The night enveloped the Fortress of the Morning Wind, with a high concentration of ether filling the land. Against the backdrop of darkness, the magnificent arc light rippled, accompanied by the gentle touch of the breeze, drawing out strands of colorful silk.

The glow of ether is always changing, presenting itself within the human visible spectrum. For condensers, it is also considered a characteristic of themselves, such as Bologue's azure light, and the golden radiance of Aimou, Geoffrey, and others.

In the natural state of ether, it is uncontrolled by any condenser, its brilliance diverse and romantic.

Bologue stood by the window, observing this aurora-like beauty, and once again marveled at the vastness of the world and its colorful diversity.

At times like this, Bologue would feel the blessing of fate, which burdened him with debt but also allowed him to survive, giving him the chance to witness sights he had never touched before.

Drawing his gaze back, Bologue continued to wander in the Fortress of the Morning Wind, like a night-patrolling guard. He was not yet tired and did not wish to sleep early; such opportunities were rare, and he wanted to learn more about these ancient castles within Fuen's allowed scope.

Outside the Fortress of the Morning Wind, the bright moonlight was gradually covered by dark clouds. The sea illuminated by moonlight also became gradually dim and unknowing. In the deep darkness, only the sound of waves crashing against the shore, washing over rocks, could be heard.

People had long been accustomed to such melodies, but tonight was different as there was a discordant noise in the natural tune.

In the deep ocean, strange creatures twisted their repulsive figures, climbing onto the wet beach with the push of the waves.

They struggled to suppress their desire for flesh and blood, waving wet arms, crawling up the steep cliffs, while in the thick dark clouds, the hungry Wind-Eroded Birds also restrained their nature, making no sound, resembling a pack of wolves scenting blood, encircling the Fortress of the Morning Wind.

They were waiting for something, and soon, what they awaited arrived.

From the Angry Sea came deadly breezes carrying dust-like substances. As they approached the Fortress of the Morning Wind, they collided with some invisible entity, and sparks drew out a hazy arc-shaped barrier.

Under intense reaction, the Void Realm defense line constructed by the Fortress of the Morning Wind began to fill with cracks, shattering. The dust corroded the ether-forged barrier and opened a safe passage within this stringent guard line.

The wind carried the command to attack. The monsters climbed the cliffs, and the Wind-Eroded Birds circled between the dark clouds, ready to swoop down at any moment.

In the depths of darkness, pairs of crimson eyes opened, staring at this high wall they had never crossed.

The coagulated blood aura accompanied the moist sea breeze, gradually spreading like a dark red mist, permeating onto the Fortress of the Morning Wind. And on the highest Celestial Vault Tower, Fuen calmly observed it all, his face no longer carrying the usual kind smile but absolute indifference, like metal.

Fuen calmly spoke, "So... this is your true job? Everything before was just a facade?"

Reflecting on the brief contact time, Fuen's heart was slightly chilled. Perhaps being too comfortable in the Wind Source Highlands had led him to forget the true nature of the Order Bureau as a violent organ.

The counterpart hidden in darkness stated calmly, "This is just the necessary intelligence work — deceiving one's own people."

"Then how did you obtain such intelligence?" Fuen felt doubt rise within him, "Even I don't know these things, yet you, far away from me, seem to understand more about what happens on this land."

"Not to mention such core, secret matters."

Many years ago, the Order Bureau was controlled by six founding families. However, as time passed and technology progressed, people were shocked to discover that what they once firmly controlled, the Order Bureau, now controlled them.

The leadership of this massive group underwent replacement, and by the time they realized it, the intricate, sprawling entity had already become unrecognizable, difficult to discern.

At this moment, Fuen had an even deeper understanding of this feeling, realizing that the Order Bureau's knowledge of the Wind Source Highlands was even deeper than his own as the Patriarch of the Clarks, as if the Fortress of the Morning Wind were transparent to the Order Bureau.

"These are directives from the Decision Room."

The counterpart maintained a calm and indifferent attitude, mechanically answering whatever Fuen asked.

Decision Room.

Fuen took a deep breath, his cold lips easily drawing a smile, "Why do I find it so easy to accept when it's an order from the Decision Room?"

This feeling was strange; since his youth working within the Order Bureau, Fuen had vaguely sensed it.

The Decision Room is all-powerful.

Nobody ever told Fuen this directly, yet this thought curiously emerged in his heart.

The Decision Room is all-powerful.

Fuen had once suspected whether this was some mental influence. Upon returning to the Wind Source Highlands, he underwent extensive testing, finding no abnormalities. But more oddly, as his work deepened and age grew, the concept of the Decision Room being all-powerful did not collapse in his mind but grew stronger.

Until today, the Decision Room strengthened this belief within Fuen's mind once more.

The Decision Room is all-powerful.

Fuen sighed lightly, "It's almost omniscient and omnipotent…"

He knew very well that there was no such thing as omniscience and omnipotence in this world, yet Fuen couldn't help but associate the Decision Room with it, even though it wasn't achievable, it was infinitely close.

In the darkness, the other person opened the briefcase and took out a modestly shaped flintlock gun, holding it in hand, feeling the warmth from its wooden grip.

Fuen examined the flintlock gun, clearly drawn from the briefcase, yet it presented a fired state.

The flint and fire steel collided together, the powder pan cover opened, the metal at the muzzle slightly reddened, enveloped in a faint smokiness.

It seemed it had already fired within the briefcase, but there was no gunshot, no bullet, and no trace of firing, this flintlock gun was filled with an eerie sensation.

Fuen recognized this weapon, his gaze grew solemn, but luckily he was quite knowledgeable, calming down immediately.

"They handed this weapon to you? Truly crazy."

"Nothing much, it's just a replica of the 'Gun of Destiny', and its usage conditions are very harsh, giving it to me is just for insurance, after all the target is suspected…"

The other person did not continue, inspected the flintlock gun, he too noticed the fired state of the flintlock gun, his tone riddled with regret.

"Sorry, Chekov's Gun has been fired."

The bullet has already left the barrel, now we just need to find whose heart it is in.

Fuen did not think there was anything to apologize for, during his work at the Order Bureau, he had also encountered this eerie alchemy armament, using it to pierce through the hearts of a few people.

On the frontline battlefield, it might not be as advantageous as a short knife, but due to its strange nature, no one could underestimate its existence.

This is an alchemy armament exclusively for assassins.

Like Palmer's Blessing, that mysterious luck, many times it may not attract attention, but you cannot ignore its presence and at some inadvertent moment, it becomes the key to reversing the situation.

Fuen stopped thinking about these matters, instructing.

"I'll handle those troublesome guys, and you… go find that bullet that has been fired."

…

Based on the scale of construction alone, the Fortress of the Morning Wind is too immense, Bologue thought that given a few more days, he might not be able to finish exploring it, let alone those restricted areas similar to the Wind Cellar.

Just this place is so magnificent, Bologue couldn't help but wonder what kind of splendor the long-buried Holy City of Remongedon might hold.

Curiosity is so gripping, leading Bologue to fantasize whimsically, if possible, Bologue would like to explore the Abandoned Land once more, but this matter requires approvals from various parties due to the calamity sealed under the Abandoned Land.

Just for the sake of curiosity, Bologue felt he couldn't even pass the Lebius part, let alone the Desperate Outpost section.

Any ether-bearing, flesh-and-blood being stepping into the Abandoned Land would pose risks to the stability of the calamity's seal, something the Abyss Watchers could not accept.

Thoughts didn't linger long in Bologue's mind, breezes wafted through the open windows, the moist sea breeze brushing Bologue's nose, the odd scent in the coolness instantly interrupted all of Bologue's thoughts.

Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Bologue's muscles instinctively tensed up, clenched fists, preparing for combat.

Bologue at first didn't even realize why he was so alert, then he distinguished the familiar, soul-corrupting scent within the sea breeze.

Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid extended from the cuff, forged into a sharp long knife in Bologue's hand, Bologue stood by the open window, his gaze sweeping the eerie, uninhabited corridor.

This scene was reminiscent of a horror film plot, the victim terrified, wandering within the corridor, avoiding the monsters that could emerge from anywhere. The audience held their breath, anticipating the brutal scene.

Luckily this was not a movie, but reality, and Bologue was not a helpless victim; on the contrary, he felt if this were a movie, his role and that of the monsters should be reversed.

The rustling sound of rain came from outside the window, the fine rain pounding the castle.

The Wind Source Highlands were always accompanied by wind and rain, a sudden downpour was normal, followed by a crackling thunder tearing the sky, the rumbling echo drowned out the wailing.

Blood splattered, covering the carpet.

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