I, the leader of the esoteric sect, am doing great things in the infinite world!

Li Lin applauded Snyder's nonsensical literary style: "What you're saying is like saying that if I start masturbating one less time a day from now on, I'll masturbate ten less times in ten days."

"Or to put it another way: when a person is killed, they die." Li Lin found another more apt metaphor.

I don't know why, but with Li Lin around, dangerous situations always turn into hilarious scenes that make people unable to hold back, as if he has a built-in comedic filter.

The fat gray cat meowed as it walked slowly along Snyder's reins, its paws treading silently on the moss, and the two followed in its footsteps.

A thick gray fog had risen up all around, making the already rugged forest even more difficult to traverse, as if walking through hell.

The gray-black mist clung to the clothes of Li Lin and the exiles, like ropes or the folds of robes.

Mr. Li, who loves to court death, took a handful of mist, wrapped it around his neck, and stuck out his tongue and blew on the exile's hair.

Unfortunately, the owner of the mist wasn't so accommodating to Li Lin, so much so that the mist dissipated from his side on its own while he was making faces.

"How stingy." Li Lin pouted unhappily.

From the perspective of data, Li Lin has a complete understanding of the nature of this place.

Corner of the Mist

[Phenomenon: Location. Everything has its place, just as this thing is located here.]

[An inconspicuous spot, more likely to cause a trip at night. An unremarkable candle accidentally sticks into a crack in the ground. Only occasionally will it be spotted by a cat with extremely gray fur.]

This is a dark blue card depicting a hidden cave with rough brushstrokes. A candle with a flickering flame is stuck in a crack in the ground, and a gray-furred cat below has a comical expression on its face, as if it is laughing.

"Stay close." The exile's voice, which was already as light as a feather, now sounded even more distorted.

To ease the tension, Li Lin couldn't help but ask, "Where will we be after we get out of here?"

"..."

The exile remained silent; perhaps she answered, but Li Lin did not hear her.

However, Li Lin is more inclined to believe that she herself does not know the specifics.

Li Lin's gaze involuntarily drifted to the flashing location card on the dark green table. The impulsive Master Li finally couldn't suppress his reckless tendencies and reached out to pick up the card.

The moment his finger touched the location card [Corner of the Mist], a whistling wind swept past his ears.

The gray-black forest, the elusive winged creatures, the flapping of wings like a clapper, the damp moss, the pale moonlight, and the rugged fog... all the illusions about the woodland seemed to fold away and disappear into the white candle in Li Lin's hand.

The silvery candlelight flickered gently, spreading a soft halo.

The two men were standing at the edge of a long street, with torrential rain pouring down from the iron-gray sky, and in the distance, the Varnemünde Lighthouse, powered by an ancient clockwork mechanism.

The rain carried the scent of the sea.

“I’ve been here before,” the exile said, her expression somewhat shocked. “But it was back when I was still a purger… This was Rostock, Rostock in Germany.”

They crossed most of Austria and Germany and arrived at Rostock, a city on the edge of the Mediterranean.

254. Master Li, a man of unwavering integrity.

The torrential rain poured down from the iron-gray sky.

For people of this era, it is just a common weather phenomenon, but for those who do not belong to this era, it is a harbinger of the collapse of the beacon of the times.

“We firmly believe that our history has been completely altered, and that there was an initial disruptive factor after the interference of the astrologers.”

Scientists at the Laplace Computing Center explain history as follows: "Mystics and supernatural beings call it the Source, while we call it the First Butterfly."

Era after era collapses before the tides of change; glorious eras can endure longer, while less illustrious ones crumble swiftly like castles on the beach.

In an underground bar in Rostock, Arcana appeared behind a silver curtain, with Forget-Me-Not standing beside her, her expression respectful and quiet.

"The foundation always uses the 'wave phenomenon' as a weapon to attack us—but aren't they the ones who orchestrated it all?"

Historians gazed at the torrential rain that merged the sea and sky, looking at the city submerged in the downpour: "It's about to begin."

“We are fully prepared, Miss Arcana,” Forget-Me-Not replied. “Even if this era fails, we have the next one. We will go much further than those scumbags from the Foundation.”

Arcana didn't comment on Forget-Me-Not's words; she simply stood behind the curtain, gazing at the downpour: "She's here...and they're here too."

Forget-Me-Not suddenly looked up: "Timekeeper? Who else?"

"The exile and the key hunter... they seem to have been protected by that nameless, named being from Sinnah, which allowed them to cross this vast land to get here."

The silver curtains rose and fell again, and when the forget-me-not looked up, all she could see was the torrential rain falling in front of the empty window.

......

This torrential rain came on the last day of 1999, starting from the eve of the new millennium. The tide of the times seemed to have erected a high wall, telling everyone: you can only go this far, you cannot cross it.

The Foundation's scholars call it "The Wave" because it is essentially an unconscious remnant of the ancient god's wave, which the Zhu Sichen used as scissors to cut history.

When the storms of time arrive, everything else becomes insignificant; time either moves forward or backward.

When torrential rain falls against the earth and into the sky, it means that ordinary people who are not mystics or supernatural beings will be completely washed away.

On a street corner in Rostock, a group of playful children discovered a suitcase that looked unusual. They couldn't tell what era it came from or what its value was.

“I bet this is something some rich guy doesn’t want.” A boy leaned over, tapped the surface of the suitcase, and was then amazed by the strange feel of the leather.

The children stopped playing and gathered around the suitcase, and one of them tried to turn it over.

As his fingers touched the buckle on the surface of the suitcase, the not-so-large suitcase trembled slightly, then opened from the inside, and an arm reached out and skillfully pushed open the lid—

As the children stared in disbelief, a person emerged from the box, accompanied by a floating apple.

She was a girl with her hair tied up, wearing a bowler hat, and silver-green sideburns falling on both sides of her face. Her eyes were as calm as the sea.

"It seems like it's raining in this era too." The apple, still wearing a tie, floated in the air and spoke with an exceptionally magnetic London accent.

Wow—the apple is talking!

"Mommy, please!"

"Run!"

The children who had been gathered around the suitcase scattered in all directions, afraid that the talking apple would come knocking on their door.

“I’m sorry, it seems this era isn’t so friendly to mystics and extraordinary individuals.” Apple shook her floating tie, as if to express her apology. “Miss Virtue.”

"At least they didn't welcome us with guns and stones."

The girl, known as Virtin, adjusted her top hat, fastened the cuffs of her fitted dress that resembled that of an old aristocrat, straightened the sapphire-embroidered scarf at her chest, and turned to look at Apple.

“Mr. Apple, you should go back first. I’m afraid the bumpy ride just now might have made our friend uncomfortable.”

“Oh, right.” Apple’s surface emitted a faint glow. “Well then, Apple will be heading back now.”

He crawled into the briefcase at Virtin's feet, and when the light on him completely disappeared inside the briefcase, Virtin bent down to close and fasten the briefcase, then got up and walked toward the street exit.

The downpour fell on her shoulders, and suddenly she heard a crackling sound of electricity.

"Time tracking complete... Timekeeper, please report your location."

It was her organization, the foundation that was also riding the waves of the times, speaking to her.

The Foundation cannot weather the storms created by the wave phenomenon; they too will be swept up by the tides of time and washed away. However, the Laplace Computing Center, belonging to the Foundation, can still pinpoint the current era through a wealth of data and evidence.

Compared to the reshaping hand that can transcend time, the Foundation seems to exist in a place independent of history. The former is somewhat like Goetia, which is obsessed with burning human history as firewood, while the latter holds a script that seems to be Chaldea.

"Rostock in the 1920s."

"Please wait in place for one minute while the Foundation delivers supplies to your location."

The torrential rain continued to fall in the leaden sky, while the moss-covered walls on both sides extended upwards, and at the top of the building, a sculpture of an angel with outstretched wings seemed about to take flight.

There were very few pedestrians on the road, and waiting for a minute was not a long time.

In a daze, the sound of rain gradually stopped, but the foundation's subsidy did not arrive.

Virtue frowned slightly, reached out and pressed his hand to his ear, but the expected sound disappeared.

This is an unusual situation, but not serious. In extreme cases, she might even have to walk in the pouring rain until the very last moment.

After waiting for three minutes according to the foundation's regulations, she shook her head, patted the rain off her clothes, and walked to the other end of the street.

At the other end of the street, two figures could be vaguely seen arguing. One of them was carrying a suitcase that looked somewhat similar to the other's, and the other was holding a... candle?

As Virtue approached, the noise gradually grew louder. It turned out that it wasn't a dispute between the two parties, but rather a one-sided outburst from the person holding the candle.

"This must be a conspiracy by the woods! They're after my beauty!" Li Lin shouted. "You know, if I hadn't resisted to the death, they would have captured me and I would have lived a life of debauchery, shamelessness, spending money on gacha games and just waiting to die."

Even if Rebuilding Hands goes bankrupt, it will never take a single penny from you!

A very familiar term: woodland.

Especially on July 20, 1969, when humans entered the forest for the first time and reached the "moon," which holds great significance in all mythology, it also signified that they had reached the depths of the forest, the sacred place of the Red Cup and Silk Necklace—the Well in the Forest.

But under the torrential rains of time, this feat was easily erased. Apart from the evidence of that era that Virtin still preserves, all memories of that glorious era have vanished.

Wilting moved closer, and the rich scent of the woodland rose from the candle in Li Lin's hand.

The exile shoved Li Lin, his wary gaze sweeping over Virtue standing across the street, his eyes darting over her suitcase: "The Foundation's timekeeper? To dare use that title, I don't know whether to call it brave or foolish."

When she was still at Walden Pond in Vienna, I told her about the Foundation, the mortal enemy of the Reconstruction Hand, and the agent who was trained by the Foundation and was able to walk in the storm of the times, exempt from the influence of the Wave phenomenon.

The foundation bestowed upon this proxy the presumptuous title of Sichen, which is undoubtedly the greatest irony for Reincarnation.

Virtue and the exile looked at each other. A sliver of light broke through the dark clouds in the sky, and bright sunlight streamed down, illuminating the middle of the long street.