He Became a Salted Fish After Inheriting Millions of Secret Arts

After Duan Feizhuo lived in the courtyard for three days, he was invited by Lord Perilla to his temporary residence - the lakeside villa. The work of Duan Feizhuo and Yeats is not over yet, and the items transferred to the secret trading house need to be identified one by one.

After hearing that the fire in Perilla Manor was extinguished, Xenophon tried to find occult items from the ruins, but found nothing. Because the real treasure had already been transferred to the secret trading house, even if he ransacked his house, he couldn't find anything.

Lord Perilla knew nothing about esoteric philosophy, so he couldn't help Duan Feizhuo at all. He was distraught for several days before returning to normal. Melissa's real identity hit him too hard, and maybe he didn't have any intention of falling in love for a while. However, he was full of enthusiasm for mining.

"I should learn the knowledge of the mine well. Even without the protection of the undead, I can make the family prosperous and prosperous."

On the contrary, Lady Edith had heard a great deal about esoteric philosophy from her late husband.

She helped Duan Feizhuo to register her late husband's relics. Those items with strange powers were selected, and ordinary items were returned to Lady Edith, so that she could see things and think about others.

Being able to get rid of these occult items, she also looks relaxed.

She stood by the window, staring at the sparkling light of the lake outside the window. Her face is no longer young, and her body is a little bent, but as long as she stands there, no one will doubt her identity as the mistress.

"You know, sir, thirty years ago, shortly after I gave birth to Albert, my husband told me that secret that had been passed down from generation to generation in the Midlow family. I was terrified out of my wits at the time.

"I am the daughter of a squire. Although my father is not rich, I am pampered compared to ordinary people. I grew up in love and trust, and I have never seen the dark side of society. I dare not Believe it, how can there be such evil and things so contrary to human nature in the world?

"After thinking about it, I finally figured out that I can't just say that I don't have it just because I haven't seen it. Since I have seen the kind of saint who is wholeheartedly dedicated to others and has no self-interested desires, inference, there are naturally people in the world who are completely selfish and don't care about the lives of others. villains.

"But my husband finally gave up that secret technique and cut off the secret technique inheritance of the Midlow family for thousands of years. So I thought, since there are villains in the world, there must also be sages. The more vicious the villains, the more sages will be Compassionate and fraternal.

"Never have too much hope for human nature. There are as many villains as there are saints in the world. But you must never lose hope in human nature. Even in the deepest night, you must not give up the pursuit of dawn. Because Since there is such deep darkness in the world, there should be such brilliant light accordingly."

The next day, Duan Feizhuo, Yeats, and Al took the train back to London.

This time Al doesn't have to play the twittering brat anymore. Duan Feizhuo thought that the horror experience at Perilla Manor would cast a psychological shadow on the child, but he didn't think he didn't care at all, and excitedly recounted the process of him being taken away by the undead along the way, as if it wasn't a horror and supernatural experience, but is a great adventure.

They sat by the window, a pile of tattered notebooks piled up on the table. Yeats may have the potential of a workaholic, and spent the time on the road studying old Lord Perilla's notes.

"It's interesting. The Midlow family is not very famous in the mysterious society, not because they are inferior to others, but because they deliberately keep a low profile." The poet held a notebook and said thoughtfully.

"Of course, if they preach that they buried their wives alive under a tree, they will be burned at the stake in a short time." Duan Feizhuo said.

Yeats pushed the notebook in his hand to Duan Feizhuo, "This one will be more useful to you."

"I?"

"It's about arcane geometry. Isn't that your area of ​​expertise?"

The painter is probably more professional than him in this field. Duan Feizhuo thought ironically.

But he accepted the notebook gratefully. He couldn't understand half of the content above. He decided to use this notebook as a bedtime reading material, in case of insomnia one day, the notebook will come in handy.

Duan Feizhuo never thought that he would miss London. He had only lived in this city for less than a month, but when the train drove into the dense fog that covered London, he felt a joy of returning home.

He bid farewell to Yeats and Al at the station, called a two-seater carriage, and returned to No. 49, Place Franchise. Looking at the three-story building built in the Regency era, he realized that he had regarded this place as his home since no one knew when. He had been at Colonel Turner's house for three years, and it still seemed to him strange land that belonged to someone else.

Perhaps, whether a person calls a place home has little to do with how long he lives there. Whether a place is your home or not depends only on whether you are close or far away from the place spiritually.

"Mr. Chester! You are back!"

The owner of Raven Restaurant poked his head out of the door and waved at Duan Feizhuo.

"I went on a long trip." Duan Feizhuo walked over, took off his hat and put it under his arm, "Did anything happen during my absence?"

"It's nothing serious. The lawyer came once and went back disappointed after hearing that you had gone out. Next time you go away for such a long time, you must leave a message."

Duan Feizhuo smiled apologetically, "I didn't expect to be away for so long. I thought I would be back in two or three days."

"There is another letter from you. The postman left it with me when he saw that there was no one in your house."

The boss found an envelope from behind the counter and handed it to Duan Feizhuo. He thanked the boss and went upstairs with his luggage.

The moment the door was opened, a familiar yet unfamiliar smell came over us. The smell of old furniture, paper, ink and stagnant air mixed together. This is the unique atmosphere of No. 49 Place de France.

After leaving for such a long time, the furniture is covered with dust. Duan Feizhuo was exhausted all the way, so he didn't bother to dust off the dust, so he just sat down on the sofa and opened the letter.

The letter was from Ruth, and according to the postmark it had arrived three days before. Ruth must have been in a hurry when she wrote this letter, not only was the handwriting scribbled, but some ink spots were missing from the paper.

dear leo

I am so happy to receive your letter.

How are you doing in London? London must be interesting, I'm going to visit someday too!

By the way, I have some good news for you. Dad is now learning how to be a shoemaker so he can work at home without having to go out and about. My brother Edward also got a job in a textile factory. Originally, he could not be hired until he was 11 years old, but the foreman knew that my family was in trouble, so he gave him permission to work part-time.

As for me, I took a job in nursing. You remember that old fox Dr. Stone? Perhaps it was the bad news for the wicked. His son fell off while riding a steam skimmer a few days ago and became crippled. I am taking care of him now.

That guy's character is worse than his father's. You may not know that Edward was bitten by his vicious dog when he was a child! Maybe it's a good thing that he is bedridden now!

I am now paid ten shillings a week. Although not much, it is enough to subsidize the family and even save some money. When I save enough money, I'll give my dad a mechanical prosthetic.

By the way, I have never heard of the trading house you asked about. Others don't know either. Sorry I can't help you.

I wish you all the best. Greetings from Edward, Dad, Mom and everyone else.

you faithful,

Ruth Roberts

Duan Feizhuo folded the letter paper and heaved a long sigh.

Things really do change. When he left Aberdeen, how could he have imagined that Dr. Stone would encounter catastrophe? Perhaps this is karma, because Lao Tzu did a lot of evil, so his son fell and became disabled.

He stared at the letter paper, and suddenly, strange scenes flashed before his eyes.

——The young girl is wearing clean and tidy clothes, looking back at the window of her house. Her father is sitting by the window, smiling and waving to her.

—The girl wrung out the water from the towel and wiped the face of an unconscious man lying on a hospital bed.

—The girl handed some silver coins to her mother, who shed tears of joy.

Duan Feizhuo blinked vigorously, and the illusion disappeared.

What was that just now? Revolving door? Is he dying? But shouldn't the flashback of the revolving lantern be a fragment of his own life? Why did he see Ruth and the people around her?

Duan Feizhuo thought for a while, and immediately understood. What he saw was the memory of Ruth left in the letter.

The powers he inherited from Joseph Chester seem to have evolved after the Perilla Manor incident. In the past, he could only see the light emitted by the secret art items, but now he can see the residual memories on the items with a little effort.

It's just a few flashbacks, but it's amazing enough for him.

I didn't expect this trip to have such an unexpected harvest. Maybe going out once in a while to see the world is also a good choice?

His mind quickly wandered elsewhere. He'd bought a bunch of occult items from Lord Perilla and had to sell them quickly. Shouldn't it be time for new business methods to go online in the 21st century?

But the blind box has already been used once, and some new tricks have to be added this time. what can we do about it?

Soon, a new idea popped up. He needs to prepare for a while, let Al help too. His loyalty has been proven, let him enter the trading business as his assistant.

Duan Feizhuo opened the suitcase and took out the luggage one by one. On the bottom shelf of the trunk was an item wrapped in one of his finest linen shirts. He unbuttoned the shirt, picked it up, and happily hung it over the head of the bed in his bedroom.

It was a rough wreath that had dried up.

Meanwhile, a corner of the world.

Pastor Knox just finished his sermon today and watched the parishioners leave the church with loving eyes. Some people dropped some money in the donation box before leaving. The tinkling sound was a delight to the priest. Who said that this voice cannot wash away people's sins?

The parish is not rich, but the people are very generous, and above all they know how not to stick your head under someone's window and ask questions. Reverend Knox therefore lived a life of considerable affluence and ease.

Weekly sermons, occasional participation in social activities organized by local squires, baptisms for newborns, dying confessions for the dying, and spending the rest of the time doing his beloved research, this is the peaceful and happy life of Pastor Knox.

After the crowd listening to the sermon dispersed, a young man walked up to the altar.

"Pastor, I have something to discuss with you."

"Oh, Mr. Eastwood! How can I deny theological inquiries of young people?"

Pastor Knox warmly received Eastwood. They came to the pastor's house behind the church.

The pastor is a bachelor, and usually only an old and dim-witted servant woman takes care of his life. The villagers all said that the pastor was willing to hire this woman, which was really a kindness. But Reverend Knox rejected those young and strong servants, and singled out this servant for only one reason: she was illiterate.

He dismissed the maid and invited Eastwood into the study. Here are some books that should never be seen by others.

"Priest, I want you to see a treasure."

Eastwood held a small box. He opened the box carefully, and there was a piece of ice inside, and a small blue fish was frozen in the ice. As long as the secret technique applied to this piece of ice does not disappear, the ice will never melt.

"Could it be... a parade envoy?"

"That's right." Eastwood's eyes lit up with excitement, "I bought it from the Secret Realm Trading House, and it only cost one pound! The new owner of the trading house has launched a blind box event, and you can buy one for one pound." Blind box, it is possible to open garbage, and it is also possible to open treasure. Look, didn’t I open the treasure right now?”

When Pastor Knox heard the name "Secret Realm Trading Company", his face fell instantly.

"Why, you don't know about the blind box?"

"I'm not interested in those things," said the pastor coldly.

He and Eastwood are the only two mystics in this area, and they often visit the trading house together to pick out new goods. The props they use to hide their identities are executioner masks. It can be said that the two of them are regular customers of the trading house.

But since the trading house has a new owner, Pastor Knox doesn't like to go there. The new owner insulted Reverend Knox on his first day in charge of the trading house.

At that time, the pastor became interested in a spiritual doll. He wanted to find out more about the doll, but the new owner of the trading house sneered at him, "As a senior scholar who studies esoteric philosophy, you don't even know what it is. How could a mere businessman like me know?"

listen! What is this called! Priest Knox is indeed not very good at spiritualism, but it is precisely because he is not good at it that he needs to ask for advice, doesn't he? The owner of the trading house didn't even have the patience to introduce products, and directly satirized him for not being advanced enough!

Pastor Knox was so angry that he walked away on the spot and never visited the trading house again. Thinking of this made his teeth itch with hatred.

Eastwood gushed about how he competed with two mystics to claim the treasure. Reverend Knox didn't hear a word.

"Speaking of which, Eastwood, do you find it strange?" said the pastor, "I asked the owner of the trading house about commodities, why didn't he answer directly?"

Eastwood thought for a moment. "It seems to be true. He never elaborates on what the goods are and what they are used for. Only those who know the goods themselves can buy them."

"I think it's not that he's afraid that the goods will fall into the hands of ignorant people, but that he himself doesn't know the utility of those goods! He's so young, how much does he know about esoteric philosophy? Maybe he's trying to cover up his ignorance, It’s just deliberately sneering at customers.”

Eastwood's eyes widened, "How is this possible?"

Reverend Knox snorted contemptuously, "If you don't believe me, let's test him."

"How to test?"

The pastor opened the safe in the corner of the study, "I have two treasures here. We can pretend to sell them and see if the owner of the trading house can recognize its utility. If he can't recognize it..."

The wrinkles on the pastor's face formed a sinister smile, "The reputation of the secret trading house will be ruined!"

Reverend Knox did what he said. The next time the trading house opened, he and Eastwood visited that secret space with two items.

One of them was an ordinary item without any strange powers, a treasure that Reverend Knox had acquired long ago when he joined the army. The other is a secret treasure that Knox inherited from his deceased teacher. No one in the world except himself knows the function of this secret treasure.

Today's secret trading house is as lively as ever. In the center of the hall, a small pyramid was piled up with black boxes.

"What's that?" Reverend Knox had never seen anything like it.

Eastwood said happily, "That's the blind box!"

"So that's a new trick created by the owner of the trading house." Pastor Knox sneered disdainfully.

"Welcome, distinguished guests." The owner of the trading house, wearing a golden mask, greeted loudly. Standing beside him was a short boy wearing a silver mask and holding a white box in his hand. He was probably a servant or clerk of the owner of the trading house.

The owner of the trading house said, "Everyone may have discovered that today's trading house is selling blind boxes again."

The jubilant cheers of the patrons nearly drowned out his voice.

The owner of the trading house pressed his hands and told them to be quiet.

"However, today's blind box is different from last time. I made a simple classification of the items in the blind box. According to their rarity, they are divided into three levels: R-level, SR-level and SSR-level."

Reverend Knox muttered, "Just a gimmick."

The owner of the trading house winked at the young man beside him. The boy raised the white box in his hand. The top of the box is painted with a diagram of the secret method. Priest Knox doesn't know much about arcane geometry, and doesn't quite understand the function of the diagram.

"Guests who intend to purchase the blind box, please come here to draw cards...ah, I mean, come here to draw the blind box. I have engraved the arcane pattern on the lottery box to ensure that the draw is completely random. However, if any customer is willing Ten consecutive draws at once can guarantee an SR-level blind box."

Customers had never heard of this way of buying and selling, and they whispered in amazement.

"If you buy ten at a time, wouldn't it be very profitable?"

"But even if you buy ten, you may not be able to get SSR! It's a lot of money!"

"If you don't draw ten times in a row, maybe you will get several Rs in a row. There is at least one guarantee for ten times in a row..."

Soon someone stood up and dared to be the first person to eat crabs. It was an Indian woman wearing a thick veil. She said in heavily accented English, "I want ten consecutive draws, master of the trading house."

After paying the money, the boy handed the lottery box to her. She picked up the lottery box and shook it vigorously, ten bamboo sticks fell out of the box. A number was written on each bamboo stick, and one of them erupted with dazzling golden light.

"Wow! Golden legend!" The owner of the trading house exaggeratedly shouted, "Congratulations, ma'am, you have won the SSR. Please go over there and take the blind box with the number corresponding to your lottery."

The Indian woman went to receive the award under the envious eyes of everyone. The owner of the trading house looked at the box and whispered, "In this way, there will be one less SSR."

All the customers suddenly realized that the number of SSRs is limited, if they are drawn by other people, then the remaining people will not be able to get them no matter how much they draw. Therefore, the sooner you smoke, the better.

They rushed forward and scrambled to ask for the lottery. Reverend Knox held the items he had brought and stood behind watching coldly. He is not going to buy anything today. He would never send money to the secret trading house.

Soon, the blind box was sold out. Customers who were lucky enough to get an SSR jumped up and down the hall like monkeys, while those who were unlucky looked unlucky, making people mistakenly think that they had come to a funeral home.

Pastor Knox felt that the time was almost up, so he walked towards the owner of the trading house holding his things.

"Dear owner of the trading house, I would like to sell two items." Knox said in a deliberately sweet tone.

The owner of the trading house bowed to him, "Put it on the counter, please."

While putting down the two treasures, Knox said, "This is something I inherited from a relative. Because I'm short of money recently, I want to exchange it for some money."

The owner of the trading house hurriedly put the money he had just received into the drawer. Reverend Knox snorted inwardly.

"Let me see." The owner of the trading house walked behind the counter.

The two things that Knox brought were a shallow plate, which was originally silver-plated, but due to the passage of time, it had oxidized to gray-black, and the other was a slender ceramic plate. The bottle was tightly plugged and sealed.

The owner of the trading house picked up the ceramic bottle and tried to break the seal, but Knox stopped him. "This thing can't be opened!"

The owner of the trading house had no choice but to put it aside first, then picked up the silver plate, and looked at it over and over again.

"How much do you think it's worth?" Knox asked impatiently.

"Hmm..." the owner of the trading house pondered, "Does it have any special power?"

"I want to sell it just because I don't know, let alone know how to use it! If this strange object is in the hands of someone like me, what kind of disaster might happen to it!" Knox couldn't help but tinge a little. Satire.

The master of the trading house stared at the silver platter without saying a word.

He must not be able to see it, so he was afraid. Knox thought triumphantly.

He added, "You must be able to see its power at a glance, right? You are the owner of a dignified trading house, so you don't even have such a little vision, right? No matter how bad it is, the skill of identification is not very difficult. Or, you Don’t know that spell? Impossible? People like me don’t know it, but it’s understandable, but you are the owner of the trading house! How could you not know how to identify it?”

Other guests gathered around curiously, pointing at the silver plate.

"What power do you say it has?"

"Don't know. It's a plate, maybe some kind of special container?"

"I guess it's a sacrificial vessel used for some kind of ritual. Look, there are spells engraved on the edge of the plate..."

The boy holding the white lottery box glared at Pastor Knox angrily, "What nonsense are you talking about! You are not allowed to insult my honorable master!"

The owner of the trading house pressed the boy's shoulders, signaling him to stay calm.

"I don't accept this." The owner of the trading house pushed the platter back to Knox.

"Why? Is it because you can't see its true power?" Knox laughed loudly, "Ha, I thought the owner of the trading house was so amazing, but I didn't expect it to be the same as a person like me!"

The boy was so angry that he didn't even want the white lottery box, and he wanted to teach Knox a lesson with his fists. If the owner of the trading house hadn't stopped him, he might have succeeded.

"The reason why I don't accept it," the owner of the trading house dragged his voice lazily, "is because there should be a pair of these things. You only brought one, how can I accept it?"

Knox choked. How did he know there was a pair of this thing?

"Really?" Eastwood asked in a low voice.

The owner of the trading house said, "This silver plate is originally a pair. Two people each take one. As long as the plate is filled with water, they can see each other's faces and even communicate with each other... probably for this purpose. Therefore You only brought me a silver plate, how can I sell it?"

The other customers snickered. "This guy doesn't even know the function of the silver plate. It seems that he is the descendant of some mystic family?"

"It's so pitiful. Mysterious philosophy has been almost lost in this generation."

Knox was shaking with anger. This silver platter was left to him by his mentor. At the beginning, the mentor often traveled far away, so he carried this silver plate with him so that he could communicate with Knox at any time. However, the mentor later encountered a shipwreck accident during a long trip, and both himself and his silver plate were buried in the bottom of the sea.

Knox had tried to find the location of the sunken ship by connecting his own silver plate to another silver plate, but his magic power was weak, and every attempt ended in failure.

He had shown the silver platter to other mystics, and they had no idea what it was for. Why did the owner of the trading house see it at a glance? If it was the previous master, it could be explained that he had advanced spells, but this new master...it is impossible to have that kind of power!

Reverend Knox thought it over and decided that the owner of the trading house had misunderstood the purpose of the silver platter.

"Just... let's say it has a pair," Knox said, poking his neck. "What about this thing?"

He pointed to the ceramic bottle.

The owner of the trading house picked up the ceramic bottle and stared at it for a while.

"This one is interesting. If you really want to think about it, I'd like to accept it."

Knox couldn't help laughing again, "You can't see it this time! This thing doesn't have any mystic power! You actually treat this kind of thing as a treasure!"

"Of course I know it's an ordinary item." The owner of the trading house weighed the ceramic bottle, "but the secret realm trading house also accepts ordinary items, as long as their origins are unique enough. This item comes from a distant country, I don't know how you got..."

He stopped suddenly, squinting at Knox.

"You, what are you looking at!" Knox took a step back.

"Have you ever been a soldier?" the owner of the trading house said dreamily.

Glared by his golden-green eyes, Knox suddenly felt like a rabbit being watched by an eagle.

"No, you are not a soldier," said the master of the trading house. "Although you are surrounded by soldiers, you are not wearing a uniform... You are a member of the army. A doctor? Or a priest?"

Knox's throat seemed to be choked by something. How does he know? I have been in and out of the secret trading company for so long, and I have never revealed my identity. Even if someone infers that he is a priest from the tone or the usage of the words, it is impossible to know that he was a chaplain!

The voice of the owner of the trading house became softer and softer, turning into a dreamlike murmur.

"Where did your army go? That distant and hot country, full of deserts... um, Egypt?"

Knox was sweating profusely. How does he know everything? Under the gaze of his gold-green eyes, Knox felt as naked as a newborn baby, seeing through everything.

A cruel smile broke out on the face of the owner of the exchange house "This thing didn't look like this, did it? It was a... kitten? No, it should be the mummy of a cat. You stole it from the mausoleum, In this bottle. Because you have heard that mummy powder can cure diseases. You brought it back to England to sell it for a good price. But I am sorry to tell you that mummy powder can not cure anything."

Knox's face flushed. Fortunately, there is a mask to cover him, so he won't make a fool of himself in public.

"I... I don't know what nonsense you are talking about! I have never been to Egypt, and I have never seen any mummies!" He snatched the silver plate and ceramic bottle, "Since you are so ignorant, I don't think I need to I'm talking business with you!"

The surrounding guests exchanged playful glances. What is right and wrong between the owner of the trading house and Knox is clear to each of them.

The owner of the trading house shrugged and said teasingly, "It's your freedom to sell or not. But I have to remind you that the Egyptians worshiped cats as gods. Although mummies do not have occult powers, nor can they be used to cure diseases, they are Attached to other things. Even if mummified, the dead will not leave."

Knox backed away with his baby in his arms. "Scaremongering!" he yelled.

The owner of the trading house said, "I advise you to either return this thing to the place where you found it, or set it on fire, and it will be over once and for all."

Knox laughed back in fear, "Is that how you scare customers? Do you think I'll sell this thing cheap if I'm scared?"

"Even if it pays me back, I don't want this thing." The owner of the trading house said coldly, "The undead will not easily spare those who desecrate its grave."

"You can't scare me!" Knox spat, and fled with his two treasures in his arms.

When he rushed into the tapestry circle, he heard the giggles of customers behind him.

Pastor Knox returned to his study, pulled off the mask, and threw it on the table.

"Hateful master of the trading house!" He yelled, and some radical words were completely incompatible with his status as a pastor.

Eastwood soon returned to the study.

"Why do you have to provoke the owner of the trading house?" He blamed, "If he has no real skills, can he inherit the secret trading house? You really, because he is young, you suspect that he has no real talents. Now Well, everyone has seen your joke."

"You speak for him?!" Pastor Knox screamed strangely.

At this time, there was a knock on the door of the study.

"Who?!"

"It's me, pastor." The old servant woman shrank hoarsely. "There are two policemen who want to visit you."

"Police?" Pastor Knox's legs trembled. "What police?"

"They say it's from Scotland Yard, what's it called... what's the unusual case department..."

Knox and Eastwood looked at each other.

Abnormal Case Investigation Section—Nightman!

How did they find him? ! He thought he was hiding everything without leaving any traces!

Pastor Knox immediately dropped the silver plate and ceramic bottle, turned around and jumped out of the study window.

As soon as he landed, he saw a pair of shiny leather boots.

The owner of the leather boots was a man in a black coat. On the back of his hand is a Gothic R in curly script.

"You're under arrest, Priest." The man grinned, showing a shark-like grin.

The old maid staggered into the study. For a long time Reverend Knox had thought her an illiterate old woman, and had treated her lightly. Even the mystic's most private study room is allowed to come and go as she pleases for cleaning.

The old servant woman thumped her waist and sighed, "Oh, I am old, my hands and feet are not flexible, and I have to go to work all day long. Boss Z is really good at calling people."

As she spoke, she straightened her hair.

On the back of her neck, where the bun hides, there is a small letter Q tattooed.

She looked at the ceramic bottle dropped by Pastor Knox and smiled lovingly.

"Good, good, little kitten." She raised her hand, stroking the air, as if there was a kitten sitting there, "I caught the man who desecrated you and your master's grave. Are you happy? Ah, You're welcome, but I have to thank you for leading me here. Now you can finally rest in peace."

Duan Feizhuo walked out of the secret trading house and returned to his residence in London—the apartment on the third floor of No. 49, Franchise Square. Al was already waiting for him in the living room.

"Oh, today is another harvest day." He lay down on the sofa, and Al immediately brought him a cup of hot black tea and a plate of small biscuits.

Since accepting this little servant, Duan Feizhuo's quality of life has improved dramatically. He doesn't need to do anything himself. The life of the upper class is so boring!

Al looked at him adoringly, "Master, you really have a business mind. If it were me, I would never have come up with such an idea as a blind box or ten consecutive draws!"

I can't think of it either! Duan Feizhuo complained silently in his heart. This is the idea of ​​the profiteers in the future. Before he crossed over, he didn't know how much money he wasted on drawing cards... Well, let's not mention such sad things.

"By the way, master, how do you know the function of those two items?"

"It's obvious at a glance." Duan Feizhuo raised his head, "I can see the memory left on the item. When I looked at the silver plate, I saw a person talking. I think the silver plate was used for communication. And that A cat mummy..." Duan Feizhuo frowned, "Although the undead did not appear in front of my eyes, I could feel a cold aura, which was exactly the same as the aura I felt in Perilla Manor. So I speculate The mummy has undead attached to it."

"Is it true that mummy powder doesn't cure disease?" Al asked. "My mother believed that. When my father was sick, she still wanted to buy some. If we didn't have money..."

Duan Feizhuo sighed, "Fortunately, you have no money. Al, you have to believe in science. If you see any weird folk medicine secret recipes in the future, remember to ask me first."

"So what can mummy powder be used for?" Al asked again.

"I don't know. If the mummy has some kind of ability, eating the ashes can get this ability."

"Really?!" Al was surprised and disgusted, "Isn't it true that someone would eat for this?"

...I've eaten it. Duan Feizhuo thought sadly. You Victorians are so weird, eating mummy powder for healing is commonplace, but eating human ashes to gain powers is disgusting?

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

Without Duan Feizhuo's instructions, Al took the initiative to run to open the door.

Duan Feizhuo picked up a small biscuit and put it in his mouth, chewing leisurely.

"Hi, hello!" Al cried out nervously, "Are you looking for my master, Mr. Police?"

Duan Feizhuo jumped up like a carp, almost choking himself to death.

Z stands at the door. He was still dressed in black, with silver hair draped over his shoulders, with wet ends. He was carrying a black umbrella, and the tip of the umbrella was dripping with rain. Only then did Duan Feizhuo realize that it was raining outside.

"What are you doing?" Duan Feizhuo asked while coughing.

"Come to pick you up." Z said calmly, "To Scotland Yard."

This is Duan Feizhuo's second visit to Scotland Yard.

He asked Al to stay at home, and he and Z boarded the cab. During the departure, Fei Zhuo saw Al standing in front of his window, casting worried eyes at him. Duan Feizhuo smiled at the boy, hoping to appease him