The rain in the hall stopped, and only the glass dome was still leaking. The stage was deserted, and the band below was silent, like a forgotten wax figure in an abandoned venue.

A few Kings had a storm in their heads. After seeing the performance of the Ark of Eternal Night, they once again realized something that was easily overlooked by themselves:

The real power is not just the accumulation of power, but also the subtle use of it.

Mr. Eternal Night Ark, the new entrant to the King's Club, has just used the least spiritual power and the smallest scale to subdue and dispel the spiritual chronic disease that has lingered in New York City for many years.

Even if the peers want to maintain a proud and critical image, they can only keep silent at this moment.

A drop of pure rainwater was suspended in the air in front of Sean, like a still tear. Tom's legacy, reflected in the haze of New York City.

Sean stepped forward and took the drop of rainwater into his palm.

That is "a rain of the new covenant," a rain that can be summoned in the city of the new covenant when needed.

In that rain, you can invite people to stroll, or you can kick the rain off the street by yourself - it will really rain for you.

Tom's legacy doesn't contain much spiritual power, but Sean finds it extra romantic. In his museum hidden in the depths of his soul, there is another crystal clear collection.

The rain outside the window became lighter, and the wet city gradually became clear. It seems that the dark clouds are also tired and ready to rest.

"The thief who will be enthroned soon" took two steps, looked up at the glass sky, and said in a teasing tone: "It seems that I have to ask someone to repair it."

The Kings finally made their own moves. The "Red Dragon" nodded slightly towards Sean in recognition, and Catherine also glanced at the "newcomer".

The look in her eyes made Sean smile. On the one hand, he enjoyed the feeling that no one present knew the secret between them, and on the other hand, it was because he could read her eyes.

Katherine, who turned her head, just seemed to say with her eyes: Well, you can really be in the limelight.

Half is a deliberate joke, half is actually a recognition.

The once proud and strict mentor actually gave her praise. Sean knew how rare it was.

Sean sat back at the long table with soda. When he sat down, he found that the atmosphere had changed slightly.

He felt completely accepted by the people around this table, and not only that, but the members even had a little more respect for him.

The crippled Sariel also stopped looking at himself deliberately.

Sean sat down at the table and continued to listen to the conversation between the Kings...

·

In the evening, Sean returned home and chatted with Arya about the day's experiences.

After enjoying a hot bath, instead of sitting on the bed reading as usual, I turned off the lamp and lay down.

In the darkness, the playing cards hidden in the inner pocket of the pajamas trembled slightly.

It's Catherine: "Are you asleep?"

Sean opened his eyes: "Not yet. What's wrong?"

"I want to know, do you really care about the president, or do you just don't want to express your position on that occasion?"

Sean blinked. Although I have her in my heart, my relationship with Phillips is so close, and my conflict with Nietzsche is so profound...

Even Catherine, he couldn't tell the truth directly at this moment.

"My queen - I really don't care."

There was an obvious pause on the other side, and she replied, "Okay."

Sean wanted to ask her opinion, but he turned to his own concealment, and felt that it seemed unnecessary.

In fact, on the issue of who to support as the next president, Cathy has no problem supporting anyone. After all, King-level people value the maximization of their own interests in the election of the president, and the relationship between him and Nietzsche is considered a personal grudge.

The two said good night to each other, and Sean continued to immerse himself back into the darkness.

The sound of Arya gently turning the pages of a book came from next door. The rustling sound was like the autumn wind blowing dead leaves on the concrete floor.

The captain stretched, and the pads lightly stepped on the floor, making a greasy rubbing sound, like a baby's lips accidentally opened...

Often, Sean would soon fall asleep listening to these small, steady movements.

However, before his eyes flashed past Nietzsche standing high in the dark forest, flashed past Catherine wearing a golden mask looking at him in the raindrops hall, flashed past Alicia who was covered in blue fire...

The mind is not at peace.

"Maybe I have to talk to someone about this." Sean, who was lying on the bed, opened his eyes again.

Since he couldn't sleep for a while, he came to Shengen Space, the vast museum-like hall.

Step by step, the footsteps were soft, and Sean walked to the side of a collection table. Suspended on that table was his King-level mask, "Ark of Eternal Night".

He sat down beside the collection table, a stone bench appeared catering to him, his eyes fixed on the bright ark in the storm.

Floating and sinking, fighting the wind and waves. So small in the vast ocean, yet so firm.

As if hearing the sound of the wind and waves, gradually, Sean's eyelids became heavier, and in this indescribable tranquility, he fell asleep.

·

New York City in spring, the white oak trees in the black iron fence also grow green leaves. The breeze blows, the green leaves sway, the sun shines through the ever-changing gaps, as if illuminating the water, the gold dances with the shadows, mottled and displaced.

Wearing the Ark of Eternal Night mask, Sean came alone to the red brick house that was already somewhat familiar.

Professor Carl Jung's home in the New Testament.

He couldn't sit back and watch Alicia's death scene, he needed to find an authority in the dream realm and listen to his opinion.

Knocking the door, it was Mr. Jung's maid who opened the door. The woman in her fifties was not surprised or flustered at all when she saw the high-level explorer standing outside the door, as if there were just ordinary people in front of her, she calmly invited him into the house.

Sean did not pay attention to this detail before. When I saw it today, I suddenly realized that I am afraid that the people who walked into Mr. Jung's house were all talented people...

The maid knocked on the door of the study on the first floor, Sean walked in and saw the familiar short white hair. Mr. Jung was wearing a white shirt and a black vest. He was sitting at the desk. He was writing something in the sunlight. He didn't seem to notice any guests coming in.

Sean didn't disturb him, he sat aside to meditate quietly, combing the flow of his soul, quietly watching his changing moods - this is the new feeling he got after the liberation of the wheel of the heart palace. Most of the time, his consciousness It is already possible to stand on top of emotions, as if overlooking an ever-changing river.

Nowadays, people are used to using pens or typewriters, and Mr. Jung is still using a quill to write. His brush strokes are slow and slow, occasionally sticking the quill into the ink bottle next to him, and gently brushing off the excess ink on the edge of the bottle. The tip of the pen and the edge of the glass made a delicate sound.

After a long while, perhaps the great psychologist finished writing the uninterrupted paragraph, he put down the quill gently, turned his head with a smile: "Mr. Shimmering Sea - I think you should be called Ark of Eternal Night now. Now—congratulations on your promotion."

Sean sat up straight and offered a face salute.

The past several encounters left a deep impression on each other. Although the two have rarely seen each other, they are quite like-minded.

There was a gentle smile in Mr. Jung's eyes: "I'm sorry I didn't greet you the first time. I'm writing a... miraculous book. The profound culture discussed in this book comes from the mysterious East."

Saying ~lightnovelpub.net~ Mr. Jung picked up a book that looked a little old: "This book is called "Taiyi Jinhua Zong Lun", which is the mysterious wisdom of ancient eastern countries. My students are responsible for it. Translation, I see a lot of concepts and metaphors in it that allude to modern psychology!

"I'm so excited, I'm trying to write down what I see in it..."

"This book will be called The Secret of the Golden Flower."

Mr. Jung had a mysterious smile on his face.

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