119: Chapter 57 Intertwined

After the lecture concluded and the crowd dispersed, Audrey did not leave the exhibition hall immediately.

She paused before the exhibition board featuring snake patterns on the first floor, her gaze locked firmly on the enlarged photograph of the snake-patterned variant ore in the center of the board.

Below the photograph, a line of small text was marked: "Provided by a private laboratory in the Dock District."

This label was something she had seen many times before.

The clinic's exclusive invitation, the special recommendation letter from the art school, the Sealed Artifact charms in the dockyard warehouse, and now the publicly exhibited ore photograph—all these hidden clues pointed to the same source.

Audrey instantly realized the key flaw.

She had once seen Roselle Gustav's works displayed in the window of that mysterious clinic.

In the lecture just now, Isabelle had quoted Roselle Gustav's discourse on dreams and creativity, every word fitting within the academic scope, yet she had deliberately omitted and avoided all core content involving the Beyonder world.

The other party's methods were extremely clever.

Using legitimate academic lectures as a cover, she brazenly spread fragmented Beyonder clues before the public eye, quietly screening and luring the Beyonders and fated individuals hiding among the crowd.

The next morning, Audrey went straight to the detective agency on Mingde Street and told Sherlock all the details from the exhibition hall yesterday.

There were two unusual attendees at the lecture. One young man only filled out a regular lucky draw form, his attitude indifferent throughout, showing no abnormalities.

However, a middle-aged gentleman remained alone in front of the snake pattern exhibition board long after the entire audience had left, not moving for a long time.

She clearly captured the man's abnormal behavior: his fingertips gently pressed against the board, tracing a full circle along the complete snake-shaped ring pattern.

This unconscious circular motion was exactly the same as the habitual action of the lecturer, Isabelle, when turning pages.

After listening to the description, Sherlock nodded slightly and analyzed in a deep voice, "This person is either a veteran member of the Psychology Alchemists or a prospective member who has passed the clinic's screening and is about to join formally. His familiarity with the snake symbol is definitely not something an ordinary attendee could possess."

He looked up and asked, "How long did he stay? Were there any other actions during that time?"

"Until the exhibition staff turned off the lights to clear the venue, which was nearly half an hour," Audrey recounted precisely. "He didn't take any promotional brochures, nor did he ask the staff for information about the ore. Throughout the whole time, he just repeatedly stared at and traced the pattern."

"Not a newcomer." Sherlock leaned back in his chair, picked up the enamel cup beside him, and said with a firm tone, "A newly recruited candidate would definitely collect information and proactively inquire, showing basic curiosity and a desire to explore. His behavior was more like a re-examination and confirmation."

"He came to verify if the image of this ore with the special snake pattern was truly being exhibited publicly."

After the Secret Order released the investigation report, the conclusion that the seal of the Antigonus Ruins was completely closed had been cross-verified by dual independent chains of evidence, becoming public Beyonder intelligence.

However, various factions had different motives.

Some were unwilling to let the decades-long struggle for the ruins end just like that, some attempted to extract remnant Sealed Artifacts from the remaining ruins, and even more hidden factions were secretly testing the waters, refusing to accept the settled outcome. Undercurrents surged, never ceasing.

At the same time, the middle manager of the freight company in the Dock District visited the agency for the third time.

Previously, Sherlock had instructed him to collect all damaged Sealed Artifact charm fragments from all ore crates that had been tampered with over the past two weeks, and to classify and file them strictly according to the cargo ship's route and unloading date.

This task was tedious and time-consuming, with a massive workload, but the manager was willing. He owed Sherlock a favor, and even though the cat he helped find last time had gone missing again, this debt of gratitude still counted.

A few days later, in the grocery store on Water Pump Street, inside the shop of Abraham.

Lu Li flipped through the completed analysis report of the charm fragments. The core data was clear at a glance: the spiritual fluctuations remaining on all the broken charms perfectly matched the spatial rift characteristics of the Apprentice Pathway Sequence 8 [Trickmaster].

The method of breaking the seal was clean, the movements were secretive, and no seal alarms were triggered throughout the process, which could be called extremely professional.

Abraham tapped his fingertips on the ledger and speculated in a low voice, "Is it the handiwork of the Secret Order? Vera previously relied on the spatial abilities of the Apprentice Pathway to freely enter and exit libraries and freight warehouses."

"It's not her, and it's not the Secret Order." Lu Li closed the report, his tone firm, overturning this speculation.

"If the Secret Order wanted to access the ore data, they would only need to officially apply to view the records through the client's private laboratory and obtain them openly. There would be no need to sneakily rummage through cargo crates and destroy Sealed Artifact charms."

"It is the Psychology Alchemists."

He precisely pointed out the truth: "The ore photograph exhibited in Isabelle's lecture only captured the surface snake patterns, deliberately concealing the golden snake-shaped veins inside the ore. The Psychology Alchemists have the photograph and the ruins investigation report but lack the physical evidence, so they can only aimlessly search all the ore crates at the dock, looking for the target ore."

Abraham frowned slightly, "But that core variant ore is unique. Long before the large batch of raw ore was handed over to the Secret Order, it had already been transferred from the dockyard warehouse and sealed in a private laboratory's exclusive storage locker. The only authorized extractor for all channels is your code name."

"Precisely because of that, they are destined to find nothing even after searching through all the cargo ships," Lu Li said calmly. "But Isabelle will realize sooner or later that the key ore has already been intercepted and sealed separately. It won't be long before they change their search target and launch a new round of investigation."

Leaving Water Pump Street, Lu Li walked eastward along the bank of the Hoi River. When passing by Warehouse No. 4 in the Dock District, he ran into Old Kohler, who was squatting on the steps gnawing on black bread.

The old man had a simple smile on his face and took the initiative to talk about his family's recent situation. His youngest daughter's sketchbook was already filled with a dozen pages, and she was recently creating a new piece, wanting to draw everyone she was familiar with in the Dock District into the painting. She even gave this painting a warm name— "Everyone in the Dock District."

Returning to the apartment in the River Bay District, Lu Li opened his exclusive intelligence notebook and updated the recent clues one by one.

The Psychology Alchemists were mobilized to search for the snake-patterned variant ore but found nothing. Isabelle publicly cast bait by holding a lecture to probe the movements of various parties; she had likely already realized that all key Beyonder resources had long been harvested and sealed by someone else.

The game of the situation had already quietly escalated.

A few days later, at twilight, the dusk was gentle.

Audrey specifically arranged to meet Sherlock in front of the church. She took out a neatly folded note from her delicate handbag and revealed the latest turn of events.

In the early morning, Isabelle had sent a private letter. The wording in the letter was gentle and polite, formally issuing an invitation to her to participate in an internal high-end salon held by the clinic, and even more straightforwardly extending an olive branch, inviting her to formally join the Psychology Alchemists.

At the end of the letter, there was a line of handwritten small text, the handwriting gentle yet highly purposeful: "Please forward this to Miss Audrey Hall. Her talent should not be buried."

"She wrote my full name," Audrey said with a serious expression. "It means that from the beginning to the end, she has been clear about my true identity."

"It is not hard to deduce," Sherlock said, his gaze calm as he slowly deconstructed the situation. "The clinic's registry does not have your information, but when the Viscountess passed the invitation on your behalf, she must have mentioned your identity."

"This formal invitation now means she has completed her comprehensive assessment of you."

"You have come into contact with the Beyonder world, understand the basic common knowledge of the Spectator Pathway, participated in exclusive academic lectures, and even proactively observed the snake patterns in depth at the exhibition hall. In her eyes, you are a perfectly suitable candidate for membership, and the time is ripe."

Audrey looked at him, "How should I respond?"

"You can tentatively agree to the intention, but you don't need to reply immediately," Sherlock offered a safe plan. "The Psychology Alchemists' newcomer training runs on a quarterly cycle, so you have an entire summer to calmly weigh the pros and cons."

Audrey put away the letter and watched her private carriage drive away from Mingde Street.

After the carriage had completely disappeared, Sherlock leaned back against the bench and raised his hand to pull a small paper figurine from his pocket.

The Psychology Alchemists making a formal move meant that they would inevitably review all of Audrey's recent whereabouts. The records of her frequent visits to the detective agency on Mingde Street would certainly be included in the scope of their investigation.

He had to plan in advance, clearing all sensitive clues and materials within the agency to eliminate any potential risks.

Putting the paper figurine back into his sleeve, Sherlock turned and slowly walked back.

Passing by the old oak tree at the church entrance, the setting sun shone through the branches and leaves, casting mottled light and shadows, while the silver fragments embedded in the tree refracted fine, silvery-white shimmers.

Under the tree, several children were squatting by the dirt, earnestly paving a winding path with gravel. Full of childlike innocence, they were chanting, calling it an angel's runway leading to the sky.

The short gravel path had been paved for a long time, yet it was still only a mere segment.

Sherlock stood quietly in the shade of the tree, gazing for a moment. His fingertips touched the cold rim of the enamel cup in his pocket, then he withdrew his thoughts, stepped forward, and pushed open the wooden door of the agency.

The wooden door hinges were still smooth; since being lubricated once in the spring, they had not made a single strange noise.

Beneath the calm appearance, countless factional clues, human calculations, and secret games were tightly intertwined, weaving into an invisible net that shrouded Backlund.