I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Gerrard softened his tone slightly at this point:

"The root of your problem today isn't actually the Fog Wall technique."

"If you show those two street thugs an official identity and a sidearm, they'll most likely run away on their own."

Inspectors may kill anyone with clear aggressive intent.

A street thug who provokes an armed inspector is asking for trouble.

The old man had already arranged everything:

"I've already had the housekeeper pay the fine for you. Also, I'll have Wentworth help you with some things, including your identification, gun license, and related training."

"Consider this catching up on your lessons; you've fallen far behind."

The phone hangs up.

Richard put the receiver back on the fork spring.

The sweat in my palms had cooled, and when the autumn wind blew, they felt icy cold.

Wentworth leaned against the hood of the van, his two thin, stick-like legs crossed.

When Richard came out of the phone booth, he took out a cigarette from his uniform pocket and lit it.

"Did you take Mr. Gerald's words to heart?"

"I listened."

"Hmm." Wentworth flicked his cigarette ash. "Then I won't repeat myself."

"The branch office has taken full control of the situation on Central Avenue today."

"The case file from the North District Police Station will be archived and sealed within three days, classified as 'unexplained mass transient epileptic seizures,' which may be related to exhaust emissions from a nearby factory."

He spoke casually about these things, clearly having handled many similar cases:

"Several affected citizens went to the clinic, and none of them were seriously injured."

The dizziness and nausea subsided within half an hour, the doctor prescribed some sedatives, and sent the person home.

"The pie vendor's wok overturned, splashing hot oil and scalding someone's hand, but it wasn't serious."

"The two children scraped their skin, and the one who hit the lamppost got a bump on his forehead."

Richard nodded. No one was seriously injured, which was the most reassuring piece of information he had.

Wentworth finished half a cigarette and pulled a brown paper envelope from the inside pocket of his uniform jacket.

The cover is printed with a pattern of intersecting gears and thorns.

"Here is an appointment document for a trainee inspector. You can fill in the details yourself."

Richard took the envelope and used his thumb to break the sealing wax.

Inside is a folded cardboard sheet, where you need to fill in your name, year of birth, and address in the information section.

The assignment type section reads: Trainee Inspector (Very Frequent).

The appointing authority section reads: Imperial Public Health Inspectorate, Briston Office.

At the bottom is the General Administration's official seal, the ink of which is very fresh.

"This is……"

"On the surface, you're a trainee member of our health inspection team." Wentworth flicked his cigarette ash.

"Actually, this document serves two purposes."

He held up a withered, twig-like index finger:

"First, your matter today will be on file at the branch office."

"We will bypass the police system and the penalty procedures, and handle it according to our internal protocols."

"Simply put: A new intern made a mistake, received internal criticism and education, and was told not to do it again."

Wentworth raises his second finger:

"Secondly, the status of a trainee inspector comes with the privilege of legally possessing and using firearms."

Richard looked up from the documents.

"All personnel in the General Staff, including trainees and non-duty personnel, hold Class B armed permits issued by the Ministry of the Interior."

You may legally purchase, carry, and use registered light firearms.

"At the same time, the training ranges of the branch offices in various places are also open to personnel within the established staff."

Wentworth threw the cigarette butt on the ground and ground it with the sole of his shoe.

"To be honest, even highly trained hunters rely heavily on firearms below the level of minor proficiency."

"The Blood Burning Path can unleash extraordinary power and speed, but the punches thrown and the sticks swung are ultimately limited by the physical limits of muscles and bones."

He tapped his temple with his index finger.

"Moreover, the gun is controllable; you can shoot wherever you want, whether it's the leg or the hand."

You won't end up aiming for the shoulder and accidentally shattering the temple.

Wentworth unusually said a few more words:

"The problem you have today, in essence, is that you lack a sufficiently precise, controllable method of defeating the enemy that will not reveal your extraordinary identity."

"Firearms just happen to fill this gap."

"Moreover, for someone like you who is pursuing an academic path, firearms are more important than hunters."

Richard folded the document, put it back in the envelope, and tucked it into the inside pocket.

"Mr. Wentworth, where is your firing range?"

"It's right downstairs in the branch office," Wentworth said.

"The building behind the North District Freight Yard has a sign for the Municipal Environmental Monitoring Station hanging at the entrance."

"Just bring your probationary inspector's certificate; the gatekeeper only checks the seal, not the person."

"How are the costs calculated for range usage, ammunition consumption, and firearms purchase?"

"Trainee inspectors are on a very regular basis, without salary or material rations."

Mr. Gerrard has already arranged for the venue usage fees and daily training ammunition to be covered by government subsidies.

"But if you want to buy a gun and bullets to take with you, you'll have to pay the market price."

A standard .0.38 caliber pistol cartridge contains approximately twenty-four rounds per shilling, while the military-grade .0.455 cartridge is more expensive.

"As for the gun itself, you can borrow a practice gun when you practice shooting."

Webley standard revolver, a bit old but still usable.

If you want to buy it yourself, I suggest you save up first. A decent Webley sword will cost between two and three pounds.

"The firing range is open all day, but our own people only use it on weekdays."

On weekends, the coroner, Old Big, would sometimes come over.

That guy's a warm-hearted person; he'll probably chat with you for a bit when he sees a new face.

Richard then tentatively asked, "Speaking of which, how did you manage to find out about my area so quickly?"

"The commotion on Central Avenue was enough for the branch offices to catch on."

Wentworth touched the cigarette pack:

"How exactly do we pinpoint your location? In our line of work, each branch office is equipped with someone specializing in covert navigation; that's exactly what they do."

You'll understand once you've dealt with them more.

He opened the car door and stepped inside.

"Alright, the firing range is open on weekends. It's good if you come, but it's fine if you don't."

The car door closed.

The van gave a low groan and slowly drove away from the slag heap alley.

Richard pulled his coat up tighter and started walking back toward Grafton Street.

The matter that had been weighing on my mind was finally resolved by my maternal grandfather, at least procedurally there wouldn't be any further trouble.

The trainee inspector's certificate was affixed to his chest pocket, and his gun license was a real guarantee of safety.

The next time he encounters a similar situation, he won't need to risk close combat or reach out to touch the gray stamen.