Artifact Restored!

Nearly a month passed in the blink of an eye amid peaceful daily routines like this. During that month, John Wick and Helen had practically become Doro's parents. During the day, they looked after Doro and took her out to play, then brought her back to Sherlock's house at night.

Sherlock would also occasionally come to John Wick's house to mooch a meal and trade jabs with John Wick, making it one of the few ways he could relax outside of work.

This continued until the last few days of the month, when Sherlock's restoration work entered an extremely critical stage. Forget picking Doro up at night—he could not even spare time to eat.

John Wick simply had Doro stay at his house instead. Doro had no objections to the arrangement either, since she liked Helen, who felt like a mother to her.

As for John Wick... well, in Doro's still-immature mind, she liked him too. It was just that John Wick always liked to prick her with his beard, which made Doro somewhat afraid of him.

Finally, on the last day of the month, blinding light burst forth from Sherlock's study. Ignoring the walls, it surged outward in wave after wave like crashing tides.

Within that golden radiance, anyone with even slightly stronger empathy could sense the joy it conveyed. It was like someone bedridden with illness for years suddenly recovering, a feeling beyond words.

Faced with this situation, John Wick did not hesitate in the slightest. He grabbed his handgun and rushed into Sherlock's room. Even though his only means against such supernatural power was the pistol in his hand, John Wick showed no trace of retreat.

The two of them might constantly roast each other and casually spew filthy insults in private, but friendship between men was just that strange. Age did not matter, nor did status. When their friend was in trouble, they would always be the ones charging forward.

For Sherlock, John Wick and Helen were his only friends since crossing over. Likewise, for John Wick, once an assassin, Sherlock was his first friend with whom there were no tangled interests involved—the first friend who traded sincerity for sincerity.

But when John Wick kicked open the door to Sherlock's study with his pistol raised, the sight before him still left this "ordinary person" dumbfounded.

Golden light poured from the lance constantly circling Sherlock like ocean waves, while Sherlock himself hovered in the air, grinning as he watched the lance spin around him.

For a moment, John Wick, still holding his gun, felt as though he had drawn his sword and looked in every direction, only to find himself lost. He could only stare blankly at Sherlock floating in midair and foolishly ask, "Sherlock, you can fucking fly now?"

Only then did Sherlock notice John Wick barging in with a gun. After thinking for a moment, he understood what had happened almost instantly. He reached out and caught the lance flying wildly around him, and after making it restrain its excited glow, slowly descended before John Wick.

Unlike John Wick's foolish expression, Sherlock wore an exceptionally sly grin. The instant John Wick saw that look on Sherlock's face, like a little fox that had stolen cream, alarm bells went off in his mind.

As Sherlock's friend, John Wick knew that Sherlock was definitely up to no good!

Sure enough, the first thing Sherlock said to John Wick was, "Ah, my dear child, do you wish to soar through the sky as well?"

"Motherf—"

Before John Wick could even finish cursing, Sherlock flung the lance in his hand at John Wick's back.

Though he knew Sherlock would not hurt him, the instincts of an assassin immediately made John Wick want to block the lance rushing at him. Unfortunately, it did not strike him as he had expected. Instead, without anyone holding it, it turned in midair and came to his back.

Then John Wick felt as if gravity had vanished, and his entire body began slowly floating into the air.

John Wick was indeed a highly trained assassin, but assassin training definitely did not include how to handle a zero-gravity environment.

Thus, John Wick was now nothing more than a "highly trained" ordinary person.

Watching John Wick flail around in the air like a drowning cat, desperately trying to grab onto something, Sherlock laughed so hard his head nearly fell off.

Yet this time, John Wick did not retort to Sherlock's mockery. Instead, he excitedly kept trying to adapt to the sensation of weightlessness.

After all, even someone as experienced as John Wick was feeling something like this for the first time. Naturally, all that remained in his heart was novelty.

By the time Helen entered carrying Doro, John Wick could already dart around Sherlock's room like a fish, just like the astronauts aboard a space station.

Seeing John Wick racing all over the room as though he had lost gravity, having the time of his life, Helen's jaw nearly hit the floor. Only Doro began struggling frantically in Helen's arms at the sight.

After Helen let go, Doro ran up to Sherlock on her two little legs, tugged at the hem of his clothes, and looked up at him with her big adorable eyes. In a pitiful voice, she said, "Doro wants to play too! Doro wants to float in the sky too!"

Sherlock naturally agreed to Doro's request without hesitation. He immediately stripped John Wick of his "right to fly" and transferred it to Doro.

As they watched Doro wave her four little white, plump jelly-like hands wildly in midair, warm smiles appeared on the faces of John Wick, Helen, and Sherlock alike.

Only then did Helen remember to ask Sherlock, "Sherlock, what exactly happened just now? You have no idea—the entire neighborhood was startled by that sudden light."

Hearing Helen's question, Sherlock scratched his head awkwardly and pointed at the lance behind Doro. "To be honest, I didn't expect such a huge commotion in the end. I only repaired the Holy Lance of Longinus."

But at Sherlock's words, Helen's eyes widened instantly. Staring fixedly at the lance floating behind Doro, which was currently carrying her through the air, she asked in disbelief, "What did you say it was called? Longinus? And Holy? Sherlock, don't tell me this thing is the thing I think it is!"

Hearing Helen put it that way, Sherlock was not quite sure what to say. He could only shake his head awkwardly before answering uncertainly, "It probably, maybe, perhaps isn't the same thing?"