I regulate energy. Therefore, I am.

–René Descartes

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I apologized politely to Mrs. Hudson and promised to pay for the repairs at the end of the month.

What exactly does Stomping Steps mean?

I couldn’t understand what had been happening since earlier.

“You must be very tired…”

My brain must be exhausted.

For now, I need to rest and assess the situation—

-Thud.

…but in the end, as soon as I entered the bedroom, I buried myself in the mattress and fell fast asleep.

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I had a long dream.

I was still the consulting detective Sherlock Holmes, but the British Empire I saw in my dream felt strangely unfamiliar.

Criminals soared in the sky, demolished buildings, and exhibited powers that surpassed human limits.

In facing them, I too employed martial arts far more formidable than the Baritsu I once knew.

The battle with the villains I experienced in the dream was nothing short of the occult itself, which I loathe.

Humans ignoring gravity and walking in the air, even breaking walls with their bare fists!

Such absurd occurrences happening in reality are simply untenable for someone who is a devout believer in science.

‘This isn’t reality!’

Unable to bear it, I shouted in the dream and woke up from the nightmare.

“…Horrifying.”

The scenes from the dream still vividly lingered in my mind.

From the so-called Master babbling incomprehensible things about Indirect Power Transfer or Succession, while infusing strange power into my body.

To the endless training leading to my becoming a master, every last bit of it.

Thanks to my exceptional intellect and memory, all the bizarre concepts and knowledge I encountered in the dream remained firmly etched in my mind.

If necessary, I could recite them as if they were another reality.

“……”

My imagination ranks among the exceptional.

When entrusted with solving a case, just seeing a few clues was sufficient for me to deduce what kind of actions the criminal had employed.

However, the information I encountered in the dream had nothing to do with the knowledge system I had previously built up.

Elixirs, martial arts, all sorts of absurd, nonsensical things.

While it’s true that I possess some understanding of Eastern culture, I have no hobby of creating concepts that do not exist in reality.

Perhaps my subconscious has the qualities of an excellent writer.

While entertaining such thoughts, my gaze suddenly fell upon the evening newspaper from last night, placed atop the side table.

‘…Could it be that I was imagining things?’

The date written at the top was still March 7, 1881.

On the front page, there was still the picture of the rejuvenated

Her Majesty the Queen.

‘It seems verification is in order.’

There have been more than a few things that felt off since last night.

Normally, if I had a question unrelated to the case, I’d dismiss it as a nuisance, take a morphine injection, and lie down, but this time is an exception.

Now, I am consumed by a strong curiosity and impulse rising from deep within my heart.

In such times, it’s better to go out directly.

Hastily, I gathered my coat, hat, and magnifying glass, and as I was about to leave, I realized I had forgotten something.

“Goodness… What’s come over me?”

My gaze fixed on the tobacco pipe on the living room table.

It was much thinner and longer than the one I usually used.

“I almost forgot my pipe.”

Reflexively reaching out for it, words I hadn’t expected were spilling from my mouth.

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Clenching the suspiciously unfamiliar yet oddly fitting pipe between my teeth, I stepped out onto the street.

Even as I greeted Mrs. Hudson and walked down Baker Street, I did not cease my observations and musings.

The sky in London was gloomy in this world as well. The ground was damp from the rain that fell at dawn. I walked, avoiding the puddles that had formed here and there.

If this place was truly different from the London I knew, and if the events I saw in my dreams actually happened, there would be evidence supporting it everywhere.

“Hmm.”

I didn’t have to wait long.

Soon, I saw an old postman running at a fast pace from north of Baker Street.

-Ta-ta-tat!

The elderly postman in his late sixties was moving with an agility far surpassing the street urchins of Baker Street.

If that was all, it might have felt out of place but not necessarily strange. However.

Amazingly, the old man was accurately tossing letters into the mailboxes of buildings lined up on either side as he ran down the street.

He was even running over puddles, yet not a single drop of water splashed around him.

“Mounting Duckweed, Traversing Water—Jesus Walk…”

I swear, I did not see something imaginary.

As I witnessed before my eyes the realm of the body technique of running on water, I could only feel a strange sensation.

The postman wasn’t the only oddity.

At Portman Square, where Baker Street and Wigmore Street intersect, elderly women were gathered, holding blunt swords or iron fans.

There was music playing on a gramophone and they were dancing energetically to it, their movements so agile that their age seemed irrelevant.

Tai-chi Square Sword Dance.

Though it appeared lacking in practicality as a sword dance practiced by elderly women for their health, mastering the essence of the original swordsmanship it derived from was an entirely different matter.

…For some reason, such absurd knowledge had firmly taken root in my mind…

“This is utterly absurd.”

I had walked for barely ten minutes, yet evidence was steadily piling up that this London, rewound through time, was entirely different from the one I had once inhabited.

Once the impossible is eliminated, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

Unless I was seeing things or had gone mad, it meant that everything unfolding before my eyes was indeed reality.

I have traveled back in time to the past, and this is not the London I knew.

Then, what I must do immediately is gather information.

The first order of business, of course, was to gather information.

“I’ll take this one.”

Without delay, I entered the nearest bookshop and purchased a history book.

Up until now, I had dismissed history outside of criminal affairs as an uninteresting field, refusing to even acquire knowledge in the subject. But at this moment, it was exactly what I needed.

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The British Empire, a good 4,800 miles from Central Plains, Midfield.

It has been over a century since martial arts from the distant East arrived here and underwent unique adaptations.

Yet, how many remember that this vast historical flow began from a single blossom?

In the early 17th century, among the wealthy in the Netherlands where finance was flourishing, there was a trend of collecting tulips and their bulbs.

Among them, tulips with rare patterns were valued highly, and these variant bulbs became speculative objects with prices soaring several times.

A market where madness begets madness.

Fortunately, within a few months, people came to their senses, and the tulip prices that had twisted many lives quickly returned to normal.

The problem was what happened next.

A flower similar to tulips from Tian Shan in Central Asia, the Tian Shan Snow Lotus, began to attract attention.

Hearing that wild Tian Shan Snow Lotus was regarded as a precious elixir in the distant eastern Qing Empire, people began to spend their money to purchase this rare flower.

Finance industry professionals expected this trend to be a passing fad like the tulip mania, but reality was different.

This was because those who tried consuming the Tian Shan Snow Lotus began to spread word of its astonishing effects.

Upon consuming the Tian Shan Snow Lotus, their strength improved and night vision became enhanced.

Some even experienced unbelievable changes, such as incurable diseases being cured after prolonged consumption.

Rumors and hearsay spread like wildfire across Europe.

The ruling classes of various countries hastily assembled investigation teams, and the sailors’ destination heading east was naturally Qing, where research on elixirs was most actively conducted.

And a few years later.

As the investigation ships that had left Europe returned one by one, people were even more astonished than before.

What crossed over from Qing to Europe was not just a new elixir.

A mysterious Eastern warrior exhibiting power far beyond that of ordinary humans.

That was a martial artist.

The reason they left their homeland, where they had been developing martial arts for centuries, and came to Europe was simple.

For the Midfielders, the people of the Central Plains, who revered ‘One’s body, hair, and skin are all bestowed from one’s parents’, the queue hairstyle was a symbol of humiliation and subjugation.1

Regardless of Orthodox and Unorthodox factions, from third-rate to masters of the Profound realm.

To keep their heads, they had to sacrifice their hair, and to keep their hair, they had to sacrifice their heads. To escape the order of shaving, martial artists crossed over to Europe.

Settled in Europe, martial artists displayed miraculous abilities.

Blocking sharp swords with their bare bodies, breaking distant walls, and even reversing time to regain youth; it was natural for Europeans to be astonished.

The royalty and nobility who dreamed of immortality, as well as soldiers and the wealthy, all eagerly treated martial artists with utmost respect, leading to the rapid spread of Central Plains knowledge.

Concepts of the dantian and the Eight Extraordinary Meridians, the precise method of consuming elixirs, the cultivation methods for accumulating and utilizing internal energy, and even the techniques to manifest energy externally to exert physical force.

Martial arts quickly captivated Europe, and in the British Empire, which attracted numerous large martial sects and prestigious families, martial arts training became essential etiquette for gentlemen and ladies.

Indeed, it was the moment the era of London Murim began.

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Returning home, I sighed softly as I perused the preface of the history book.

Indeed, the history of this world was dreadfully distant from the place I had lived.

Though the geography and residents of London were the same, this world was undeniably a place I had never experienced before.

No.

Buying the history book was purely an action to verify objective evidence, and I already knew well enough what kind of world this was.

Because the life of another Sherlock Holmes that I experienced in last night’s dream was neatly organized in my mind.

“…Was that it.”

I formed a hypothesis.

The very existence of Mrs. Hudson in this world suggests that Watson, Inspector Lestrade, and even Moriarty might all be here, in exactly the same manner that I know them.

If so, what I must do is clear.

I shall resolve the cases that have fallen into a labyrinth, and see that the culprits are confined to their cells, just as I did prior to this regression.

My greatest pleasure is born from that process, and criminal investigation is the field where I can best utilize the abilities I possess.

“To judge by amusement alone, this London is undoubtedly better…”

As soon as I became aware of the presence of my dantian, I started to feel an energy bubbling up from my lower abdomen, tickling inside my body.

This is the karma I’ve accumulated in this world.

An intangible force known as internal energy.

‘If only I can manage this properly—’

Martial arts exist.

With knowledge and wisdom, and now with this newfound power as well.

I may indeed secure a perfect victory over Moriarty this time.

Above all, I should be able to protect London from his grasp without sacrificing my life.

“I’ll send you to a court far higher than that of this earthly realm.”

There was no need to worry about where to start.

Because I have already decided what to do immediately.

What I need to gain the trust of my irreplaceable friend and assistant, Watson, whom I’ll meet in six days, is the overwhelming prowess of consulting detective Sherlock Holmes.

‘If only I possessed enough strength, everything would proceed smoothly.’

When I left the house earlier, I instinctively picked up my pipe.

This indicates that the memories of another me who lived in this world are surfacing unconsciously.

The fact that I accidentally destroyed the floor just last night is evidence that both my mind and body still recall those martial techniques.

Of course, this doesn’t mean I can fully understand and control all the power accumulated by the me of this world.

This is most certainly a disappointing matter.

In a world where even the postman utilizes lightness skills, there is little hope for a half-baked individual like myself, who cannot master martial arts, to combat criminals effectively.

So.

“Let’s Begin Again.”

I locked the door, then settled on the floor in a lotus position, following the unfamiliar knowledge filling my head.

What the Sherlock Holmes of this world mastered was a unique martial art of an unknown grandmaster who had traveled through Europe and Asia, combining the cultivation method, movement techniques, and forms of various martial sects into the One Person Inheritance, Unpassed to the Inhuman martial art, the exclusive Baritsu…

Closing my eyes and circulating my internal energy according to the verses of the cultivation method, I could feel a hot energy moving along my meridians.

I no longer rejected this new knowledge or dismissed it as nonsense.

If this too was a power accumulated by my blood and sweat in this world, it was only right to accept it.

-Whoooosh!

Thus, I, Sherlock Holmes, stepped into a new realm.

Elementary, the most fundamental of fundamentals that anyone who masters martial arts must go through.

By beginning with Breath Control.

1. TL/N: When the Manchus took over the Ming Dynasty and established the Qing Dynasty, they established a law that required all men to wear their hair in the queue hairstyle. The queue hairstyle is where the hair on top of the scalp is grown long and is often braided, while the front portion of the head is shaven. ️