Anne Brittany

In this era, no country had real estate agencies or anything of the sort. Anyone wishing to sell a house could only list it with the government-established Property Bureau, and anyone wishing to buy property could only go through the Property Bureau.

The two parties to a transaction often did not need to meet. The seller only needed to give the Property Bureau a price, while the buyer paid the Property Bureau directly, along with the taxes, and could then receive the property deed.

Charlotte pondered for a while, but the drowsiness in his body gradually became irresistible. He did not even take off his clothes before falling into a hazy dream.

A pitch-black night, a long street without lamps!

Drifting starlight, howling winds.

Charlotte was somewhat bewildered. He looked around, unable to understand how he had ended up outside when he had clearly been lying in bed.

"Something's wrong."

Charlotte tried to gather Bloody Glory. Over the past ten-odd days, this supernatural ability had improved again, condensing into a small vortex between his brows. A strange energy circulated through his entire body, greatly settling his nerves.

A soft voice suddenly sounded behind him. "You harmed me."

Charlotte turned back in surprise and saw a rather beautiful young woman. Her dress was stained with blood, her face bruised, and she looked thoroughly bedraggled. Remembering the murder from that day, he asked, "Are you Mrs. Yang Mills?"

The young woman could not help laughing. In the night, it sounded somewhat eerie. She asked mournfully, "Have you forgotten who I am? You had me killed by my husband, and you don't feel the slightest guilt?"

A slender hand settled on Sherlock's shoulder. The young woman pressed against his face, her breath chillingly cold as she said, "Don't you think you ought to compensate me?"

Charlotte smiled faintly, utterly composed. "You're not Mrs. Yang Mills. Otherwise, you would have realized long ago that you had the wrong person."

A resentful, feminine laugh rang in his ears as the young woman shouted wildly, "You still want to evade responsibility? Pretend you don't know me. Come down to hell with me and relive those charming days we once shared."

Charlotte closed his eyes and poured Bloody Glory into his fist. He threw a punch, colliding head-on with some unknown object. He could clearly feel that his fist had gained the upper hand and sent something flying.

In a voice only he could hear, Charlotte murmured, "So in dreams, I'm still Huang Haisheng."

He had long realized that he was in a dream.

Because his appearance had reverted to that of his previous life: black hair, black eyes, and pale, delicate hands.

Bloody Glory belonged to the broader category of Fel Energy!

Fel Energy came in many forms, but every kind originated from the soul's source.

Dreams could block pure physical energy, but they could not block Fel Energy originating from the soul's source.

Although Bloody Glory had only recently awakened and his cultivation was still shallow, it was not weakened in the slightest simply because this was a dream.

A voice cried out in exasperation, "You're actually a Transcendent?"

Charlotte still had his eyes closed. He gave a gentleman's bow and replied with a smile, "Yes!"

"Damn it!"

Charlotte suddenly felt his body sink. Opening his eyes, he saw the ceiling of his bedroom.

He sprang up, pushed open the window, and saw a carriage parked across the street. A carriage lamp hung from it, casting a dim, yellowish glow over the road.

Charlotte calmly leaped out through the window.

Having lived two lives, this was his first time attempting a free fall from the fourth floor. The wind howled past his ears, yet he felt no fear.

Bloody Glory flooded into his legs, making them as powerful as a gazelle's. He landed lightly, bent his knees slightly to absorb the impact of the drop, and elegantly walked toward the carriage across the street.

Charlotte smiled faintly. "Casually intruding into someone else's dream is very impolite. Might I ask who you are?"

A young girl's voice came from inside the carriage. She said in panic, "What are you talking about? I was only passing by. Please move aside."

Charlotte said softly, "I have not blocked your path. If you are unwilling to say anything, I will not force you. If you are seeking answers about Mrs. Yang Mills's death, I am willing to tell you everything I know and answer any question."

After a long while, the young girl inside the carriage said quietly, "I'm sorry. It seems I really did mistake you for someone else. Please, sir, come aboard."

The carriage door opened a narrow crack. Charlotte did not hesitate. He pulled it open and stepped into the carriage in a single stride.

Carriages required horses to pull them, and their wheels were extremely tall, making their cabins much higher than automobiles of later generations. Ordinary people needed a step to get in and out with ease.

For someone like Charlotte to step aboard calmly in one stride, he had to either be a martial artist with exceptional physical abilities, a Transcendent, or both.

Inside the carriage sat a young girl. She wore a long dress and casual at-home attire. Her features were delicate, and she wore black-rimmed glasses. Her fair, pretty face was composed, but the faint flush on her ears and the short dagger hidden in her hand gave her away.

"Charlotte Mecklenburg, graduate of Sheffield University, employee of the Central Government Office, First-Order Transcendent." The brief introduction broke the awkwardness and eased the girl's unease, causing her to put away some of her hostility.

She said softly, "Anne Brittany, third-year student at Gorgia University. I became a Dream Walker in my first year."

Charlotte paid slight attention to the surname Brittany. It was an exceedingly noble surname, but this was clearly not the right situation to ask about it. With a smile, he said, "Gorgia University was once the school of my dreams."

Anne Brittany clearly did not know how to handle such an abrupt change of topic. She replied gently, "Sheffield University is also a fine university."

Charlotte smiled. "Every university is a fine university."

It was an indisputable piece of nonsense.

The universities of this era were not oceans of practical education and knowledge like those of later generations. They were lands bestowed by the gods.

There were nine gods who ruled the ages, but only followers of four gods had founded universities. Every university was humanity's highest institution of learning, and every one cultivated Chosen of the Gods.

Anne found herself agreeing with those words, completely unaware that Charlotte had led the rhythm of their conversation astray.

"I'm deeply saddened that this happened, but I was not familiar with Mrs. Yang Mills. Mr. Yang Mills must have misunderstood his wife, which led to this tragedy."

"If you investigate at the Central Government Office, you can easily learn that I have been vacationing in Senis until recently and only returned a few days ago."

Anne Brittany hesitated before saying, "I believe you, Mr. Mecklen. I misunderstood you."

Charlotte smiled faintly. He had used a rhetorical tactic common in later generations: using an irrelevant but unimpeachable fact to prove a conclusion far removed from it. Many people believed that unimpeachable fact, yet subconsciously overlooked that it had nothing to do with the conclusion.