Ince watched Xu Xiaoyou walk away, an awkward expression on his face; it was the first time he'd been turned down so bluntly.

In this city paved with gold, most people's manners were polite and appropriate, such straightforwardness was rare.

He wasn't disheartened by this small setback and continued to look for his next target.

Soon, he spotted a blue-haired girl in the crowd, with snowflakes resting on her shoulders, falling on her pristine dress. The girl's eyes were bright, her body swaying to the rhythm of the guitar in her arms, her light and beautiful singing captivating many people to stop and listen.

After a brief performance, people began to applaud, and Ince seized the opportunity to move the camera closer to the blue-haired girl.

So close to the lens, Tang Xin was momentarily at a loss, but she quickly smiled warmly, "Excuse me, is this a street interview?"

Ince said, "Miss, your singing is quite good, everyone's applauding for you."

"Really? Thank you for the compliment."

Ince continued, "You have a nice aura too, but don't you think your cheap outfit doesn't quite match this scene?"

Tang Xin looked down at her white shoes and glanced around her dress without finding anything wrong, "Is that so?"

"I saved up for a long time to buy these clothes; I think they look pretty good."

"Do you have any family difficulties? I heard there's a relief house near Belvedere Square. Do you go there for meals and rest usually?"

"Really? There's such a place? Where is it..."

Tang Xin's eyes lit up, but before she could finish speaking, a blonde girl took her hand and led her out of the crowd, until she disappeared from the camera.

Ince sighed, suddenly feeling a bit guilty, realizing he shouldn't focus the camera on vulnerable groups.

The audience behind the screen would probably prefer watching the upper-class people in their moment of discomposure.

Thinking this, he quickly locked his gaze on a figure in the crowd, a man wearing a black trench coat, sunglasses, and a gray deerstalker hat, black gloves holding a briefcase, tightly wrapped up, appearing very low-key and unremarkable in the crowd.

As a filmmaker, a film crew's camera director, the details and beauty that are harder to notice in life are less likely to escape his eye. His intuition told him that this seemingly stylish man would have great screen presence.

He quickly approached the man, but before he could speak, the man lowered his voice and asked, "Is it here yet?"

"I'm conducting street interviews," Ince instinctively responded.

The man nodded, his breath calm and steady, "Follow me; the real show is yet to come."

Ince didn't understand the meaning behind the man's words. Suddenly, he felt like he was shooting a spy film, and this man with great flair before him was actually a spy sent by Nest City to infiltrate Star of Art.

This feeling of being swept up in a spy storm instantly invigorated Ince, no matter what, he couldn't let such an opportunity slip away.

After walking a distance with the man, they arrived at Platform One. Under the gray stone dome, the man leaned against a concrete pillar surrounded by several people, lighting a cigarette with a demon hunter lighter, waiting for a certain moment to arrive.

"Set the camera well, remember to record me and the platform, capture this artistic moment," he instructed.

Ince eagerly came to the man's side, setting up the camera according to the man's guidance. At this moment, he felt like a tag-along.

Why did it feel like he had to do whatever the man said? Ince realized with a shock but reconsidered, thinking that tag-alongs with spies in spy films are actually pretty cool. He also tucked his hands into his trench coat, standing up straight, trying to make himself look cooler.

"What are we going to do next?" Ince imitated the man's tone of voice.

He didn't understand why the man chose to come to this platform; he remembered this platform was for the Heart's Desire train, rarely having trains come in.

Looking around, the silhouettes of people unknowingly reduced; the empty crescent-shaped platform only had him and the man left, making the atmosphere suddenly a bit chilly.

The man didn't answer this question, with black sunglasses capturing the entirety of Platform One in his view.

Exhaling a puff of smoke, the man asked, "What do you think is the main theme of this era?"

"Main theme?" Ince was stunned; why did the man suddenly ask such a philosophical question at this moment?

Still, he responded cooperatively, "Order?"

"Wrong, the main theme of the savage era was violence and chaos. People plundered for a bite of food, fought over settlement grounds, and used every means for survival. Everyone was a beast driven by primal desires."

"And in our current starred era, under the gaze from the distant shore, everyone lives within set rules and frameworks. Three stars rise and set each morning and evening, everything seems to proceed methodically, society operates steadily."

"But, this doesn't mean the main theme of this era is order."

"In places people can't see, or can see, there's oppression and exploitation every moment. Wealthy individuals ride steam trains toward the Golden Era, using the underclass's fat as fuel, brainwashing them with rules and frameworks, diverting society's contradictions, making them hate each other, openly battling and secretly fighting, unable to unite. Isn't this also a form of violence and chaos?"

"In the starred era, we are just beasts in a civilized guise."

"Order never existed from the start."

"Nothing is more artistic than ripping open this societal framework constructed by the upper class with the most brilliant flames, uncovering the covering cloth of beastly civilization, and letting people see their ugly, filthy, uncontrolled appearances."

Listening, Ince finally realized something was wrong, his pupils widened in shock.

No way, buddy, your words don't sound right at all, why do they sound so much like those from the Ascetic Sect!? I seemed to have inadvertently run into the madmen's code, boarded a pirate ship!

Ince glance at the briefcase in the man's hand, gulped, just about to sneak away when the man grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back.

The man, upon seeing Ince's reaction, also realized something, "You're not one of us?"

Ince squeezed out a smile harder to bear than crying, "Bro, I think my mom has dinner ready, I should head home to eat."

The man sneered, "It's not important, whether you're one of us or not, you must record this great and artistic moment for me."

Looking at the barrel protruding from under the man's trench coat, Ince was teary-eyed.

Here I am, just a director on the verge of disbanding a tiny failing film crew, how could I be so unlucky that the randomly selected interviewee was a madman from the Ascetic Sect, who can I complain to?

Just then, a gentle female voice echoed across the platform.

"The Heart's Desire OE3605 train is about to arrive at the station. Please prepare station staff to go to the corresponding platform and prepare to receive passengers in an orderly manner."

On the electronic board above the platform, red lettering arranged to show the arrival information.

[Time until Heart's Desire OE3605 train arrival, 00:02:59.]

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