He Became a Salted Fish After Inheriting Millions of Secret Arts

After a seven-hour journey, a train from Scotland stopped at King's Cross station, spewing out a motley crew of passengers. One of them, a middle-aged gentleman with a big belly, nearly blocked the car door, thanks to the efforts of the young man who was traveling with him to drag him out of the door.

The young man was a tall, slender young man with fair hair and rare golden-green eyes, who looked around constantly, full of wonder at everything he saw, as is often the case with first-timers to London.

"Here we are, London!" Mr. Lynn took a deep breath of the smoke-smelling air.

He watched his friend's nephew, Duan Feizhuo, wandering furtively between the ninth platform and the tenth platform, touching the pillars from time to time, and muttering, "Where is nine and three quarters?"

"What are you doing, boy?" Mr. Lynn wondered.

"It's nothing." Duan Feizhuo said disappointedly, "It seems that my dream of going to Hogwarts to study has been shattered."

Mr. Lynn was very puzzled, maybe this school called Hogwarts is some famous school in Scotland.

He called for a cab. Duan Feizhuo helped him carry the luggage into the car, and then squeezed into the car—this was very difficult, because Mr. Lynn got into the car before him, and the car was packed to the brim.

Along the way, young people are looking around curiously, like everyone who comes to this city for the first time.

"Well, Leo, do you like London?"

"It's amazing." Duan Feizhuo said.

This is Victorian London, the undisputed capital of the world. So many men and women gathered in the streets. Well-dressed gentlemen and ladies talked and laughed in open carriages. Clerks in suits and leather shoes hurried in and out of the office building facing the street. Swarms of modest workers, their clothes stained with grease and dust. The beggar cowered in the shadows, stretching out his skinny palms to passers-by. Laughing children ran across the street, only to be scolded loudly by the coachman. They heard the lingering sound of the big clock telling the time, the jingling of the bells hanging on the carriage, the laughter, shouting, shouting of newspapers, steamboats sailing on the Thames whistling, and the steam rushing past overhead. Airship buzzing...

They rushed to the bank without stopping to transfer the account that originally belonged to Joseph Chester. Then came to Lynn Law Firm. The street where it is located is close to the Thames River. Standing in front of the window, you can see the river and the billowing steam from the boats.

Mr. Lynn took out a bunch of documents for Duan Feizhuo to sign. The land deed, the lease contract, the declaration for the transfer of stocks and bonds... After signing the last one, Duan Feizhuo's hands were sore.

Mr. Lynn put away all the documents with a smile.

"Now let me take you to your house to have a look."

"My family?" Duan Feizhuo was confused.

"The house that Joseph bought."

They took a rented carriage to No. 49 Franchise Square, where a three-story building built in the Regency era stood. The first and second floors were a restaurant, the third floor was a private residence, and there was a hidden staircase on the side of the building. Climb to the third floor to avoid the crowds that come to the restaurant for entertainment.

It was once the residence of translator and typist Joseph Chester. After his death, the keys to the house were given to Mr. Lynn for safekeeping.

The house is not big, with two bedrooms and a living room. One of the bedrooms has been converted into a study-cum-studio. On the desk stood a brass-colored typewriter that seemed to be of great value. Paper and ink ribbons are neatly stacked on the side shelf.

"Joseph has lived here for fourteen years, and I have known him for so many years. Although the house is quite old, the decoration is not bad, right?" Mr. Lynn gradually approached the real estate agent, "The whole house He bought it all, rented the first and second floors to the restaurant, and lived on the third floor himself. If you go to the restaurant for a light meal, it’s even free.”

If it weren't for Mr. Lynn's face, Duan Feizhuo might immediately roll on the floor in ecstasy. In this world where even the flush toilet is considered a new invention, he has endured three years of hard work, and now he has finally come to the end of his hardships!

Duan Feizhuo tried his best to hold back his smile and asked, "I...can I live here?"

"Of course, why not? This is your home. In principle, these are all yours." Mr. Lynn looked at the house with satisfaction, "By the way, there are two things here, which are your uncle Leave it to you."

With a pious expression on his face, he took out an exquisite wooden box and an envelope from the locker in the living room.

"This is your uncle's ashes. According to his will, he will be cremated and the ashes will be kept by you." Mr. Lin En solemnly put the urn into Duan Feizhuo's hands.

"This one," he held up the letter, "is a request from Joseph to you before he died—for you alone, and I haven't even opened it."

The envelope was made of common kraft paper, with sealing wax dripping from the seal, indicating that no one had ever opened it. "To Leopold" is written in trembling handwriting at the very center.

Recalling the appearance of his old friend getting haggard on the hospital bed, Mr. Lynn couldn't help being a little sad. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose loudly.

Duan Feizhuo turned the envelope over and over several times, looked up at the lawyer, "Should I open it now?"

"As you like, son. But I think you should wait until you are alone before opening the letter. This is an exchange between your uncles and nephews, and I, an outsider, will not participate."

"I didn't treat you as an outsider."

Mr. Lynn looked flattered. "I'm so glad to hear you say that. Then, after you finish reading, if you think it's appropriate to tell me, then it's not too late to tell me. It doesn't matter if it's inconvenient to say."

Duan Feizhuo thanked Mr. Lin En in a low voice. The lawyer smiled and patted the young man on the shoulder.

"Okay, it's time for me to leave. The office is still waiting for me to go back to work. After a day or two of business trip, the documents pile up. You should get familiar with the life here first. You have a place to live and a place to live. A place to eat, if you need anything, I think the owner of the restaurant downstairs will be happy to help you. Would you like to come to my house for dinner tomorrow?"

"Of course I will, Mr. Lynn."

Duan Feizhuo watched him go downstairs and board the taxi. The lawyer waved his hat at Duan Feizhuo from the car window, and Duan Feizhuo also smiled and waved at him until the carriage disappeared around the corner.

There were still people coming and going on the street, and the horseshoes stepped on the cobbled road, making a crisp and loud clacking sound. Duan Feizhuo looked down at the envelope in his hand.

Is this the handwriting of Joseph Chester, his last words?

When he left this suicide note, did he know that his only relative, his nephew, had been replaced by a time traveler?

With a feeling of guilt, Duan Feizhuo removed the sealing wax. He was breathing heavily and his heart was beating fast. He took out the letter paper, thinking that it would be a long letter full of the elders' teachings, but he didn't expect that the paper was small and thin, and there was no word on it, only a weird figure, which looked like a seven There are mysterious symbols and words written beside it.

...a magic circle?

Why did Joseph Chester leave behind a magic circle? Is he not an ordinary typist in London? Could it be that he is actually a mystic like Paimo?

Duan Feizhuo held his breath and touched the magic circle lightly.

If there is a bystander standing in the room at this moment, he will see his whole body being twisted into a long strip like a towel and spinning like a tornado. In the blink of an eye, he was sucked in by the graphics on the letter paper. The room was empty, as if no one had ever been there.

Duan Feizhuo fell in the endless void for a long time, then landed with a "bang", and fell face down on the hard wooden floor.

He got up with a groan and looked around, horrified to see that this was not the house his uncle had left him.

He is in a closed hall. It's like a small museum here. The four walls are all made of glass display cabinets, and the grids of different sizes are arranged in an orderly manner, one part is empty, and the other part is filled with things, piled up to the ceiling, like a collage of marquees. In the center of the room stood a row of rotating cylindrical display cases, which were clearly untouched, but slowly and solemnly rotated at a constant speed.

Duan Feizhuo didn't have time to carefully observe what was in the display cabinet, because he soon realized that he was not the only one in the room.

A man was sitting behind a large rosewood counter, tapping a golden half-mask with his slender fingers. He has dark blonde hair cut short and styled at the sideburns. Duan Feizhuo stared at him, as if he was looking at an older version of himself.

"Welcome, my dear nephew," said the man cheerfully.

Duan Feizhuo found himself lying on the ground in a funny posture, jumped up quickly, and patted the dust off his body at a loss.

"You are... Uncle Joseph Chester? But haven't you already..."

"By the time you see all this, I'm dead."

Speaking of his own death, Joseph Chester spoke lightly, as if it was no big deal.

"Don't bother talking to me or asking me questions, I can't hear you at all. The me you see is not a living person, but an image and a sound I left behind, just like a phonograph can record human voice and play it back. I have something important to say to you, but it is not convenient to write a letter, so I have to adopt this method."

Joseph crossed his fingers and smiled.

"You have learned from Mr. Lynn how much I left you? But I must tell you that it is only a small part of my fortune. My real legacy to you--here."

A huge golden clock hung on the wall behind him, with a seven-pointed star array drawn on the clock dial, and the pointer was motionless, as if time had frozen here.