There is nothing in the world that is not misused.

The advancement of Kung-Fu always stands back-to-back with danger.

Only by overcoming this can one truly contribute to the future of humanity.

However―

I cannot accept it…! I will never accept it!!

Those who toy with human lives using Kung-Fu!

The defeat of my Explosive Gale Technique!!

-Alfred Nobel-

Watson was holding her breath in the Music Room, watching Holmes descend into the garden.

“I wonder if he’ll be alright…”

Watching the detective willingly rush into danger, a creeping sense of unease began to rise in a corner of her heart.

That clever man could have stayed here enjoying afternoon tea, yet he chose to attend the garden party for some definite reason.

She didn’t like that he hadn’t mentioned anything to her again, but given the time constraints, it wasn’t entirely incomprehensible.

“At least the fortunate thing is that Holmes can return here anytime…”

Watson’s gaze lingered on the tapestry hung on the wall by the royal attendant after all the garden party guests had gone down.

The tapestry was woven with several rules of the garden party to help those watching from the Music Room understand.

Rule number 12 stated that anyone holding an invitation of ten steps or higher could return to the Music Room after attending the garden party.

The condition was that at least one opponent engaged in unlimited combat must consent.

This meant that if even one person got scared of Holmes’ Kung-Fu when challenging him, he could return without issue.

“Whoever made this rule is quite nasty.”

Considering Holmes’ safety, the existence of rule 12 was quite reassuring to Watson.

On the other hand, the other eleven rules felt quite unsettling.

Watson skimmed through the rules recorded on the tapestry once again.

Rules 1 through 11 mostly restricted the duels between garden party attendees from crossing the line, but the other rules were problematic.

After a bet is proposed, somewhat aggressive language, rude behavior, and cheering or jeering directed at garden party attendees are permitted.

In particular, rule 7, which allowed gambling on the outcome of the free combat elixir contest at the garden party, was displeasing.

‘For masters holding invitations of ten steps or higher, the garden party is merely a pastime for juniors, is that it?’

Gambling, including card games and betting money or other stakes, was a thrilling hobby Watson loved, but if the stake was Holmes, it was a different story.

Though she believed Holmes would never lose, her conscience would not allow her to profit by betting on him.

“I just hope Holmes doesn’t get hurt.”

Watson knew well how strong Holmes was, yet she couldn’t help but worry.

Her concern was based on the conversation of the veteran masters sitting nearby.

They were beings far removed from Watson in both rank and age, like figures above the clouds.

Their confident gazes typical of the strong were fixed on a middle-aged man walking toward the stairs made with Poltergeist.

“…He’s still a man of radical nature.”

“Even after receiving a five-step invitation, he insists on going down to the garden.”

The veteran martial artists were referring to a middle-aged man with dark brown hair.

A lean body and a height of six feet.

A martial artist with long hands and feet, ideal for executing fist techniques.

He was a famous figure whose name Watson had also heard many times.

Though close to the age of wisdom, he had a youthful and handsome face, and had long attracted the European Murim’s attention as a maverick1 due to his mysterious Kung-Fu, vast wealth from business, and eccentric behavior.

Above all, there could be no one in all of Europe, save for the man himself, who wore a belt with a buckle engraved by overlapping the letters D and N, a sleeveless white coat, and a pendant shaped like a dynamite.

It was none other than the grandmaster with an intense, inimitable personality, Alfred Nobel.

“Why did Sir Nobel go down to the garden…”

A face seen several times in newspapers.

But seeing him in person, his vigor far exceeded imagination.

The ambition and fighting spirit blazing in his arrogant eyes were unfathomably deep.

Though Watson lived with Holmes, who could be called a madman, Alfred Nobel’s alien presence was fundamentally different from her detective.

Holmes was a man who used his madness, extremely condensed mental power, only for Kung-Fu research and crime solving.

He was a chivalrous hero who hid embers beneath a mask of cold reason and did not reveal his heat against the weak.

But Nobel was different.

Just sensing the Qi Frequency he emitted, or seeing the grass fall beneath his feet as he walked the garden, made it clear.

The excellent physician Watson instinctively knew.

What Alfred Nobel resembled.

‘Isn’t he literally a walking dynamite?’

A man controlling a massive power on a razor’s edge, uncertain when it might explode.

The essence he contained affected the surroundings distinctly even if a tiny amount leaked through his meridians.

‘Just breathing causes the mirage of essence to rise.’

Considering the amount of internal energy accumulated, he was comparable to the veteran masters sitting nearby.

Given the constant slight essence loss, his energy control was probably not very refined.

However, the energy within Nobel was like a treasure pot, showing no sign of depletion.

As Europe’s greatest tycoon, he must have consumed large amounts of elixirs to increase his internal energy.

‘Just how much internal energy does he have stored in his Elixir Field?’

It was enough to suspect he was deliberately releasing some of his abundant internal force to prevent his body from bursting.

Or perhaps for some other purpose.

Given that Nobel showed no sign of unease while performing this tightrope-like act, it was a fairly convincing hypothesis.

His expressionless face, not a drop of cold sweat, constantly scattering tiny amounts of essence around, seemed to provoke or intimidate the martial artists nearby.

Having been with the martial artist Sherlock Holmes for months, Watson knew.

As rumors suggested, Nobel’s personality was as twisted as Holmes’.

“It’s unexpected that Alfred Nobel moved. Last year, he stayed quietly in the Music Room.”

“I’m curious what’s different this year.”

“I think I know what provoked him.”

Meanwhile, the veteran masters sitting on chairs prepared by the attendants, waiting for Queen Victoria’s arrival, seemed to have noticed the ominous aura Nobel emitted and continued their conversation.

From their conversation, it seemed Alfred Nobel attended the Buckingham Palace ball every year.

Considering his status and fame, he must have received a high-tier invitation last year as well.

Why would someone who had quietly enjoyed tea time in the Music Room until now go down to the garden this year to compete with others?

“Could it be―”

Watson walked to the balcony and looked outside.

In the middle of the royal garden where the garden party was about to begin.

Alfred Nobel staring at Sherlock Holmes with fiery eyes.

“Hmph! To get caught by my brother, what rotten luck he has.”

It was then.

A martial artist Watson had never seen before appeared beside her as she leaned out of the balcony looking down at the garden.

A short man with black hair hanging down to his shoulders.

He looked much younger than Watson, seemingly just past his twenties, a late bloomer.

“Kehehe…! I am Emil Oscar Nobel! Alfred’s younger brother!”

He glanced at Watson, then gleefully wiped his philtrum with his index finger and laughed loudly.

“Ah, yes… I see.”

Watson frowned involuntarily at his frivolous behavior.

Though he claimed to be Alfred Nobel’s brother, he didn’t seem to be a master of comparable skill.

At best, he was at a level inferior to her own.

Since he wore a pendant identical to Alfred Nobel’s, it seemed he was indeed his biological brother.

However, the reason he remained here was completely unclear.

No matter how she thought about it, he didn’t seem to hold an invitation of ten steps or higher, so why was he allowed to stay in the Music Room instead of going down to the garden?

Watson quickly found the answer.

‘He is in a similar situation as me.’

The man named Emil’s left hand hung limp.

Looking closely, it was a wooden prosthetic hand.

“…”

Watson had read in newspapers about what Alfred Nobel and his family had gone through.

The late Immanuel Nobel was a businessman who supplied the Russian Empire with machine mines and machine torpedoes he personally invented during the Crimean War.

However, Russia defaulted on payment, and the anger of countries hostile to Russia led to bankruptcy.

The Nobel brothers inherited the family business and, centered on the third brother Alfred, created new Kung-Fu and produced explosives, successfully reviving the family.

However, their youngest brother, whom they cherished and cared for, was caught in an explosion caused by a demon who raided the factory.

‘Is this the one who lost an arm and became disabled?’

If so, Emil is older than Watson and Holmes.

Like his older brother Alfred, he seemed to possess a baby face that defied his age.

Of course, Watson didn’t think his inner self held the chivalry befitting a baby face.

“Looks like you’re friends with that Little Heavenly Demon fellow? Too bad. No one with all their limbs intact ever escaped being targeted by my brother.”

Her sympathy lasted only a moment.

At Emil’s next words, Watson’s eyebrows began to tremble with anger.

“Well, it’s obvious. As soon as the garden party starts, my brother’s poisonous Kung=Fu will hit―”

“…Shut up.”

Emil flinched and stepped back at the sharp tone in Watson’s voice.

“W-what?! I just said something obvious, why are you so serious and upset?”

“If your brother is so great, don’t just flap your gums―”

The next moment, Watson grabbed Emil’s wrist and firmly pinned it to the railing.

And then.

-Clang!

With lightning speed, she drew a dagger from its sheath and plunged its sharp blade in.

“Eek!”

Between the fingers of Emil’s still intact hand.

“How about placing a bet or two on some precious items?”

The eyes of the masters and the royal attendants drawn by the commotion turned toward the two.

“The Discharged Medical Maiden, Jane Watson, proposes a bet to Emil Oscar Nobel. She wagers the Snow Halation Iron dagger on Little Heavenly Demon Sherlock Holmes defeating Alfred Nobel.”

On a bright spring day, an unannounced gambling match broke out.

“Gambling?! Count me in!”

“I bet 50 guineas on my Alfred Nobel!”

“One pound of Ambergris!! I’ll bet on the Little Heavenly Demon!”

The renowned masters of the martial world began piling up the stakes.

1. TL/N: unorthodox individual ️