closed her eyes. "I'm a little dizzy from hunger. I'll rest for a bit."

Lin suddenly stood up and walked backstage: "I'll go and urge them."

"..." On the other side, Nie moved a few steps closer to Ellen, almost imperceptibly, and pulled up a high chair to sit next to her.

An invisible cloud of black ash rose around the two of them.

"I blew out the candlelight in the darkness, hiding at the edge of a world enveloped in ashes, so that no one can bypass the veil of darkness and peer into the silently guarded corner—"

The principle of silence has become more profound than ever before.

"Brother?" The voice echoed in his mind, but Eileen didn't respond. He took off his glasses and covered his face tightly with one hand—

"The Mirror of Radiance..."

"Mirror of Radiance"

glow--

As if playing hide-and-seek, he peeked out from between his middle and ring fingers an eye covered by a bluish-green iris, which was trembling wildly, monotonously, and irregularly.

The round-framed glasses fell from his other hand and shattered with a "clang," turning into a pile of glittering dust on the ground.

The ashes gathered in that direction, completely silencing the sound and disturbance. The surroundings grew darker and darker, and the blinding lights were crushed by the power of Nirvana with a mournful cry. In the small, dim world, only two equally frail figures remained.

"Brother...?" Nie gripped Ellen's drooping hand tightly, like a cat that had done something wrong.

Silence descends.

One second

"Mirror of Radiance"

"I think I remember now..." Eileen raised her head, covering half of her eye, hiding the bluish-green color behind her palm.

Two seconds

"That's mine."

The moth's camouflage seemed to have malfunctioned, or rather, been interfered with, and partially failed. Half of its pupil color reverted to the state it had when it was the fox.

Try your best not to let the two of them see it.

Then, with just the last little bit of stimulation, I can remember—my original self, and those lost memories.

It's just a little bit off... like a name, or a code name.

He looked at Sherlock with the one gray eye that was exposed.

.

.

The boy, who looked unwell, hunched over and smiled slightly as he looked up. He asked softly, "Senior, I still don't understand. Why did such a terrifying and secretive organization suddenly go silent? And their mentor, the Foundation has been entangled with him in the suburbs for so long, they should have found out all about him by now..."

"Brother, this is too deliberate, it will give you away."

Nie gripped his hand tighter, but Eileen seemed unresponsive. He half-closed his eyes, the Moth's Criterion manifesting as mottled patterns in his grey pupils. The flapping of his wings grew increasingly intense, and he poured all the red fluid from his abdomen into the swamp to complete this induction—

Sherlock and Virtue gradually lost their senses amidst the sound of flapping wings...

"Say it, that name."

It's utterly insane! A novice with barely any qualifications is trying to interfere with two higher-ranking mystical scholars.

He could wait; he had plenty of time and opportunities. After leaving this bar, he would explore the original owner's lair. There, Ellen could reveal her identity in a more secure way, without risking angering the Countermeasures Bureau agents.

Can……

As long as he stayed in this place, he felt restless, as if a sense of destiny was calling to Ai Yi, that he needed to reclaim something that had been waiting for him all along...

Tell me his name—

He stared intently at Sherlock. Thanks to Nereid's cover and the understanding and initial trust they had built up during their journey, Sherlock did not subconsciously harbor any resentment towards Ellen. In a daze, his mystique did not instinctively retaliate against the "guidance" from Moth.

"I have no hostility, I just want to know who he is—"

Essentially stemming from the influence of the moth from Sichen, it seeped into the red fluids of the two. Amidst the flapping of wings, Sherlock gradually lost his senses, his lips trembling as he whispered:

"I have no idea."

?

do not know?

Eileen was stunned, as if she had been doused with a bucket of ice water. The invisible thin wings on her abdomen were wet and lost their strength, and the sound of her flapping wings became heavy and dull, as if they would stop at any moment.

How could I not know!

The inducement was almost successful, just a hair's breadth away, how could you not know?

The WDNMD Foundation doesn't even know the name of a cult leader. Are your intelligence agencies busy leaking secrets too?!

Suppressing her resentment, Eileen tried her best to maintain a smile, hoping that the effects of the moth would not alert the two of them after they dissipated.

"My dear teammate... Is it too late for me to apologize now?"

Nie had already narrowed his eyes—

.

.

"Ash…"

Suddenly, just seconds before the flapping of wings ceased, Virtue's faint voice drifted from beneath his hat:

Eileen didn't hear clearly: "What?"

"That one bathed in light, he is 'Gray'."

The girl murmured as if in a dream: "His name is Mr. Gray."

.

灰？

The sound of flapping wings completely disappeared.

A bewildered Ellen, along with the two countermeasures team members who had regained their senses, both fell into deep thought at the same time.

Something's not right!

Sherlock felt that something was wrong. Although the moth's induction had not left a memory, it still had a residual effect, like the slime left by a snail crawling across a leaf, which was detected by the invisible red liquid.

He had already become vigilant, opened his think tank, and begun searching his status tracking records to see if he had been interfered with by any mysterious force. Veltin was also frowning and doing the same thing.

Oh no—

There wasn't that sudden flash of inspiration or the feeling of memory resurfacing that surged into my mind; it was more like I recklessly acted and then regretted it immediately.

Eileen secretly groaned. Now she had to figure out how to cover up her outrageous behavior just now... It shouldn't be too difficult. She had created a perfect persona, and since this was the outskirts of the city, with a bunch of unlucky strangers around to cover for her, they shouldn't suspect him.

"Listen to me..." Ellen opened her mouth, but no sound came out. It was as if a silencing spell had been cast on her at some point, but no one noticed.

?

He looked around, his face blank.

In the dim light, the ash wood door reappeared before his eyes, its pure white doors slightly ajar, and an obscure meaning, shrouded in shadow, flowed into his eyes—

"A magnificent being tells you a story: Long, long ago, when the sun still hung high atop the tower, the crimson aurora and the blue-green lightning vied for the sky. There was neither dusk nor dawn, only the hour of preparing for noon and the hour of stagnation at noon..."

.

"?"

What happened?

Ellen looked at Nie beside her and found that the girl's condition was a bit strange, with a layer of thick, ink-like liquid spreading all over her body.

The darkness that roamed in the void was like a smooth, legless serpent, or a long, crawling worm, moving through this space in an incomprehensible manner.

What did that conversation just now bring about?

Within the obscure mystery, something intangible yet magnificent descends silently.

Eileen felt a chill run down her spine, while the door continued to open softly—

"The trumpet of revelation sounds, the time for the first feast... The blazing sun becomes the holy meal on the plate, devoured in its radiance. The 'waning sun,' the 'lonely moon,' and the 'cold white flowers' enjoy the remnants of the sun, consuming the magnificent fruit. After that, the year is divided into four seasons, and the day into dawn, day, dusk, and night."

.

"Nirvana!" Ellen called out in her mind, but the once sensitive red liquid seemed to have lost its vitality, not even a ripple was stirred, as calm as still water.

"Sherlock? Virtue?"

He tried to wake the two people in front of him, but their voices and movements seemed to be separated from the world by an invisible barrier.

Eileen collapsed to the ground, silently staring at the endless black characters within the doorway, seemingly flowing to the very end of time—

"The second magnificent revelation: ...The light of heaven is extinguished, the radiance is dying, the seasons are like snow falling into water, losing all proof of existence. Even the withering and silence of 'winter' dissolves into red liquid at the bottom of the pool, falling silently from the top of the tower. 'Death' meets death, 'death' follows death..."

All was silent; silence was required here.

.

"In the season after the death of Tianguang, the corpse of 'Winter' decayed and rotted, devoured by something unseen. Long periods of time withered away silently, and on the remains of 'Winter,' charred ash remained, and tiny, light things rose."

"Gurgle—"

Suddenly, something cried out in the dead silence.

Eileen turned her head away, and even her breathing stopped.

.

A small bird with jet-black yet shimmering feathers perched quietly on his shoulder, weightless.

Its beak was pure white, as white as the door, like the first snow that had yet to fall from the clouds. Its eyes, shimmering with an unknown luster, were an indescribable decay, like the residue and charcoal left after all the original colors had been removed. It was staring at Ellen's gray eyes.

"Gurgle—"

It cries out, the only permitted sound in the deathly silence.

Then the door, filled with dread, like a malfunctioning pump, spilled out its last few lines of rambling murmurs:

"Homage: God of stillness and solidification, Master of silence, King of the wings, Dark Apocalypse, Embers lingering in the Neverwinter, Death of decay, Blackbird that loathes noise..."

"The flowing ash summons the 'Ember' harbinger—'Silent Raven'."

Eileen met the gaze of the raven on her shoulder, locked in a silent stare, and felt herself trembling violently.

"He is gazing at you."

"Now, shh—be quiet! Show Him respect!"