In the ancient, majestic palace, pillars of stone supported the high vaulted ceiling.
Klein sat at the head of the bronze long table, holding a translucent brown bottle. He examined it carefully several times but received no premonition of danger.
Time to begin... He materialized paper and pen and wrote the divination statement: "Its source."
After putting down the pen and mentally preparing to withstand a backlash, Klein glanced at the paper and the biotoxin bottle, leaned back in his chair, and began to meditate while chanting softly.
Soon, he entered a gray, misty dream and saw a dim but spacious room.
In the room hung king cobras, black widow spiders, and other animals, along with many strange plants—messy and eerie.
In the center, standing at a long table, was a serious middle-aged man in a white lab coat. He threw snake gallbladders, spider venom glands, and other such things into a large black iron pot suspended from the ceiling.
Finally, he even placed several items with intense spiritual radiance: for example, a lung-shaped object that sometimes dispersed into black mist and sometimes coalesced into a dark green solid, a tube of bright blue liquid, a fiery red eye...
The air around the black iron pot gradually became viscous. It gathered toward the center but was constantly pushed away, unable to penetrate.
Seeing this, the middle-aged man in the white coat frowned, his expression showing a hint of anxiety.
He flipped through a black notebook beside him, gritted his teeth, and cut his wrist with a ritual silver dagger.
Drops of bright blood fell into the black pot. The pot seemed to come to life, suddenly emitting a terrifying suction that pulled in all the viscous air around it and the red blood still leaving his wrist.
But it didn't stop. No matter how the middle-aged man struggled or resisted, no matter how terrified he looked, he was irresistibly and uncontrollably drawn toward the pot.
His body elongated, his head compressed, and amid screams, the pot slowly devoured him.
The surrounding specimens, the plants—everything that could move—flew into the pot.
A brown mist suddenly filled the room, quietly flowing and undulating.
When it was over, the entire room was empty, save for the brown translucent bottle lying quietly in the center.
...
The scene quickly faded, the dream shattered. Klein opened his eyes and muttered to himself: "So the biotoxin bottle is the product of a suicidal experiment.
"I thought it was a Beyonder characteristic from some out-of-control being... If so, I could divine the formula..."
To Klein, the spirituality of out-of-control beings, Beyonder characteristics, and even those contaminated by evil gods, could all be used to divine formulas—just like the "
Similarly, Sealed Artifacts directly formed from such Beyonder characteristics could also be used to divine potion formulas.
But if they were only used as main materials, processed by a Craftsman or through certain dangerous experiments before becoming magical items, Klein's current divination level was insufficient, even with the enhancement of the mysterious space above the Gray Fog.
"Not bad, at least I don't have to worry about other hidden dangers of the biotoxin bottle..." Klein glanced at the "Werewolf" fang and wisely gave up his curiosity.
.............
In the luxurious villa of
Audrey continued studying psychology.
At her feet, the golden retriever
The psychologist Isengard finished the introductory part and casually mentioned: "Actually, there is another theory.
"It holds that humans inherit a certain consciousness from their ancestors, from past generations, forming the underlying logic of behavior. For example, many people, though they have never seen a venomous snake, instinctively feel fear and want to avoid it when they encounter one.
"Why is that? This is a feeling inherited from ancient humans, hidden in the deepest layers of consciousness. In ancient times, people constantly fought against venomous snakes and fierce animals, gradually imprinting these memories into consciousness and passing them down."
"How is it inherited?" asked Audrey with interest.
Isengard, whose hair reached her waist, smiled: "That's a very good question.
"Some explain it by saying that everyone's consciousness is connected at the deepest level, is one. The traces and features left there can influence one's own consciousness.
"Analogously, the deepest consciousness is like a boundless ocean, and our individual consciousnesses are islands within it. It can be divided into two parts: the part submerged underwater, larger and subconscious, and the part above the surface, the conscious mind that we usually perceive.
"This is part of the theoretical foundation of this school of psychology."
Audrey glanced at Susie, stroked her golden fur, and said: "So, using this interconnected ocean, we can influence others' consciousness, achieving the goal of treating certain mental illnesses?"
Is this the mystical foundation and extraordinary abilities of a "Psychiatrist"? But it seems incomplete, missing something—for example, the sky above, the encompassing sky? Audrey thought, looking naive and curious.
"You really have a talent for this!" Isengard exclaimed in pleasant surprise. "But we can only influence the nearby part of the ocean, and through it, people who approach. If we rashly venture deep to explore the 'far seas', we can easily lose ourselves."
She looked up at the ornate clock on the wall and smiled: "Time is up. The lesson ends here, Miss Audrey. If you are interested in this school of psychology, we can continue next time."
"Okay." Audrey stood up and curtsied.