Lord of the Mysteries — Extra: An Ordinary Person’s Daily Life P7

An Ordinary Person’s Daily Life (7)

After watching the place where the woman had vanished for a few seconds, Pacheco turned his head and said to Barton, “Let’s go. Back to the Foundation.”

“We’re not going to the suburbs anymore?” Barton asked subconsciously.

With a smile at the corners of his mouth, Pacheco said, “Didn’t you already send the bottle away?

“There is no need to go to the suburbs anymore.

“Perhaps his true goal was to have us hand the bottle to that lady from the Tamara family, and everything he said before was a lie.

“Of course, none of that has anything to do with us. From here on, whoever among them dies or survives, there will be no innocent party involved. What is needed is merely a certain degree of monitoring, to prevent the battle between them from affecting ordinary people. That will be handled by the police, not by the Foundation or the Compliance Department.”

Vernal’s condition didn’t look like he could pull off a scheme of that level… Barton muttered to himself. He did not ask any further questions and turned toward the door.

To be honest, returning to the Foundation was the answer he most wanted right now.

The question he had asked just now—whether they still needed to go to the suburbs—had merely been an impulse, an old flaw he had failed to overcome for many years.

After returning to the Foundation, Barton spent the rest of the day somewhat uneasy. Amid the tedious and repetitive routine, evening arrived.

I used to think life was too monotonous. Now I’ve discovered that a monotonous life is so precious. Sigh. I only hope that after this, everything can be like this afternoon, with no unexpected incidents… May the Lord bless me… Barton stopped in front of his home, raised his right hand, clenched it into a fist, and lightly struck his left chest.

Only after completing his prayer did he open the door, step inside, remove his hat and coat, and hand them to his wife, who had come to greet him.

“What exactly happened to Vernal?” his wife asked carefully.

Barton answered with a calm and composed expression, “He offended some people and is being pursued. The police have already taken over the matter.

“In the future, if Vernal comes to visit again, do not let him in. Remember to send someone to inform the police afterward.”

Hearing that the police were already involved, Barton’s wife immediately relaxed.

“All right.”

After dinner, and after playing with his children for a while, Barton found an excuse to enter the study and sit near the window.

He needed a space where he could be alone, allowing his emotions to calm completely and letting himself escape the panic brought by Vernal’s incident.

For this, Barton took a cigarette from a drawer and placed it in his mouth.

He did not have much of a smoking habit. It was only that he occasionally needed to socialize, so he kept a box of cigarettes both at home and on his person.

Striking a match, he lit the cigarette and took a deep drag.

Then he leaned back against the chair, watching the smoke slowly pour from his mouth and nose.

The pale-white gas quickly spread around him, naturally making Barton think of the mist that had rushed from Vernal’s mouth and nose.

Vaguely, he smelled the faint scent of blood.

To Barton, this was not too strange a discovery, because Vernal had once stayed in his study and must inevitably have left some traces behind—traces ordinary people would not be able to detect.

The reason Barton had not smelled it earlier was simply because he had been too nervous and panicked. His attention had been focused entirely on Vernal’s whereabouts and the words he had left behind.

Of course, the scent of blood in the study was extremely faint, incomparable to that hotel room or the collapsed house from before. That was another reason.

As the smoke from the cigarette spread freely, Barton’s eyes suddenly narrowed.

He had a bad feeling!

In an instant, the pale-white gas contracted in one direction, carrying the scent of blood as it formed a human figure.

The upper half of the figure was normal, with an iconic red nose. It was the archaeologist Vernal.

But his lower half was completely made of swirling gas, like a monster painted in smoke.

“Ver—Vernal…” Barton called out as if he were about to suffocate.

His voice echoed inside the study, unable to penetrate the walls.

“Haha! I have already obtained an undying body. As long as even a trace of mist remains, I can come back to life!” That Vernal laughed aloud.

Compared to before, his expression had grown even more frenzied, and his eyes seemed tinged with pale white.

He—he already died once just now? This thought flashed subconsciously through Barton’s mind.

Immediately afterward, he forced himself to remain calm and said, “Is there something you need?”

As he spoke, Barton impulsively wanted to stand. Yet to his sorrow, he discovered that his body had been covered by cold, thin mist and had lost most of its sensation.

Vernal stopped laughing. Staring into Barton’s eyes, he said, word by word, “You did not take that bottle to the suburbs.”

Although Barton had an impulsive personality, he knew he could not answer that question directly. His thoughts spun rapidly as he searched for a good way to handle the situation.

A few seconds later, before Vernal could speak again, Barton changed the subject.

“Why did you convert to that one?

“Weren’t you a loyal believer of the Lord?”

Vernal was silent for a moment, then his expression gradually turned fanatical.

“I saw a broader, vaster world.

“Compared with that, the planet we live on now is like a grain of sand in a desert.

“There are countless civilizations there. There are ruins left behind tens of thousands, millions, even tens of millions of years ago.

“That is the true appearance of the cosmos!”

Seeing that his question had caused an ominous change in Vernal, Barton closed his mouth and began thinking of a topic that was neither sensitive nor uninteresting to the other party.

He slowly inhaled and said, “Aside from the altar, what else did you discover in those Fourth Epoch ruins?

“How much do you know about the Tamara family?”

Vernal’s eyes became a little livelier.

“The Tamara family once changed their coat of arms.

“That means they encountered an extremely significant event.”

As he spoke, the archaeologist whose upper body was human and lower body was mist extended his right hand and used the smoke to sketch two symbols in midair.

The first symbol consisted of a layer of thorns, a wall of shields, and a vertical sword thrust above them. The main body of the second symbol was a double door, while the gap between the doors was formed by that vertical sword.

As a professional who could barely be called a not-very-famous historian, Barton immediately thought of what that member of the Tamara family had said:

“They are them. We are us.”

“The Tamara family split?” Barton blurted.

“That is what I believe.” Vernal smiled with satisfaction. Then he drew closer to Barton, his expression fanatical as he said, “Your brain is more tempting than I imagined. It is the best supplement for me. Relax a little. Your thoughts will merge with mine, and together we will witness one great civilization after another.”

He looked extremely weak and urgently needed to recover.

Barton’s heart pounded wildly. He tried his best to avoid the other party, but no matter how he struggled, his body seemed frozen, utterly unable to move.

Just as Vernal’s face drew close to his eyes, Barton’s right hand suddenly burned with pain, and his whole person instantly regained clarity.

The pale-white mist and the monstrous Vernal before his eyes vanished along with it, as if they had never appeared.

Barton woodenly lowered his head and saw that the cigarette between the fingers of his right hand had burned to its end, scorching his finger.

“Was that just a dream? But I felt… I felt it was so real.” Barton dropped the cigarette in his hand and, following his spiritual instincts, stood and walked to the window.

His gaze turned toward the street outside. Beneath one lit gas streetlamp after another, many pedestrians passed through the deepening night, wanting to return home as soon as possible.

Among them, an ordinary golden retriever was taking an ordinary walk.