Mr. Death in the Steam World

As evening fell, Moen appeared in front of the Kansas City Library.

This is a domed neoclassical building, with Corinthian columns on the facade casting long shadows in the setting sun.

The library was quiet, with only the occasional sound of turning pages and the creaking of the wooden floorboards.

Moen headed straight for the underground snow section—where some "special materials" that are not usually open to the general public are stored.

With Professor Pip's confirmation, everything went smoothly.

He walked along the bookshelves, row by row.

The Kansas City Chronicles, A Collection of Seventeenth-Century Alchemical Manuscripts, An Illustrated Guide to Mutant Creatures...

He stopped in the corner and pulled out a thick, dusty booklet.

On the Supernatural and the Manifestation of Matter

All things in heaven and earth are formed by spirit. Spirit is the origin of things and the embryo of form. All things have spirit. When spirit gathers, things appear; when spirit disperses, things perish.

However, there are extraordinary beings in the world whose spiritual intensity far surpasses that of ordinary beings, by hundreds or thousands of times. These extraordinary beings, though called supernatural, are in fact spiritually distorted.

When the spirit is distorted, a qualitative change occurs. At the extreme of this qualitative change, the spirit is no longer hidden in matter, but leaks out as liquid.

This liquid is the essence of spirit, the manifestation of power, and the source of power.

When the spiritual fluid is abundant, its power is immense; when the spiritual fluid is lost, its power weakens, and eventually, both body and spirit perish, never to return.

Therefore it is said: To subdue a different kind, first deprive it of its fluids. When its fluids are exhausted, its strength is depleted, and when its strength is depleted, it can be captured.

Moen read it twice, word by word.

This passage is written in an obscure style, but its meaning is very clear.

All things in the world are made up of "spirit", and the reason why extraordinary beings are powerful is that their spirit has undergone a mutation and condensed into a materialized "spiritual liquid".

The elixir is their source of power; if you can find a way to make them lose the elixir, they will become weak.

Spiritual liquid... Moen silently memorized this concept.

He continued flipping through the pages, hoping to find more useful information, but most of the later content was mystical and didn't help him with his current situation.

As for how to cause the spiritual liquid to leak out, there are no practical methods in the ancient books.

Most of them remain at the theoretical level, and are written in a cryptic and obscure style, as if they are deliberately designed to be incomprehensible.

That's true, Moen thought. If you could find a way to deal with containment objects just by flipping through a book, the world would be at peace long ago.

He glanced at his pocket watch; time was running out. He returned the key to the librarian and left the library.

The carriage sped through the streets of Kansas City. Moen leaned against the corner of the carriage, watching the city recede beneath him through the window.

Gas lamps swept past the windows, dividing the interior of the carriage into segments of light and shadow.

Kansas City is a respectable city by day, but at night, there are many unknown things hidden in the places where the lights don't reach.

After only a short rest, the entire city of Kansas City was swept past.

At 11:30 p.m., Moen stood in the dock area in the east of the city, wrapping his coat tighter around himself.

The wind blew from the river, carrying the smell of fish and rotting wood.

The dock was very empty, with only a gas lamp hanging under the eaves of a warehouse in the distance, its flickering light turning the surrounding air a murky orange-yellow.

This is one of the most dilapidated corners of Kansas City.

His gaze swept over the surroundings imperceptibly.

Several dilapidated barges were moored on the dock, their paint peeling off to reveal the grayish wood beneath.

There was nothing else.

"I've arrived," he said to the air.

No one responded to him, so Moen simply closed his eyes to rest and stood there waiting.

At exactly 12 o'clock, as the clock tower's pendulum struck and the waves swept over, Moen opened his eyes.

Not far away, Professor Leonard—no, the Flower of the Other Shore was controlling Professor Leonard's body, slowly walking towards him.

Clara was wrapped in vines, suspended beside the other shore flower, her eyes closed and her face pale.

The Flower of the Other Shore stopped, looked Moen up and down, and let out a soft laugh:

"You're on time, but where's the stuff?"

Moen did not answer; his gaze remained fixed on Clara.

"Heh, don't rush."

The other shore flower spoke slowly and deliberately,

"Let me see if you really brought what I need."

Moen remained silent.

The other shore flower waited for a while, and her smile gradually became playful:

"Hey, your name's Marcus, right? Looks like you really don't care about your sister at all."

"Knowing I have spies watching you, you still dare to openly look for ways to deal with me."

"I remember telling you—don't try to play tricks on me."

Before the words were even finished, a vine shot up from the ground and headed straight for Clara Noodles.

Moen remained calm and motionless.

Just as he expected, the vine stopped right in front of Clara's nose, not daring to advance an inch.

"As it turns out, I made the right bet; you need the containment device on me."

He laughed arrogantly and wildly.

"So you don't dare kill my sister, and you certainly don't dare kill me, right?"

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

The face of the other shore flower twisted for a moment, and blood rushed to her head.

The vines stirred restlessly beside it, but it forced itself to remain calm, managed a weak smile, and gently pushed Clara toward Moen.

"Since that's the case, your sister is safe now, give me that thing."

The voice of the other shore flower is soft and pitiful, but unfortunately it uses Leonard's face.

Moen took Clara from him, and after confirming that she was still breathing, he slowly took out a black-covered book from his pocket and weighed it in his hand.

The other shore flower's eyes were fixed on the book, unblinking.

Suddenly, Moen forcefully threw the book to the left of the other shore flower.

Using the "clever hands of the mouse," he threw it at an extremely tricky angle, so that it wouldn't hit the mouse but would force its gaze to follow it.

The other shore flower subconsciously turned its head and reached out to catch it.

It's now!

Moen grabbed Clara, turned and ran, suddenly pushing off with his feet.

With "Meow's Swiftness" fully activated, his figure left a trail of afterimages on the dimly lit dock, and in an instant, he darted more than ten meters away.

The Flower of the Other Shore caught the book, looked down, and—

It was a meaningless storybook with a comical clown drawn on the cover.

"Okay, very good."

The voice of the Other Shore Flower came from behind Moen, low and trembling, like magma churning underground.

"A mere insect dares to trick me again and again, very well."

It was so angry that it laughed, its laughter echoing sharply and piercingly over the dock.

"You really think you can get away?"

Vines spread wildly from beneath it, chasing after it along the ground like a swarm of snakes.

The Flower of the Other Shore held back—it decided to control Moen first.

Once he is completely incapacitated, then slowly interrogate and torture this fickle guy.