Seal of the Four-Colored Horse (VI)

Ye Yan was not surprised when the prompt surfaced in his mind again. After all, when he had first met Detective Lestrade, he had obtained Soul Essence and a Fragment of Inside and Outside.

What delighted him was that he was one step closer to going home.

Unlike when he had obtained Soul Essence Edge, this time Ye Yan could clearly feel the strengthening effect brought by the Grail.

Not only had his perception of Compass coordinates become sharper, but his storage slots had also increased from three to four.

So Soul Essence enhancement could also improve skills.

With that thought, Ye Yan looked at the person before him, who ought to have been the protagonist of a middle-school textbook.

Through the blood relation between them, he had successfully used the Luck Compass to find Jules. This also proved that the original owner of this body and Jules were indeed blood relatives.

A strange thought suddenly surfaced.

Did a character like him truly exist in the original novel? Was the "I" serving as the narrator now writing the story of My Uncle Jules in place of Maupassant?

Jules had no idea what Ye Yan was thinking.

Trembling, he pulled a roll of yellowed parchment from his chest. It was a nautical chart covered in incomprehensible symbols and markings.

"The New Continent is the last refuge for exiles."

Hope filled his eyes.

"See? Right here!" Jules jabbed his index finger at an inconspicuous black dot on the map. "An undiscovered island! We can live happily there!"

The New Continent Jules spoke of did not refer to America, but to the Bermuda Triangle, which had been proven to be a rumor in Ye Yan's previous life.

This world also had a Columbus who had discovered America, though he was not Christopher Columbus. He had likewise discovered America, but on his return voyage, he had found an unknown sea region containing ruins of an ancient civilization.

Halfway through the voyage, every navigation method aboard the ship had mysteriously failed. In the end, the fleet had only managed to return safely thanks to Columbus's superb seamanship.

From then on, the title "New Continent" no longer referred exclusively to America. More often, it specifically referred to that unknown and mysterious landmass.

Although Columbus's fleet had failed to venture deep into the continent, they had brought back a large number of rare plant seeds, as well as ancient artifacts carved with strange symbols.

This sparked a wave of maritime fever across Europe.

In noble salons, adventurers' tales of strange encounters drew affected gasps from the ladies; in the slums, desperate men lured by generous rewards were everywhere.

To this day,

although maritime technology had advanced significantly, humanity's explorations remained limited to scattered islands around the New Continent's outskirts. The mysterious continent deep within remained untouched.

Therefore, Ye Yan could not possibly agree to flee to the New Continent with him.

Running away would not solve anything.

Besides, the New Continent was entirely unknown territory. Judging by the crooked markings on that chart, it might well have been nothing more than the idle scribbling of some drunken sailor.

Setting sail rashly with a map of uncertain authenticity was less reliable than becoming a pirate.

"Uncle Jules, I'm not leaving."

Ye Yan shook his head gently.

Rather than painstakingly solve the problem, it would be better to deal directly with the person who had created it.

Putting aside the grudge between him and the Church of the Sunset, the murders those cultists had committed for their rituals alone made him feel that such a cult should not exist.

"I'm going to find and deal with the mastermind behind this."

"What did you say?!"

Jules's reaction became extraordinarily intense.

He seized Ye Yan's arm, his gray-white beard trembling with his ragged breaths.

"No, you can't do it. You'll die!"

"Don't worry, Uncle Jules."

A reassuring smile touched Ye Yan's lips. He reached out and gently pressed down on the old man's trembling hand. "When I say deal with him, I don't mean I'll do it myself."

"I won't need to lift a finger. Once we pinpoint that person's location, the Sanctum will be more than eager to get rid of him. All we need to do is send the information out."

The River Thames churned with muddy waves, while London Bridge's cast-iron skeleton appeared and vanished through the thick fog.

The beggar children on the bridge suddenly stirred restlessly.

The patrol officers waved their batons. Amid shrill police whistles, the children did not even have a chance to flee to Southwark District on the opposite bank before being hauled off the bridge.

"Are we sure we want to completely seal off London Bridge?"

Lestrade's brows were tightly furrowed.

"You should know this is one of London's major transport hubs. We simply don't have enough manpower."

"Then you can choose to seal off the entire Southwark District."

Holmes spoke calmly.

Lestrade's mouth twitched despite himself. "At a time like this, don't make jokes like that, Professor Holmes."

There was a touch of helplessness in his voice.

Southwark District.

A sinful place where crime was treated as everyday life.

The underground powers there were deeply entangled, and unidentified bodies were discovered in its dark alleys almost every so often.

Rumor had it that several organizations there were backed by powerful figures.

The rumor was somewhat exaggerated, but it was not entirely baseless. Anyone with even a little knowledge of Southwark District knew that there were certain places here that absolutely could not be provoked.

Red Lion Lane, steeped in violence and crime; Red Brick Lane, hiding illegal casinos and opium dens; George Inn and Borough Market, where all manner of dark deals took place; and Witch Lane, where mediums and witches gathered.

Lestrade's gaze was complicated.

He removed his beret and let the mist dampen his disheveled hair. The police tape stretched ahead of him drifted in and out of view in the fog, much like his mood at that moment.

Blue Eyes had disappeared here, yet he had never dared to step inside to investigate.

Heaven and hell seemed to be separated by only a single river.

On that rainy night twenty years ago, he had stopped at the other end of London Bridge and had not continued forward. The thick fog had obscured his sight and trapped the heart that sought justice.

Fortunately, he had awakened in time.

One day, he would disperse the fog shrouding Southwark District and find Blue Eyes's trail with his own hands.

"Detective Lestrade, the search agents sent by the Administration are here. They need you to receive them."

A young officer ran over, panting heavily.

Lestrade was somewhat surprised.

He had not expected the Administration to send people so quickly this time. Had the higher-ups also realized the seriousness of the situation?

He subconsciously glanced at Holmes.

For some reason, he felt that the Administration's quick arrival probably had something to do with this man.

But Holmes was clearly from the Research Institute.

"Where's Inspector Wilson?"

"He's negotiating with the people from Southwark District."

The officer lowered his voice, his uneasy gaze darting toward the opposite shore. "You know how it is. We suddenly sealed off London Bridge, so the people over there are bound to be dissatisfied."

At that, Lestrade put his hat back on properly.

"Professor Holmes, I'll be leaving first."

Holmes gave a slight nod, his gaze still fixed on some point across the river.

Something had happened on Old Jack's end.

They had agreed to call at a fixed time to report that they were safe, but when he had called yesterday afternoon, a stranger had answered.

Fortunately, neither of them had come to serious harm. Both were still alive.

Holmes took his cherrywood pipe from the inner pocket of his coat and lightly tapped the bowl with his knuckles. Fine tobacco strands rustled down into it.

The flame caught, and a wisp of curling blue smoke rose.

Someone would die tonight.

Holmes understood that clearly.

To eliminate that unknown entity, they would certainly have to pay a price. But if they failed to seize tonight's opportunity, even more people might die afterward.

No matter what, London Bridge had to be sealed off first.

While surrounding the cultists, they also had to avoid dragging innocent ordinary people into it.

That left only one problem.

The underground forces in Southwark District were tangled and complex. The people inside would not allow them to conduct a large-scale search.

But the longer they delayed, the worse it would be for them.

Holmes took a deep drag. The scent of tobacco spread through his mouth, and the faintly pungent smoke sank down his windpipe, temporarily suppressing the inexplicable restlessness in his heart.

If only they could directly pinpoint that person's location.

"Sherlock!"

He had not been standing alone at the bridgehead for long before someone called his name.

Holmes turned and saw Watson waving at him. Several black-robed priests stood beside him, making the doctor in his white coat especially conspicuous.

The Sanctum's arrival was exactly what he had expected.

Whether they believed his deductions or not, the Sanctum, which had clashed with the Church of the Sunset, would certainly send people to investigate.

He simply had not expected Watson to come as well.

"Didn't anyone from your Research Institute come?"

Then he slapped his forehead as though suddenly realizing something. "I nearly forgot. It seems you're the only one in your Research Institute willing to go out into the field. But is the Sanctuary really comfortable letting you come alone?"

Holmes noncommittally pointed to the pendant on his chest. "A newly developed amulet from the Sanctuary. This operation is a good chance to test how effective it is."

Watson examined it curiously for a few moments, but could not find anything special about the pendant.

"All right, actually, I came prepared this time too."

The doctor took the initiative to change the subject.

"I brought you a capable helper."

He patted the medical case hanging from his chest, but what came from within was not the crisp clinking of medicine bottles, but a familiar young voice.

"Doctor Watson, have you reached London Bridge yet?"

The voice was slightly distorted through the communication device, but its somewhat youthful tone could still be heard clearly.

Holmes raised a brow. "Ewan Dalmans?"

On the other end of the communication device, Ye Yan looked somewhat surprised. He was very familiar with the detective's voice and immediately recognized who was speaking.

"Is that... Mr. Holmes?"

A response quickly came from the other end. "I heard you mention London Bridge just now. It seems you've already found your uncle, Jules Dalmans?"

"Yes."

Ye Yan gave an affirmative answer.

At that moment, he was in the church of Saint Helier Parish on the island, accompanied by Old Jack and Uncle Jules.

"Mr. Holmes, I know the mastermind's exact location. Just as you helped prove my innocence before, this time I'll help you catch the murderer."

"Please believe me!"