Chapter 50: Observation

Seeing her brother open his eyes, Aurora had planned to comfort him—“Non-magical sequences usually require several attempts before successful meditation; some even need five or six days, or even half a month”—but she noticed cold sweat beading on Lu Mi’s forehead, and lingering fear in his eyes.

“What happened?” Aurora asked, concerned.

Lu Mi took two deep breaths, and the more he recalled, the more terrified he became:

“I succeeded in meditation. My spirit felt like it floated up. Around me were layers of random colors and faint gray mist, and things I couldn’t describe wandered everywhere. In the sky, there were several beams of especially bright, pure light—no, not necessarily the sky, maybe somewhere very far away, I couldn’t tell.”

“Based on your description, you definitely succeeded,” Aurora explained. “What your ‘Star Spirit’ saw—or sensed—is the Spirit Realm. There, many concepts of reality either don’t exist or are fused together, which is why you felt both high up and far away.”

“Those seven lights are the Seven Lights of the Spirit Realm mentioned in ancient texts. They’re believed to possess near-divine status, omniscient, and belong to relatively benevolent hidden entities. If you could master their full titles, you could petition them—but unfortunately, I don’t know them.”

“The things wandering everywhere, the ones you couldn’t describe, are Spirit Realm creatures. But what you ‘saw’ seems sparse and unclear—that’s likely a limitation of the ‘Hunter’ sequence; your spirituality isn’t high enough yet. Hmm… trying to open your Spirit Sight now will probably be difficult, and the result won’t be great. Heh, still, better than nothing.”

She had been observing her brother’s condition, ready to interrupt instruction and offer help at any moment.

Seeing Lu Mi gradually return to normal, she finished her explanation in one breath and asked:

“But these sights alone shouldn’t have frightened you. Aren’t you nicknamed ‘Bold Lu Mi’? You’ve recently witnessed time loops, people turning into sheep, men giving birth, and ‘Lady Night’ patrolling—all bizarre, absurd, mentally contaminating events. How could ordinary Spirit Realm creatures possibly scare you?”

Hearing his sister recount those events, Lu Mi’s forehead veins twitched slightly; he didn’t want to remember, especially the parts involving Mrs. Puaris.

He exhaled and said:

“I felt something—deep within the Spirit Realm, or impossibly high above—was watching me.”

“Just being watched made me terrified, uncontrollably so. I immediately broke out of meditation.”

Aurora’s eyes flickered, and she said thoughtfully:

I suspect it’s connected to those two strange symbols on your chest. They’re linked to certain hidden entities—possibly pointing to the source of Kordu’s loop, or representing the “special” quality that keeps you conscious and strong in dreams and loops.

“As a ‘Hunter,’ you succeeded in your first full meditation attempt—likely due to the influence of those two symbols.”

Lu Mi nodded as he listened, agreeing with his sister’s theory.

It left him somewhat discouraged:

“If that’s the case, I can’t even meditate properly. Every time I succeed, I’m watched, and I’m forced to break out of the state. And I feel… being watched constantly isn’t a good thing.”

“Do you think you aren’t being watched now?” Aurora laughed. “You just can’t sense it because you’re not in meditation. Since you can’t escape it, and harm is inevitable, better to keep trying, build resistance, gradually extend your meditation time. In the future, this might give you an advantage in certain situations. Of course, before becoming Sequence 7 ‘Pyromaniac,’ the ‘Hunter’ barely needs deep meditation. Wait until your spirituality improves before trying again.”

“Sounds kind of miserable,” Lu Mi said, having adjusted his mindset, mocking himself. “Can’t fight it, so I might as well enjoy it.”

Aurora snorted:

“Under these circumstances, I’d rather have your ‘special’—even if it brings unknown dangers and hardships. At least next time around, I’ll retain my memories without you having to remind me. Otherwise, I’d miss too many details.”

She then glanced out the window, now long dark:

“It’s time to teach you how to open your Spirit Sight.”

“Stay seated. Try meditating again. You don’t need to fully enter that floating-mind state—though it helps with opening Spirit Sight. But aren’t there hidden entities watching you?”

“Mm.” Lu Mi leaned back in his chair, relaxed his body, first picturing the sun in his mind, then replacing it with the messy sphere his sister had drawn.

He didn’t repeat the symbol. When his body and mind grew still, he stopped.

Aurora observed his state, then softly said:

“Good. In this state, raise your hands and place them before your eyes. You can open your eyes now.”

Lu Mi maintained his inner calm, slowly opening his eyes. He realized his sister had extinguished the kerosene lamp, plunging the first floor into darkness, lit only by faint crimson moonlight outlining shapes beyond the window.

After adjusting, he barely made out his own hands.

“Point your index fingers toward each other, close but don’t touch…” Aurora guided. “Then focus your gaze behind your hands—on the point opposite them. Once you’ve done that, slowly move your fingers, keeping them facing each other without touching—yes, but don’t let them leave your field of vision.”

Lu Mi followed exactly, fixing his gaze on the empty space behind his hands, moving his fingers.

He moved them countless times, yet saw no change.

Soon, he couldn’t sustain the meditation state and withdrew.

“Did you see anything?” Aurora asked.

Lu Mi shook his head.

“The ‘Hunter’ sequence is difficult. Don’t stress. If you fail today, try tomorrow. If you fail next time, try the time after.” Aurora comforted him. “Don’t worry—ordinary people with higher spirituality can open Spirit Sight after professional training. How much more so for a non-ordinary. Of course, how well you see is another matter.”

If this cycle fails, there’s always the next—but if the next fails, there may not be a next next… Lu Mi muttered inwardly.

He had always been a resilient, patient man. After a short rest, he regained some energy and tried again.

After repeated failures, he finally saw a flicker of crimson color emerge between the tips of his index fingers.

Did I succeed? Lu Mi’s heart leapt. He turned his head toward his sister.

He immediately saw faint red light glowing on Aurora’s body, coating her surface.

“Isn’t Spirit Sight supposed to show the ‘Etheric Body’ in various colors?” Lu Mi asked, puzzled.

Aurora asked, delighted:

“You succeeded?”

Lu Mi nodded, describing his experience.

“You did succeed,” Aurora sighed in relief. “You’re lucky—probably because of that ‘special’ of yours. Other ‘Hunters’ would need ten days or more of practice to open Spirit Sight, even then only easily after advancing to Sequence 8. What you saw is a very blurred ‘Etheric Body.’ Red means I’m reasonably healthy. As for the rest—don’t even try to see more. Your ‘Spirit Body’ isn’t strong enough.”

She then pulled out the miniature ink bottle and unscrewed the cap:

“Try to see the ‘White Paper.’”

Lu Mi stared intently and saw a nearly transparent, hazy bubble floating from the bottle’s mouth.

It resembled the soap bubbles he’d blown as a child—fist-sized, tinted crimson by the moonlight.

He could barely make it out, as if one blink would make it vanish.

The bubble floated in midair, drifting toward Aurora’s palm. She caught it and gently scratched its surface with her thumb.

The transparent bubble instantly contracted, then slowly expanded again, repeating the motion.

Lu Mi steadied himself and told his sister what he had seen.

“Very blurry?” Aurora shook her head. “The ‘Hunter’s’ Spirit Sight is indeed weak. You can only perceive the most basic concepts of the ‘Etheric Body,’ and only detect ‘White Paper’ among Spirit Realm creatures. Most things remain invisible to you.”

“Better than nothing,” Lu Mi replied, echoing his sister’s earlier words.

Having never witnessed a stronger Spirit Sight, he was still fairly satisfied with his current ability.

Aurora said no more, guiding Lu Mi to close his Spirit Sight by re-meditating, gathering his spirit, and repeatedly telling himself his spirituality should stop. She trained him to set simple on/off triggers through self-suggestion while in that meditative state.

Lu Mi practiced repeatedly, mastering the opening and closing of his Spirit Sight—but the “shortcut” Aurora mentioned remained elusive; he only vaguely sensed its key.

“Enough. Rest now. We’ll observe the curate later.” Aurora saw her brother’s pale face and massive spiritual drain, and hurriedly told him to take a short nap.

They went upstairs to the study and turned on the electric desk lamp.

Lu Mi quickly fell asleep in the armchair. Aurora casually picked up a book and waited for the night to deepen.

Soon, Lu Mi entered his dream—but he didn’t rush to explore. He forced himself to keep sleeping.

Finally, Aurora woke him:

“It’s time to observe the curate.”

“Mm.” Lu Mi sat up sharply, looking at his sister.

Aurora opened the miniature ink bottle and stroked the ‘White Paper’ with her right hand. Her eyes instantly darkened, becoming deep and profound.

Through the bond of the contract, she whispered in Hermesian:

“My contracted entity, carry my eyes.”

Beside her, Lu Mi neither understood nor saw anything—he hadn’t opened his Spirit Sight. He could only wait patiently.

Just a few seconds passed. Aurora withdrew her hand, sat down, and told Lu Mi:

“The ‘White Paper’ has reached the curate’s house.”

Lu Mi looked closely and saw that his sister’s eyes no longer reflected the study or his own figure, but trees swaying gently in darkness.

The trees rapidly receded.

So this is what the ‘White Paper’ sees? Lu Mi realized.

Aurora picked up a mirror with a mercury-coated back and sprinkled pale white powder onto its surface.

The powder immediately shimmered, making the mirror appear covered in rippling water.

Within the ripples, Curate Michel Gariq appeared.

The ‘White Paper’ had arrived outside his room, watching him through the window.

At that moment, Michel Gariq was asleep, eyes closed, breathing calmly.

Aurora and Lu Mi waited patiently, using the ‘White Paper’ to observe from every angle.

Seconds ticked by. Suddenly, the sleeping Michel slightly opened his mouth, and a hazy, transparent figure crawled out.

It was a lizard-like thing.

(End of Chapter)