Mystery Intuition

If remote sensing was inferior to direct sensing, then he would just touch it directly with his skin. What could be more direct than that?

Yet Lynch sensed nothing at all.

He could feel that the floor was dirty, cold, and rough.

The only thing he couldn't detect was any subtle variation in the mysterious filth.

Mimicking the method he used to read memories within mystery relics, Lynch emptied his consciousness and tried to feel for the subtlest distinctions.

At the same time, he repeatedly adjusted his mindset, striving to concentrate his entire consciousness onto his index finger, letting it occupy his entire perception.

Yet all he could sense remained temperature and texture.

Why? Why is it that despite having high inspiration, I still can't tell the difference?

My neighbor has never lied to me. If she said this works, then it definitely works—I just haven't found the right method.

What exactly do I need to do to distinguish the differences in mystery?

I... hm?

Lynch suddenly looked up, staring intently at Officer Natalie—staring so long that she began to worry something had gone wrong—before muttering to himself, “What do we use to sense mystery? It certainly can't be our skin, right?”

“Hm?” The female officer was also taken aback. After thinking for a moment, she replied, “I don't know about you, but most people use their souls, or at least their consciousness. Definitely not their skin.”

Right! I come from a purely materialistic world and lacked this awareness. In truth, whether it's direct intuition or direct contact, it's not limited to mere bodily touch.

Touching something physically and then perceiving it with the soul is also a form of direct sensing.

Boom. A tremor ran through his conscious world. The phantom image of a crimson full moon rose behind him as his soul manifestation appeared, plunging his soul into its most sensitive state.

Not understanding what was happening, the female officer grew even more worried upon seeing him manifest his soul. She placed a hand on Lynch's shoulder, but Lynch merely patted her hand and turned back with a smile.

“Don't worry, I think I've found the way.”

“Hm?”

Pressing his index finger against the floorboards once more, he sank his consciousness into his soul manifestation, fusing spirit and flesh into one as he used his soul to experience the mysterious filth perceived by his body.

Breathe... breathe.

The next instant, a marvelous sensation surged up through his fingertip, transmitting the oppressive weight of the filth straight into the depths of his consciousness.

Whew, it really works.

This time, along with physical touch, his fingertip conveyed the distinct oppressive pressure unique to mysterious filth. It was potent and unmistakable, relentlessly battering Lynch's soul like a bursting flash flood. It submerged him in continuous terror and suffocation, forcing him to constantly rein in his emotions so as not to panic or lose control of his actions.

Yet precisely because it was so pronounced, he could perceive the subtlest variations in pressure. As his finger moved across the floor, the concentration of the filth became clear as day.

Just like that. Hehehe.

Lynch smiled and turned to look back at Officer Natalie, only to find her staring slack-jawed at his soul manifestation hovering in midair, looking completely dazed with shock.

“What happened?”

With a blank stare, the female officer pointed numbly at the soul manifestation above his head.

Did something go wrong? Lynch sank his consciousness to focus on his soul manifestation. Isn't everything normal... wait? How did the points of light in my authority become three?

Authority, Concealment. Ability, Mystery Intuition: Directly perceive mysterious filth through physical contact, granting heightened sensitivity to changes in filth at the cost of enduring more intense psychic shocks.

The information, automatically understood, startled Lynch so much that his soul manifestation dispersed on the spot. “What's going on?” he stammered. “How did another one appear?”

With a look of utter existential doubt, the female officer spoke in a flat, stiff tone: “Besides the two methods I mentioned yesterday, there is actually one more way to master an ability: occasionally, someone can develop a unique ability of their own. Those are the most effective abilities, best suited to one's own traits.”

So that's how it is. But what does this have to do with Concealment?

No, it definitely relates.

“I get it. Concealment isn't just about hiding oneself; seeing through concealment is also part of it. Sensing changes in mystery to discover hidden targets falls right within the scope of my authority. It seems my understanding of authorities was still too shallow; this really is an unexpected gain. Still, mastering abilities seems pretty easy—not nearly as difficult as I imagined. I... what's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that? I'm warning you, murder is against the law.”

“Easy? I really want to punch your lights out, you bastard!” The female officer grabbed Lynch by the collar, her face flushed red as she growled in a low, furious hiss, “Do you know why I didn't mention it yesterday? Because developing an ability is absurdly difficult—it's not even something considered under normal circumstances! Not only do you need an exceptionally high affinity with your soul manifestation, but you also have to thoroughly comprehend the authority to formulate the most reasonable concept, and finally find the right method just to have a chance at developing a new ability!”

She continued in a hushed roar:

“Anyone who can develop a new ability within five years of mastering an authority is already considered a genius! And you? You only learned your first ability yesterday! One day, dammit! How many people spend their entire lives unable to develop a single new ability, and you're telling me it's easy? Say ‘easy’ one more time, I dare you!”

“I wouldn't dare, I wouldn't dare.” Lynch shook his head vigorously, thinking to himself how terrifying a jealous woman could be.

However, he had a good idea of why he had been able to develop a new ability. While he had only just come into contact with the Divine Authority of Concealment, his neighbor, Lady Luna, had wielded it for countless years. No mortal could possibly possess a deeper mastery than hers. With her sound guidance combined with his out-of-the-box thinking from another world, developing a new ability wasn't all that surprising.

“Humph. You were practically born to be a Soul Severer. I'm not mad. I should have gotten used to this by now. I'm not mad at all.” The female officer shook her fist resentfully, finally calming down as she remembered their mission. She whispered, “Let's search together. You look for the photographs, and I'll see if there are any other clues. We don't have much time left. They'll probably find their way here soon, and I doubt they'll obediently play by the rules and wait outside.”

“Right.” Lynch nodded and cautioned, “Keep your movements light, though. Don't leave obvious signs of searching.”

“Hm?” The female officer paused, then glanced out the window at the blue uniforms and Rangers, a wicked smile creeping across her lips. “Understood. It's rude to wake someone from their sweet dream.”

Exchanging a knowing glance, Lynch activated his new ability for the first time and reached out his finger toward the room.

The perception was entirely different now. Before, he could only receive feedback from sight, touch, and smell. Now, sensing directly with his soul, the oppressive force of the mystery was mirrored straight into his consciousness through the touch of his fingertip, unmistakable and vivid.

Good. Now I can distinguish variations in intensity.

No matter where the source of the filth was right now—even if it had already been removed from the room—he could still trace its trajectory through the space based on the concentration of the residual filth.

Let's do this. Here I come, mystery.

Returning to the front door, he carefully touched every object with his finger.

There was no significant residue on the shoe cabinet. That was a good sign; it meant Donnie hadn't set the item down there when changing his boots before leaving, suggesting he likely hadn't taken it with him when he went out.

There was noticeable residue on the desk. Hm, maybe this was where he examined the photographs. But there was no residue inside the drawers, indicating he hadn't put them there.

Why is there such heavy residue on the bed, and over such a large area? It covers almost the entire mattress. Ah, he probably laid out the photographs across the bed to study them closely. That means there wasn't just three or five of them.

Hiss... the concentration on this wall is scarily high. Donnie must have used it like a bulletin board, pinning things up because it was easier to observe than on the bed. But the concentration was several times higher than on the bed. Was it because the items had been left there for a long time, or did something else happen?

The bookshelf... Officer Natalie, scooch over a bit, I'll move on shortly. Never mind, the concentration here is very faint. The item was never placed here. Strange, normally a bookshelf is the best hiding spot for photographs, offering the best concealment.

As he moved slowly through the apartment, the trajectory of the photographs gradually formed in Lynch's mind. Each spot had a reasonable explanation, yet after circling the entire room, he still couldn't deduce their current location.

No good. This isn't getting me anywhere. I need a distinctive feature to pinpoint where it is.

But its most obvious feature is the high concentration of filth. Is there anything else?

Wait, I understand. The high filth concentration IS the biggest clue!

The entire room had been tainted with such dense mysterious filth, which could only have happened through airborne diffusion from the source.

Could it be like ordinary scent dispersion, where the closer you are to the source, the higher the concentration of filth?

Donnie had been dead for several days. If the item was in the room, it had been sitting there for days as well. If this diffusion principle held true, several days should have been more than enough to create distinguishable gradients.

Yes, exactly. This line of thought should...

“We need to hurry. They're heading back this way.”

Officer Natalie's voice came from the window. Holding a small bag containing several items, she pulled her gaze back from outside.

“Give me a few more minutes. Can we make it?” Lynch suppressed his excitement. “I think I'm about to catch its tail.”

“We can, but make it quick. If you don't want them noticing and getting suspicious, we need time to slip away.”

“Alright.”

Lynch crouched back onto the floor, pressing both hands down to carefully compare the sensations coming from two different directions. Shifting his position slowly, he snapped his eyes open after a moment and said excitedly, “Just as I thought—lighter on the left, heavier on the right. It should be over to the left.”

Immediately pivoting toward the left, he used the same method to sense the concentration differences in all directions, tracing the flow of the filth's corruption based on the gradients. Once a few transmission lines were established, the picture became crystal clear: all lines pointed to a single spot.

The windowsill.

The moment his finger touched the windowsill, a powerful psychic shock slammed into him, making Lynch stagger back two steps while clutching his temple, cold sweat breaking out across his forehead.

Yet his heart swelled with delight. Unless Donnie had intended to toss them out the window, there was no reason to bring the photographs over to the windowsill.

A glaring abnormality was exactly what he needed.

“It's right here.”

Lynch pointed at the windowsill. There wasn't much there—just several potted plants propped up on wooden blocks.

Could they be buried in the dirt? Right, that's how it always happens in movies.

A flower pot was the classic hiding spot.

Lynch swiftly grabbed a pen and plunged the barrel deep into the loose soil.

However, the tactile feedback was completely ordinary—just normal dirt with nothing unusual.

Dammit, not there? Makes sense, the size doesn't fit. It's not like they're two-inch passport photos; a pot this small couldn't hide them.

Outside, the blue uniforms had already returned to the adjacent building, and some were pointing toward this direction. Lynch felt every blood vessel in his body tighten, his muscles trembling with urgency.

I know you're anxious, but stay calm.

Think again. What did I overlook?

The variation in filth along the windowsill was no longer distinct enough to trace, but there were only a handful of items here. There shouldn't be many places to hide anything.

Working together, Lynch and Natalie began lifting the potted plants one by one to inspect their bottoms.

Some flower pots indeed had recessed bases that could conceal items, but these pots were completely standard with smooth, flat bottoms.

Makes sense, they're all propped up on wooden blocks anyway. If there was a recess, it would have already... wait.

“The wooden blocks?”

Both of them froze simultaneously, exchanging a glance as excitement washed over their faces.

Natalie immediately lifted a pot while Lynch picked up the wooden block beneath it and gave it a shake.

The thick piece of wood was solid, feeling heavy in his hand—much like Lynch's mood at that moment.

He set it back and picked up the block under the second pot, then the third. All solid wood.

However, when the fourth and final pot was lifted and Lynch touched the block beneath it, his expression changed instantly.

It felt distinctly light—it was hollow.

Sensing an overwhelming pressure of mysterious filth, Lynch shook the brick-shaped block of wood, gripped both ends, and pulled with force. The block came apart into two pieces; joined together with a tenon-and-mortise joint, the inside had been hollowed out, and a stack of photographs was tucked neatly inside.

“This is it.”

Lynch raised his fist and lightly bumped it against the female officer's in celebration. He then slipped the photographs into her evidence bag and placed the wooden block back where it was.

I hope you guys don't celebrate too early when you find that block.

The two swiftly cleaned up the room one last time, erasing any traces they had left behind as best as possible. Exchanging a smirk, they slipped quietly out of No. 32.

Outside, the blue uniforms were still noisily conducting their sweep, going in and out of nearby buildings. Taking advantage of a gap, the two slipped around to the side of the building. Just as they ducked out of sight, a cheer erupted from behind them.

“Found it! 32D!”

Then came a flurry of hurried footsteps, followed by Walker's obnoxious voice:

“Great job! We beat them to the punch again! Those useless Watcher trash will have to eat our horse dung from behind our carriage. Go cordon off the area and don't let any ‘unauthorized personnel’ from other departments inside.”

“Yes, sir!”

“The rest of you, follow me inside! This time, we're taking every piece of furniture! I don't believe those useless fools who only know how to chase our tails will find a single thing! Hahaha! Unless they managed to get ahead of us before now, we from city hall have this in the bag! Those royal lackeys only deserve to be stepped on!”

“Yeahhh!”