Chapter 21: Meeting an Old Friend in a Foreign Land

Chapter 21: Meeting an Old Acquaintance in a Foreign Land

For a fleeting moment, Klein thought he had traveled back in time, but the elegant gas lamps enclosed by brass grilles and Old Neil's silver-inlaid tin canister for hand-ground coffee brought him back to reality.

Was the transmigrator predecessor, Emperor Roselle, truly a compatriot?

Did he record his secrets in Simplified Chinese, a script that did not exist in this world?

Carrying an indescribable feeling of "meeting an old acquaintance in a foreign land," Klein quickly skimmed through the three pages of manuscripts in his hands

"November 18th. It is truly a miraculous thing. An imaginative experiment and an accidental error allowed me to discover a poor fellow trapped within a storm, lost in the depths of darkness. He can only slightly approach the real world during every full moon, yet he still cannot transmit his cries into it. He is lucky; he met me, the protagonist of this era."

"After writing this passage and reading it over, I suddenly felt a sense of melancholy. Even using Hanzi, I have unconsciously adopted a heavy translation tone. Forty years have passed in the blink of an eye; past memories truly feel like a dream."

"January 1st, 1884. A grand New Year's Eve party. Madame Flornal is truly a stunner."

"January 2nd. The gentlemen of my Diplomatic Committee are all asses!"

"January 3rd. My initial choice was too hasty. Looking back, whether it be 'Apprentice,' 'Divination,' or 'Marauder,' they would have been better. Unfortunately, there is no turning back."

"January 4th. Why are my children so stupid? I have said it ten thousand times: do not be fooled by those charlatans. No, perhaps those charlatans are being fooled themselves. The key to a potion is not mastery, but digestion! It is not excavation, but acting! And the name of a potion is not merely a core symbol; it is a concrete image, and even more so, the 'key' to digestion!"

"September 22nd. An alliance opposing me is being formed. From Farsak in the north to Loen in the east, and Feenepot to the south, my enemies have finally come together. But I do not fear them. I will use facts to show them that the generational gap in weaponry and knowledge cannot be compensated for by numbers and low-sequence Beyonders. Besides, it's not as if I lack subordinates. As for the high-end... hehe, have they forgotten who I am?"

"September 23rd. I have lost contact with the ships searching for the 'Land of the Gods Forsaken.' I should consider inventing the wireless telegraph; I only hope it won't be affected by the storms."

"September 24th. Miss Ithaca is even more charming than Madame Flornal. Perhaps I am merely nostalgic for my youth."

Because these were transcribed copies, the complexity of the Hanzi meant the scale of each character was significantly enlarged. Consequently, there wasn't much content on each page; the backs were even left blank for preservation and study. Even so, Klein's heart raced with excitement, especially at Emperor Roselle's description of the key to potions, which gave him the ecstatic sensation of having found the "solution to a problem" and mastered a priceless secret.

"Perhaps this is the guiding light for my future Beyonder pathway!"

"Hmm, the three pages of manuscripts are diaries from different periods. It seems Emperor Roselle had a habit of only writing the year at the beginning of each year. I can't tell which year the November and September pages belong to for now..."

"Who is that poor fellow he discovered?"

"What specifically do 'digestion' and 'acting' mean?"

"Where is the Land of the Gods Forsaken?"

...

Questions boiled up in Klein's heart alongside his excitement, making him wish he could collect all of Emperor Roselle's diaries immediately and read them from beginning to end!

"Klein?" Just then, Old Neil spoke up from across the table, looking puzzled.

Klein snapped out of it and quickly smiled to hide his expression. "I thought I might be the most special one, so I wanted to try and decipher and interpret them."

"Ah, young people," Old Neil nodded with a laugh. "I once thought I was the most special one too."

Klein flipped through the three pages of manuscripts, ensuring he hadn't missed anything, then handed them back, asking with feigned nonchalance

"Are these the only ones we have?"

*I want to see more of Emperor Roselle's diaries!*

"You think there are many?" Old Neil chuckled, his deep wrinkles shifting. "There aren't many events involving the Beyonder and the mysterious to begin with. Sigh, it's mainly because those transcendent species are gradually dying out in our Northern Continent. Without them, there are no more potions, and thus Beyonders become fewer and fewer. Sigh, in these past few hundred years, dragons, giants, and elves have all become mere records in books. Even the sea races no longer appear in coastal waters."

Hearing this, Klein suddenly thought of a joke and smiled immediately. "I think it's time to establish a 'Dragon and Giant Protection Association'."

Old Neil looked bewildered, and it took him a moment to understand. Once he did, he slapped the table and laughed quite heartily, lacking much gentlemanly decorum.

"Haha, Klein, you really are a humorous person. That is a tradition in our Loen Kingdom; it's never wrong for a young man to be humorous. I think it shouldn't be too narrow. How can it only be dragons and giants? It should be called the 'Fantastic Beasts Protection Association'."

"No, no, no, how can we forget those poor plants?" Klein shook his head.

At this point, he and Old Neil locked eyes and said in unison

"Fantastic Creatures Protection Association!"

As soon as the words left their mouths, the two shared a knowing laugh, and the previous awkward atmosphere dissipated significantly.

"Young people as interesting as you are becoming rarer and rarer... Where was I?" Old Neil's wrinkles crinkled as he smiled. "I remember now. There aren't many events involving the Beyonder and the mysterious to begin with, and the idiots who worship Emperor Roselle are the minority of the minority. Getting three manuscripts is already quite good... Hmm, other cathedrals or dioceses should still have some..."

He whispered a few words, picked up the "slip" Klein had placed on the table, and glanced at it. "Is it pistol bullets, rifle bullets, or perhaps bullets for a steam high-pressure gun?"

"A revolver," Klein answered truthfully.

"Alright, I'll go get them. Cough, do you have an underarm holster? As a gentleman, you shouldn't let your waist and below look bulging in public." Old Neil made a joke that every man would understand.

"Heh, no. Do I need to ask the Captain to write that down?" Klein smiled cooperatively.

Old Neil stood up and said, "No need, just record it well. This belongs to 'accompanying items.' Repeat after me: 'accompanying items'."

"Were you a teacher before?" Klein asked amusedly.

"I spent some time in the Church's Sunday schools and free schools." Old Neil waved the slip, took the keys from his drawer, and opened the iron door leading to the inner room.

*There isn't much difference in feeling between a Beyonder and an ordinary person...* Klein muttered silently, turning his gaze back to the three pages of diaries on the table.

*Emperor Roselle really did involve the mysterious realm...*

*His diaries are worth a fortune...*

*To others, they are just scraps of paper, and no one knows when they can be deciphered. To me, they are a treasure!*

*I wonder where the rest of the diaries are...*

*I have to find a way to get more...*

Klein's thoughts surged, unable to find peace, until Old Neil emerged from the inner room and closed the iron door.

"Ten Demon Hunter bullets, thirty pistol bullets, one leather underarm holster, and one badge of the Special Operations Department's Seventh Group. Count them, test them, and sign the logbook." Old Neil placed the items on the table.

The pistol bullets were in a paper box, arranged in three neat layers. They were as bright yellow as the bullets in Klein's home, appearing slightly slender.

The "Demon Hunter bullets" were kept in a small iron box. Their shape was the same as normal pistol bullets, but their exterior was silvery-white, with complex, dazzling patterns visible upon closer inspection. The bottom was even engraved with a small holy symbol: "a red half-moon amidst a field of black stars."

The leather holster felt sturdy and had a strap with a buckle. Beside it was a badge about half a palm in size with an iron-colored base. It featured silver-inlaid text: "Ahova County Police Department" and "Special Operations Department, Seventh Group," arranged in two nearly closed circles surrounding a symbol of "a crown embraced by crossed swords."

"A pity it's not a Nighthawk badge," Klein said, half-sighing and half-testing.

Old Neil merely smiled and urged Klein to try the underarm holster.

Taking off his coat, Klein struggled for a moment to fasten the holster tightly against his left armpit.

"Not bad." He didn't take it off and instead put his formal suit back on.

Old Neil studied him for a moment and nodded with satisfaction. "A perfect fit. My eye for detail remains as accurate as ever."

After stowing the other items in his pockets and signing the logbook, Klein chatted with Old Neil for a few more moments before taking his leave.

Halfway there, he suddenly felt annoyed and slapped his forehead. "I forgot to ask about more sequences and potions. It's all the fault of Emperor Roselle's diaries..."

He still didn't know what the starting sequence of the complete "pathway" held by the Church of the Evernight Goddess—Sequence 9—was.

Rosanne seemed to have mentioned it once... Sleepless? Just as Klein was walking slowly toward the stairs, a figure came running down.

The man wore practical tight-fitting trousers and an untucked white shirt, possessing a distinct romantic poet-like aura. It was the black-haired, green-eyed officer who had searched Klein's house earlier; the two had seen each other upstairs just now, though they hadn't spoken.

"Good afternoon," the poet-like young Nighthawk greeted him with a smile.

"Good afternoon. I assume I don't need to introduce myself?" Klein replied humorously.

"No need. You made quite an impression on me." The young Nighthawk extended his right hand. "Leonard Mitchell, Sequence 8, 'Midnight Poet'."

*Sequence 8... he really is a poet...* Klein shook his hand lightly and asked back with a smile, "Made an impression on you?"

Leonard Mitchell's green eyes were deep, and he answered with a faint smile, "You have a very special temperament."

*...A bit too flamboyant...* Klein's lips twitched slightly, and he managed a forced smile. "I don't feel that way myself."

"To encounter such an event and not accept our protection immediately, yet still remain alive—that in itself is special enough." Leonard pointed ahead. "I have to relieve the Captain. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow." Klein stepped aside to clear the way.

As he disappeared step by step at the end of the stairs, Leonard Mitchell suddenly turned around. Gazing at the dim light and the stone floor, he whispered to the empty air

"Did you see anything..."

...

"As expected, he isn't anything special..."