“Do I accept an ending like this?” Lin Chuan asked himself:
Then, he scoffed, “What a joke?
What kind of good-for-nothing would I have to be to make this trip for nothing?”
That overlapping pulling sensation had always originated from an unknown place, and it seemed to intensify even more after Lin Chuan just wrote the sentence, “I might really not be human.”
Judging by this, he was probably indeed not an ordinary person, and perhaps not even a human at all.
But this was a good thing.
Lin Chuan didn’t care at all whether he was some amnesiac Great Old One, some fragment of an Great Old One at the edge of the universe confusing its self, or a descendant from an outer multiverse.
As long as his experiences over the past four and a half years were real, and his obsession with returning home was genuine, that was enough.
As for everything else, they were all insignificant details.
In this world, not being human conversely meant hope.
Because this represented that transmigrating home was no longer a slim fantasy, representing that he possessed greater capital, the ability to change some things, to make the choices he deemed “correct,” and to do things he previously thought he was powerless against.
Because power was the reason to be king.
“Even a guy like me occasionally has things he wants to extravagantly hope for,” Lin Chuan chuckled self-deprecatingly.
As if responding to his confession, as Lin Chuan thoroughly realized and soberly accepted the cognition that “he might not be human,” that overlapping, illusory, and grand pulling force suddenly intensified.
Lin Chuan’s body instinctively tensed up, but he didn’t do anything superfluous, simply sitting on the chair as before, letting the force originating from the depths of his soul drag his spirit body.
However, before this power could fully erupt, all the movement stopped without warning after reaching a certain critical point.
It was just stuck in such an awkward, halfway position.
It was like being between half-asleep and half-awake where one would definitely not fall asleep yet couldn’t wake up either, like a long-distance call that was finally connected, but due to poor reception, it suddenly dropped with a “snap” halfway through, yet you couldn’t say the call hadn’t been made.
“…?”
“…That’s it?”
Maintaining his tensed posture, Lin Chuan waited in his seat for a full half-minute.
The room was very quiet, and nothing happened.
It seemed, appeared, and indeed had ended right here.
The muscles on his face twitched slightly as he straightened his body, feeling somewhat speechless.
His cheat seemed rather unreliable; not only did it fail to bind and deploy upon arrival, but even at this juncture, he still couldn’t contact it.
Considering the situation just now and the symptoms of drowsiness that only began to appear this year, perhaps as his conjectures about self-cognition closed in further, or when the Original Creator came closer to awakening, this connection would likewise strengthen.
But he didn’t have the time and patience to wait idly.
Whatever, anyway, the confidence and opportunities had been given to this extent; if he didn’t act again, he truly deserved to stay in the City of the Old Days, waiting for the Original Creator to awaken and head out together with Earth’s civilization.
Lin Chuan let out a turbid breath and began recalling the occult knowledge from the original work in his mind.
His gaze lingered on the table for a long time, yet he never went to flip through the subsequent contents of the book, “secret records of qin and han esoteric arts.”
Although the first page of this book wrote down the method to contact Sefirah Castle, and the back might contain other esoteric knowledge regarding Beyonder factors that were more important and could come in handy.
But that was something dropped by the Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth for Blessings as a backup plan.
Previously, when emotions took over, just picking it up to look at the first page already carried a big enough risk of being discovered; flipping further back, goodness knows what traps the Celestial Worthy might casually bury inside.
If he dared to trust things left behind by the Celestial Worthy, Lin Chuan could directly go become a sequence 2 Miracle Invoker of the Seer Pathway.
Of course, in the form of a Beyonder item.
Lin Chuan stood up, searching the room for what he needed while trying hard to recall the contents regarding prayer rituals from the original work.
“First of all, the luck-enhancement ritual definitely cannot be copied outright; that was specifically used by the Celestial Worthy to pull people up to Sefirah Castle.
However, considering that the luck-enhancement ritual doesn’t have any Beyonder factors and can still be used in the Fifth Epoch, perhaps some of its forms can be referenced…
or rather, plagiarized a bit.”
“Let me think, a prayer ritual needs to prepare an altar; it doesn’t matter if it’s crude, the key lies in inscribing or drawing the symbolic sign corresponding to the object of prayer…
What should I do if there are no symbols, invent one myself?”
“Although I remember believers also need to burn herbs, apply holy oil, choose specific times, etc., during the ritual, these are essentially just preparations made to please the deities.”
“Little Ge’s initial prayer ritual didn’t arrange these messy things, because besides the Tarot Club members, absolutely no one would pray to him, an evil god in the start-up phase.
Therefore, as long as someone prayed, he would go take a look and then directly open the door for them.”
“My situation should be similar; that place dragging me can probably also open the door as soon as it’s called.
Except…
What ‘combining spiritual-containing materials with the natural power oscillation caused by incantations, chanting in Ancient Hermes or Giant language’…”
Lin Chuan helplessly discovered that he didn’t know Ancient Hermes or Giant language at all.
Although before his transmigration, whether it was the official anime or game online—he forgot—it seemed they indeed released a comparison chart of the alphabet and pronunciation for Ancient Hermes, but what decent person would go memorize this stuff!
“Forget it, think carefully, a certain esoteric connection has actually already been established between me and that thing calling me, it’s just stuck halfway due to the signal being too weak or some other reason.”
“Even if I don’t hold any ritual, as time passes, it can probably connect to me.
That being the case, my core purpose right now should be to make the directivity of this signal clearer.”
Thinking of this, Lin Chuan placed a cardboard box in the dead center of the room, using a pen to scribble all sorts of things on the box that existed before his transmigration and definitely did not exist in this world.
Next, he placed his notebook—which recorded a vast amount of content from the original work—on the box as material for positioning, and placed a bowl of plain white rice in each of the four corners of the room.
He stood beside the box, preparing to pace out a square in four counter-clockwise steps.
With every step he took, Lin Chuan rapidly recited words in his heart such as high-dimension, variable, traveler, passerby, outlander, transmigrator, and everything else he thought might be related to that connection.
This was simply an extremely bizarre, shoddily patched-up makeshift amateur ritual.
Any occult enthusiast who saw this would probably gasp in astonishment at what kind of postmodern performance art was being carried out.
It could be called the culmination of a desperate occult illiterate’s performance.
However.
Lin Chuan succeeded.