Chapter 125: A Diviner is a Detective

At two o'clock on Sunday afternoon, Richard headed to the Branch Office as usual.

A new face sat behind the duty desk today—a man in his early thirties copying a form.

He didn't even look up when Richard walked in, simply holding out a hand.

Richard handed over his appointment commission.

The newcomer glanced at the stamp and handed the document back.

"Old Biggs is on the third floor," he said.

"Thank you."

As Richard climbed the stairs, he mentally reviewed the results of his week's practice.

He had used the Copper Dish and the gray wax sticks every night before bed.

For the fixed gaze aspect of Spirit Vision, he had slowly pushed his limit from an initial three seconds to twelve.

Any longer and he would start to lose his grip. The ether would slide off the surface of the crystal shard like water droplets that couldn't condense, slipping away the moment his attention wavered.

For the Wax Whisper divination, he melted a small section of the wax stick each day.

At first, the melted wax formed chaotic shapes with no discernible pattern.

But after his Perception was illuminated, he slowly began to notice certain shapes reappearing.

One was a slanted 'S' shape, another was a forked 'Y', and the last was an oval resembling a water droplet.

He sketched these shapes in his notebook, ticking them off every time they appeared.

By Saturday night, the 'S' shape had appeared seven times, the 'Y' five times, and the droplet four times.

There were a dozen other scattered shapes, but they appeared very infrequently.

According to Old Biggs, this was his personal Wax Whisper taking form.

When he reached the third floor, the office door was already open.

Old Biggs was crouched in the corner, packing a wooden crate filled with various odd objects.

"You're here?" Old Biggs didn't even look up.

"Yes," Richard replied.

"Pour yourself some tea, and clear your head while you're at it."

Richard sat down in a chair and set his satchel on the floor by his feet.

The teapot rested on the desk. He poured himself half a cup.

Old Biggs finished with the wooden crate and pushed it into the corner.

"Did you do your homework every day this week?"

"Yes, I practiced every day."

"Then let's test you first."

Richard sat in his chair. Twenty items were laid out on the desk in front of him.

The difficulty of the Inspiration test was ramping up.

Because he had learned the fixed gaze, this was completely different from relying purely on base Inspiration to push outward.

Twenty items: ten ordinary, ten treated with ether, all arranged in a random order. He had to separate and rank them within five minutes.

Richard started with the first item, hovering his right hand about two inches above it and sweeping slowly across.

The first item, a copper button. Ordinary.

The second, a glass marble. Present.

The third, a belt buckle. Ordinary.

The fourth... His hand paused over the fourth item.

It was an old coin bearing the Queen's profile, its edges severely worn down.

In the past, when he encountered heavily worn coins like this, he would need to sense it several times to determine if there was any ether residue.

Wear and tear destroyed the object's surface structure, causing the residual ether to thin and disperse, making it easy to confuse with background noise.

Today, he was sure after just one pass.

It was there. Faint, but definitely there.

It was like a small amount of salt dissolved in a basin of water; the naked eye couldn't see the change, but the tongue could taste it.

He moved on.

His pace was significantly faster than before.

"Done."

Old Biggs rose from the rocking chair in the corner and walked over to the desk.

He picked up Richard's completed answer sheet and compared it against his own answer key, item by item.

During the process, the old man's eyebrows twitched twice.

The first was at the fourth item, the heavily worn old coin.

The second was at the seventeenth item, a short pencil stub less than two inches long, the paint on its wooden barrel completely peeled away.

"Twenty items. Your basic accuracy is eighty percent."

Old Biggs placed the answer sheet on the desk and glanced at Richard.

"And the sequence?" Richard asked.

"The sequence is correct too."

The old man flipped the answer key over. The back held the correct sequence of the ten ether items, ranked from highest residue to lowest.

He set both sheets down, folding his hands and resting them on the edge of the desk.

"In two weeks, you haven't regressed. You've been steadily improving, and the pace of your progress is fairly constant."

He paused.

"Do you know what that means?"

Richard shook his head.

He certainly knew what it meant, but displaying a proper sense of humility in front of Old Biggs was safer than total honesty.

"It means the growth curve of your Inspiration might be linear," Old Biggs said.

"The vast majority of apprentices have a logarithmic growth curve.

"They do decently in the early stages, but it gets slower and slower later on until they hit a bottleneck and get stuck, unable to advance no matter how hard they train."

"A very small number of highly talented apprentices are exponential. They do fine early on, get faster later, and experience explosive growth once they break past the critical point."

"Linear is the rarest."

The man scrutinized the innocent-looking teenager in front of him.

"Linear means the scale of your progress is roughly the same each time—not huge, but not small either.

"You won't suddenly explode in ability, nor will you suddenly stagnate."

"You just keep walking, constantly moving forward at an unchanging pace."

He pulled a Pocket Watch from his vest pocket, glanced at it, and tucked it back in.

"During my five years as an apprentice, I met thirty-one apprentices in total, including members of other Civilian Guilds outside our lineage.

"Of those apprentices, twenty-nine were logarithmic, one was exponential, and one was linear."

"That linear apprentice was my senior sister."

Richard's heart stirred.

"Senior Sister MacNeil had mediocre aptitude when she first started. Her Inspiration test scores were even a little lower than yours."

Old Biggs looked a bit nostalgic.

"When the teacher accepted her, no one in the lineage thought highly of her. They thought she lacked talent and would eventually be sent packing, just like me."

"But our teacher said something."

Old Biggs shifted his gaze away from Richard, letting it fall onto the twenty items on the desk.

"She said, 'Talent determines how fast you can walk, but character determines how far you can go.

"Those who can press forward day after day, without haste or anxiety, are far fewer than those with high talent.'"

"My senior sister has now reached Minor Adept. Aside from one specific person, she has walked further than anyone else from our lineage."

Old Biggs pulled his gaze back, locking onto Richard once again.

"I see her shadow in you."

As he finished speaking, the coal in the fireplace collapsed slightly. Sparks sputtered out, hissing as they landed on the iron grate.

"Richard."

"Yes?"

"I'll ask you one more time."

Old Biggs's expression and tone were entirely serious, completely different from his casual inquiry last time.

"Are you willing to officially join my lineage?"

Richard stayed silent for a moment.

"Old Biggs, I really appreciate how highly you think of me."

"But my current situation isn't suited to making that kind of commitment."

He carefully weighed his words, trying his best to sound sincere without being hurtful.

"I have university exams to pass. My family's financial situation has only just begun to improve, and my younger sister will be preparing for higher education next year.

"I need to divide my energy among many things. I can't devote myself completely to the lineage's training."

"If I agree but fail to put in the proper effort, that would be disrespectful to both you and your lineage."

The man shook his head as he listened.

"A pity."

"Truly a pity," he repeated.

"I saw my senior sister's shadow in you, and maybe even... a bit of our teacher's."

"Our teacher was like that back in the day. Unhurried, unflustered. She walked step by step, making sure every footfall was planted firmly."

Old Biggs stood up and walked over to the fireplace, using the tongs to poke at the coals.

"Never mind, I won't force you."

He spoke without turning back.

"The door is always open. Whenever you've thought it through, you can step inside."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me." Old Biggs used the tongs to flip a glowing red lump of coal.

"If you want to thank anyone, thank yourself. Talent is given by heaven, but the drive to grind that talent out bit by bit is all your own."

He set the tongs back on the rack and turned around.

"Alright, let's continue the lesson. I haven't even taught you today's material yet."

Old Biggs's tone shifted rapidly, leaping straight from his wistful melancholy back into instruction mode.

But Richard noticed that the depth and detail of his explanations had advanced another level compared to last week.

Last week, his lectures were mostly about how to do things—steps, procedures, and precautions.

Now, he was explaining the 'why'—the principles behind every step, the risks corresponding to every precaution, and the logical tradeoffs between different choices.

He was treating Richard like half an insider.

"Let's start with the Wax Whisper. Tell me about your practice this week."

Richard brought out the gray wax stick and his notebook, flipping to the pages where he had recorded the wax shapes.

Old Biggs leaned over and studied it for a moment.

"Seven 'S' shapes, five 'Y' shapes, four droplets..."

He turned a few pages of the notebook, pondering the records.

"The 'S' shape usually represents a 'detour' or a 'winding path'."

"The 'Y' shape represents a 'fork in the road' or a 'choice'."

"The droplet shape represents 'unfinished business' or 'lack of a conclusion'."

Old Biggs handed the notebook back to Richard.

"You've been repeatedly thinking about three things this week.

"Something that requires a detour to resolve, something that demands a choice, and something that hasn't yielded a result yet."

Richard cross-referenced this in his mind.

Something requiring a detour: deploying the Stone Armor was still difficult for him, and he had been mulling it over recently.

A minor choice he hesitated on: Mr. Hutton had told him he needed a foundation in hand-to-hand combat to supplement the armor. Richard was hesitant; going off to learn martial arts right now seemed like neglecting his proper duties.

Something without a result: he still didn't know the exact details of where he would go or what he would do for his winter break internship.

Three things, three shapes. They matched up perfectly.

"Pretty accurate," Richard said.

"Of course," Old Biggs replied candidly. "The one who is accurate is actually you. The wax simply illustrates what's in your heart."

"Once you read yourself, you understand yourself."

"But reading yourself is only the first step of divination."

Old Biggs pulled out an apple and took a bite.

"In the line of divination, the biggest taboo is 'blindly believing whatever the reading says'."

"Every piece of information divination gives you must be verified through other means."

"Our teacher used to say that everyone thinks diviners are frauds, but a diviner is actually a detective."

"A detective cannot know the truth of a case right from the start, but they can use evidence to deduce it step by step.

"A diviner is the same. You must use the imagery produced by your divination to deduce the result you seek."

"That sounds remarkably pragmatic," Richard noted.

"Pragmatism is exactly how our profession has managed to survive and pass down its teachings."

Old Biggs broke the earlier serious atmosphere, adopting a cheeky grin.

"If divination could really tell us everything, our teacher would have dragged the king off his throne and sat on it herself a long time ago."

At these words, Richard quickly glanced around.

Saying something like that inside an official Branch Office?

"She didn't actually entertain that idea, did she?"

"She doesn't anymore, of course," Old Biggs waved a hand.

"But whether she had similar dangerous thoughts when she was young is hard to say."

His small eyes slid toward Richard. "Young people, right? They get a little capable and immediately want to do something massive. We were all young once."

"What about you, Old Biggs? You were young once too, right?" Richard shot back.

"Me?" Old Biggs patted his stomach. "When I was young, all I wanted was to eat a bit more."

Richard burst out laughing.

As if on cue, Old Biggs's stomach let out a timely rumble.

"You see? Even my stomach agrees with me."

He reached out, drank half the tea on the desk to moisten his throat, and continued.

"Alright, let's not get sidetracked. Your progress with the Wax Whisper this week was excellent.

"You've basically grasped the fundamentals of Wax Reading, so I need to give you something new this time."

He had Richard bring out the bag of Runestones he had taken back last time. Old Biggs took the pouch and emptied it onto the desk.

Over twenty small, flat, round stones scattered across the surface. Each one was polished smooth, with different symbols painted on them in red lacquer.

A hammer, an ear of wheat, a crescent moon, a sword, a water droplet, a flame, a cross...

"I mentioned this to you last week, didn't I? This is Stone Reading."

Old Biggs picked up the stone painted with a hammer. "The advanced form of Wax Reading."

"Wax Reading reads yourself, right?"

"Yes."

"Stone Reading also reads yourself." Old Biggs tossed the stone back onto the desk. "But it reads you in far more detail."

"Melted wax is a paste. What shape it condenses into depends entirely on the strongest emotion in your heart at that moment.

"So the Wax Whisper gives you a general direction. It's like seeing smoke from far away—you know something is burning, but you don't know exactly what."

He lined the stones up one by one.

"Stone Reading is different. The stones are carved in advance, each holding a specific meaning.

"You grab a handful and cast them onto the dish. The combinations and the positions where they fall provide composite imagery, far more detailed than wax."

"What are the specific rules?" Richard knew it definitely couldn't be as simple as just casually throwing a handful of stones.

"Grab a handful from the pouch—usually three to nine stones, depending on the complexity of the question. Then cast them onto the Copper Dish.

"Once they land, look first at which one is closest to the center of the dish. That represents the core of the problem.

"Next, look at the relative positions between each stone. That represents conflicts or irrelevant factors."

"Then check if any rolled outside the dish. Any stone that rolls out represents the 'parts that no longer matter' in your problem and can be ignored."

Old Biggs casually picked up another stone.

"You need to memorize the meaning of every stone. Wheat is harvest, the hammer is action, the crescent moon is change or growth, the droplet is unfinished business, double rings mean relationships, the spiral means repetition..."

He counted the symbols off on his fingers one by one.

Richard hurriedly pulled out his notebook and started writing.

"These meanings aren't just made up," Old Biggs added.

"Every symbol is a consensus built over dozens of generations of use. You don't need to invent new meanings for them. Just use the old rules."

"Alright."

"There's one thing I need to make clear, however." Old Biggs gathered the stones back into the pouch.

"The divination methods I can teach you stop right here at Stone Reading."

"They stop here?"

"Yes, just up to here. After all, I'm only a half-baked practitioner myself."

Old Biggs grinned, looking completely unbothered.

"Our teacher originally taught five branches of divination: Wax Reading, Stone Reading, astrolabes, crystal balls, and Tarot Cards.

"Going further up, there were more esoteric methods—bones, blood, reading the wind. The older generation trusted those primitive methods far more."

He spread his hands.

"But for me, after I finished learning Stone Reading, my teacher shook her head, sighed, and sent me packing.

"I couldn't even understand the coordinate system for astrolabes. I stared at the crystal ball for ages without figuring a damn thing out, and I memorized the meanings of those seventy-eight Tarot Cards multiple times but still couldn't recall them all."

Old Biggs scratched his head.

"See? What I can teach you is basically at its end. For anything more advanced, you'll have to find another path on your own."

"Then your senior sister..."

"Senior Sister is still running around the northern cities, busy year-round."

Old Biggs waved a hand. "I did mention you to her. She said she could meet you when she has time."

"If it's inconvenient, don't worry about it. These things can't be forced."

Richard was somewhat surprised.

This was different from what he had expected. He had thought the introduction would be something far more formal.

"Anyway." Old Biggs steered the topic back on track.

"We'll talk about it next year. You mentioned before that your guide would arrange an internship for your winter break, right? That is your main priority.

"For the rest of this semester, use whatever time you have to master Stone Reading. When you go back this week, start by picking out the five most commonly used stones.

"Wheat, hammer, crescent moon, droplet, and double rings. You can practice with these five."

"Every night before bed, after you finish your fixed gaze and Wax Reading, grab these five stones and cast them onto the dish.

"Keep the question you want answered most that day in your mind, then observe where the stones fall.

"Once you're familiar with these five, you can start grabbing the others."

"Remember to take notes every time. The positions, the combinations, your interpretations—write it all down.

"When you look back over them after a while, you'll be able to spot certain patterns."

"What kind of patterns?"

"Your own habitual preferences when grabbing the stones, the general distribution of where they land, and the direction your interpretations tend to lean."

Old Biggs pushed the cloth pouch over.

"The more you record, the clearer your understanding of yourself will be, and the higher your accuracy with Stone Reading will become."

"Just like Wax Reading."