Subsequent Repercussions

What is it like to be famous?

Before he became famous, Ye Yan might have harbored some longing for this hollow reputation; now that he was truly in the thick of it, his only thought was to flee London and find a place where no one knew him.

Every day, all sorts of people came to probe his abilities, either overtly or covertly, leaving Ye Yan utterly exhausted.

Yet, hindered by the status and standing of these visitors, he had to force himself to keep up appearances and deal with them.

"Honestly, what kind of detective am I?"

Ye Yan rubbed his temples and poured out his grievances to Uncle Jules: "I only hung up the sign of a Consulting Detective back then to earn an extra paycheck. As for being a Spirit Detective..."

He shook his head with a wry smile: "That's an even more wonderful misunderstanding; it was just a coincidence."

Fate is always full of irony.

He, a man with only a half-baked understanding of criminal investigation, had gained a reputation in the detective world that true master sleuths spent their whole lives chasing, all because he had summoned a "Shadow Maiden."

Every time he heard the title "Spirit Detective," Ye Yan felt as if ants were crawling down his spine.

"Silly boy, you need to broaden your perspective." Jules tilted his head back, downed a large gulp of whiskey, and let out a satisfied burp: "Who says solving cases must rely on deduction?"

Ye Yan rubbed his brow helplessly.

"Then tell me, if a detective doesn't rely on their brain, what else can they rely on?"

"Huh?" Jules waved his thick arms: "Of course, you rely on this! Beat the suspect until they spit out the truth! Or..."

He winked at the young man: "Rely on that handsome face of yours to make noble ladies willingly spill their secrets."

"Wait." Ye Yan held his forehead, quickly raising a hand to stop him: "What you're describing are agents and spies, not detectives."

"Hmph!" Uncle Jules snorted heavily, his bulbous, wine-red nose flushing even deeper: "What is the essence of a detective? Isn't it just revealing the truth to the public?"

He counted off on his fingers as he listed them to Ye Yan: "One case destroyed the nest of an evil cult ravaging London, another toppled a hereditary noble family that had stood for hundreds of years. Of those so-called famous detectives who only know how to talk big, which one has your track record?"

Ye Yan frowned.

"Uncle Jules, strictly speaking, I only participated in those two cases, and the role I played was basically..."

Jules waved his hand, cutting Ye Yan off.

"The things you're talking about are secondary. Now, let me tell you something practical."

As he spoke, he suddenly lowered his voice, his eyes gleaming with cunning: "Do you know? Ever since those snobs at the Administration found out about our relationship, their attitude toward me has undergone a complete transformation. Now, I can proudly announce that I am the uncle of the Spirit Detective!"

Jules's palm landed heavily on Ye Yan's shoulder.

"I'm proud of you, kid. It's time you recognized your status in the Mystic Realm, my dear silly nephew."

Hearing this, Ye Yan was stunned.

He had always thought of himself as just an ordinary person.

Now it seemed that he was gradually exerting an influence on this world?

In the living room of 221B Baker Street, the fragrance of tea permeated the air, highlighting the inscrutable expression on Mycroft Holmes's face. He picked up his teacup and took a gentle sip, his gaze never leaving his brother.

"Our little friend really likes to cause me trouble. The cross-sea portal incident has only just settled, and now he's gone and summoned a complete spirit entity."

Holmes remained calm.

The Mystic Realm has always been this way; some spend their entire lives chasing the truth in vain, while others, through mere happenstance, manage to unlock an endless treasury.

"Don't tell me you can't handle those idiots with heads full of greed."

Hearing this, Mycroft chuckled: "The pressure from the nobles is, of course, not a problem. After all, our little friend was smart enough to hand over the ritual used to summon the maiden spirit. A complete and stable summoning ritual—your Research Institute nearly tried to snatch the boy away directly."

Every mystic organization craves to recruit a genius with an affinity for the arcane, because history has long proven that even the most mediocre among them can carve out a new path for the closed-off field of mysticism.

"With these successive creations and discoveries, the Queen's attitude toward our little friend has shifted from mere observation to protection."

He paused, his voice dropping to a low register.

"Only some brain-dead fools and despicable, shameless outsiders would do something so irrational."

Holmes didn't respond; he exhaled a ring of smoke and asked a strange question.

"Is there any movement from Witch Lane?"

Mycroft instantly grasped the meaning behind the words. He set down his teacup and replied: "Of course. After all, with the manifestation of a complete spirit entity, how could those witches, famous for their spiritism, remain indifferent?"

Hearing this, Holmes frowned: "What method do they usually use to approach a target?"

"Direct kidnapping? No, that's too crude." Mycroft shook his head: "They prefer seduction, especially since our little friend happens to have a face that women find appealing."

"Then he will certainly fall for it."

Holmes gave a very definitive answer: "An immature male who has no self-awareness of his own abilities or situation, and whose brain is often governed by his emotions, will always harbor some unrealistic ideas about love and women."

"Sherlock, your assessment of the boy is too harsh." Mycroft suddenly laughed: "Emotions do indeed affect one's calm judgment, but sometimes they can also create miracles."

Holmes tapped his pipe noncommittally and continued: "I will keep an eye on him, but I also need you to provide first-hand intelligence."

"Do you know what I like most about you, Sherlock?" Mycroft set down his teacup and tapped his fingertips against the table: "You always make people feel so at ease."

He lowered his eyes, methodically smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles on his suit cuffs: "It seems I have successfully achieved one of the goals of my visit."

When Mycroft raised his eyes again, the faint, elusive smile on his face had vanished completely.

"Sherlock, can you tell me now why you suddenly insisted on moving out of the laboratory back then?"

The room fell into a brief silence, with only the curling scent of tea drifting quietly through the stagnant air.

"It is not that I cannot tell you."

Holmes's voice carried a rare hint of hesitation: "It is that even I have not yet fully confirmed it myself."

Mycroft stared at him for a long time before arching a brow.

He picked up the teapot and poured two cups for himself and Sherlock with measured deliberation. The amber liquid rippled in the Cup, reflecting a certain hidden emotion in his eyes.

"Interesting." Mycroft pushed one of the cups toward Holmes: "I am becoming increasingly curious about what could possibly trouble even you."

Holmes did not take the teacup.

"Fine, fine, I misspoke; you are merely unable to confirm it yet." Mycroft's voice held a trace of helplessness: "Next time you have something uncertain, remember to tell me in advance. After all, I am your brother."

Holmes's fingers paused slightly.

Mycroft noticed this subtle reaction, and his smile deepened: "So, will you tell me the truth?"

"You should leave."

Having been served an eviction notice, Mycroft sighed softly: "Very well, I suppose I should."

With that, he stood up and walked toward the door. Before pushing it open to leave, he turned his head slightly to leave a word of warning:

"Oh, and Sherlock, remember to remind our little friend to be careful of the clock striking midnight. Also, I am very grateful he is willing to join my Diogenes Club; there is a member gathering next Friday, please ensure he attends."

"He is right next door."

Mycroft chuckled aloud.

"I thought you would understand, my dear brother."

He blinked his grey eyes.

"I want to chat with you more and have you make a few more friends; isn't that perfectly obvious?"