Man in the Three-Body Problem: After facing the wall, I founded the Reception Society!

As night falls, everything becomes silent.

Sir Jack and Oriel stood side by side in front of the window, their eyes piercing through the deep night, towards the lonely yellow halo in the distance.

The window frame was gently pushed open, and a crisp cold wind blew on my face, bringing with it a bit of inhuman chill, but it also seemed to add a touch of determination to the adventure that was about to unfold.

"It's hard to imagine how he dares to be so blatant." Sir Jack's voice was low and powerful, revealing a bit of confusion and indignation.

The yellow light seemed particularly dazzling in the inky black night sky, as if it was a provocation to the quiet night.

Olier pondered for a moment, his eyes sharp as a torch, and analyzed: "Perhaps he chose this location to ensure that the light is only visible to us. It is a provocation and also a warning."

His tone contained both the calmness of reasoning and the eagerness to take on unknown challenges.

Upon hearing this, Sir Jack nodded slightly, with a glimmer of approval in his eyes.

"Indeed, this arrangement is both cunning and conceited." He pondered for a moment and continued, "How far do you think the light is from us?"

O'Leary stared into the distance, trying to grasp more information from the vague outline.

"In my opinion, that should be the direction of the Rift Mountain, but the distance may be much closer than we thought." There was an unquestionable certainty in his words, as if he had already outlined the outline of that mysterious place in his mind.

"Only a mile or two away?" Sir Jack asked, but then shook his head, obviously not fully agreeing with this estimate.

"Perhaps, as you said, it is closer than that. The housekeeper and his wife must be on their way to deliver the meal, and the villain is lurking by the candlelight, waiting for something."

Thinking of this, Sir Jack couldn't help but feel a strong sense of justice in his heart.

"Ollier, I have made up my mind. We must catch that guy. He is not only a cancer to society, but also a potential source of danger. We must not let him go unpunished."

Upon hearing this, O'Neill's eyes became more determined.

"I will go with you." He answered briefly and forcefully, his voice revealing unquestionable determination. He knew that at this moment, they were not only friends, but also partners fighting side by side.

Sir Jack nodded and began to quickly lay out a plan of action.

"Take your revolver and put on your high boots. We must set out quickly, or the fellow will snuff out the candle and run away if he senses something is wrong."

The two of them quickly got ready, like warriors about to step onto the battlefield, with both anxiety about the unknown and a commitment to justice in their hearts.

They knew very well that this night would no longer be ordinary.

Before leaving the room, Sir Jack looked back at the yellow halo again and said silently in his heart: "No matter who you are, no matter how deep you hide, tonight is your end."

As the door gently closed, they embarked on a journey to find the truth and punish evil.

In the darkness of the night, two figures quickly shuttled through the forest path, and every step seemed so firm and powerful.

In less than five minutes, Sir Jack and O'Lear were ready to go on this unknown expedition.

The night was as dark as ink, and the autumn wind was whispering, carrying the rustling sound of fallen leaves, adding a bleak and mysterious color to this adventure.

They hurried through the dark bushes, each step seemed quick and determined, as if even time itself was speeding up at this moment.

The night air was filled with thick dampness and a subtle smell of decay, which made people involuntarily tense their nerves.

The moon is like a shy traveler, occasionally poking its head out from the gaps in the clouds and spying on the land shrouded in darkness.

The clouds are speeding across the night sky, as if chasing some invisible prey, adding a touch of dynamic beauty to the quiet night.

However, this tranquility did not last long. When they stepped into the edge of the swamp, a drizzle began to fall from the sky. The drizzle fell softly on their shoulders, foreshadowing the upcoming challenges and unknowns.

The yellow candlelight was still shining steadily in front of them, like a beacon in the darkness, leading them forward, but also like a mockery and provocation of their courage.

Olier stopped and turned to look at Sir Jack, his eyes gleaming with determination: "What weapons do you have with you just in case?"

Sir Jack smiled slightly and slowly opened his wide windbreaker, revealing a ferocious long whip hidden inside.

"I have a hunting whip," he said solemnly, "it has helped me hunt the most cunning prey, and this time is no exception."

O'Leary nodded, a hint of approval in his eyes.

"We must approach him quickly and decisively," he lowered his voice, his tone full of urgency, "It is said that this guy is a desperado. We must subdue him by surprise before he can react."

Sir Jack frowned slightly when he heard this, as if he remembered something.

"Ollier, what do you think Faru Murphy would think if we did this? After all, on a night like this, evil seems to be more rampant, and our actions are full of unknown risks."

At this moment, a sudden and strange roar broke the silence of the night. The sound came from the depths of the vast and gloomy swamp, exactly the same as what Oriel had heard at the edge of the Great Grimpen Mire before.

The roar was low and long at first, as if it was a call from ancient times, and then it turned into a high-pitched roar mixed with miserable groans, and finally gradually dissipated into the night.

The sounds came wave after wave, harsh, wild and full of fear. They rode the wind across the dark night sky, shaking every inch of space and making people's hearts beat faster involuntarily.

Oriel and Sir Jack looked at each other and saw the same shock and vigilance in each other's eyes.

Baronet Jack Harvest's hand was like an iron clamp, tightly grasping the sleeve of Oriel Dermot.

The thin moonlight could barely outline their contours, and Jack's face looked particularly pale in the darkness, as if all the blood had been drained away by unknown fear.

"Ollier, tell me, did you hear that? What was that sound? My God, where did it come from?" Jack's voice was low and trembling, and every word seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth.

O'Lear looked up and around, his eyes passing through the sparse bushes, trying to penetrate the endless darkness and find the source of the sound.

His expression was equally solemn, but it contained a more complex emotion - awe of the unknown and a review of past memories.

"Jack, that is indeed the voice of the moor. I was fortunate, or rather unfortunate, to hear the same call one night many years ago."

As the mysterious voice disappeared, the surroundings were once again shrouded in deathly silence, as if the whole world had stopped breathing at this moment.

The two stood there, holding their breath, their ears perked up, trying to catch any slight sound, but there was nothing else except each other's heartbeats and the occasional chirping of night birds in the distance.

"Ollier," Jack finally broke the silence. There was a little more determination in his voice, but more of an indescribable tension. "That sound, it sounds like the barking of a hound, don't you think?"

When O'Neill heard this, his heart tightened.

He knew very well that in this ancient land, the legend of the hound shrouded every corner like a shadow, filling every night with unspeakable fear.

However, he still tried to remain calm and analyze it all rationally.

"That's just your imagination, Jack. Country people often use strange names to explain things they can't understand. It doesn't mean anything."

"But this time it's different, O'Neill." Jack's voice was full of unquestionable seriousness. "I beg you, tell me, what do those country folk call this sound?"

O'Lear hesitated for a moment. He knew that once he opened his mouth, he might uncover a long-forgotten history and the fears that were deeply buried in his heart.

But facing Jack's eyes full of desire, he finally chose to be honest.

"They say it is the cry of the Jack the Hound, an old and terrible legend."

After hearing this, Jack fell into deep thought.

He muttered to himself, as if recalling some distant story, or trying to connect the reality before him with those ancient legends.

"Jack the Hound...Are these stories true? Oriel, you don't really believe this, do you?"

O'Learn shook his head quickly, his tone full of determination.

"No, of course I don't. These are just the fantasies of ignorant people, lies woven by their fear of the unknown world."

However, Jack did not feel relieved.

On the contrary, his eyes became deeper, as if he had seen through the secrets of this swamp.

"In the hustle and bustle of London, these stories may just be jokes after dinner. But here, on this moor shrouded in ancient legends, every sound and every shadow may become of great significance. My uncle, the brave explorer, was said to be troubled by this sound in his last moments, and there were even hound footprints beside his body."

At this point, Jack's voice trembled slightly, and he stretched out his hand and let O'Neill touch the back of his hand.

The cold feeling was like the chilly winter wind, penetrating deep into the bone marrow.

"Ollier, did you feel it? My hands are as cold as the night in this swamp. That sound is not only an auditory stimulation, but also a fear that strikes the heart. I don't think I am a coward, but at this moment, I really feel an unprecedented helplessness and despair."

O'Learn was silent. He had never seen Jack so out of control.

He knew that this voice and these legends had deeply touched some emotion deep in Jack's heart.

He tried to comfort Jack, but the words died down on his lips.

Because he also knew that on this night shrouded in ancient legends, any words seemed so pale and powerless.

Just then, a breeze blew by, bringing clearer sounds from afar.

The sound was sometimes high, sometimes low, sometimes quick, sometimes long, as if there really was a hunting dog running and barking in the distance.

Jack turned sharply and pointed deep into the dark swamp.

"Look! Olier! That's where the sound is coming from! That's Jack the Hound! It really exists!"

O'Learn did not respond. He just stood there silently, staring into the unknown darkness.

His heart was filled with complex emotions - fear, curiosity, and an inexplicable expectation.

Olier's voice was like a warm breeze, gently brushing Sir Jack's tense heartstrings: "Please believe that the dawn of tomorrow will surely dispel the haze in your heart. But at this moment, we are facing an unknown challenge, which does not allow us to retreat even a little bit." Sir Jack's eyes flashed with an unyielding light. He knew that if he chose to retreat, it would be a betrayal of his own beliefs. "That cry, although it was like a sharp knife cutting into the bones, is also our motivation to move forward. Olier, we can't just give up like this, we must continue to go deeper and uncover the truth behind this fog."

Upon hearing this, O'Leary sighed softly, with a sigh that was both helpless and resolute. "Yes, now that we have embarked on this path, we can only move forward courageously. But we must be more cautious, because in this swamp shrouded in darkness, there may be beings lurking that are more terrifying than criminals. They use the cover of night to quietly track every soul that enters the restricted area."