```
Back to reality.
Chen Lun rubbed his temples, but the pain didn't lessen.
Fortunately, "Maggie's Tear" was constantly providing a recovery effect, making him feel a chill that gradually alleviated the discomfort.
"This book… still has many secrets waiting for to explore. I'll study it more slowly later on," he mused.
He held "Philip's Dreamland Adventure" in his hands and brought it close to the "Wake of Insects" bookmark.
The next second, green light flickered, and the book vanished, having been absorbed by the bookmark.
Chen Lun then placed the bookmark and everything on the table into the dinsional space of the Grape Ring for safekeeping.
After finishing all this, he went to the washroom to wash his face.
Looking at himself in the mirror with the light on, Chen Lun flashed a brilliant smile.
"My current strength… should be close to the upper limit of Sequence Eight, right?" he said, as he dried his face with a towel.
"Promoting to the peak? Heh…" he muttered to himself.
Far from enough!
After hanging the towel neatly, Chen Lun returned to his room, changed into pajamas, and lay on the bed.
"Attribute points!" he exclaid, staring at the ceiling with his hands behind his head.
His attributes had been improving slowly, the effect of his weaknesses wasn't as pronounced as it was at the beginning, there was no need to save all his attribute points as a trump card like before.
Agility had already reached the low sequence threshold of 50 points; adding more would result in diminishing returns, so Chen Lun shifted his focus to other attributes.
Strength at 35 points was above average for a Transcendent of Sequence Eight, but he wasn't satisfied. Strength, to a certain extent, was akin to the lethality in close combat; his speed was extrely fast, and if he could get a bit stronger, the effect would be even better.
Thus, he allocated 5 points to increase his strength to 40 points, reaching the high level of Sequence Eight.
Afterward, Chen Lun distributed the remaining attribute points between Endurance and Intelligence. Endurance determined his physical strength and resistance, and Intelligence affected the strength bonuses of his skills. These two attributes were becoming increasingly important as he advanced.
With 17 points allocated wisely, his Endurance reached 31 points, and his Intelligence, 30 points, both fairly balanced.
As for Faith?
Chen Lun felt he didn't need that at all.
Faith mainly affected divine arts and prayer-like skills, often favored by Church clergy. If favored and watched by the deities, blessings could be bestowed, possibly granting greater strength.
But these had little to do with Chen Lun; he'd rather trust his own fists.
"And then there's the plan for the sub occupation, hmm…"
Chen Lun pondered.
At the beginning of his journey, when he was still weak, every bit of strength was precious, so he didn't hesitate to max out the original "Fisherman" sub occupation he possessed.
However, as his strength grew, this sub occupation seed to be holding him back, and it was ti to replace it.
Because at the low sequence level, a player could have at most two sub occupations, and adding more would result in diminishing returns, requiring more experience points to upgrade, which wasn't worth it.
The best course of action at the mont was to replace it with sothing more suitable.
"Although it isn't hard to wash away a sub occupation, what should I replace it with…?" he mused.
There were many thods to remove a sub occupation, and Chen Lun knew at least ten of them, but they were only viable for the first ti. From the second ti onward, they too ca with corresponding penalties.
Therefore, Chen Lun had to carefully consider his options before making the replacent.
"There is one sub occupation that isn't bad, it's just…" he suddenly thought of sothing and a strange expression crossed his face.
Because most of that sub occupation ca from the Red Apple Church.
Find more adventures on empire
…
Laburnum Won's Academy.
Staff dormitory.
A middle-aged man stood in the center of the room, quietly watching as Majery's body lay severed on the floor.
"Greed is the original sin of the Earth; I've taught you that many tis, Majery," he said with a sigh.
Had Chen Lun seen him, he would have recognized the man; this was the history teacher, Professor Molir, whom he had t at the port's black market.
Molir took out a small box of matches from his pocket, took out a single match with his fingers, and struck it to light.
The fla flickered.
Then he extended his other hand and made a strange gesture towards the body.
Whir…
Around him, the sound of pages turning rapidly out of nowhere filled the room.
The room's furniture, beds, and ornants, as well as Majery's body, all started to outline in an ethereal glow, shapeshifting and flickering.
The phantoms, with their jump-cut-like movents, gradually created the illusion of ti reversing, unfolding a historical retrospection before Molir—
Majery's ghostly image panic-strickenly pulls open the door, ready to leave, then a dark hand reaches in from outside and severs him in two.
```
Just as the killer was about to step through the doorway, allowing Molir to glimpse his true face.
Boom!!
Professor Molir groaned.
All illusions in front of him began to collapse, and the figure of the murderer dissipated with them.
"Supernatural counteracting?!"
He narrowed his eyes, and blood seeped from the corners.
The flas began to fluctuate violently, as if they were about to extinguish in the next second.
"I can't continue looking into his history, or it will trigger an even greater backlash..."
Molir thought.
He increased his supernatural power to maintain the historical retrospection, but imdiately chose to shift his target to the letter written by his student Majery.
Around him, countless ash-like phantoms materialized out of thin air and then, like birds returning to the nest, converged, flying towards the match in Molir's hand.
A letter, black as night, slowly returned to its original form in the flas; Professor Molir extracted the phantom and quickly skimd through it.
"Hmm... Spade?"
Molir flicked his hand, extinguishing the flas in his grasp.
Rustle, rustle...!
Afterward, all the phantoms in the room returned to nothingness, restoring normality.
At another end of the Inner City District.
Bradley Square.
Nad after Earl Bradley as it was built with his investnt.
This was the most bustling market area in the Inner City District, with Amber City's highest-end shops located here. There was always a heavy flow of pedestrians, and one could often see carriages of the nobility passing through.
At the edge of the square stood a lavishly decorated gallery, its grand entrance facing the square.
Its sign read "Ti Amber."
The gallery was very quiet, with its patrons conscientiously remaining silent, mutely appreciating the paintings on the walls. Those in company would occasionally communicate, deliberately lowering their voices.
At the end of the gallery, the backs of two n stood facing a large oil painting, their heads tilted back in admiration.
The person depicted in this painting was a young man with brown hair in military uniform, turning away at a corner of the battlefield, forming a stark contrast with his comrades charging into the fray.
In one corner of the oil painting, its title read "Deserter," authored by Beckman.
"Your assistant died, and you commorate him in this manner?"
The man in the black suit asked.
"Roderick, though I regret it too, this is the greatest respect I can show him."
The man in the white suit chuckled softly.
"This was an important mont when Vigrey transford from a boy into a man, and I believe he would have liked it."
Roderick sized up the gallery owner, whose face bore no trace of sorrow.
Cold-blooded?
Indeed.
If Beckman weren't a cold-blooded man, he wouldn't be working with him.
"I once gave him a personal painting as assistance, but in the end, he still died... Of course, from the eyes of that painting, I identified the killer,"
Beckman said.
"The killer should now be in your organization's society."
"Oh? I think I know who it is..."
Roderick paused to think and then said.
"When the cleansing operation begins, I'll keep an extra eye on him for you, as a way of avenging your assistant.
In exchange, I'll need your help in suppressing Molir, the branch head of the History and Ritual Association in Amber City."
Beckman smiled and shook his head, saying,
"A low-sequence ant like him doesn't qualify as my enemy, nor does he rit my intervention on your behalf."
Roderick frowned slightly.
"Don't forget, I will also help you capture the traitor 'Feray' from the Sun Church, soone very useful to you, aren't they?
Although I'm a special envoy from the Shelter, I can't cover the sky with one hand here, and you should understand the considerable pressure involved."
"He's rely a target for the 'Circus' organization, not mine...
Of course, to maintain my good mber image in the 'Circus,' I will try my best to accomplish this."
Beckman said.
"When the ti cos, I will fulfill my initial promise and help you destroy that supernatural organization...
But I won't lift a finger for your cleansing operation; at most, I could 'inadvertently' pass the word to the Red Apple Church. I believe Bishop Newman would be interested."
Roderick pondered for a mont and nodded.
Lately, the Red Apple Church has been fervently pursuing the History and Ritual Association; with Bishop Newman's involvent, Molir would likely not escape his fate.
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