I Loaded the Mysticism Panel
Chapter 27: Fog Wall Technique

Chapter 27: Chapter 27: Fog Wall Technique

The two of them returned the way they came, walking in silent agreement through the corridor.

As Richard walked, he organized the images he had just seen in his mind.

The Ghoul’s combat prowess in the residual image far exceeded what he had imagined from written descriptions.

Iron Shuttles, cloth-cutting scissors... in the hands of ordinary people, those would be considered handy weapons.

A dozen or so people had surrounded a low-level Evil Being, and the result was a one-sided slaughter.

They climbed out of the utility room, and a gust of night wind blew in, making the fronts of their clothes flap loudly.

The consequence of a single bottom-tier Evil Being was several lives lost and a factory shut down.

If no one had set up the Seal, returning every few years to reinforce the Silver Seal and replace the Wax Seal...

The deathly aura would continuously permeate the surroundings, constantly disturbing the ordinary people nearby.

Perkins had only been grazed by its influence and was bedridden for two weeks.

And this was just a single Ghoul.

Appendix C stated in black and white: on the Mysterious Side’s danger scale, Ghouls were classified at the very bottom Level.

’Then what’s the mid-level? And the high-level?’

’Those things Mr. Hutton mentioned in class:’

’The sounds described by the survivors of the New Continent expedition before they disappeared, the widespread anomalies that appeared after the destruction of the native ritual sites, the government reports with blacked-out conclusions.’

"We recommend ceasing further investigation."

’What Level was the thing behind that report?’

’And those "lost expeditionary forces" downplayed in the newspapers, how many lives did that really represent?’

Richard walked in the shadows of the wall where the moonlight couldn’t reach. He hadn’t felt scared before, but now, the more he thought about it, the more terrifying it all seemed.

The vast majority of ordinary people—his father, Evelyn, the old woman who set up her stall early every morning, his classmates dozing off on the school bus... they all knew nothing of the world behind the Curtain.

They didn’t know what they were stepping on, or what was floating in the air.

The two returned to the school building, where Mr. Hutton opened the door to an empty classroom.

He didn’t turn on the main lights, only switching on the desk lamp on the teacher’s podium.

The light illuminated two desks, leaving the rest of the room in darkness.

He sat down at one of the desks and took a small metal box from his leather bag. Inside were two things.

The first was a silver coin, the very one that had been placed at the center of the silver plate while reinforcing the Seal just moments ago.

The surface of the silver coin was covered in a layer of gray-blue frost.

"This is a by-product of the Sealing process." Mr. Hutton placed the silver coin on the desk.

"The silver coin acts as a ’Filtering medium’ in the core area of the Seal. You can think of it like the limescale left on the inside of a kettle after water evaporates."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Not to ordinary people. For you..." Mr. Hutton pushed the silver coin in front of him.

"...it’s actually quite useful. The Ether deposited on it is relatively pure because it has passed through the Seal’s Filtering.

You can hold it when you’re practicing your Breathing Technique. It will provide a small boost."

"You can have it. Consider it compensation for the close call you had."

Richard nodded and didn’t refuse.

The moment his thumb touched the silver surface, the panel lit up in the corner of his vision.

[Available Points: +0.03]

His heart quickened.

Throughout the entire trip to the basement, despite being surrounded by the dense Ether in the air, the panel had remained inert.

But the instant he touched this old silver coin, the number jumped.

He already knew the answer, but to be certain, he conducted a comparative experiment.

He placed the silver coin on the desk, and when he moved his hand away, the number stopped increasing.

It seemed the conclusion was undeniable.

The ancient objects that could generate Points all had something in common: they possessed a certain age and had once been steeped in Ether or used in Mysticism rituals.

The pendant was an artifact from the Eastern Continent, the Divination Disc was a ritual tool, and the Sphinx Oil Lamp was an item used by a Priest.

Now, this silver coin had participated in a Sealing ritual, had residual Ether deposited on it, and was itself an aged piece of silver.

Age + Extraordinary Immersion = Usable.

Age but no Extraordinary Immersion = Unusable.

No age but has Ether = Unusable.

With this in mind, he steered the conversation in that direction.

"Sir, this silver coin looks quite old."

Mr. Hutton was cleaning his Engraving Knife. Hearing this, he glanced up.

"A sharp eye. It’s an old coin."

"How old?"

"Flip it over and look at the front."

Richard turned the silver coin over.

The front was embossed with the profile of a man wearing a laurel wreath, his features blurry.

"Is this... a coin from the Old Dynasty?"

"It seems you paid attention in my history class after all. And here I thought all your attention was on Holland."

Mr. Hutton cracked a joke to lighten the mood before continuing his explanation.

"This silver coin was produced by a mint in the late Old Dynasty. It’s an old thing from before the constitution was established, making it somewhere between three and four hundred years old."

He placed the cloth-wrapped knife back into his leather bag.

"This batch of silver coins was passed down along with the Seal itself.

The predecessor who established the Seal used silver coins from the same period as a medium. The silver’s purity was good, and it had been ritually immersed. After being passed down, the same batch was reused every year to reinforce the Seal."

"It’s been used for forty-three years, so the deposits on it have grown thicker and thicker."

"So these silver coins have become Extraordinary Artifacts themselves?"

"Barely." Mr. Hutton fastened the clasp on his leather bag.

"It’s a far cry from a true Extraordinary Artifact. A three or four-hundred-year-old silver coin that’s only participated in a Sealing ritual for a few decades can only accumulate a very limited amount of Ether.

It’s more than enough to assist a beginner with their Breathing Technique practice, but that’s its limit."

He said it casually, but Richard committed every word to memory.

’As for aiding his practice, he didn’t really need it. His Breathing Technique was already progressing on the right track.’

The greater value of this silver coin lay in the Points.

He put the silver coin in his pocket, his fingers caressing the cool metal surface.

The second item looked much less conspicuous.

It was a small, grayish-green stalk of dried grass, about the length of a pinky finger. Its two broken ends were shrunken and yellowed.

"Ashen Grass." Mr. Hutton pushed the stalk under the lamplight.

"It’s a type of plant that usually grows in areas with Ether contamination. A few stalks occasionally sprout in the damp crevices around the Seal’s periphery.

Its processed fibrous tissues retain trace amounts of Ether and can be used as a medium for Casting."

He closed the metal box, his fingers tapping the lid twice.

"The environment beneath Greenwood’s foundation, with its continuous low-concentration Ether seepage, is a breeding ground for plants like this.

Besides Ashen Grass, there are also fungal hyphae, mineral crystals, and salt extracted from limescale. These are all extraordinary resources."

"Is there a market for these things?"

Mr. Hutton didn’t explain in detail.

"In certain circles, yes."

Richard didn’t press further.

’The old teacher’s boundaries were clearly drawn: What I can teach you, I am already teaching. As for how that circle operates, you don’t need to know right now.’

"Then, what can Ashen Grass do?"

Mr. Hutton pulled a folded piece of old paper from a side pocket of his bag and spread it out under the light.

A series of operational steps was written on it in small print, in a style completely different from the coded language in the book’s appendix—it was direct, clear, and unencrypted.

"You can use it to perform a little trick." The old gentleman handed the paper over.

"In our line of work, it’s called a ’Fog Wall.’ It doesn’t really qualify as a proper Technique."

"The Fog Wall Technique can cause temporary perceptual confusion in a target for about five to ten seconds.

Their sense of direction, sight, and hearing will all become misaligned simultaneously. It’s like being blindfolded and spun around dozens of times."

"And against someone who isn’t an ordinary person?"

Mr. Hutton shook his head. "Any properly trained Practitioner can easily dispel it, but it’s more than enough to deal with some mindless thugs."

Richard took the paper and scanned the contents.

The steps were indeed simple: break off a small piece of Ashen Grass, crush it in your palm, and blow on it using the exhalation rhythm of Quadruple Breathing.

The residual Ether in the Ashen Grass fibers would be activated by the breath, forming a field of perceptual interference in front of the palm.

The effective range was about three meters, and its duration depended on the Caster’s proficiency with the Breathing Technique.

"Ashen Grass is a consumable. You use a piece each time."

Mr. Hutton gestured to the length of the stalk. "This one I’m giving you can be used eight or nine times. It’s enough for you to defend yourself."

Richard folded the paper and put it in his pocket along with the Ashen Grass.

"Thank you, sir."

"Don’t thank me." Mr. Hutton stood up and buckled his leather bag.

"Everything you saw today—the Seal’s location, the entrance, the structure of the Silver Seal—you are not to speak of it to anyone."

He added, "Not even your family."

"I know."

Mr. Hutton walked to the classroom door with his bag in hand.

"Richard, your performance today was much better than I expected."

He turned sideways, the lamplight illuminating only half of his face.

"Your Breathing faltered for two beats when you were caught in the aftershock, but you pulled yourself back.

Afraid, but you didn’t run. Faltered, but you recovered... That’s more important than talent."

He pushed the door open, letting in a gust of cold wind from the hallway.

"But don’t be too brave either."

"In our line of work, the bravest are usually the first to die."