The night was deep.
Ten thousand meters in the air, a massive royal airship cut through the thick clouds, slowly making its way toward the Moon Bay region.
The steam pistons at the bottom of the gondola emitted a steady, low rumble, sending rhythmic, gentle vibrations throughout the first-class cabin.
The lights inside were exceptionally bright.
Inside the luxurious cabin, the only sound left was the rustling of Cecil flipping through ancient pages.
Her slender, delicate fingers slowly traced across the yellowed papyrus, comparing the fragmented geographical gaps word by word.
When the clues in her mind finally closed into a loop, leading to the shocking conclusion that “the topography of Moon Bay was artificially carved out after the fact,” Ms. Cecil stopped what she was doing.
Her beautiful gray eyes were instantly filled with an unspeakable shock.
This was not the wondrous work of nature at all; this was a scar gouged out of the earth by some high-level existence.
She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and instinctively turned her head, seeking some confirmation.
But when she looked at her teacher sitting opposite her, she realized that at some point, this old gentleman Roland Orphal—who had just broken through to Scale Six and was highly renowned in the royal capital's supernatural circles—had already tilted his head back and was fast asleep in his comfortable armchair.
Snoring echoed throughout the cramped cabin.
Watching her teacher's unshakable quality of sleep, Cecil's brow twitched slightly.
For a moment, she even felt a bit sour, feeling a sudden surge of jealousy for no reason.
The outside world was already in complete chaos—cultists were murdering people, and Wayland was plotting to acquire heavy artillery.
Yet the old man did not have a single worry on his mind!
He was truly sleeping like a baby.
Heartless to the extreme.
Cecil sighed.
She reached out to push the ancient books on the table aside, clearing a space.
Then, she retrieved several supernatural materials from her void Secret Chest and set up a simple array on the table with practiced ease.
As a faint blue spiritual glow spread along the wood grain, obscure prayers were softly chanted from her lips.
The surrounding air rippled weakly.
Soon, a spirit world creature crawled out of a spirit world rift in the center of the array.
It was not the white dove messenger commonly used by the Seventh Agency, but a raven.
Cecil folded a newly written secret letter neatly and held it up to the bird's beak.
“Deliver this letter to the deacon of the Dawn Church, Valor Dainfield.”
The raven deftly took the letter in its beak, flapped its wings, turned, and dove into the spirit world rift.
Looking at the array that had returned to silence, Cecil rubbed her aching temples wearily.
So far, this was all the information she could find based on all the clues at hand.
Their foundation was still too shallow.
Since the Seventh Agency had only been established for nearly fifty years at most, many of the ancient documents from two thousand years ago in the archives were vague and incomplete.
Moreover, most of these documents originated from the former Tower of Mystics.
What kind of books could possibly be stored in the Tower of Mystics?
Without exception, everything recorded was related to various spell circuits.
Or analyses of the rules of the Origin Web.
In their archives, dangerous and forbidden supernatural books made up the vast majority.
Meanwhile, secular books of a recording nature, detailing historical shifts and geographical changes of various regions, were extremely scarce.
Therefore, she had to change her approach and seek help from the Dawn Church.
As an ancient religious power, the Dawn Church's detailed records of various places and historical events were far more comprehensive and thorough than those of the Tower of Mystics.
Actually, before making this decision, another alternative had flashed through Cecil's mind.
She could have easily approached an alchemical craftsman from the Alchemy Association to see if they had any internal records regarding ancient geographical changes.
After all, hidden beneath the cold waters of the Moon Bay region was the “Fifth Element,” which only their Scale Seven alchemical craftsmen could create.
However, Cecil could not help but worry.
Once she utilized the “Great Memory Reminder Spell,” it would inevitably alert those fanatical alchemical craftsmen, allowing them to follow the clues to the source and discover that a Fifth Element was actually hidden at the bottom of the sea in the center of Moon Bay.
This might trigger a massive influx of alchemical craftsmen heading to Moon Bay at all costs.
When that time came, Hastings would become like a pool of muddy water, stirred up and made increasingly chaotic.
It was better to avoid unnecessary trouble.
Thus, after weighing the pros and cons, it was better to directly ask the Dawn Church.
About fifteen minutes later, a ripple once again spread across the calm void above the black wooden table.
Soon, the spirit world raven flew back, landing steadily in the center of the array.
In its beak, it held the other party's reply.
Cecil's gaze focused slightly, and she immediately reached out to take the letter.
The wax seal was intact.
She shook open the letter, revealing Valor's arrogant and flamboyant handwriting.
“Dear Ms. Cecil,”
“I must say, your hypothesis regarding the topographical changes of the Moon Bay region is indeed not without merit.”
“Upon receiving your urgent letter, I immediately ordered a serious review of all the ancient documents sealed within the Church.”
“In those ancient documents, there indeed exists the issue you mentioned, where certain place names in the west cannot be matched with current actual geographical locations.”
“The Church's historical documents in this area are perhaps far more comprehensive than what you have on your end.”
“According to our cross-referenced records, there indeed exist records of human settlements around the so-called ‘Mist City’ that do not appear on modern maps.”
“However, none of these are the main point.”
Reading up to this point, Cecil instinctively straightened her back, her fingertips tightening slightly.
“The most interesting thing is that within the Church's documents, there is a record of an operation targeted at the Moon Bay region.”
“And the destination of that operation was precisely the Mist City you mentioned.”
“This event occurred in BC 657, which was 2,113 years ago.”
“It was a highly classified secret operation.”
“Among the personnel involved in this operation, there were not only high-ranking Church officials but even a former Archbishop, who was also the seventeenth Inquisitor of the Church at the time.”
“Coincidentally, he was my ancestor, Aurelian Dainfield.”
She continued to read down.
“However, the Church's official records of this operation only consist of a few brief lines, which are extremely vague.”
“The files merely state that it was an ordinary pollution purification event.”
“Because as you know, this period coincided with the outbreak of the War of the Gods.”
“Transcendents and monsters mutated by the pollution of unknown existences from the deep Astral Plane were by no means a small number.”
“Hundreds of similar malicious supernatural incidents occurred every day.”
“Thus, such brief and sloppy records are actually quite normal given the historical context of that era.”
The letter was turned to the final page.
Cecil's gaze locked onto the few lines of cursive at the very bottom.
“But I immediately and keenly realized that there is definitely a huge turning point in this matter.”
“So, I contacted our family steward and had him look up some ancestral documents. And indeed, the secrets unrecorded by the official Church are written with absolute clarity in our family's private records.”
At this point, the handwriting suddenly became unusually playful.
To be honest, this was the first time Cecil realized that annoying woman Valor actually had such a side to her.
“Want to know?”
“But unfortunately, I don't have enough paper on hand to write it all down.”
“I'll tell you another day.”
Cecil widened her eyes in disbelief.
“What...?”
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