As the two greeted each other with the refined etiquette of scholars, a mysterious, chilling breeze swept through the hall, despite the heavy doors and windows being tightly sealed. The candle flames inside the silk-covered lamps along the walls flickered rhythmically, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to stretch and contort across the room. Caelum looked at Victor, who was still locked in a fit of manic, unending laughter. As his own expression gradually settled into a mask of icy calm, Caelum asked in a quiet, steady voice, "I wonder, Brother Victor, if you could enlighten me—what was the true purpose of seeking me out tonight?"Although Caelum had already deduced the motive, he wanted to hear the arrogance and desperation in Victor’s own words. After the catastrophic failure of the family scheme at the residential villa and the swift execution of their inept managers, even the influential Leonardo from the Silverstream Province Administration had shown no desire to interve

By this time, the number of pedestrians on the streets was gradually increasing. They were mostly merchants struggling for a living, servants and wives responsible for household procurement, as well as yamen runners and officials who had to report for duty. Even in this pouring rain, they still had to go out.Consequently, when passing by South Town Street, passersby noticed the investigation officers outside the mansion facing the street. Driven by their innate curiosity, most would stop to ask the onlookers braving the rain around them."Brother, what happened inside? The air feels heavy.""A catastrophic case! They say the courtyard is piled with corpses, their necks snapped and bent toward their shoulder blades.""Look at the faces of the investigation officers; they look absolutely scorched and miserable.""Clues were scarce enough, and then this ghost of a rainstorm hit; the culprit's footprints have been trampled into nothing by the rain."The local dialect echoed back and fort

The rain outside hammered against the ornate wooden windows of the residential villa, each strike sounding like the rhythmic, ominous march of an approaching army. Inside, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense; the heavy scent of premium incense struggled to mask the pervasive, damp chill creeping in from the garden. Caelum stood motionless in a shadowed corner of the chamber, his eyes tracking the scene with the detached, analytical focus of a master tactician. He watched Alaric, sprawled across the bed like a fallen king, oblivious to the fact that his current state was a masterfully crafted prison designed by Caelum’s own hand. This was not mere slumber; it was a complex chemical entrapment, a test of will and constitution against a toxin Caelum had refined during his long, solitary nights in the Hundred Herbs Pharmacy.While these multifaceted thoughts and strategic maneuvers churned within Caelum’s mind, he had no intention of stepping outside to engage in a petty, fruitless disp

The relentless rain hammered against the grand, ornate windows of the residential villa, turning the world outside into a blurred, grey tapestry of sorrow and shadow. It was the middle of July, a time when the sun should have been blazing, yet an unnatural, biting chill permeated every corner of the Orchard Garden. Thick, charcoal-colored clouds clung to the horizon, effectively smothering any hope of sunlight. Within this atmospheric gloom, gusts of wind shrieked through the eaves of the villa like vengeful spirits, scattering the garden’s foliage into a chaotic dance. Bamboos swayed with a rhythmic, mournful creaking, while the delicate willow leaves were stripped away, joining the freshly bloomed petals that lay sodden and ruined upon the cold stone paths.Inside the sanctuary of his study, Caelum found no solace from the tempest. He stood by the hearth, the flickering amber flames reflecting in his obsidian eyes, casting long, dancing shadows against the bookshelves that lined the

  After Lee departed, Caelum found himself "compelled" to compose two additional calligraphy sets under the watchful, expectant gaze of Master Julian. One was in the Classical Serif style, the other in a Fluid Script. Every stroke seemed to radiate a faint, ethereal glow, illuminating the otherwise dim and clouded study room. It was a spectacle that left Master Julian utterly speechless with delight; he couldn't stop praising the work, his face a map of pure, unadulterated joy. However, his appreciation was short-lived. No sooner had he finished admiring the work than he hurriedly rolled up the scrolls, guarding them like a dragon protecting its hoard. He tucked them into a box, then deliberately hid it at the very bottom of his desk, tucked away in the shadows. When he caught Caelum’s perplexed look, Master Julian leaned in and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "Do not mistake my actions, Caelum. The other masters in this acade