Chapter 13: The First Law of Occultism

Wu Chang’s vision darkened, and when he came to, two kerosene lamps appeared almost right in front of his face, their brightness dazzling and disorienting.

He raised the back of his hand to shield one eye, adjusting to the sudden light, muttering softly, “This woman is way too impatient.”

He had only been at the Moonlight Sanatorium for two days, and the deadline Julie mentioned was still a ways off. He had intended to gather more information and wait a couple of days before approaching the director. Unexpectedly, Julie insisted, “There’s no time,” and pushed him through a door.

After a brief moment to adjust, he followed the light forward through a short corridor and entered a spacious office.

Compared to the bright hallway, the office was much dimmer, like the other wards, lit by only a faint kerosene lamp.

In the faint glow, he could make out a massive shadow crouched over the desk.

As he stepped inside, the shadow suddenly stirred like a roused beast, trembling as it rose to its full height.

Wu Chang’s gaze shifted from level to upwards.

Director Randy stood over three meters tall, his shoulders as broad as a wall, his biceps as thick as a grown man’s waist. Coupled with his flowing golden hair, he resembled a standing lion.

Setting aside Randy’s absurd height, no ordinary person, even if they consumed steroids and testosterone like food, could build such a physique.

Randy’s fitness and medication regimen—did he perhaps copy the mature Arnold Schwarzenegger’s plan?

Wu Chang wanted to ask Julie if she was sure Randy’s ancestors were wizards and not berserkers.

Randy approached within two meters, scrutinizing the intruder before him. The oppressive aura pressed heavily on Wu Chang, who swallowed nervously, unsure how to begin.

Perhaps sensing Wu Chang’s predicament, Randy offered a topic.

He pulled from his back a nearly two-meter-long, thick smoothbore shotgun, pressing the muzzle directly to Wu Chang’s forehead, murmuring, “The condition worsens again—hallucinations now take the form of strangers.”

“Director, don’t shoot! It’s me,” Wu Chang said, finally finding his voice.

“Who are you?”

“I’m a royal envoy from the capital. His Majesty sent me with a message.”

Fearing Randy’s disbelief, Wu Chang hurriedly presented the king’s emblem clenched in his hand.

Originally unwilling to waste words, Randy intended to quickly end this illusion and return to work. But the moment his gaze caught the king’s emblem, he was transfixed, unable to move.

This emblem, a pinnacle of human magic and craftsmanship, possessed unparalleled splendor. Though made only of metal, it outshone even the most dazzling jewels.

It required no anti-counterfeit measures; merely seeing it inspired unquestioning belief that it was genuine.

Confident in his own aesthetic judgment, Randy knew this was not some fabricated apparition.

It was the real thing.

Having confirmed Wu Chang’s identity, Randy’s expression softened. Reluctantly, he returned the emblem and asked:

“What brings the envoy here? Does His Majesty still believe in those mythical curses of gold?”

Wu Chang shook his head, adopting the posture of an envoy as he paced the director’s office.

“No, I’m here on behalf of Whitestone Town. Our preliminary investigations suggest that the strange occurrences there are linked to the Quiet Church.”

At the mention of the Quiet Church, Randy instinctively furrowed his brow.

Seeing Randy’s hesitation, and now backed by the royal envoy’s authority, Wu Chang prepared to convince him to face reality and awaken the abilities dormant in his bloodline.

“Director Randy, do you believe in the existence of the occult?”

Randy answered decisively, “No.”

Wu Chang was about to deliver his prepared speech but found his words blocked by something.

Squinting, he looked toward the golden crossbow hanging on the wall, beside which lay three silver bolts crafted like works of art. The middle bolt exuded a deep crimson malice.

Perhaps due to the passage of time, the visions embedded in that malice had faded, leaving only an ordinary last will and a blood-red testament.

“The first law of the occult: human belief is one of the sources of occult power. The more people believe in its existence, the stronger it becomes. The best seal is not tight guarding, but complete forgetfulness.”

“Destroy or utterly seal the remnant soul of the evil god Leyman.”

The first law of the occult?

“How do you like it? Quite beautiful, isn’t it?”

Randy’s voice came from behind, pulling Wu Chang’s attention from his thoughts.

“This golden crossbow was earned by my ancestors through ceaseless battles in blood and fire. It is a testament to the past glory of the Anderson family. Though it can’t compare to the king’s emblem, it remains a rare masterpiece. Even in the family’s darkest times, we never considered selling it.”

“I have always taken its presence as a reminder to stay grounded, to revive the family with my own hands as my ancestors did—not to pin hopes on myths and legends.”

Wu Chang pressed his lips together, swallowing his prepared words completely.

“Sorry, it really is beautiful—so much so that I’m captivated. Where was I...?”

“You asked if I believe in the occult,” Randy answered.

“And your answer?”

“No.”

Wu Chang nodded in agreement. “Neither do I.”

“Hmm?” Randy looked somewhat surprised.

Wu Chang drew out a silver pistol, his face sincere.

“Beyond being a royal envoy, I am a scientist and engineer. This gun is my creation. I firmly believe humanity’s future lies in machinery and science.”

Randy merely glanced at it but marveled at the pistol’s compactness and exquisite craftsmanship. Even during his medical studies in the capital, he had never seen such a finely crafted firearm.

Noticing Wu Chang was also a man of science, Randy’s expression instantly grew more friendly.

Wu Chang continued, “From my investigations, I suspect the Quiet Church is manufacturing some kind of hallucinogenic drug.”

“Hallucinogenic drug?”

“Yes. This drug is addictive and erodes the mind, destabilizing the user’s sanity and blurring the line between reality and illusion. Everything seen in the hallucinations becomes a miracle claimed by the Quiet Church.”

Randy pondered briefly, then returned to his desk, picking up a pen with a grave expression.

“As you can see, the situation in Whitestone Town is out of control. One person alone cannot fix it. I’ll issue you a doctor’s pass. With it, you can move freely within the sanatorium and Whitestone Town. Use the opportunity to leave and report your findings to His Majesty.”

Hearing about the pass, Wu Chang’s face brightened. He hadn’t expected clearing this stage to be so easy.

Wait—was it a bit too easy?

He looked at the king’s emblem, narrowing his eyes in deep thought.

Julie’s goal couldn’t have been to hand him the pass from the start.

She wouldn’t stand by and watch so many players die if that were true. If the chance to leave was placed before her, she would never hesitate to betray a newly made ally.

Wu Chang hastened to Randy’s side, his voice solemn.

“No. Precisely because the situation is dire, I cannot leave now. The journey to the capital takes nearly a month round-trip. By the time I return, it might already be too late.”

“Even if it costs me my life, I will sabotage the Quiet Church’s evil plans. I cannot stand by and watch such a tragedy unfold!”

Randy, inspired by Wu Chang’s resolve, immediately said, “Whitestone Town is my domain. I won’t let you fight alone. I’m in this too. Whatever you need, whatever you ask, I will do my best to help.”

“I do have one request of you, Director,” Wu Chang seized the moment.

“The Quiet Church chose Whitestone Town as their experiment site. I suspect, beyond revenge, they fear the Anderson family. I believe the secret knights of old possessed a cure for this hallucination disease.”

“Is there an underground storage or similar place here holding records or artifacts related to the secret knights?”

Randy raised an eyebrow. “There is, indeed, a hidden underground chamber with old books left by our ancestors. Though I doubt it will help much, you might as well try your luck.”

“One more thing.”

Wu Chang’s gaze shifted to the crossbow bolts on the wall.

“As an engineer and craftsman, I would like to borrow one of the silver bolts to study its construction techniques. Would that be possible?”

Randy shrugged. “No need to borrow. Take whichever you want. Your courage more than deserves it.”