Facing an Ancient God for a Year

Chapter 1264: Chapter 1262: Loss of Image (6)

So, how exactly do those people in The Sect gain enlightenment from this?

Ever since coming here, it’s the first time I’ve properly stargazed.

At first glance, there doesn’t seem to be anything particularly special, not even the moon is all that different.

Under the night sky, Fu Qian silently offered his critique.

Metaphors, trajectories, rise and fall… It’s hard to imagine how those intricate patterns and designs were derived from this relatively limited set of elements.

After observing for five minutes myself, I’ve visualized the star map several times in my mind, but to no avail.

Letting out a long sigh and deeply feeling his lack of diviner talent, Fu Qian finally gave up and sank back into his seat.

Behind him was a variety of alcoholic beverages. When Mr. Winslow left, he gestured that Fu Qian could help himself, but Fu Qian had no intention of touching any of them—for a simple reason—

Crack!

A door in another direction creaked open gently, and a figure stepped inside.

“You’ve worked hard; please have something to eat.”

Looking at Fu Qian sitting silently, the newcomer seemed somewhat nervous but quickly whispered after putting down what she was carrying.

It wasn’t until this moment that Fu Qian finally turned his head to look.

An exceptionally young woman, seemingly not much older than Miss Winslow.

Her clothing wasn’t particularly exquisite, yet it was clean and elegant, complemented by her fine features—a picture of intellectual beauty.

Beside her was a tray, which contained not only a few delicately crafted pastries but even a cup of sweet wine already poured.

That’s right—he didn’t bother opening the wine just now because he calculated correctly that he wouldn’t need to.

Who says I don’t have the talent of a diviner?

“Thank you.”

Fu Qian didn’t hold back and genuinely took a sip from the cup.

A bit sweet, but undoubtedly suitable for soothing nerves at night—it was thoughtfully chosen.

The pastries as well.

“They taste pretty good. Want to have some together?”

After sampling each kind, Fu Qian politely gestured to the newcomer.

“…No need. These are meant to entertain the guests, as ordered by Mr. Winslow.”

The woman visibly froze before waving her hands repeatedly in refusal.

“That’s true. Anyway, you certainly don’t qualify as a guest here.”

Easily flowing with the situation, Fu Qian made no further gestures of politeness, instead picking out the best-tasting one to eat another piece.

“I don’t quite understand…”

The food deliverer clearly seemed puzzled by his comment.

“Even though you changed into special clothes, with that unmistakable intellectual demeanor, you’re utterly unfit as a maid.”

Fu Qian pointed to her right hand.

“Judging by the position of the cocoon, it’s much more likely you’re a family teacher. Are you sure someone sent you here?”

“I apologize for lying earlier…”

With Fu Qian’s gesture, the woman’s expression shifted repeatedly, and she even looked around nervously.

Seeing the surroundings were still tranquil, she finally gritted her teeth and abandoned her argument.

“I’m indeed the family teacher here. You can call me… Nightingale.”

After quickly coming up with a temporary code name for herself, the woman calmly sat down beside him and shed her earlier restraint.

“The reason I disturbed your rest is that I’m truly worried—could you tell me how that child is doing?”

What a proper intellectual—fully grasping the principle of confidentiality and immediately hiding her real name behind a pseudonym.

Faced with her reaction, Fu Qian sighed internally before delivering a standard response.

“We have to wait for the analysis report to determine that.”

Analysis report?

The term left Nightingale visibly puzzled, but she wasn’t someone easily brushed off. Her eyes flickered slightly as she pressed further.

“How long will it take?”

“Half an hour.”

Fu Qian provided the answer simultaneously with her question.

“Miss Nightingale, please believe that I completely understand your feelings. It’s clear how concerned you are about the child’s condition, almost as much as her parents. But as a professional, I still won’t make baseless conclusions.”

Not only that, but in the next moment, he even offered thoughtful advice.

“The situation is complex, and the information available is far too limited. Have you spent any time with her over the past two days?”

Perhaps recalling something, Fu Qian naturally launched into a medical history inquiry.

“I went out with her two days ago, but after returning, we haven’t seen each other since.”

Miss Nightingale cooperated earnestly, her face heavy with worry.

“Coupled with all the bad rumors circulating recently, I’m really concerned about her…”

“What bad rumors? Nightmares?”

Satisfied with her behavior, Fu Qian didn’t particularly shy away from certain terms.

“You’ve heard too?”

But his candor visibly startled Miss Nightingale.

“In our line of work, we’re inherently good listeners. Was your outing with her two days ago perhaps an art salon?”

“You even know about that? That’s indeed one of the reasons I’m worried. Do you think it might be the effect of a nightmare?”

Finally convinced that Fu Qian was genuinely knowledgeable, Miss Nightingale hesitated, uneasy and concerned.

“No.”

Unfortunately, Fu Qian abruptly shattered the mood.

Huh?

Draining his cup, Fu Qian looked at Miss Nightingale’s stunned face, his tone firm.

“The child’s sleep is still pretty good—it doesn’t match the symptoms.”

With this overly decisive verdict, Miss Nightingale fell silent for a significant moment.

“Actually, that’s only one aspect of my concern… Aside from the art salon, even earlier we went to the outskirts of the city.”

And when she finally spoke again, she didn’t disappoint, bringing new information to the table.

“We encountered a dense fog and were forced to turn back.”

“I’m worried it might be related to that, because judging by subsequent reactions, the sudden fog isn’t just about disrupting transportation. The Sect regards it with unprecedented importance and has even prohibited private entry.”

As expected of someone more informed than regular civilians!

Fu Qian silently praised her.

Blocked transportation and persistent fog—of course, he’d heard these rumors today, though the general public lacked specifics.

“Jane’s parents seemed to have overlooked this detail during their conversations.”

The next moment, Fu Qian’s expression grew serious, clearly valuing the new intel.

“Give me a detailed account of everything you know about the fog.”

“You know that child’s name?”

Miss Nightingale seemed startled by his mention of Jane.

“Knowing is professional competence. Not knowing is professional ethics.”

With a cold chuckle, Fu Qian’s face darkened.

“But obviously, some people don’t respect professional ethics enough.”

“Thank you for the wine. Now, tell me more.”

Handing back the cup, Fu Qian signaled with a gesture.

“Sorry, but I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to tell you—”

“I already mentioned, people in our line of work are good at listening.”

Miss Nightingale’s hesitation was mercilessly interrupted by Fu Qian.

“Are you sure you want to waste time on talk like this?”