After Arthur's declaration, delivered with the fervor of a technical fanatic, the cross-Irish Sea "remote collaborative armant forging" operation was officially ignited.
The once solemn and scholarly underground laboratory at Trinity College was instantly transford into a tense and creatively charged temporary "battlefield workshop."
Lin Jie and Julian, two scholars usually accustod to dealing with ancient texts and abstract concepts, were forced to roll up their sleeves and play the part of "craftsman apprentices" under the storm of remote instructions from Arthur.
Arthur's roaring voice from the crystal ball was distorted by intermittent signals, but the fury of the technical zealot within it was still clear.
His blurry face was almost pressed against the Image Collector, as if he wanted to strangle Julian, this "stupid amateur," through the fragile ether signal with his own hands.
Julian, the Curator respected throughout European academia, now looked like a scolded schoolboy who had done sothing wrong, his face flushed red as he held up the high-quality tuning fork he had "borrowed" with great difficulty, appearing utterly flustered.
Julian pleaded in agony, "I swear, Arthur! This is the best thing I could 'peacefully' obtain from those musicians who treat their instrunts as their very lives! The folks at the dical school guard their treasures more fiercely than nuns guarding their chastity!"
Arthur, on the other end of the crystal, waved the massive wrench in his hand, spewing all sorts of blasphemous and anarchistic "bad ideas": "Then go steal it! Go rob it! Use your silver tongue to deceive them! Tell them you need it for a grand dical experint on 'curing cholera with sonic resonance therapy'!"
"I don't care what thod you use! Within twenty minutes, I must see a real, qualified A440 standard tuning fork that can be used as a 'spiritual frequency oscillation core' in front of ! Otherwise, our 'concert' can be declared over ahead of schedule!"
With a mournful sigh, Julian threw down the "work of art" in his hand and rushed out of the laboratory again, dejected like a defeated rooster.
On the other side, Lin Jie was responsible for the more delicate and dexterity-testing task of "material processing."
Arthur's voice turned to Lin Jie, still impatient but with a trace of professional seriousness reserved for a "fellow practitioner": "Lin! Listen! I'm going to teach you a most basic 'cold-forging wire-drawing' technique known only to a select few top craftsn within the I.A.R.C.!"
"While the conductivity of oxygen-free copper wire is near perfect on a physical level, it's still far too crude on the level of 'spiritual conduction'! We need to minimize its 'spiritual damping'!"
"Now, find the flattest and hardest granite lab bench in the laboratory, then use an alcohol lamp to heat the end of that copper wire coil until it shows a deep red color."
"Rember, the temperature cannot go any higher! Otherwise, you'll disrupt its internal tallic molecular structure!"
Lin Jie imdiately complied, controlling the fla of the alcohol lamp with astonishing focus and steadiness.
Arthur's voice was as precise as a trono: "Good! Now! Use that smallest and heaviest iron hamr to begin striking the red-hot end of the copper wire at a steady frequency!"
"Each strike must be delivered with exactly the sa force! Imagine you're not smashing it, but using vibration to gradually shake out the chaotic, impure 'spiritual impurities' within it!"
Clear, rhythmic tallic clanging sounds began to echo through the vast underground laboratory.
Lin Jie beca completely imrsed in this wondrous "forging" experience that required a high degree of ntal and physical unity. He felt the iron hamr in his hand was no longer a cold tool but an extension of his own will.
After an unknown length of ti, when Julian finally rushed back into the laboratory, panting and holding a simple dical tuning fork that glead with a plain silver-gray light, Lin Jie had successfully processed a small section of the rough copper wire in front of him.
This conductor, about three feet long, shimred with a deep ruby-like luster, appearing slender and resilient.
Arthur, on the other end of the crystal, looked at Lin Jie's "creation," his eyes showing undisguised approval: "Perfect... Lin, I must admit, you're a natural-born talent for our line of work."
With the core "oscillator" and "conductor" both ready, the subsequent work entered the most critical phase, testing Lin Jie's "design" and Arthur's "guidance" abilities to the utmost: the assembly.
"Now, attach that 'Nightingale fragnt' to the very center of the top of the tuning fork's U-shaped structure using a tiny drop of raw, unsulfurized rubber sap extracted from a rubber tree! That is the singularity where the spiritual energy of the entire oscillating structure is most concentrated!"
"Next, tightly coil one end of the copper wire you processed around the tuning fork's handle in a clockwise, serpentine pattern! At least seven coils! In the nurology of the Hertic tradition, seven represents 'harmony' and 'resonance'!"
"And connect the other end to the positive terminal of a simple power source made from three 'Voltaic piles' connected in series. Rember, the negative terminal must remain suspended for now! It will be the only switch!"
Under Arthur's dizzying remote guidance, which mixed mysticism with basic physics, a crudely constructed, even sowhat comical device with a Frankenstein-esque, cobbled-together aesthetic finally took shape in the oil-stained and sweat-drenched hands of Lin Jie and Julian.
It consisted of a dical tuning fork, a short section of red copper wire, a simple battery made of three zinc-copper plates soaked in salt water, and that shimring silver fragnt.
It looked less like a grotesque weapon capable of confronting a cursed armant and more like a science project haphazardly cobbled together by a mad middle-schooler in his basent.
Looking at this uncertain "masterpiece" before him, Julian asked in a skeptical whisper, "Will... will it really work?"
Arthur's voice on the other end of the crystal also carried a rare note of uncertainty: "Theoretically, when its negative terminal and the crystal fragnt form a complete 'spiritual closed circuit,' the weak bio-electric current from the battery will be conducted into the tuning fork with minimal loss via the specially treated copper wire."
"The tuning fork's vibration will be amplified by the fragnt by at least a thousandfold and overwritten once by the 'laws of sound' inherent in the Catacomb Nightingale within it."
"Ultimately, it will release a high-frequency sound wave."
Arthur's tone shifted: "But all of this is based solely on my theoretical deductions. After all, I am not physically present."
"Dublin's humid air, your less-than-professional craftsmanship, the faint geomagnetic interference in Trinity College's underground lab... any insignificant variable could cause this ticulously prepared surgery of ours to fail."
Just as Lin Jie and Julian were conducting their forging experint in the Trinity College basent, a silent yet thrilling hunt was also unfolding in the decaying, death-filled O'Connor Manor in Dublin's southern suburbs.
William was carrying out the task Lin Jie had assigned him.
First, he firmly "escorted" the nearly broken Kevin and the loyal Old Butler into the large, easily defensible wine cellar on the first floor of the manor's main building.
It had only one exit, and its walls were made of thick granite, capable of withstanding physical impacts from outside.
Then, he began a carpet-style, room-by-room sweep of the estate, which spanned over ten acres.
His thod of inspection was highly unusual. He wasn't simply using his naked eyes to search for physical hazards that could cause "accidents." Instead, he focused all his attention on the 【Zulu's Gaze】, which allowed him to perceive the essence of energy.
In his vision, the entire manor was a vast energy map constructed from countless bright and dark "Spiritual Trails." His task was to identify the red dots within this complex map that radiated ominous malice and killing intent.
He saw the rusted iron chain holding the massive crystal chandelier in the second-floor hallway. Its internal "structural integrity" was being corroded and weakened by an energy emanating from Kevin's own despair.
Without a word, he found a ladder, climbed up, and used a spare cable taken from a carriage to firmly secure and tie down the chandelier that could fall at any mont.
He saw the oak staircase leading to the basent. A tiny, pre-existing wormhole on the underside of the third step was being unnaturally and rapidly enlarged and rotted by a malicious spiritual energy emanating from the "curse" itself.
He directly fetched a large iron hamr and several thick wooden planks from the nearby armory and used the most brutal yet effective thod to nail shut and seal off that dangerous section of stairs.
He was like an efficient "bomb disposal expert," using his danger-foreseeing eyes to dismantle one potential "accident bomb" after another with every passing second.
But just as he was about to finish inspecting the entire main building and prepare to head out into the even more dangerous, desolate courtyard, his figure suddenly halted before the door of a servants' storage room located in the west wing.
He slowly raised the 【Zulu's Gaze】 in his hand.
In his vision, a faint but deceptive "emotional echo" belonging to a living person was seeping out from behind that tightly shut, dust-covered wooden door.
Soone was hiding inside.
And this person had been hiding there for a long ti.
William gently set down the rifle slung over his shoulder. Silently, he drew the Colt pistol from the holster at his waist.
Then, he kicked open the already rotten wooden door with one powerful blow!
In the small, dark storage room behind the door, cluttered with cleaning supplies, a thin figure dressed in servant's clothing, curled up in a corner, let out a long-suppressed scream of terror upon seeing William's imposing form.
It was a young boy, looking only sixteen or seventeen, with freckles still on his face.
Just as this boy, driven by fear, instinctively tried to pull sothing from his chest, William's lightning-fast movent was already upon him!
He grabbed the boy's wrist in a vice-like grip and pinned it firmly against the wall!
With a *clatter*, a small, sinister object gleaming with silver light slipped from the boy's hand and fell to the ground.
It was an old-fashioned, spiral-shaped corkscrew, used for opening aged wine bottles.
And on the tip of that corkscrew flickered a faint, venomous green glow, like a serpent's tongue.
William looked at the young "assassin" before him, terrified out of his wits and trembling violently upon his plan's exposure, then glanced at the weapon on the floor that was ant to be the "perfect accident" ending the last bloodline of the O'Connor family.
A mocking expression appeared on his face.
"Got you, little rat."
The stage was now set.
The actors hidden behind the curtain had finally been dragged out, one by one, before the play began.
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