The Montpelier Light Cross Church and the Light Cross Tribunal are connected, separated only by a wall, with the buildings back-to-back. To reach the main entrance of the Tribunal, one must cross a street lined with dormitories for the church’s regular staff, as well as monasteries, inns, and shops.

As Olovice stepped out of the Tribunal, a light was still on in an antique shop. Lily followed closely behind him, even though she held a safety token in her hand, she couldn’t help but look around nervously, fearing that an officer from the Order of the Divine might come over to question them.

“Relax, let’s stay at the Light Inn around the corner for the night.” Olovice said, carrying a suitcase as he walked. Lily quickly caught up, and when she noticed no one was in the alley, she excitedly said, “Olovice, you’re amazing. I don’t even dare to speak in front of the old priest.”

When they reached the Light Inn near the street corner, Olovice filled out the information, and Lily made a special note about having a safety token.

“Third floor, rooms 301 and 305, five sul per night, ten sul for two people, with a deposit of three sul. Check-out time is 1 PM the next day. Return the key to get your deposit back. The inn offers free breakfast and hot water, but dinner and drinks need to be purchased.”

The innkeeper, with graying hair and a slightly balding head, cheerfully handed them the keys. He didn’t even flinch when he saw the words “witch” written under the race section for the red-haired girl, showing his good acceptance.

Olovice suspected that the innkeeper was a retired church official, not only because of the inn’s name but also because of the cross necklace hanging below the innkeeper’s neck. The inn was filled with church elements, with portraits of the Holy Son and Holy Daughter on the walls, and the front desk even sold holy water! A whole row of it, priced at five sul per bottle! Who would be foolish enough to buy it?

After finishing his internal complaints, Olovice handed Lily the key to room 305 and also gave her a pound note: “How much for two dinners?”

“There are regular and premium options. The regular is grilled bread with tomato soup and sausages, three sul per serving. The premium is buttered bread with creamy mushroom soup and freshly grilled steak, five sul per serving, with a complimentary glass of red wine.”

“Just the regular, two servings,” Olovice decided immediately.

After spending a gold pound, he only got one sul back.

“I’ll have the cook bring the dinner to your room,” the innkeeper said to the two as they headed upstairs, then picked up a newspaper to read.

When they reached the third floor, Olovice stopped at room 301: “Go back to your room and don’t wander around. This inn is run by church officials, so it should be quite safe. Tomorrow, after I finish my exam, I’ll see if I can gather any information from the seniors.”

“Thank you.” Lily watched as the steward was about to enter and added, “I’ll earn money to pay you back in the future.” Olovice had covered her expenses along the way, which wasn’t much, but she really had no money at the moment.

Olovice closed the door: “Remember to include interest.”

Room 301 wasn’t large, but it looked clean enough, with a brown carpet on the floor, a big bed, a wardrobe, and a desk. Olovice opened the window, and from his angle, he could see the entire street. He could also see the Order of the Divine and its guard office and noble court across the street. Further away were the government office building, banks, hotels, and schools.

Various weaker divine sects were scattered among them.

Olovice closed the window, drew the curtains, and sat in a chair, picking up a magazine. It was a local Montpelier interview magazine, featuring the mayor and the outstanding banker from Star Flag, Susan’s father. After about half an hour, there was a knock on the door.

“Sir, here’s your dinner.”

A young chef said, holding a tray.

Olovice opened the door, and the chef placed the dinner on the table: “After you finish eating, press the doorbell at the door, and someone will come to collect the dishes.”

After the door closed, Olovice finished his dinner, pressed the doorbell, and after a few seconds, the door to the storage room at the end of the third floor opened. A small child dashed out like the wind, running to room 301. When he saw Olovice, he was visibly startled.

Olovice was also a bit surprised, not expecting the third-floor attendant to be a young child.

“I’m done eating.” Olovice handed him the wooden tray, along with a sul: “The food was delicious.”

The child, about twelve or thirteen years old, immediately brightened up, bowing: “The Light Inn is your second home.”

Olovice closed the door and entered the bathroom, finding a bathtub inside, with all the necessary toiletries. After washing up, he put on the old-fashioned hooded cloak his teacher had given him, placing the Hellfire Potion in the inner pocket, and went downstairs.

On his first day in Montpelier, he spent a gold pound.

The innkeeper glanced at the young church official with the corner of his eye, watching him walk out openly, and quickly coughed loudly.

Olovice turned to look at him.

“Where are you going?” The innkeeper put down the newspaper, not bothering to hide his curiosity: “The guardians of the Order of the Divine have started patrolling.”

“I want to go to the Magic Eye.” Olovice approached the front desk, replying politely. His golden hair shimmered under the light, and his deep blue eyes sparkled with a thirst for exploring the unknown world and a strong curiosity, along with the straightforward fearlessness unique to country folks!

The innkeeper knew that these curious, newly initiated church officials were all restless!

“The Order of the Divine governs the law, balancing justice,” the innkeeper said. “Although Dark Street is also under the surveillance of the Order of the Divine, there are many mixed-minded people inside, so be careful not to be deceived.”

“You might as well write ‘I’m a fat sheep from the Light Cross Church’ on your face,” the innkeeper said.

Olovice touched his face. Was it that obvious?

“This is the Mask of Deception, which can hide magical fluctuations. Also, ordinary black cloaks like yours are no longer in fashion.” The innkeeper couldn’t bear to look, taking out another item from below: “This is the Hidden True Cloak that goes with the Mask of Deception, both produced by the Church of Knowledge and Wisdom. Want a set?”

Olovice was silent for a long time, asking a crucial question: “How much?”

The innkeeper smiled, and in Olovice’s eyes, it was full of cunning: “The Mask of Deception, thirty gold pounds, the Hidden True Cloak, sixty gold pounds.”

Olovice turned to leave. Ninety gold pounds?! He wasn’t even sure if the Hellfire Potion could sell for that much.

“Hey, hey!” The innkeeper was anxious: “Don’t go, you can rent them, renting is cheaper.”

Olovice stepped back to the front desk, asking stiffly: “How much to rent for one night?”

“Five gold pounds,” the innkeeper said, not in a good mood.

“Three gold pounds,” Olovice countered.

The innkeeper laughed angrily: “Do you know how much I paid for this set?”

“Then why hasn’t it sold?” Olovice asked.

The innkeeper was so angry his teeth itched: “Fine, fine, for the sake of the Holy Light and the tip, I won’t argue with you. Three gold pounds it is, but take care of it, don’t damage it.”

Olovice put on the mask, which looked like an ordinary mask on the outside, silver-white, with openings at the eyes and nose. Once he put it on, he felt as if his face was covered by something cool and soft.

“The inner lining of the mask is made from the swim bladder of a sea monster from the Violent Sea, so it also has a short-term underwater breathing function.”

Olovice didn’t take off the cloak his teacher gave him but put on the Hidden True Cloak. His golden hair was completely gathered at the back, and under the two layers of hoods was the silver-white mask, making it impossible to see his appearance.

“Not bad,” the innkeeper was satisfied with the set he bought.

“Thank you,” Olovice’s voice came from under the mask, his originally clear and gentle voice now low.

The innkeeper’s eyes lit up. When disguising, one must disguise thoroughly, not forgetting to change the voice. Truly a talent from their church.

Olovice walked out of the inn, pressing down the brim of his hat, heading towards the upper city. The night was deep, and except for some special places, most of Montpelier had fallen asleep. The Order of the Divine focused their patrols on the upper city, the wealthy district, and the areas covered by electricity, with a large overlap among these three places.

Fortunately, they didn’t prohibit the wealthy from seeking pleasure.

The upper city was filled with bars, large theaters, and restaurants, with unicorn carriages flowing endlessly along the roadside. When Olovice reached 177-1 Feiyue Avenue in the upper city, a bar was hosting a lively masquerade ball. Olovice glanced up at the flashing words “Queen’s Bar” and heard the deafening music.

Men and women coming in and out of the bar all wore masks or had their faces painted. This Queen’s Bar from Mincheswei provided Montpelier residents with a place to relax and have fun, paying a considerable amount of taxes to the government each year.

Olovice paid the male entry fee, five sul.

He walked straight past the dancing girls on the bar stage and the many revelers below. Even though he was very careful, the cloak inevitably got wrinkled from the friction and squeezing.

Olovice kept a straight face as he walked to the bar. The long bar was lined with people drinking, and the bartender was busy inside. Olovice found K Zone, seat 3, and sat on a high stool.

“Sir, what would you like to drink?” the bartender asked. He was the mixologist in charge of K Zone, and because of the remote location and dim lighting, there weren’t many customers.

Olovice recited the code his teacher gave him: “Does the Golden Lily have the Goddess’s tears?”

The bartender’s eyes narrowed, then he looked uncertainly at the masked person, hesitating for a moment before calling out, “Teacher.”

An old bartender put down the glass he was wiping and slowly walked over.

The young bartender whispered a few words to his teacher, pointing at Olovice.

The old bartender looked at the cloaked, silver-masked person and asked again, “What would you like to drink?”

Olovice had no choice but to repeat the code his teacher gave him. The old bartender chuckled, surprised: “That code is from twenty years ago. We haven’t used it in ages.”

Olovice wanted to rub his face. Okay, his teacher probably hadn’t been here in a long time.

“Then give me an iced lemon sweet tea,” Olovice said. He needed something sweet to lift his spirits.

The old bartender suddenly laughed, snapping his fingers: “Test passed, follow me.”

Olovice was taken aback: “Wasn’t the code changed?”

“No, it’s always been this process. If it’s a familiar old customer, they’d roll their eyes and come find me. For new customers like you, we like to have a bit of fun,” the old bartender laughed, looking quite cheeky.

He mixed a sweet lemon tea and handed it over: “It’s on the house.”

Olovice’s fists itched, but he also wanted to laugh: “Aren’t you afraid of getting beaten up?”

“That would mean the customer has a bad temper and needs to be closely watched by the guardians of Dark Street,” the old bartender shrugged, looking helpless.

“You and your apprentice have good acting skills,” Olovice could only say.

After finishing the lemon tea, Olovice followed the old bartender to a room behind the bar, down a corridor, to a large black door. The old bartender opened the door: “It’s down there.”

Olovice descended the stairs, and as soon as he steadied himself, he entered another world.

Dark Street, true to its name, was a street. The streetlights on either side were dim, and there were many small stalls along the sides. The better ones used tables to set up, while most just sat by the street, placing a cloth bag down to reveal the items inside, and started selling.

Olovice was about to head to the Magic Eye shop not far ahead when he saw a familiar face.

Noah.

He sat cross-legged under a streetlight, wearing a black cloak that covered most of his face, but his scent was too distinctive, and Olovice had a good memory. He thought for a moment and walked over.

Noah’s stall had two or three bottles of gray-white powder, with samples beside them. A small amount of gray-white powder, the size of a fingernail, gathered together, exuded the scent of graves, coldness, death, decay, and despair, much stronger than black mandrake pollen.

After all, black mandrake pollen was just pollen, incomparable to the ashes of the dead.

“What are you selling?” Olovice asked, pretending to be interested.

“High-grade mummy powder.”