The dark arts of the Unorthodox can spread halfway around the world while the Orthodox divine secret arts are putting on their shoes.

–Mark Twain1

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“…Who, exactly, were the victims to warrant such commotion?”

“That’s―”

Despite asking, Lestrade couldn’t easily open his mouth.

Eyes that resembled a rat, completely at odds with his large build, were staring at the Postmaster General.

On the other hand, Sir Fawcett showed no signs of being angry at Lestrade’s sudden intrusion.

‘They seem rather ill at ease.’

There was a need to deduce the nature of the strange silence flowing between the two officers.

Three possibilities immediately came to mind.

For now, one possibility is that, as usual, he came rushing in, shouting without thinking, only to suddenly realize he had carelessly divulged investigative details, prompting him to fall silent at once.

Or considering the identities of the victims, he might have thought the Postmaster General or postal officials had the motive to kill them, hence keeping silent.

If not, there are a couple more guesses.

“……”

I compared the physiques of Lestrade, Sir Fawcett, and the office boxers and postal workers I saw on the first floor.

Sir Fawcett’s robust physique was just as massive as Lestrade, who had long trained in Bulk-Up & Cutting.

The clerks I saw earlier, though not quite like the police officers of Scotland Yard, showed that they put effort into external martial training.

‘Quite the opposite of Sir Harcourt.’

Unlike the Home Secretary, who exuded a formidable presence just by sitting still, every movement of Sir Fawcett emphasized his agility.

A body equipped with extreme flexibility for the free distribution of internal energy, not unbreakable toughness.

It was truly a perfect specimen of a practitioner of the Eight Layers Of Silk, contrasting with a diamond-like strong body completed by the Bulk-Up & Cutting.

Considering these facts, Lestrade’s reaction may not have been mere surprise; it is possible that he experienced an instinctive rejection based on martial principles upon encountering a warrior who walked the opposite path.

Otherwise, in a rare display of deductive reasoning, Lestrade may have actually considered the possibility that the Postmaster General was the culprit.

‘Either way, they won’t be quick to talk.’

I can’t waste any more time like this.

I immediately signaled to Lestrade.

Lestrade, having confirmed that Sir Fawcett was blind, understood my intention and took out his notebook, scribbling a few words quickly and quietly.

The deceased were all key executives of a telephone company located in London.

It was the information I had been waiting for.

“Excellent. It was worth the wait.”

As per the hypothesis I formed earlier, the culprit’s motive seemed to be tied to the lawsuit between the Post Office and the telephone company.

“Return to the Yard first. I’ll finish the conversation and follow shortly.”

“…I don’t mind, but I won’t wait long.”

I checked the time.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be quick.”

Lestrade nodded and swiftly left the Central Post Office.

“…A rather noisy friend.”

Meanwhile, Sir Fawcett seemed unconcerned about the series of cover-up operations happening before his eyes.

As if he didn’t feel the need to know the sensitive investigative details, given that he couldn’t see anyway.

“Still, among the inspectors of Scotland Yard, there are few with skills like his.”

“No wonder I had felt strength in his voice.”

When I spoke, Sir Fawcett gave a brief exclamation of admiration.

“Is Inspector Lestrade really that skilled?”

Watson also asked me as if she hadn’t thought of it.

“It is true. Only in terms of endurance and grabbing skills, though.”

Last time, since the opponent was a Dead Man, Lestrade couldn’t demonstrate his skills, but no ordinary criminal can escape his arrest techniques.

Lestrade’s skill was unparalleled even among the inspectors of Scotland Yard. After all, he had mastered the Ghostly Shadow Grapple Technique of Kingswood, a technique said to be capable of capturing even a phantom’s shadow.

“It seems like time is of the essence, shouldn’t we be going?”

“I still have a few more things to investigate.”

“I’ll cooperate as much as you need.”

“That’s great. Then I’d like to ask for one thing.”

As the identities of the victims were revealed, the motive of the criminal began to emerge, and it became clear what I had to do.

The telephone rights were disputed, and the Post Office had filed lawsuits against telephone companies based in London, with the court withholding a ruling.

Before my regression, the lawsuits would have already concluded last year, but in this world, they had yet to be resolved.

At this point, four people related to the telephone companies have been murdered, but the court still isn’t aware of this.

In that case—

“Please gather everyone involved with the lawsuit against the telephone company. Judges, lawyers, and anyone connected from the telephone companies and the Post Office.”

“Why?”

“There are still people the criminal intends to kill.”

When I spoke, the Postmaster General’s face hardened.

“It makes sense… It seems like someone who is not pleased with the flow of the lawsuit is operating in secret.”

However, Sir Fawcett soon nodded as if he understood.

“If the personnel are separated, wouldn’t it be difficult to guard them?”

“I understand. I will arrange for it quickly.”

I was about to leave the office with Watson when Sir Fawcett called me back.

“Wait a moment. I need to make a move too, so let’s take the carriage together. I’ll drop you off in front of the Yard.”

“Thank you for the consideration.”

“Wait on the first floor first. I’ll grab my hat and cane and follow you right away.”

It seems he considered Watson’s difficulty with her leg. I was grateful for that.

“An intriguing person.”

As soon as we left the office, Watson lowered her voice and murmured.

“How is it that someone who can’t see delivers Buckingham’s mail without a cane? Earlier, he walked so naturally through the busy first floor that it was hard to believe he was blind.”

So that’s what was on her mind.

I could fully empathize with what Watson was thinking.

Although the Nine Yin-Qi Nails had partially been treated and her leg, injured by a sniper swordmaster, had begun to recover, Watson still couldn’t perform lightness skills.

To her, Sir Fawcett was a remarkable senior in the martial world who overcame the disadvantage of not being able to see.

It was only natural to feel a sense of respect.

“Having learned Kung-Fu Echolocation, it’s possible.”

“Echolocation? Is it similar to Shift Step?”

Watson asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation and curiosity.

“Surprising. I thought you would know.”

I heard that it’s also taught in the military rehabilitation officer corps, but I didn’t expect Watson not to know.

For now, I decided to give a brief explanation.

“The Kung-Fu Echolocation is a martial art that helps masters who have lost their sight to overcome their disability and is classified under the art of sound.”

This peerless sound skill is based on infusing minute amounts of internal energy into all high and low sounds emitted by one’s body, such as voice and footsteps.

Sound waves containing internal energy do not refract even when affected by temperature, and their reflective and diffractive properties are enhanced, allowing the user to know what surrounds them just by listening to the reflected sounds.

There’s even a tale that, if one masters the technique to its peak, they can freely exhibit martial arts even in complete darkness where not even an inch ahead can be seen.

“Impressive. He truly is worthy of being a pillar of the Cabinet.”

For some reason, even though the other person was of ministerial rank, hearing Watson praise someone she’d just met made me feel somewhat annoyed.

“Watson. Do you remember when I passed through the security formation at Chelsea Physic Garden?”

“Oh, that. I couldn’t believe it at first, but when I saw you brought back the elixir, I knew it was true.”

“Then what about the assassin I discovered hiding in the boarding house ceiling the other day?”

“…No way.”

It was only after I said this much that Watson showed the reaction I desired.

“Have you also mastered Kung-Fu Echolocation?”

I nodded to confirm.

“While perhaps not quite on the level of Sir Fawcett, I don’t think I’ll be outdone anywhere.”

“You always have a knack for surprising me, Holmes. Is there any martial art in London Murim that you haven’t mastered?”

“That’s obvious. No matter how excellent I am, there are still many martial arts I haven’t mastered.”

Of course, I’ve trained much more extensively and deeply than most gentlemen.

“There are countless secret techniques of the Kung-Fu Noblesse and clans that I have yet to master. Take the Kunlun School, for instance—their exclusive esoteric art, Brain Stopper, or the renowned ultimate technique, Lightning Clap.”

As it happened, I mentioned the telegraph boxers passing by on the second floor as an example.

“Well, you don’t seem like the type to embark on a pilgrimage to Santiago.”

“You know me too well, and that’s the problem. But more to the point, that’s not a sight one comes across every day.”

Earlier, I hurried past on my way to the third-floor office, barely sparing it a glance, but now that I take a proper look, it is nothing short of spectacular…

On the second floor, dozens of telegraph boxers were rapidly tapping the telegraph keys, sending Morse codes.

Just by seeing their movements infused with Lightning Clap, one could tell they were gentlemen who had reached a higher level than the office boxers sorting mail on the first floor.

Remarkably, the telegraph boxers of the Central Post Office did not use batteries to transmit messages, unlike in ordinary post offices.

“Brain Stopper…”

The blue aura coiling around the hands of the Telegraph Boxers was a manifestation of True energy, its altered nature akin to those wielded only by a select few in the martial world, most notably, Thunder and Lightning, or the pilgrims of the Kunlun Cathedral.

Brain Stopper, transformed by capturing the imagery of lightning striking the plains of the Iberian Peninsula, is an intense energy that shakes the skull, as its name suggests.

If one can delicately control this energy with properties similar to electricity, they could send telegraphs without a battery by channeling a tiny amount into the telegraph device like that.

Brain Stopper, along with Blazing Yang Energy used for heating cold food, is a highly versatile energy.

Seeing things like this, it’s clear why the pilgrims of Santiago’s Kunlun Clan are favored in the job market.

“Wait a minute.”

While watching the telegraph boxers’ hands leave afterimages as they sent Morse code, a hypothesis pierced my mind like lightning.

‘If it’s possible to send telegraphs using Brain Stopper…’

I realized it.

The reason the culprit was able to murder all the victims scattered across London’s four corners, within a mere fifteen minutes.

“Did something come to mind, Holmes?”

Watson, noticing the anomaly, asked as I halted my steps.

“I’ve figured out how the murderer killed the victims.”

1. TL/N: The original quote is as follows—A lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes. ️