Lord of Mysteries: Return of the Stars!

This time, he didn't leave right away. Instead, he deliberately stared at the projection of the Son of Chaos.

Just imagining the Son of Chaos's furious expression made him feel much better.

With a clear mind, he could now fall asleep.

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Early morning, Sunday, March 11.

Hastur woke up and had breakfast but didn't go to Backlund University to study law under Professor Wayne.

He gave himself one or two days off each week to take care of other matters.

Right now, the things he needed to handle most urgently were: walking around to get familiar with Backlund, memorizing the legal codes of Loen and other kingdoms, figuring out how to digest the Lawyer potion quickly, and purchasing the ingredients' needed for the Barbarian.

As for how to make money, this wasn't on the list of four tasks.

Making money was something that always needed to be done.

He returned to the study, took a blank sheet of paper, and wrote down the Barbarian potion formula from memory.

Main Ingredients: One Grass of Madness, Core horn crystal of a Land Rhinoceros.

Supplementary Ingredients: 1 Deep-Grained Walnut,1 Fragrance Hornet Grass,10 ml of the extract obtained from soaking poplar bark,100 ml of Liquor.

As for whether this potion formula was missing anything, Hastur wasn't sure. He was simply copying it down on a blank sheet of paper, planning to bring it to the next Beyonder gathering and ask the Eye of Wisdom to appraise its authenticity for free.

The best outcome would be to sell this potion formula to the lady who also urgently needed it.

If the transaction succeeded, it would prove the formula was correct. If it failed, he'd have to find another way.

At times like this, he envied the Beyonder abilities of Seers, not only could they divine fortune and misfortune, but also verify potion formulas. Truly convenient.

Just then, a knocking sound came from the front door downstairs.

Hastur frowned slightly, got up, and opened the window to look down. Three people had arrived: a composed middle-aged man and two strong men who appeared to be his escorts.

These three were complete strangers, he searched his memory but found no trace of them.

Moreover, their manner didn't resemble a formal visit between nobles.

Normally, nobles wouldn't make unannounced house calls. They'd first send an invitation to check whether the host was available.

If the host was free, they'd bring a small gift and pay a visit; if not, they'd choose another time.

This was typical of Glaint and Madame Germani.

Were these visitors up to no good?

Hastur closed the window, thought for a moment, and decided to go down and meet them.

After all, this was his home—what kind of host wouldn't dare face outsiders?

He put on a coat and picked up a suitably heavy cane, giving it a few swings to confirm that one hit from it could raise a sizeable lump.

He went down the stairs, passed through the living room, and opened the door as if preparing to leave on a journey.

The middle-aged man at the front saw Hastur appear and respectfully removed his hat:

"Good morning, Baron Campbell. Please forgive our unannounced visit."

"You're indeed quite rude, especially considering I have no familiarity with any of you."

Hastur showed no politeness to the middle-aged man.

The man gave an awkward smile and said, "I forgot to introduce myself. Andrew Wilson, a good friend of Voltaire."

"Oh, a fellow gambling buddy, I suppose?"

Hastur's tone grew even more impolite. Voltaire Campbell had been dead for several years, and yet someone was still coming to find him.

A cold glint flashed deep in Andrew's eyes, but he continued to smile:

"Well, that's not entirely wrong. We know that Baron Voltaire has sadly passed. We wouldn't have come otherwise, but there's a gambling debt that hasn't been settled."

At this point, Hastur was certain that these three had come to extort money.

They had probably caught wind of his family's decline and rushed to squeeze out the last bit of money.

It was also possible they'd heard he had recently borrowed 2,000 pounds from Glaint.

Hastur smiled as well, "Mr. Andrew, I suppose you're not very familiar with Loen's legal system?"

Andrew's expression darkened, "We have a promissory note personally written by Baron Voltaire!"

As he spoke, one of the strong men behind him pulled a black-and-white document from his bag.

It clearly stated that Voltaire Campbell had lost a bet and borrowed 2,000 pounds from Mr. Andrew Wilson, and it even bore the name of a notary.

"Heh. Setting aside whether this note is genuine, let's say it is, even under Loen law, debts from gambling are void after death. A promissory note arising from a wager has no legal standing,"

Hastur said with a dismissive look.

Andrew's smile vanished. He spoke more forcefully, "This note is real. As the heir to Baron Voltaire, shouldn't you repay your father's debt?"

"Heh. Do I need to repeat myself, Mr. Andrew? This note has no legal value. I am under no obligation to repay a debt that popped up out of nowhere."

Andrew's face turned completely dark as he growled, "Aren't you afraid we'll do something drastic for the sake of that 2,000 pounds?"

As the words fell, the two burly men stepped forward simultaneously, cracking their knuckles with cruel smiles on their faces.

Hastur remained unmoved and sighed, "Are you planning to threaten a noble in broad daylight?"

"Very well! We're leaving!"

Andrew glared at Hastur a few times, then led the two burly men away.

This was the West District, home to many nobles and wealthy merchants, with excellent public security.

If they caused any commotion here, whether successful or not, they would be prosecuted and sent to the gallows for extorting a noble, after all, no noble or rich merchant would tolerate disturbances in public order.

Hastur watched them leave, the corners of his lips slightly lifting as he murmured, "As expected, just a bunch of legal illiterates."

What he had said earlier about debts dying with the debtor was completely fabricated. He wasn't even sure if such a law actually existed.

He just made it up on the spot to bluff them, and the effect was excellent. These people clearly saw him as alone and easy to bully, hoping to scam some money.

Waving around an IOU of uncertain origin and demanding he pay a massive sum of 2,000 pounds, did they think he was made of money, or were they just being delusional?

If making money were this easy, who would still risk robbing a bank?

Hastur silently complained in his heart, then closed and locked the door before returning to his study on the second floor.

The minor episode just now made him even more eager to gain power.

That Mr. Andrew was clearly no ordinary character, and it was quite possible there was a professional team or gang behind them.

With his current strength, if they ambushed him, he would be in big trouble.

Lawyers still lacked the means to defend themselves.

Perhaps he should get a gun too, but that would mean he'd have to practice his aim.

And that would be no small expense.

"We'll see. As long as I don't leave the West District casually, they wouldn't dare act rashly."

"Of course, I also need to guard against the possibility of them taking desperate measures."

"Maybe tonight, when I enter the Hall of the Stars, I should write a rule or law that ensures my safety."

With thoughts swirling in his mind, Hastur took a blank sheet of paper and began trying to formulate a rule to protect himself.

He wrote directly, "Order is a collective awareness formed by self-discipline; rules are enforced obedience and control. A new, reasonable and effective order or rule should at least meet one of these criteria, or preferably both."

At this point, Hastur stopped writing, feeling a bit stuck.

To protect himself, the best way was to create a rule stating that he would never be harmed.

But was that description too vague?

In laws representing rules, each article is concrete and specific, with no ambiguity or vagueness.

After thinking for a while, Hastur picked up the pen again and wrote, "Clearly define the subject of the rule, the goal it intends to achieve, use a tone of certainty ensuring its effect, and avoid vague loopholes that could lead to accidents."

This simple template instantly clarified Hastur's thoughts.

For example, to create a rule where he would never be harmed, he could write,

"Hastur Campbell, a transmigrator from another world, the last heir of the Campbell family, shall never, under any circumstances or at any time, suffer any harm that would endanger his life! This rule shall take effect in a reasonable and correct manner!"

In this, "Hastur Campbell, a transmigrator from another world, the last heir of the Campbell family" clearly defines the subject of the rule.

"Under any circumstances or at any time, shall never" uses an affirmative and certain tone.

"Shall not suffer any harm that would endanger his life" is the goal of the rule.

"In a reasonable and correct manner" serves as a phrase to prevent unexpected loopholes.

Hastur reread his attempted first rule a few times and found it still had quite a few issues.

Is the demand to be completely immune to harm too strict?

What counts as life-threatening harm?

If someone locks you up until you starve to death, does that not count as life-threatening?

Can "reasonable and correct manner" truly prevent loopholes?

If it turns you into an evil god, is that still considered reasonable and correct?

There were still many details to consider and revise.

He also discovered that if he didn't make himself the subject of the rule, creating a rule became much simpler.

For example, he could write a rule like, "Beneath the starry sky, there shall be no more true gods or Great Old One!"

This rule was straightforward and clear.

But obviously, it had no current benefit to him.

And since he was only Sequence 9 now, this rule was destined to be unachievable, unless he ascended to become a true god or a Great Old One, only then might it become reality.