Odius — that surname was anything but unfamiliar to the people of this country.
Any sane citizen of Liastan knew the weight that name carried.
Take Old Stone for example, he was immediately cowed by that surname, barely having time to care that his worldview had just been brutally shattered.
But the next second, he sank into a deeper self-doubt.
Wait a minute?
Members of the Odius family could actually be so easygoing?
That was completely different from the solemn, rigid royal image he had in his head.
And they even bragged about their abs to ordinary people?
He felt as if not only his worldview toward the extraordinary realm, but his entire worldview about the mundane world had been struck.
The lofty Odius showing off his abs to commoners — how could he have dreamed a thing like that?
Surely his brain had been damaged.
Right now, the urgent matter was to fix his head.
How to fix it? Would another bump make it better?
But Samuel clearly did not fall into the normal category.
He was neither sane in the usual sense, nor a Liastan citizen.
Just as Wyatt had guessed, Samuel hadn’t given the name Odius any real thought at all.
At first glance, Samuel noticed something in Wyatt’s file that differed from the others.
He didn’t care about background introductions or interpersonal relations.
There was only one thing he focused on.
[Law Tendency: Fallacy, Absurdity]
Two words, listed side by side, written clearly in deep black, slightly ornate ink.
Double Law tendencies?
Was this a peculiarity of the Law Fallacy, or was Wyatt himself unusual?
But…
How could someone have double Law tendencies?
You could even have two Law tendencies?
That’s way cooler than mine!
Unacceptable!
I want more tendencies too!
I’ll add tendencies right now!
Change mine to twelve Law tendencies immediately!
Samuel’s gaze slid further down and landed on the Law Rhyme labeled “Absurd Performer.”
Hm?
Is this a bond formed from Actor, Clown, and Performance Artist — three Absurdity Marks combined?
An Absurdity Clown, youth edition?
Wyatt cocked his head, curious to see what was written in the book Samuel held in his hand.
But soon he discovered the text was composed of characters he had never seen before, unlike any words he knew — more like little square blocks.
Neat, separate, with strokes complex yet orderly.
He thought carefully and realized that in his memory, no script like this existed anywhere on the planet.
An invented script? Aliens? A remnant of some ancient kingdom?
As a fellow Law Seeker of Absurdity, his mind was also inclined to leap.
Snap.
With a light sound, Samuel closed the Travel Guide, then looked up and smiled at Wyatt.
“Ah, it’s been such a long time since I felt that thrill of low-mountain swamp-bum finding a kindred spirit — wonderful,” he said with feeling. “Indeed, it’s most comfortable to stay with people who follow Absurdity.”
Truly, talented horses are common, but Shang Yang is not.
Wyatt merely smiled in response, not denying the statement.
Samuel soon shifted his attention to something else, lifting his left hand and indicating the small trash can he held.
“By the way, why did you stop me from giving this to him earlier?” He pointed at Old Stone, who wasn’t far away and was still doubting himself, trying to reconstruct his worldview.
A philosophical fetus struggling to remake the universe.
“That thing,” Wyatt said, trapping his right hand with his left and propping his chin on his palm, suddenly speaking in a tone that sounded like a mystic, “do you know the ‘Determinism of Fate’ theory?”
“Huh?” Samuel tilted his head. “No, I don’t, but it sounds connected to the ‘Retroflow’ Law.”
“Exactly.” Wyatt nodded, then explained to Samuel, “From the perspective of the ‘Determinism of Fate,’ ‘fate’ has a set value.”
“And the Fate Correction School is the academic organization that reveres this idea. Mm… let’s just call it an academic body for now.”
“They view fate as a river flowing from top to bottom, [now] upstream, [future] downstream.”
“They want the world to proceed along the predetermined channel, without too many deviations, without changing the river’s direction, and without widening or narrowing the riverbed.”
“In other words, from their point of view, me giving that treasure chest to him would be disrupting fate?” Samuel tossed the trash can in his hand.
“Isn’t that a bit overreaching for them?”
“Can they dictate whether I step out with my left foot or right foot each morning?”
“Of course not.” Wyatt smiled. “However, maybe, in their eyes, this thing has a very big impact on the future.”
“How big?” Samuel’s curiosity was thoroughly piqued.
“Hmm, they usually don’t like being in the spotlight.”
“To get them to actively intervene would be roughly equivalent to: [humans living in the Stone Age, huddled by campfires and using stone tools, suddenly someone pops up and invents a fully functional steam engine].” Wyatt thought for two seconds before answering.
“This toy is that influential?” Samuel blinked and glanced down again.
Feeling that the analogy was not concrete enough, Wyatt offered a more era-relevant example.
“For instance,” Wyatt continued, “don’t you feel our era’s development is rather slow?”
“After all, with the existence of the Ingenuity Law, productivity should really be less backward.” He asked Samuel. “Ingenuity symbolizes the ultimate of wisdom, knowledge, reason, and creation. In theory, a world influenced by such a Law should see far faster technological and cultural progress.”
“Hmm… I don’t really think it’s backward, but…” Samuel rubbed his chin, then dragged the corners of his mouth down with two fingers, “so they killed off the genuinely scholarly people?”
“More precisely,” Wyatt corrected, “they don’t want human technological development to deviate from the preset fate.”
“In which year flint is invented, in which year the steam engine appears — these should all align with their conception.”
“If some invention truly leapfrogs its era, then everything would be thrown into chaos, leading the world toward a bad outcome in their view.”
“I see.” Samuel nodded, keeping his pulled-down mouth look, and glanced toward Old Stone. “So in their eyes, his place in fate is relatively high.”
“After all, that woman dealt deadly blows to me but showed restraint toward him.”
Old Stone, still reeling from the shock to his worldview, nevertheless understood Wyatt’s words.
It made him frown, though he didn’t know what to say.
“But honestly, I think they’re rather idle,” Wyatt said gently with a smile. “Fate is fixed from the start.”
“All they do is dance within fate’s allowance — meaningless.”
“Even if they did nothing, fate wouldn’t change.”
At that moment, an attendant pushed in a cloth-covered box.
“Sir, your next trade item has arrived. The seller refuses to appear, so I relay it on his behalf.” The attendant spoke respectfully as he stopped at the doorway.
He didn’t look at the corpse on the floor, merely stepped aside to leave a path for Old Stone to leave.
Seeing that, Old Stone nodded, using his cane, stooped, and slowly walked away.
Here, unless both buyer and seller permitted, no outsiders were allowed during a transaction.
Samuel hadn’t invited him, and he had no interest in staying to watch.
“Aren’t you staying to take a look?” someone asked.
Ah, now there was an invitation.
Still, he shook his head and left without a backward glance.
Old Stone left, and Wyatt waved, dismissing the attendants as well.
“The jellyfish you wanted is 120 yur, hand it to me and I’ll pass it to the seller.” Wyatt gently tapped the cloth-covered box.
He lifted the drape to reveal a tank beneath.
Inside swam a pale blue translucent jellyfish the size of a human head, its tentacles long — about twice the length of its bell.
Samuel raised an eyebrow and nodded agreement.
“All right.”
“Also, this.” Wyatt took an envelope from his chest, his lips lifting into a smile. “And here’s the map you asked for. Very detailed.”
“Huh? Your surname is Odius, right?” Samuel didn’t take the envelope. “Would a Sacred Law Knight be lying in wait for me at the door?”
“Why would that be?” Wyatt’s smile remained gentle. “Believe me, I have no taste for lying.”
After a moment, Samuel nodded. “True enough. I trust that Mr. Pride’s pride wouldn’t stoop to tricking a little fellow like me.”
He opened the Travel Guide again and slipped the envelope into it like a bookmark.
The instant the book closed, the envelope fused into it.
“How much?” Samuel asked.
“Including the jellyfish, five hundred yur in total.”
“So cheap?” Samuel raised his brows.
“Of course, I don’t need the money.” Wyatt’s expression stayed mild. “But I’m curious what you’ll do once you get that map.”
“Consider it my ticket. I hope I can find a comfortable seat in the audience.”
…
The Flora Restaurant’s door opened and closed.
Falson stepped out.
He had changed out of the tailcoat. After all, the restaurant owned that suit — the starched white shirt and perfectly ironed bowtie weren’t his.
He didn’t mind; that was the truth.
The suit wasn’t particularly comfortable anyway.
He’d been fired. Mr. Percival showed no intention of keeping him and had told him to gather his things right after afternoon tea.
But his mood wasn’t bad.
On the contrary, after a few hours of slacking off reading novels, he felt pretty good.
He left by his usual after-work path and turned into a narrow alley connecting the Andrew Street main road to the back grocery district.
He walked this alley often; he knew it well.
Narrow and dim, flanked by weathered stone walls and the backs of towering buildings, moss clinging to the walls, grime settled in the stone slab joints.
Footsteps echoed in the quiet alley as Falson kept his head down, lost in thought.
A few hours earlier, in conversation, the System had mentioned a term: “Law Seeker.”
He was curious what that was.
Suddenly, an abrupt sound cut through his thoughts.
Clang clang… clang clang…
A strange bell rang from deeper in the alley.
It sounded a bit like a carriage bell that might jingle, but not exactly — more compact, faster.
Falson followed the sound with his eyes and saw a red object hanging on the wall that he had never noticed before.
A rectangular base with many buttons on it, and an arced receiver dangling from the left side.
Clang clang… clang clang…
The odd chime continued — the sound emitted by that strange device.
If Samuel were here, he’d instantly recognize it.
It was an old telephone — a relic that shouldn’t belong in this era.
Falson glanced around; he was the only person in the alley.
“System?” he tried calling in his mind, “do you know what that is?”
Silence lingered a second or two in the depths of his head, then the voice with its habitual smile spoke.
“You can go and see for yourself.”
Samuel was curious too.
He hadn’t placed it here.
After his trade with Mr. Pride Wyatt, he had noticed something was happening on Falson’s side.
With the attitude of someone watching a show, he egged Falson on to interact with it.
But Falson himself felt a bit wary.
Encountering such a weird System-made thing today had made him suspicious.
He frowned and was about to refuse.
Suddenly, strong interest in the telephone welled up inside him.
Samuel amplified his curiosity.
After hesitating for a few seconds, Falson finally moved closer to take a look.
He stepped forward but didn’t reach out, merely examined the strange device.
“Pick up the left receiver and press it to your ear…” Samuel coached him on how to use a telephone.
“System,” he finally confirmed in his mind, “is there any danger…”
“It’ll be fine,” Samuel sounded relaxed. “You’re someone the Golden Finger has chosen, trouble won’t come so easily.”
Having listened to the instructions, Falson tentatively lifted the receiver and put it to his ear.
…
Transaction complete, Samuel left the room and the basement hall.
Sure enough, the Sacred Law Knights had vanished.
Ascending the stairs, Samuel chuckled twice.
Hee hee, tried to con me, huh?
He replayed their earlier conversation in his mind.
Wyatt had asked whether he thought the era was too backward.
Indeed, in Samuel’s eyes, this age was fairly backward.
But he hadn’t said so.
A wild man living in the forest wouldn’t think flint was backward, after all.
Feeling the weight of the Travel Guide in his left hand, he let his thoughts wander.
Was he unsettled by seeing unfamiliar characters?
That was interesting.
Crossing the trapdoor, he left the basement behind.