Within moments, Osta, who had been on the verge of a complaint, managed to force a smile and said, “You’re quite the menacing sight like this.”

“It’s a classic look in literature,” Lumian replied with a deliberately smug tone.

Osta said nothing, opting instead to don his iron mask, concealing his expression.

Taking a few steps forward, he halted and rapped on the door to the right.

Two long pauses, one short pause, and one long pause… Lumian watched Osta Trul’s actions with the keen eye of a Hunter.

Within seconds, the dark-red wooden door creaked open.

The first thing Lumian saw was a plush, pale-yellow carpet, followed by classical-styled tables, chairs, sofas, and display shelves.

A figure stood in the shadows cast by gas wall lamps near the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Like Osta Trul, he wore the black robe of an ancient warlock, complete with a large hood. Lumian couldn’t help but think, Can you even see the person standing in front of you clearly when you’re dressed like this?

“Mr. K, Ciel has arrived,” Osta announced respectfully to the nearly six-foot-tall figure as he stepped inside.

Lumian followed closely.

With a clang, the door shut behind him.

Mr. K turned to face Lumian. “Why do you want to attend our gathering?”

His voice was low and gravelly.

“For potion formulas, Beyonder characteristics, mystical items, and mysticism knowledge. It’s not like it’s for love or faith, right?” Lumian replied with intentional cynicism.

He then chuckled.

“I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t mind telling you about me.”

Lumian’s voice deepened.

“In a catastrophe brought on by Beyonder powers, I lost my entire family.

“Not only did it cause me immense pain, but it made me realize that those so-called orthodox gods can’t save us!

“From that day on, I sought Beyonder power and a way to forget all pain. I wanted to become powerful enough. I wanted those who brought me misfortune to experience the same torture.”

The hooded Mr. K seemed to stare at Lumian without interruption. As for Osta Trul, he was visibly shocked. Ciel’s words revealed raw, unmasked pain. His desire for the Samaritan Women’s Spring was genuine!

Once Lumian finished speaking, Mr. K nodded and said, “There are two rules for participating in our gathering:

“First, no matter what happens, you can’t attack anyone directly at the gathering.

“Second, don’t attempt to follow other participants.”

Only these two? Lumian hadn’t expected so few constraints.

He didn’t need to think hard to spot several loopholes immediately.

Not attacking directly? Does that mean I can use Provoke to incite the other party to death?

Just because I don’t attempt to follow doesn’t mean I can’t do anything else to the target…

Is selling fake ingredients, fake formulas, fake Beyonder characteristics, and fake mystical items also allowed?

Lumian suppressed his urge to retort and nodded.

“No problem.”

As he responded, he felt Mr. K’s gaze on him, scrutinizing every inch of his flesh and skin.

It made him feel like he was in the sights of a venomous snake.

After a few seconds, Mr. K continued, “If you prefer not to disclose what you have and what you’re after, you can write down your desired transaction in advance, and my attendant will copy it onto a portable blackboard for all participants to see. If you don’t think it matters, you can make your request on the spot.

“Likewise, at the gathering, you can complete transactions through my attendant or directly with the other party.

“Remember, transactions carry risks. I can’t guarantee the authenticity of all items, materials, or information. Of course, you can opt to pay me to notarize them, effectively reducing the risk.”

A Notary’s power? Lumian recalled Aurore’s grimoire.

This was Sequence 6 of the Sun pathway, and most Beyonders in this pathway belonged to the Eternal Blazing Sun Church.

Given this, Lumian suspected Mr. K might not be a Notary, but rather possess a related mystical item.

Lumian quickly collected himself and asked Mr. K, “May I write down my requirements now?”

Mr. K nodded and gestured towards a desk on the right side of the room.

“Write them there. My attendant will collect them.”

Lumian approached the brown desk, adorned with Psychic, Lotus, Arcane, and other magazines. He unfolded a fragrant letter and picked up a dark-red fountain pen. After some thought, he wrote:

“1. I possess a damaged Beyonder weapon. Seeking someone capable of repairing it. Price negotiable.

“2. Buying information on a peculiar creature. This female-looking entity is suspected to be a Spirit Body. It has long turquoise hair that envelops its body and exudes an alluring aura. It can induce erotic dreams with itself as the central figure. Additional details unknown. Reward depends on the value of information provided, ranging from 10 to 100 verl d’or.”

Lumian considered adding a third point about a Provoker’s acting experience but decided against it after some thought.

He remembered Aurore mentioning acting techniques, the Law of Beyonder Characteristics Conservation, and other mysticism knowledge in his nightmare. Such knowledge wasn’t common among ordinary Beyonders. And he was currently impersonating a newcomer who had just entered the Beyonder world due to a disaster, seeking more knowledge and resources.

If he were to write the word “acting,” Mr. K would surely grow suspicious.

Of course, Lumian didn’t think of it as a pretense. He genuinely was a novice who had entered the Beyonder world following a disaster and sought more knowledge and resources. However, his involvement in the original disaster was quite high-level, allowing him to encounter powerful figures like Madam Magician. As a result, he possessed extensive high-end knowledge but lacked common sense, relying on Aurore’s grimoire to fill the gaps.

Having set down the letter and pen, Lumian left with Osta and entered a room at the end of the corridor.

The room appeared to be a salon. Sofas, chairs, a round table, a coffee table, barstools, and other furnishings were arranged casually, creating a relaxed atmosphere.

Several gathering attendees had already arrived. Some wore black robes and hoods that nearly covered their faces. Others donned clown or devil makeup, while a few wore crude or intricate masks.

For a moment, Lumian felt as if he had entered a masquerade ball.

He and Osta Trul took separate seats after entering separately.

Lumian chose a barstool, almost tempted to order a glass of absinthe to complete the look.

Soon enough, Mr. K entered and settled into the armchair reserved for the organizer. His masked and gloved attendants brought in a portable blackboard filled with transaction requests.

The first thing Lumian noticed was a request for Beyonder characteristics.

“Warrior pathway Sequence 8 Pugilist Beyonder characteristic, 15,000 verl d’or. Negotiable.”

A Sequence 8 Beyonder characteristic selling for 15,000 verl d’or or more? Lumian was initially stunned, then overwhelmed by heartache and regret, as if he longed to drink from the Fountain of Oblivion.

He had just killed Margot, a Sequence 8 Provoker of the Hunter pathway!

Playing it safe, Lumian hadn’t harassed Margot until the Montsouris ghost attacked, leaving the battlefield early.

While he had gained over 1,000 verl d’or from Margot through the fate exchange, it paled in comparison to the worth of the Provoker Beyonder characteristics.

Moments later, Lumian barely pulled himself together.

His actions had been the best course. If he had continued to pester Margot, something might have gone awry or drawn the authorities’ attention. While Margot would still be dead, he could have landed in another crisis.

Lumian then examined the other transaction details.

“One Elf’s Dark Leaf, 180 verl d’or.”

“Two pages of Emperor Roselle’s original diary. 300 verl d’or.”

“Sequence 6 Baron of Corruption potion formula, 65,000 verl d’or.”

“…”

As Lumian scanned the list, he understood why his sister Aurore was so extravagant with her spending.

“Let’s begin,” Mr. K rasped, scanning the room.

His attendants read the entries aloud one by one. Some went unanswered, while others were discreetly finalized through the attendants.

Lumian observed quietly, intent on familiarizing himself with these situations and gathering intel.

As the gathering neared its end, the attendant by the portable blackboard finally announced Lumian’s first request.

Silence ensued.

After more than ten seconds, a man lounging in a corner divan snickered.

“Most of those skilled in restoring mystical items and Beyonder weapons are found in the God of Steam and Machinery Church. Try looking there.”

His face was smeared with oil paint, as if he were masquerading as a savage from the Southern Continent’s forests.

Ignoring the unfunny remark, Mr. K’s attendant relayed Lumian’s second request.

The gathering’s attendees exchanged bewildered glances, as if this strange creature was news to them.

Just a bunch of clueless Low-Sequence Beyonders… Lumian inwardly scoffed in disappointment.

Just then, the man who had joked earlier shared, “This brings something to mind. Heh heh, here’s a freebie.

“Where the Srenzo River meets the Ryan River downstream, there’s a town called Aunett. Many middle-class Trier folks enjoy sailing and swimming there.

“Early last year, or maybe earlier, three consecutive female deaths occurred. They died of weakness from overindulgence, with no known partners, secret or otherwise. Their only shared trait was telling friends about the vivid, alluring dreams they’d been having recently.”