The ruins of Tintagel stood atop the cliffs on the northern coast of Cornwall.

It was an isolated island castle, battered day and night by the raging waves of the North Atlantic, connected to the mainland only by a narrow and precarious isthmus.

In the legends of King Arthur, this was the place where Uther Pendragon met Igraine, the birthplace of that legendary king.

But on this rainy night in early 1890, it was a prison sealed by steel and runes.

The group lay behind a rock covered in slippery moss, their gazes firmly locked on the defensive line blocking the entrance to the isthmus ahead.

The commanders of the I.A.R.C. hawk faction had displayed their unique aesthetic here—a forced fusion of industrial technology and the occult.

Six massive searchlights were mounted on the high ground of the ruins. These high-power lighting devices, originally used for night target acquisition on warships, now cast stark white beams onto the turbulent sea and rugged mountain paths.

Where the beams swept, raindrops were illuminated like silver needles.

Around the bases of the searchlights, complex geometric patterns had been drawn on the ground with some kind of glowing chalk powder. The lines not only didn't blur in the rain but instead emitted a disquieting dark red glow.

Any unauthorized creature, or human carrying a high-intensity spiritual nature item, would trigger a violent etheric detonation the moment they crossed that red line.

"Those are the guard dogs."

Silas lay beside Lin Jie, his voice still somewhat weak.

He pointed at a military tent behind the blockade.

"That man in the black trench coat, holding a command sword, he's Ackerman's adjutant. Codename: Executioner."

Lin Jie followed Silas's finger.

The man stood in the rain, tall and ramrod straight.

He wore an iron mask covering half his face, revealing only a pair of emotionless gray eyes.

At his feet crouched two massive creatures.

They were hyenas, alchemically modified with copper plates embedded in their skin.

"What we're looking for is inside."

Lin Jie withdrew his gaze, looking at the Round Table insignia in his hand.

The ancient metal disc was now scalding hot, the burning sensation palpable even through his gloves.

This heat resonated with the brand on the back of his right hand.

Both forces were pointing in the same direction—deep within the cliffs beneath the castle ruins.

"Evelyn."

Lin Jie called softly.

"Look below."

Evelyn nodded, adjusting her Echo Goggles.

As the liquid mithril-filled circuits activated, her vision instantly changed.

"Oh my god..."

Evelyn gasped, a tremor in her voice.

"The structure down there... it's completely insane."

"What's wrong?" Lin Jie asked.

"There's a massive cavity."

Evelyn pointed at the sea surface below the cliffs.

"Right beneath the ruins, about fifty meters below sea level."

"But the structure of that cavity is extremely unstable. The stress lines in the surrounding rock are twisted like a tangled mess."

"It's like..."

She paused, searching for the right description.

"It's like the entire Tintagel cliff is built on top of a giant, slowly breathing bubble."

"And that bubble is expanding."

Julian interjected, clutching the crate containing the Round Table Embers tightly.

"Merlin is inside."

This also explained why Ackerman had deployed such heavy forces to blockade the area.

"We can't break through the front."

William Keane observed for a moment and shook his head.

"That adjutant is a master. His position blocks all firing angles."

"And those rune arrays cover the entire isthmus. We'd be exposed the moment we set foot on it."

"Then we go around the side."

Lin Jie pointed toward the edge of the cliff.

It was the side of the Tintagel island facing the violent North Atlantic.

There was no path there.

Only nearly vertical, hundred-meter-high black rock walls, with a death zone of reefs and whirlpools below.

Even the most insane rock climber wouldn't dare challenge such a cliff face on a stormy night like this.

So that was the defensive blind spot, and their only chance.

"We'll go around." 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

Lin Jie made the decision.

"We'll climb along the cliff side, bypass the rune arrays, and enter the rear of the ruins directly."

It was a crazy plan.

But not a single person present objected.

They moved like a group of geckos, clinging to the slippery rock face, heading toward the cliff edge.

Lin Jie led the way.

William and Marcus followed closely behind, relying on their exceptional arm strength.

Although injured, Silas summoned two spiritual nature hounds—some kind of "shadows" that could briefly materialize.

The hounds bit onto his belt with their teeth, bearing most of his weight.

The problem was Evelyn.

She wasn't a fighter or a hunter.

Although her physical fitness had improved greatly during this time, climbing a cliff with her equipment in such harsh conditions still exceeded her limits.

Rain soaked her hair, blurring her vision.

Her fingers grew stiff from the cold, her leather gloves tearing on the rough rock.

"Careful."

Just as the team was about to round a protruding rock corner, Lin Jie suddenly stopped moving.

He looked back, giving a warning with his eyes.

Above that rock corner was a concealed sentry post.

Though there was no searchlight, a guard in a gray rain cape stood there.

The man had his hands in his pockets, leaning against a wind-sheltered rock, seemingly slacking off.

But his position was extremely tricky.

It was exactly at a bend in the cliff.

To go around, they had to pass through the area right below him.

Lin Jie made a hand signal, telling everyone to hold their breath, press close to the rock face, and use the sound of rain to cover their movement.

One step.

Two steps.

Lin Jie slid past that dead angle like a black leaf, making no sound.

William followed closely.

Marcus, carrying the crate, moved clumsily but with surprising steadiness.

It was Evelyn's turn.

She took a deep breath, trying to match her teammates' rhythm.

But just as she reached for a protruding rock, an accident happened.

The tool bag on her back containing spare batteries and coils had loosened a buckle from the earlier jostling.

When she leaned, a corner of the bag struck the rock wall heavily.

"Clang!"

A crisp metallic impact.

On this torrential rainy night, the sound wasn't actually loud.

The roar of the waves could easily drown it out.

But the guard leaning against the rock turned his head sharply as if electrocuted.

His hearing was unnaturally sharp.

"Who's there?"

The guard's voice wasn't loud. He quickly pulled his hands from his pockets.

In his hands was what looked like a very ordinary black hardwood walking stick with a curved handle.

The kind of gentleman's walking stick commonly carried by London gentlemen.

But in his hands, this stick exuded a chilling murderous intent.

Evelyn froze.

She was hanging off the cliff edge, unable to go up or down, completely exposed in the guard's line of sight.

"Damn it."

Marcus cursed under his breath.

He was right in front of Evelyn.

In this critical moment, he suddenly released one hand gripping the rock and leaped upward from below the cliff.

He had to deal with this guard before he could raise an alarm.

"Don't move!"

Marcus growled, throwing a left punch directly.

The punch carried his massive weight and momentum, enough to shatter a hound's skull.

However, the guard's reaction completely exceeded Marcus's expectations.

Just as Marcus's fist was about to hit his face, the guard's body twisted to the left at an extremely bizarre angle, as if he had no bones.

"Whoosh!"

Marcus's fist brushed past the guard's ear, hitting empty air.

Immediately, the walking stick in the guard's hand moved.

Using a twist of his wrist, he precisely hooked the curved end of the stick around Marcus's ankle.

Then a gentle pull.

This was Bartitsu.

A self-defense art belonging to Victorian era gentlemen, blending boxing, judo, stick fighting, and street combat techniques.

Its core principle was using leverage and an opponent's center of gravity to cause maximum damage with minimal force.

Marcus felt his footing give way.

His stable center of gravity was disrupted, and he stumbled forward.

But he was, after all, a battle-hardened hunter.

As he lost balance, his other hand grabbed the edge of the rock, forcefully halting his fall.

A brief standoff ensued.

Marcus hung halfway off the cliff, his boots wedged firmly into a rock crevice.

The guard stood above, his walking stick pointing at Marcus's throat.

Rainwater streamed down the guard's hat brim, over his face, which looked a bit too shrewd.

It was the face of a typical small-time character.

Slightly aquiline nose, laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, but his gaze held a gleam of "calculation."

He looked at Marcus, then at the row of figures hanging on the cliff face below.

Lin Jie's hand was already gripping the hilt of Silencer, ready to launch a thunderous strike.

William's gun muzzle from below was already locked on this guard's chin.

"Six people."

The guard suddenly spoke.

His voice was calm, carrying a hint of mockery.

"One burly man, one old veteran, one scholar, one young lady, and one..."

His gaze fell on Lin Jie, his pupils contracting slightly.

"One dangerous Easterner. I've seen you on the wanted posters. That paper says you're worth a lot of money."

Marcus narrowed his eyes, muscles tensed.

"If you want that money, you'd better weigh whether your life is tough enough first."

"I'm not stupid, big guy."

The guard shrugged, but the stick in his hand didn't lower.

"I know who you are."

"People who can make it this far alive through Ackerman's blockade aren't something a small-timer like me on a weekly wage can handle."

He glanced sideways at the distant searchlights.

They were two hundred meters away.

If he shouted now or blew a whistle, it would take the main force at least thirty seconds to get here.

And in those thirty seconds...

The old veteran with the gun would blow his head off.

The seemingly weak shepherd would snap his neck.

Most importantly, the Easterner who hadn't spoken gave him the feeling of a venomous snake coiled in the shadows.

He had a strong intuition.

It was the sixth sense granted by his Grotesque Armament—the Speculator's Coin.

This wasn't a weapon for attack.

Its ability was "Blind Spot Perception."

When a lethal threat appeared in his visual blind spot or perceptual dead angle, a coin would automatically flip in his mind.

If it landed heads, there was still a way out.

If it landed tails, death was certain.

Just now, when he met Lin Jie's black eyes, the coin in his mind fell.

It was tails.

If he resisted, if he raised the alarm, he would die.

Absolutely would die.

"I'm just a gatekeeper."

The guard sighed, the hand holding the stick relaxing its grip slightly.

"I joined the Association to make a living, and to learn some skills to save my own skin."

"I don't want to throw my life away for the political struggles of those big shots."

"Especially not when facing a bunch of desperadoes who are clearly stronger than me."

He looked at Marcus, a helpless, bitter smile appearing on his face.

"My name's Jack."

"Not that Jack the Ripper, just ordinary Jack."

"If I let you pass now, I'm derelict in my duty."

"If Ackerman finds out, I'll die too."

"So..."

Jack pointed at his own forehead.

"Do me a favor, big guy."

"Knock me out."

"Hit me hard. Preferably hard enough that I sleep till tomorrow morning, and leave some obvious bruises so I can look like I tried my best when I write my report."

Marcus was momentarily stunned.

He hadn't expected to encounter this situation. On this life-or-death battlefield, there was actually someone who understood "flexibility"?

He glanced back at Lin Jie.

Lin Jie nodded. This was also the most ideal outcome.

If a fight broke out, gunshots or screams would definitely attract more people.

Moreover, this guard didn't feel simple to him.

That ability to easily neutralize Marcus's attack, and that absolute calm when facing a powerful enemy, all indicated this was an extremely clever and capable guy.

Killing him would be easy.

But if they didn't kill him, perhaps he could become some kind of "variable" in the future.

"As you wish."

Marcus climbed back onto the cliff edge.

"Ready?"

"Go ahead."

Jack closed his eyes, even thoughtfully adjusting his posture so the direction he fell would look more like the result of a fierce struggle.

"Thud!"

A dull thump.

Marcus's punch held no mercy, landing solidly on Jack's head.

The guard didn't even grunt, collapsing directly to the ground, unconscious.

A massive bruise rapidly appeared on his face, even splitting the skin near his eye.

"He's something."

Marcus shook his hand, commenting.

"Let's go."

Lin Jie climbed onto the cliff platform.

He glanced at Jack lying on the ground, then at the searchlights still sweeping in the distance.

This defensive line might seem like an impregnable fortress, but any sturdy fortress had cracks within.

Whether it was Barton, who defied orders for his principles.

Or this Jack, who let them pass to save his own skin.

Human hearts were always the greatest vulnerability.

"Ahead is the castle's inner wall."

Silas pointed at a patch of dark ruin shadows ahead.

"There are no guards there, because the place itself is a restricted zone."

"Merlin is down there."

Five figures swiftly crossed this defensive blind spot, disappearing into the shadows of Tintagel Castle's broken walls and ruins.

The rain fell harder.

The knocked-out guard lay alone in the mud and water.

After a long while, his fingers twitched slightly.

But he didn't wake up.

He remained in his unconscious posture, letting the rain wash over the wounds on his face.

He was a smart person.

Smart people know when to wake up and when to sleep.