Convergence… Predetermined fate… Could it be Room 7, Voisin Sanson, and his family? As these thoughts raced through Lumian's mind, he activated the black mark on his right shoulder without hesitation.

Spirit World Traversal!

He and Jenna vanished, heading for the entrance of Auberge du Coq Doré. Lumian had never set foot on Avenue du Marché in the painting world, so he didn't have the coordinates for the spirit world there.

The spirit world in the painting realm still comprised dense layers of colors and countless transparent, strange figures. However, the seven bright and pure lights at the "top" appeared rather blurry, as if separated by many panes of mullioned glass.

Guided by his spirituality, Lumian pinpointed the corresponding coordinates at Auberge du Coq Doré's entrance and teleported there.

They swiftly departed the spirit world and found themselves on the street.

But what Lumian saw before them was the building at 3 Rue des Blouses Blanches, the very spot where they had just been.

They hadn't left the street onto Rue Anarchie; they had merely shifted seven to eight meters from one side of the road to the other.

Circle Inhabitant… Jenna and I are already ensnared in the Circle? Lumian turned his head and wasn't surprised to see the beautiful woman suspected to be Hostel's Room 7, standing only a few meters away on the same side of the street as them.

"Voisin Sanson?" Lumian asked in a deep voice.

He temporarily abandoned the idea of teleportation, as their previous attempt had proven ineffective in escaping Rue des Blouses Blanches.

As Lumian spoke, Jenna discreetly retrieved a mirror, preparing to utilize black magic to maneuver around and launch an attack.

She sensed that, at such a tense and crucial moment, Ciel's inquiry, instead of initiating a series of attacks, might be an attempt to divert the enemy's attention and create an opportunity for her to deliver a fatal blow.

Although Lumian had mentioned that Voisin Sanson was a Sequence 4 Circle Inhabitant of the Inevitability pathway, a Saint bestowed with a boon, a true demigod, she believed that they had to make an attempt, despite the odds. So what if he had undergone a qualitative transformation in various aspects compared to Low- to Mid-Sequence Beyonders that even a small team combined wouldn't be a match for him?

Upon hearing Lumian's question, the beautiful woman in a white dress revealed a fleeting and distant smile.

"Seems like you're well-informed…"

Before "she" could finish her sentence, Lumian took a step forward and harrumphed.

Two beams of white light shot out from his nostrils and landed on the woman suspected to be Room 7.

Although the Spell of Harrumph's power had increased following his advancement to Sequence 6, he didn't believe it would truly work on a Saint. At best, it might make her sway slightly.

Lumian opted for this approach instead of donning the Flog boxing gloves to target the various negative effects of a Contractee. As a Conspirer, he keenly noticed a crucial detail: he and Jenna were trapped in the "Circle," but Voisin Sanson hadn't left Room 7. He remained within the beautiful woman's body.

This clearly hindered his performance.

Therefore, he either had arrogance as a negative side effect of his contract ability, or he couldn't leave the Hostel's room for some reason.

Combined with his earlier hypothesis that the world in the painting and the situation in the Hostel were part of a ritual, Lumian was more inclined to believe the latter possibility.

In that case, even if my Spell of Harrumph can't affect you, can't it affect your room?

The human models, corrupted by the Painter pathway and adorned with special patterns, were equivalent to Mid-Sequence monsters!

As two beams of white light descended, the beautiful woman in the white dress fainted.

Almost simultaneously, Lumian and Jenna's vision blurred, and they felt slightly dizzy.

When they regained their senses, they found themselves back at the exit of 3 Rue des Blouses Blanches, facing the beautiful woman in a white halter dress diagonally across from them.

The woman's lips curled up, but she didn't repeat her previous statement.

Circle Inhabitant!

Lumian realized that he and Jenna were truly trapped in a loop, and the successful attack on Room 7 triggered the loop's restart.

Moreover, he confirmed that Voisin Sanson and his family couldn't leave Room 7 until something concluded. They could only exert influence on the outside world through obstacles. Otherwise, they would have opened the door and confronted Lumian with all their might. They sought to control the target with an Angel sealed in his body as efficiently as possible!

Even if Voisin Sanson had the negative side effect of arrogance, it was improbable for all three of his children to be the same!

Without hesitation, Lumian sank his consciousness into his right palm, revealing a few bright red scars.

An extraordinarily frenzied, violent, and high-and-mighty aura surged into the sky, as if it sought to dominate the land.

Alista Tudor!

Lumian activated the Blood Emperor's mark.

While this had no real impact in the physical world, it caused those around him to feel a slight fear, making them tremble. However, the response from the painting world exceeded Lumian's expectations.

The sky suddenly turned dark-red, and the westering sun appeared tinted with an iron hue as it swayed left and right.

Rue des Blouses Blanches and the entire world trembled as if struck by an earthquake.

The vendors and pedestrians on the street, as well as the residents and animals on both sides, blurred and distorted.

The beautiful woman in Room 7 of the Hostel was taken aback. She instinctively trembled and wanted to hug herself tightly.

An invisible force shrouding half of Rue des Blouses Blanches materialized, resembling transparent glass.

Suddenly, it shattered, revealing multiple cracks.

Seeing this, Lumian grabbed Jenna's shoulder and activated the black mark on his right shoulder once more.

This time, they swiftly passed through the local spirit world and arrived at Auberge du Coq Doré's entrance. They didn't return to the Circle.

The painting world existed between reality and fiction, and it was very sensitive to the aura of high-level figures, materializing the impact. As Lumian's thoughts raced, a distant rumble reached his ears.

It emanated from Avenue du Marché!

Lumian and Jenna exchanged glances as a term came to their minds: Salle de Bal Brise!

Has something happened to the black hole corresponding to Salle de Bal Brise?

Was it a subsequent change brought about by The Blood Emperor Alista Tudor's aura, or has the ritual officially begun, heralding the impending catastrophe? Lumian's thoughts raced as he raced towards Avenue du Marché.

Jenna's response was as swift as his, making the same decision.

Deep underground, in a hidden cave undetectable to the outside world.

The rock walls here had been meticulously modified, featuring two vertical beams and multiple horizontal beams, each marked with longitudinal gaps.

To anyone familiar with Trier's map, these formations would correspond strictly to a section of Avenue du Marché. Each rock wall was the equivalent of a side street, and each vertical gap represented an alley.

Adorning each rock wall were lifelike oil paintings, portraying buildings of various architectural styles, dark iron street lamps, pedestrians dressed as clerks, vendors selling an array of goods, and scenes from windows, all depicted with vivid and natural colors.

These scenes were almost identical to those on the corresponding streets.

On the eastern rock wall of Avenue du Marché, three men in white shirts with unbuttoned vests were using mural tools to craft a complex, bright red door at the spot corresponding to Salle de Bal Brise.

Their bodies were coated in paint, and their eyes displayed a peculiar detachment, as though they were gazing at a distant realm rather than a rock wall.

Each time they completed the bright red door on the rock wall, it mysteriously vanished after a fifth was completed. The three painters had no choice but to repeat their efforts in vain.

Suddenly, the mine trembled gently, and minuscule cracks that were almost imperceptible to the naked eye appeared on the rock wall adorned with various scenes.

The female painter in a blue beret and the male painter in red pants looked up at the depiction of Avenue du Marché on the rock wall.

In the next moment, they pressed their hands against the rock wall and vanished.

Two figures emerged within the massive oil painting. One was a woman donning a blue beret, and the other a man in red pants. They both wore white shirts and open beige vests.

The third painter, a man in his twenties, remained on the outside. He was clad in black pants with tassels, his brown hair disheveled, and a bit of stubble adorning his mouth.

The distant expression in his flaxen-colored eyes faded as he cautiously surveyed his surroundings.

Observing that the mine's tremors were limited to this area and that the anomaly in the painting hadn't extended, the young painter let out a sigh of relief. He redirected his gaze to the empty Salle de Bal Brise, seemingly contemplating whether to change his approach or wait for the right moment to try again.

At that precise moment, a skeletal palm suddenly extended from the rock wall and the ground.

It had a yellowish hue and a withered texture, with its surface covered in iron-colored rust, giving it an ancient appearance.

As soon as the skeletal palm appeared, it seized the young painter's ankle, aiming to drag him deep into the earth.

Late at night, 11 Rue des Fontaines, Quartier de la Cathédrale Commémorative.

Franca's dream had been an odd one, with various bizarre scenes woven together into a nonsensical narrative.

Suddenly, she jolted awake and instinctively looked to her side.

Although the room was shrouded in darkness due to the heavy curtains blocking the crimson moonlight, it didn't hinder her from noticing that the spot under the velvet blanket beside her was empty; Gardner Martin was nowhere to be found.

Franca's pupils widened with a mixture of surprise and suspicion.

It wasn't that she was shocked by Gardner Martin's disappearance. There was nothing he could do that would truly surprise her. What caught her off guard was her failure to detect his departure.

Demonesses possessed formidable spiritual senses. It was impossible for someone sleeping beside them to slip out of bed and leave without their knowledge. Franca had only snapped out of her reverie when she felt the drop in temperature on the other side of the bed!

Franca swiftly got out of bed, dressed, and opened the bedroom door.

The corridor lay in darkness, and an eerie silence hung in the air.