In the early afternoon, by the White River Riverside, inside the bloody and chaotic study of Buck’s mansion, Gregor, Turner and Elena were busy searching for useful clues. Their search had so far yielded no results, prompting Elena to once again use her compass, imbued with the meaning of Lantern. The compass pointed toward the bookshelf in the room. Following its direction step by step, Elena approached the shelf and began combing through the books. However, after an exhaustive search, she still found nothing. Frowning slightly, Elena glanced down at the compass, its needle unwavering in its direction. “Hm? That’s odd…” “What is it, Elena? Did you find something?” Gregor turned his head, puzzled, at Elena’s remark. She continued to look at the bookshelf as she replied. “The compass indicates the location of the Waypoint Sigil should be on this bookshelf. But I’ve taken all the books down and found no trace of it. Perhaps… the sigil is behind the shelf?” Her tone carried a hint of speculation. Hearing this, Gregor nodded in understanding. “You mean a hidden room? It’s true... these kinds always like to have secret chambers in their homes. If there’s one here, there must be a mechanism to activate it nearby. Let’s look around.” As Gregor spoke, his words were transmitted via a corpse marionette to Dorothy’s ears, sending a newfound wave of alarm through her. “Damn... How did they figure out there’s a secret chamber so quickly? Waypoint Sigil? Could it be some kind of transmitter placed on Clifford by them? What a blunder... And now he’s dead in the secret chamber, conveniently marking its location for them.” Her thoughts raced as she glanced at Clifford’s mummified corpse nearby. Based on Gregor’s words, Dorothy deduced the likely scenario: Clifford had been marked with a transmitter-like sigil at the docks, which led the trackers straight to this place. Now, his death inside the secret chamber had inadvertently revealed its position. This string of misfortunes was utterly unforeseeable. At that moment, Dorothy’s tension grew. She was still attempting to crack the lock’s code, which required turning the doorknob to confirm each input. This significantly slowed her progress, as she had only tried about thirty combinations so far. “The good news is that entering this secret chamber isn’t that easy. They’ll need to find the candelabra mechanism and operate it correctly, which should take over an hour. I’ve still got time.” Dorothy reassured herself, but her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a rough voice from the study. “Looking for a mechanism? Hah, that’s way too slow. What if someone’s hiding inside? We don’t have time for that.” Gregor and Elena turned toward the voice and saw Turner, his imposing figure looming as he approached the bookshelf, a sledgehammer casually slung over his shoulder. “Turner? Where did you get that hammer? What are you planning to do?” Gregor exclaimed in surprise. Turner stopped before the shelf and smirked. “What am I planning? Taking the faster approach to open this secret chamber, of course.” With that, Turner gripped the hammer with both hands and swung it hard at the bookshelf. The impact sent shockwaves through the floor, and with a loud crash, the shelf broke open, revealing a pitch-black cavity behind it. “Well, well... There really is something back here. Nice guess, Elena,” Turner chuckled. Elena and Gregor, meanwhile, were momentarily dumbfounded. “Uh… Should it be this simple?” “Well, it’s a bit crude, but it’s certainly quicker…” Gregor and Elena couldn’t help but feel awkward about Turner’s method. Compared to carefully searching for a mechanism, brute force was undeniably faster and more convenient. “Of course it’s faster. Now that there’s a hole, we just need to make it bigger,” Turner declared confidently. He raised the hammer again, smashing the bookshelf repeatedly. Each strike shook the floor and sent reverberations through Dorothy’s nerves. “Seriously? This isn’t a puzzle-solving game to you? You’re ruining the experience!” Hiding behind the curtain, Dorothy couldn’t help but vent her frustrations as she watched the situation spiral further out of control. Gregor’s group had decided to abandon the intellectual approach entirely, opting instead for brute force. Despite her complaints, Dorothy’s heart was pounding in her chest. She knew that if things continued at this rate, Gregor’s team would soon break through. Though reinforced, the structure behind the bookshelf couldn’t withstand such relentless hammering. “No choice… I’ll have to use that plan…” Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Dorothy activated the spiritual threads of her Corpse Marionette Ring, linking them to the attic. There, a previously hidden corpse marionette began to rise. … Back in the study, Turner was still hammering away, rapidly enlarging the breach in the bookshelf. Gregor and Elena waited behind him, ready to enter as soon as the opening was large enough. Just as the hole grew wide enough to glimpse inside, a squad member rushed into the room, urgently reporting. “Captain! We’ve got a situation!” “What kind of situation?” Gregor stopped Turner mid-swing, silencing the cacophony of hammer strikes. Turning to the squad member, he asked intently. “On the rooftop… We’ve spotted a suspicious figure. He appeared out of nowhere and is smiling at our hidden sniper! We didn’t act without orders and came to inform you first.” Hearing this, Gregor exchanged glances with Elena and Turner. Elena spoke first. “This could be trouble. Let’s check it out. We can leave someone to guard this spot.” “Agreed. Let’s move…” Gregor assigned two squad members to stand watch at the study door before following the informant, along with Elena and Turner, to the rooftop via a ladder. The mansion’s slanted roof made standing difficult, save for a small pavilion that offered a stable platform. Climbing onto the pavilion, Gregor and his team scanned the roof. Near the edge overlooking the river, they spotted a lone figure. Under the gray, dim sky, the figure’s black-gray trench coat fluttered in the wind. Despite standing on a precarious incline, the man remained steady, holding his short-brimmed hat to keep it from flying off. The lower half of his face was obscured by a scarf, leaving only piercing eyes visible beneath the brim of his hat. He gazed at Gregor’s group, his expression calm yet sharp. “Greetings, hunters of Igwynt,” he said with a faint smile. Gregor’s team tensed instantly, gripping their weapons tightly. “Who are you? Why are you here?” Gregor demanded sternly. The man replied with ease. “Me? Just someone carrying out destiny. As for why I’m here… it’s because this is where I’m meant to be.” “Carrying out destiny? Meant to be here? What does that mean?” Elena frowned, trying to decipher his cryptic words. Turner, however, interrupted impatiently. “Hey! Quit with the riddles. Are you one of the remaining members of the Crimson Eucharist?” The man chuckled softly at Turner’s question, adjusting his hat as his eyes glinted with a trace of coldness. “If I were with the Crimson Eucharist, all of you would already share the fate of the corpses in the study below.”