Knowledge Pursuing People

Lumian could relate deeply to Aurore's words. Back when he was still vagrant on the streets, he had learned never to underestimate anyone. Some adult vagrants had suffered dearly simply because they looked down on him as a mere child and thought he was weak. On the flip side, certain well-meaning almsgivers handed out food with pure intentions, yet failed to account for a starving vagrant's fragile physical state, turning charity into harm. After pondering seriously for a moment, Lumian said, "Looking at it that way, a description that can summon a desired creature with relative accuracy is truly priceless." "Indeed." Aurore nodded with feeling. "Notebooks recording corresponding summoning incantations are exceptionally valuable. Every incantation, every description, and every annotation in them was bought with life, blood, or agony. Take the simplest example: my three-clause description for summoning White Paper is 'A spirit that wanders amidst the illusory, a friendly creature open to command, a fragile sphere linked to my heart and mind.' If you tried to piece together that last clause on your own, there's no telling how many failures you'd have to endure, and every single failure comes with immense danger." *A fragile sphere linked to my heart and mind? Is that something a normal human being would ever come up with? Especially words like 'fragile' and 'sphere'…* Lumian lampooned inwardly while asking, "So you bought it from someone else?" "No." Aurore shook her head, an edge of bitterness creeping into her expression. "The Mystery Pryer pathway is different from others. Every so often, you find yourself pursued by a torrent of knowledge. You can't avoid knowing, and you can't refuse even if you can't bear it. When consuming potions to advance, this phenomenon of 'knowledge pursuing people' becomes far worse. "Most of this knowledge is useless, but there are always fragments of value. The incantation to summon White Paper was one of them." "Infused by the Hidden Sage?" Lumian understood what his sister meant. Aurore gave him a startled look. "You know about that? Taught by that lady?" "Yeah." Lumian nodded. Aurore pursed her lips thoughtfully. "From my personal experience, 'knowledge pursuing people' doesn't entirely come from the Hidden Sage's infusions. My so-called tinnitus is indeed hearing His voice and receiving the knowledge He bestows. It always causes me excruciating pain, making my head feel ready to burst, to the point where I'd almost rather just lose control and be done with it. "Yet occasionally, particularly when my condition is poor and signs of losing control begin to show, I experience a hallucination—as if all the knowledge in the entire world has come alive, a trickle of it pursuing me, rushing toward me, leaving me nowhere to hide. The incantation to summon White Paper barged into my brain precisely like that. "When consuming a potion, about ninety-nine percent of the knowledge pursuing me stems from the Hidden Sage, while the remaining one percent is tied to that living knowledge." "Fascinating, yet terrifying. Enough to scare the wits out of everyone in the village," Lumian remarked candidly. At the same time, he wracked his brain wondering if there was any way to resolve this issue of knowledge pursuing people, or at least mitigate its fallout. Aurore offered a self-deprecating smile. "It is precisely because I frequently suffer such torment that I was reluctant to let you step onto the Beyonder path. Given our current situation, however, being a Beyonder is genuinely better than remaining an ordinary person." To ensure her brother kept the madness and danger of the supernatural path firmly in mind, she tapped her temple. "Being chased by knowledge for so long, hand in hand with agony, I already feel my mind and personality drifting into a degree of alienation. "Haven't I often told you that I have social anxiety, yet on rare occasions become remarkably chatty, loving to go out and gossip with the village elders or tell stories to the little kids? And how, once in a while, I go crazy—borrowing Madame Pualis's pony to gallop through the mountains, screaming and shouting at the top of my lungs? "Being especially talkative is a rebound from staying cooped up at home for so long, unable to return to my hometown, combined with the suffocating pressure of the Beyonder path. "As for those moments of going crazy…" Here, Aurore looked at Lumian and let out a soft laugh. "You didn't think that was just an exaggeration, did you?" Lumian fell silent. In his sister's laugh, he detected a mix of self-derision, bewilderment, and an unspeakable pain and struggle. Aurore let out a soft sigh. "At times like that, I barely recognize myself." "There must be a way to solve it." In this moment, Lumian acutely felt his own helplessness. "Hopefully. Let's continue." Aurore pointed at the altar. "Once you establish a contract with a summoned spirit world creature, calling it forth later becomes much simpler. The final descriptive clause can be changed to 'a contracted creature belonging solely to Aurore Lee.' Very precise, isn't it? What's more, before the contract is terminated, nobody else can summon it." "Can a person only have one contracted creature?" Lumian was quite curious about this. "Not necessarily. I'm not clear on the exact upper limit, but it's definitely more than one—especially for certain unique Sequences. In those cases, you'd distinguish them in the incantation as so-and-so's first contracted creature or second contracted creature," Aurore answered honestly. "Besides, you have to remember that summoning a spirit world creature consumes your own spirituality. The more you summon, the greater the drain. With a Hunter's spirituality, I estimate you could support at most one contracted creature." Knowing her brother's temperament, she preemptively closed off any loopholes he might try to exploit: "Every spirit world creature can only remain in reality for a limited duration after being summoned—the weaker it is, the longer it can stay. Don't bother dreaming about summoning one, waiting for your spirituality to recover, and then summoning another. That only works if every creature you choose is exceptionally weak and your spirituality grows significantly compared to what it is now." She immediately used White Paper as an example: "If I don't have White Paper carry any of my abilities, it can stay in reality for twelve hours. But if I share my ocular traits with it and send it to run errands for me, it can last three hours at most, while my own spirituality continues to be drained throughout." Lumian, who had initially harbored notions of amassing a spirit world creature army, was thoroughly disappointed. He thought for a moment before turning his questions elsewhere. "Can you only summon spirit world creatures? Does it have to be spirits?" "No," Aurore shook her head. "You can also summon beings from other dimensions affiliated with the Spirit World, the real world, and the Astral World—such as the Underworld or the mirror world—as well as certain creatures from other worlds or outer space, regardless of whether they are spirits. However, that is extraordinarily dangerous. Most Beyonders who have attempted it died gruesome deaths, while a small few vanished mysteriously, leaving behind only their notes to prove what they had once done." "Then can you summon something from the real world?" Lumian asked curiously. Aurore thought for a bit before replying, "Theoretically, as long as the target shares an intimate connection with the Spirit World or possesses a high enough status, it should be able to hear the summons and decide on its own whether to respond. But a target like that is either exceptionally unique or immensely powerful. If you want to keep living a long life, never experiment with that. "Furthermore, when the target being summoned isn't a spirit, the requirements for the corresponding ritual are far steeper, requiring vastly more spirituality—it may even demand substantial sacrifices. Only then can a summoning gate capable of passing non-spirit beings be opened. "With a Hunter's spirituality, summoning White Paper is already stretching your limits. If you want to try something more formidable, your only option is to pray to a deity or a hidden entity, and for that, you might need to prepare spiritually potent offerings for sacrifice." Having grasped the general picture of summoning ritual magic, Lumian looked at his sister. "So, are you going to recite the incantation next and finish the summoning?" "How could I?" Aurore sneered playfully. "The ritual has been interrupted so many times; how could it possibly continue? Normally, if you follow the proper procedure to pause a ritual, you can resume from where you left off. But just now I was focused on lecturing, so I didn't bother doing any of that." *You probably just forgot…* Lumian mumbled inward, not daring to say it out loud. Aurore continued immediately, "However, I do need to conduct a summoning ritual—partly to demonstrate the entire process from start to finish, and partly to seek help." "Seek help?" Lumian asked in surprise. *Summoning a powerful spirit world creature to lend a hand?* Aurore explained, "Among the countless spirit world creatures, a very tiny fraction can serve as messengers—private messengers. Based on special contracts, a messenger can be summoned by others. "For instance, if I had a contracted messenger, someone in Trier could summon it, hand it a written letter, and it would immediately traverse the Spirit World to deliver the letter directly into my hands. "Thanks to the nature of the Spirit World and the bond of the contract, completing a delivery takes it only a second or two." "Incredible. That's as fast as sending a telegram," Lumian exclaimed in genuine admiration. The thought immediately flitted through his mind: *I want one too!* "Don't even think about it." Aurore saw right through him. "Summoning a messenger is extraordinarily difficult. Unless you receive the precise incantation directly, it's virtually impossible to discover through trial and error. And those precise incantations are known only to a few specific Sequences—even your sister doesn't have one." Lumian felt a wave of disappointment, then asked, "So you're planning to summon someone's messenger and write a letter asking them for help?" "Yes." Aurore nodded. "She's one of the few among us who has walked the furthest along the Beyonder path, and she has her own messenger. I don't hold out hope that she can come rescue me, but she should be able to give me some advice." *That might be tough. Even that mysterious lady said we can only rely on ourselves…* Curious, Lumian asked, "Us? Do you mean your pen pals?" Aurore first nodded, then blinked in confusion. "When did I ever mention pen pals to you?" "Last cycle—no, the cycle before last," Lumian answered honestly. "Right." Aurore pressed a hand to her forehead. "In truth, it's a mutual-aid society gradually built by those of us who cannot return to our hometowns. Day to day, we communicate through letters to share knowledge and resolve problems, and periodically hold small-scale gatherings or exchange messages via messengers. She is our organization's vice president and one of its founders, known by the code name 'Hela.'" "Code name?" Lumian was slightly puzzled. Aurore gave an affirmative hum. "Everyone in the organization uses code names rather than exposing their real names. In letters, we emphasize that they're pen names, so as not to attract the attention of the authorities." "What's your code name?" Lumian was deeply curious. Aurore remained silent for a moment before answering with a tinge of wistful sighing: "'Muggle.'" "What does that mean?" Lumian didn't understand. With eyes dimming slightly, Aurore answered, "An ordinary person without supernatural abilities." Knowing his sister yearned above all else to live as an ordinary person back in her hometown, Lumian hastily changed the subject: "What is your organization called?" Aurore's expression grew thoroughly complicated. "Originally, everyone wanted to pick something classy. But considering we'd be sending letters regularly, too conspicuous a name would draw unwanted attention from certain factions. In the end, we settled on something that makes us sound like animal lovers." "Which is?" Lumian pressed. Feeling a bit embarrassed, Aurore answered: "The Curly-Haired Baboon Research Society."