① Unless one obtains special explicit permission from the Diocesan authority, no one can legally perform an exorcism on soone who has mastered Demonic arts.
② Second. The Diocesan authority must grant this permission only to a priest who is perfect in piety, knowledge, wisdom, and life, and whose martial skills are pure.
–Zion Clan Church Code, Volu 4, Part 2, Chapter 1, Article 1172
“Now you see, don’t you? What’s happened here.”
Perhaps wanting to maintain the dignity of the Postmaster General, Lestrade quickly moved a step toward the corridor, blocking Watson from entering the room, and closed the door.
“Impossible…”
Watson could not suppress a sigh.
It wasn’t entirely an unforeseeable situation.
In London, the Phantom Fist had once attempted to assassinate Sir Fawcett by sniping him with fist blasts.
That’s why Hols had assigned her and Lestrade to stand guard in case of an ergency, but who would have thought that sothing would really happen.
As much as she trusted Hols, the thought that soone would die in Cambridge never even crossed her mind.
“Unless…”
An ominous premonition stirred within Watson’s mind.
Hols would not have allowed the criminal to escape from London.
However, all these assumptions were based on Hols being alive.
“…No, impossible.”
Watson tried to remind herself of what kind of man her roommate and dear friend was.
He is a gentleman who has reached exceptional heights and a genius with a mind unparalleled by ordinary people.
It didn’t seem possible that any ordinary criminal could kill the Little Heavenly Demon, Sherlock Hols.
However.
If, by any chance, the Phantom Fist is truly a master of an unrealistically high level capable of executing lightness skill at inhuman speeds and assassinating opponents beyond walls—
“Get a grip! We can’t be dazing off when the Phantom Fist might be lurking nearby!”
Lestrade grabbed Watson’s shoulders and shook her vigorously.
“My apologies. I fear I’ve let my composure slip.”
While answering Lestrade, the inspector noticed a small leather pouch in Watson’s hand that caught his eye.
“Hmm?”
Seeing Watson’s gaze directed at his hand, Lestrade quickly shoved the item he was holding into his pocket.
“Wait. Did you receive that from Hols?”
“What do you an?”
“The leather pouch.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lestrade feigned ignorance, sweating profusely.
“It doesn’t seem like a ti to waste on such nonsense.”
“It’s important to .”
“If you’re talking about a leather pouch, isn’t it in your hands, Doctor?”
Only after Lestrade pointed it out did Watson realize she had been holding onto the leather pouch Hols had given her all along.
“Ah…”
The contents of this pouch must have been an arrangent Hols prepared for an ergency.
‘Right. Hols wouldn’t die so easily.’
Watson, regaining her composure by channeling a bit of Essence1 into her brain, untied the string sealing the pouch and slipped her fingers inside.
Inside was a piece of paper folded twice.
Watson took it out and unfolded it.
What was written on the paper was clearly the handwriting of the investigative consultant, which she often saw and could not mistake.
‘…What does this man want to do?’
It was only a loss to worry.
Although she had many other thoughts, Watson soon decided to follow instructions and gave up thinking on her own.
Watson and Lestrade began to move in perfect order according to Hols’s instructions.
In less than ten minutes, the post office officials, legal professionals, and telephone company employees, all except for Sir Fawcett, gathered in the hotel lobby.
Including those who, hearing the earlier loud noise, had hidden in their rooms without running out into the hotel corridor, everyone was there.
The problem was that not all of them were unhard.
“What on earth happened?”
Supported by Lestrade and staggering, Timothy Young, an executive of Bell Telephone Company, was bleeding heavily from his temporal region.
As soone who had shared champagne with him earlier in the hotel lobby, Watson couldn’t overlook it.
“It, it was Phantom Fist. The phone rang simultaneously from the next room, and then there was a sudden impact to my head…”
Watson approached Timothy and removed the handkerchief he had pressed to his temple.
“My goodness.”
A large fist mark was clearly imprinted across Timothy’s temple and forehead.
However, unlike the victims who died in London, the traces left by the fist were relatively shallow.
It seed that fortune had intervened, and there was a mistake in the energy release when the Phantom Fist struck.
“If you hadn’t tily raised your Self Defense Essence, you would have died.”
Otherwise, it would an Timothy’s skills were more excellent than imagined.
“Did you perhaps see the Phantom Fist’s appearance directly?”
“I’m sorry. I was knocked out by him and just woke up.”
“I see…”
Either way, it’s fortunate that he had survived a eting with the Phantom Fist.
While thinking that, Watson couldn’t shake off her doubts.
“Suspicious.”
“I think so too.”
Lestrade, who had seated Timothy on the sofa, agreed.
“That guy is probably the employer of the Phantom Fist. He must have ordered him to attack him to avoid suspicion.”
“Makes sense. The size of the fist marks is different, so it can’t be the Phantom Fist himself.”
“Do you think so too, Doctor?”
“But didn’t you check all the rooms in advance and guard the corridor? No one entered or exited.”
“That’s…”
“The Phantom Fist would have to be a formless ghost to attack Sir Fawcett and Mr. Young.”
Both Lestrade and Watson fell silent.
No matter how hard they thought, they couldn’t find a clue to unravel this unpleasant case.
The criminal had successfully committed impossible murders one after another, but they couldn’t even figure out the identity, let alone what technique was used.
“If only Hols were here at a ti like this…”
Watson patted Lestrade, who was biting his lips, on the shoulder.
“Let’s focus on what we can do now. I need to call the number Hols left.”
They showed the note to the hotelier at the front desk, who was watching them with sleepy and bewildered eyes.
The hotelier dialed the number on the mo through the operator, and soon the call began.
“…The person asked to speak with Dr. Watson.”
The person on the other end, who was talking to the hotelier before passing the receiver, specifically requested for Watson.
“?”
“Yes.”
Watson tilted her head and picked up the receiver.
“Hello, this is Dr. Watson from St. Bartholow’s Hospital―”
Before she could finish her greeting, a cheerful laugh flew into her ear.
“Hols…?!”
At the unexpected voice, Watson jumped about four inches while holding the receiver.
“I’m glad you’re safe. Do you know how worried I was?”
“What on earth―”
“Of course.”
“…The receiver?”
Thinking that people wouldn’t hear Hols’s voice because the phone volu was low, Watson followed Hols’ instructions.
And then, the next mont, Hols’ voice, which was coming out of the receiver, amplified by dozens of tis, resonated throughout the hotel lobby.
Instantly, everyone’s attention was focused on the hotel front.
Everyone froze in place like Vatican statues at Hols’s mischievous nonsense.
“Hols. When did you beco a priest of the Zion Clan…?”
Confused, Watson muttered in a trembling voice, but Hols paid no attention.
A sentence that seed unbelievable coming from the mouth of an investigative consultant.
But the capable assistant imdiately understood what her detective intended to convey.
Hols’s lively voice began to warm the cold dawn air.
“The culprit is hiding inside the hotel.”
I declared towards the receiver.
Sitting alone in a dark, damp, and dusty place.
“The Phantom Fist who followed you from London to Cambridge has finally revealed its tail while seeking an opportunity to strike. Now all that’s left is to catch and interrogate it.”
The litigants are at the Upper2, along with Watson and Lestrade, keeping their vigilant watch.
A good dozen or so people are listening intently to my voice.
Watson calling ant everything was going as planned.
Having stayed here and waited for the call for nearly six hours, the long-awaited mont had finally arrived.
Even in this situation, seeing a couple of people trying to calmly find faults in suggests so composed personalities are present.
I highly regard that cold rationality, but unfortunately, now is the ti to solve the case.
In other words, unless I allow it, no one else has the right to speak.
I loosened the joints of my wrist while holding the receiver between my shoulder and neck.
-Crack.
With a pleasant sound, I felt the converted Essence rushing through all the minor ridians in my body.
There was no need to contemplate internally.
My condition was at its peak as I had gained new strength overnight.
“Before we start the story in earnest, there’s sothing to prepare, so may I ask for your cooperation?”
I ignored the grumbling complaints and continued speaking.
“Watson, Lestrade. Are you there?”
There are at most two things to finish before unveiling the truth of this case.
“Have the concierge move the hotel staff out of the building, Watson. There are too many ears for a story like this. Lestrade, stand by at your position.”
A mont later, the sound of sleepy people grumbling ca through the receiver.
Many protested about being disturbed while sleeping, but since I wasn’t the one being scolded, it didn’t matter.
They may be annoyed now, but after so ti, they’ll be grateful they safely left the hotel.
“Alright. Then let’s move on to the next step. Lestrade.”
“Lock the doors and monitor the litigants.”
The Phantom Fist is hiding among the litigants staying at the hotel, or more precisely, here.
TL/N: The author now bestows us their translation for ‘True energy’ at Chapter 51!!! Behold, ESSENCE…!!!!!! Smh… From now on, ‘진기 / 真氣’ will be translated into ‘Essence’ instead of the previous ‘True energy’ ️
TL/N: Up North ️
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