Global Survival: The Tower Witch with an E-Rank Talent Chapter 141: Sherlock, A Monkey Wearing a Hat

To be completely honest.

Having never suffered a ntal attack before, Lan Qingyou had completely failed to realize just how severely Spirit-type magic could disrupt one's Spirit.

Nausea, the urge to vomit, a heavy feeling in her chest, dizziness...

Even now, after more than ten minutes had passed, those symptoms had not fully subsided.

Still, she felt much better compared to the mont the attack first hit her.

If this had happened on a battlefield, Lan Qingyou figured she would have died at least ten tis over before recovering this slowly.

But this also explained why a group of over ten people fighting just two Fla Hounds had ended up losing three of their own.

It seed this little fellow had been pulling the strings from the shadows all along.

So, Lan Qingyou repeated her earlier trick, reaching out to pinch the mouse's tail and successfully rescuing it from Steel Wool's beak once again.

This ti, the little white mouse did not struggle. Instead, it hung limply in midair, looking exactly like a salted fish that had just finished marinating.

Of course, it was highly likely that experiencing a suffocating, living hell inside Steel Wool's beak had drained it of whatever energy it had left to fuss.

But this was fine too.

At least this way, Lan Qingyou could observe the creature much more carefully.

Yet in reality, there was not much to observe. Appearance-wise, it looked more or less exactly like an ordinary white laboratory mouse.

At most, its tail was a vibrant shade of hot pink, and its little black beady eyes looked sowhat red. Or perhaps they were a red so dark it bordered on black?

Regardless, it was undeniably quite cute.

'Should I head back?'

Lan Qingyou pondered.

After all, the only way to appraise this little guy was to use the Small Screen on her Magic Desk.

The problem was that she had only just arrived here. She had not even finished searching the city ruins yet, so turning back now felt a bit unreasonable.

Since she was already here, she might as well see it through.

...

'Wait, Gu Xiaobei!'

'Isn't her restaurant located fairly close to here?'

'Since I was planning to go visit anyway, why not just head over tomorrow and have Gu Xiaobei appraise it for ?'

"Hehe, that actually works. It is a great idea, killing two birds with one stone while saving ti," she muttered.

Having formulated a plan, Lan Qingyou casually tossed the white mouse to the side.

"You can play with it, but you are not allowed to kill it, and you certainly cannot eat it. Oh, and of course, do not let it escape," she instructed.

Since she was dying to figure out exactly what this white mouse was, Lan Qingyou made sure to specifically warn Steel Wool, regardless of whether the bird could actually understand her.

"Chirp, chirp!"

Steel Wool patted its chest with a wing in reply.

Afterward, Lan Qingyou took out the portable outdoor bathtub sent by Chariot, washed up, and went to bed early.

To put it bluntly, this portable outdoor bathtub was basically just an iron barrel with a furnace placed underneath it.

Once the water heated up, you simply soaked in it. It was convenient and practical, even if it lacked a bit in the aesthetics departnt.

It still firmly belonged to the post-apocalyptic wasteland aesthetic.

But since she got it for free, she figured she might as well use it. Lan Qingyou really had nothing to complain about.

At most, she would treat it as a product trial and give Chariot so feedback.

The next morning, after waking up and packing her belongings, Lan Qingyou headed straight toward the coordinates Gu Xiaobei had previously sent her.

anwhile, in the city ruins, Sherlock was in a far less wonderful mood.

Just last night, his night Patrol Team of over a dozen people had been wiped out. Their bodies were only discovered this morning after daybreak.

The lucky ones only suffered extensive burns across their bodies. So had been reduced to nothing more than a lower torso.

Aside from the corpses of two common Fla Hounds, absolutely nothing else was found at the scene.

"Rumor has it that the squad deviated from the patrol route you set for them, Master, in order to track down that mouse."

The subordinate reporting the incident explained.

"Hmph, disobedient dogs like them deserved to die. No, even death is too good for them. Chop up their bodies and feed them to the dogs."

Sitting on his "throne," Sherlock spoke with a dark, gloomy expression. Soone imdiately hurried off to carry out his grueso order.

Down below him, two distinct groups of people stood on either side.

One group wore long scholarly robes, while the other wore heavy armor, drawing a clear line between the two factions.

They looked exactly like a dieval king holding court with his civil and military officials. It was truly a case of a monkey wearing a hat, completely ridiculous and laughably absurd.

"Master, could this be the work of that blue ghost from last night?"

Soone stepped forward to offer this theory.

Hearing this, the others standing on both sides could not help but frown in unison.

Everyone had heard about the ghost disturbance the previous night. So had even instantly taken to the public channels to spout a flurry of wild guesses the mont they learned the news.

It could not be helped. After all, phenona like "ghosts" had been docunted ever since the initial transmigration.

It was just that back then, the ghosts had been green. This current ghost was blue, and it hovered much closer to the ground.

This naturally led to all sorts of suspicions.

From elite monsters to the supre ruler of The Abandoned Land, the rumors beca increasingly outrageous and bizarre as they spread.

And now, following the rumors of a blue ghost, an entire patrol squad had turned up dead the very next day.

Although they had all been burned or blown up, and there were corpses of Fla Hounds nearby.

And now, following the rumors of a blue ghost, an entire patrol squad had turned up dead the very next day.

Although they had all been burned or blown up, and there were corpses of Fla Hounds nearby.

However, as people who frequently fought monsters like Fla Hounds, they all knew those creatures lacked that level of destructive firepower.

Therefore, pinning the bla on the "blue ghost" ultimately seed like a plausible conclusion.

That was what they thought, and naturally, the slave owner felt the exact sa way.

After all, many things could not withstand overthinking. The more one connected the dots, the more likely the theory seed.

Besides, the ti when the ghost's "sighting records" vanished roughly coincided with the squad's ti of death. The ti gap was no more than two hours at most.

"So, how is your investigation into this blue ghost progressing?"

With a dark scowl on his face, Sherlock tapped his fingers on the armrest of his throne, "carefully pondering" the matter for a mont before looking down at his subordinates to ask.

"We do not have a concrete conclusion yet. The blue ghost disappeared around three o'clock last night, and we still haven't found any leads even well into today."

"Soone from District 666 once ntioned in the regional channel that it can only be seen for a brief period starting at night, and remains completely invisible at all other tis. This might have sothing to do with it."

"Could it be that the entity is also bound by so sort of restriction?"

"I think that is highly likely. After all, we have never encountered a creature like this before."

Once Sherlock opened the floor, the crowd eagerly chid in, with everyone actively voicing their own opinions one after another.

Or perhaps, lacking any actual results to present, they were doing this simply to show off and prove their worth.

But regardless of their true motives, with everyone engaging in this intense brainstorming session, the atmosphere of discussion inside the hall beca exceptionally lively.

Listening to them, Sherlock nodded repeatedly in approval.

There was no complex reason for it; he simply loved this kind of atmosphere.

Because it made his subordinates look like highly capable talents, like true elites.

And in turn, it made him, their "king," seem like an existence of profound class and distinction.

However, as their "king," he naturally could not allow this shallow vanity to show on his face.

"Enough."

Thus, Sherlock waved his hand, putting a stop to their "discussion."

"Send soone to interrogate the slaves working outside and see if they have witnessed any unusual phenona. If they have not, then starting today, conduct the most thorough internal sweep possible."

"As you wish, my Master."