Trafford's Trading Club Chapter 613 Chapter 26 A Letter from Home

613: Chapter 26: A Letter from Home 613: Chapter 26: A Letter from Home At this moment, acpanied by Wang Yuechuan’s chanting, the crystal powder sprinkled on the black cloth gradually began to react.

They swiftly absorbed the blood dripping onto them, then transformed into extremely fine particles, which floated upward one by one.

There was no mistake; these red particles began to float in front of Wang Yuechuan without any physical force, rising from the black cloth.

They seemed to be drawn by something, gradually converging in mid-air—the blood-stained red crystal powder accumulated, and a sand-like figure gradually became clear.

Wang Yuechuan’s expression shifted from concentration to tension, his eyes unblinking as he watched this form take shape.

Finally, when the last particle gathered, the little figure took form!

A flash of joy passed through Wang Yuechuan’s eyes, but it didn’t last long.

The floating crystal powder-built figure immediately dispersed like quicksand, scattering directly onto the black cloth on the coffee table.

Wang Yuechuan furrowed his brow, silently staring at the coffee table.

Professor Cui Fo stopped at this moment, glanced over, and said, “Wang, you failed again!”

Wang Yuechuan shook his head, leaned back into his seat, appearing somewhat defeated, “I followed the content you interpreted.

I’m sure I didn’t make a mistake at any step, but I still can’t plete this…

this magic.”

Professor Cui Fo said, “This Book of the Dead is too mysterious, Wang!

I’m not sure if the content I interpreted is correct, and most of the spell pronunciations were guessed and may not be accurate.

Moreover, the issue of spell materials is also a factor that cannot be underestimated.”

“In the end, we still know too little.” Wang Yuechuan shook his head.

He reached back to pull apart the curtain just a bit, letting in a beam of sunlight that made him instinctively furrow his brow…

only then did he remember he hadn’t left the apartment in a week—the last time he went out was to fetch the documentation Professor Cui Fo’s Australian students had mailed or to buy food.

His life had undergone an earth-shattering change ever since he greeted Professor Cui Fo at the airport on that day.

Interpreting The Book of the Dead, the ancient and mysterious magic recorded within it…

the supernatural powers challenged Wang Yuechuan’s existing cognition while reshaping his understanding of the world.

Unfortunately, Professor Cui Fo’s progress in interpreting The Book of the Dead was too slow, so much so that until just now, he couldn’t plete even the simplest magic recorded in The Book of the Dead.

However, he no longer doubted the reality of magic—even if magic couldn’t be truly pleted, the wonders displayed in its process were enough to affirm its existence.

After all, considering the time, Professor Cui Fo hadn’t been interpreting for long—and this Book of the Dead was obtained from Cao Yu.

Wang Yuechuan couldn’t even estimate how long Cao Yu had possessed the book, but clearly, Cao Yu knew more and could already perform quite a few spells from it.

The question remains…

what truly caused the death of Cao Yu, who could use such magical spells—what was the cause of the terror he appeared to experience before he died?

“Professor, is there any news on your end?” Wang Yuechuan asked Professor Cui Fo.

“My students are already helping me look for records matching the period when The Book of the Dead appeared, but I’m afraid it won’t be that quick,” Professor Cui Fo said helplessly.

“Wang, you need to understand that truths buried in history aren’t easily uncovered.

But you, as a public official in this country, isn’t there a problem with not going to work?”

“I’ve already arranged for that, you don’t need to worry.

Just focus on interpreting the content of The Book of the Dead.” Wang Yuechuan said indifferently, then got up, “I’m going to take a shower.”

But he reached out his hand to Professor Cui Fo.

Professor Cui Fo, looking unwilling, eventually handed over The Book of the Dead to Wang Yuechuan, “Wang, didn’t you just shower this morning?”

Wang Yuechuan didn’t answer, carrying The Book of the Dead with him into the bathroom—he always carried The Book of the Dead with him; he was willing to let Cui Fo hold it under his watchful eye, but would never let it out of his sight.

After Wang Yuechuan entered the bathroom, Professor Cui Fo squinted his eyes.

He glanced at the powder on the black cloth after Wang Yuechuan’s failed magic attempt, and then paced around the living room again with his hands behind his back.

Undoubtedly, his understanding, like Wang Yuechuan’s, was heavily impacted.

He could interpret some of the book’s knowledge, but he shared less with Wang Yuechuan than he had deciphered.

Just then, a beep from the laptop on the table interrupted him—it was an email notification.

Curiously, Professor Cui Fo checked it and then rushed to the bathroom door, knocking, “Wang!

My students found someone who can interpret the text!”

The next moment, a wet-haired Wang Yuechuan opened the door, with a towel wrapped around him, “Where?”

“In this country, and in this very city!”

Wang Yuechuan, however, ignored Cui Fo’s excited demeanor; his intuition told him that this wasn’t merely a coincidence.

“Wait for me, we’ll leave immediately.” Wang Yuechuan nodded and returned to the bathroom.

When he came out again, his stubble was already shaved clean.

…

…

What made Luo Qiu curious was that Ren Ziling, who returned at her usual time in the evening, did not, as usual, demonstrate a defeated look, kick off her shoes and slouch onto the sofa, and then demand tea like some feudal landlord.

After lying there for a while, Ren Ziling suddenly said, “Kid, what did you save for me tonight?”

“Sashimi.”

“Oh.”

Ren Ziling didn’t rush to the table as usual but rather massaged her shoulders, then looked at Boss Luo and said, “Kid, give me a shoulder rub, will you?”

So, Boss Luo stood up and tossed a small massage hammer onto Miss Ren’s stomach.

This time Subeditor Ren didn’t start lamenting with tears and snot as usual; instead, she casually picked up the small hammer and started tapping her shoulder.

She lay there, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts unknown.

Luo Qiu frowned, “Is something going on?”

Ren Ziling’s hand paused on the small hammer, she looked at Luo Qiu, and suddenly said, “Kid, do you want to go back to your hometown for a visit?”

“Hometown?” Luo Qiu sat down.

Ren Ziling sat up straight as well, “Today, a letter from your hometown arrived at my office.

It’s from your uncle, saying an elderly family member is critically ill and asking if you want to visit them.”

Luo Qiu was silent for a while, “Why was the letter sent to your office?

And why a letter?”

Ren Ziling shrugged, “They don’t have your phone number, and we haven’t been living at the old house…

As for the letter, who can I ask about that?

I’ve never changed my phone number, I’m sure someone must know.”

Despite saying this, judging by Ren Ziling’s expression, Luo Qiu could tell she knew the reason.

After Ren Ziling cut ties with relatives from the hometown three years ago…

to this day, there had been no contact.

If it weren’t for the elderly being seriously ill this time, it probably would have continued that way.

“Who is it?”

“Your uncle’s mother.”

Ren Ziling sighed, “I heard from your dad that your grandparents passed away early, and it was this aunt who took care of him since he was little, an unrepayable kindness, so both emotionally and logically, I think you should go back home.

I’ve already written a leave request for you, when do you want to leave?

Anyway, you’re on a break from school, so it shouldn’t be anything urgent, right?”

But Luo Qiu suddenly said, “I’ll go back by myself.”