Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 880 Intelligence Sharing (Second Update)

"Knowing that my future self will still be as charming and amorous as ever puts my mind at ease, Ms. Carter. Ten minutes after I leave, you will relapse into the chaotic state that an aging body is supposed to be in, so please hurry." Salomon smiled and stood up. Through Peggy Carter's words, Salomon still glimpsed some of his experiences after entering time travel in the future. However, even with Salomon's magical help, Peggy Carter's aging brain still couldn't function as smoothly as a young person's; she would occasionally forget what she had said and then repeat it, like a stuck cassette tape.

Aging is the most terrible curse in the world. Magic can alleviate her symptoms, but it is not permanent. The magic to restore youth is an extremely profound alchemy. Only the "First Honey Flower" in Salomon's possession, the prototype of the so-called "Red Elixir," can make Peggy Carter young again, but her lifespan cannot last until the "First Honey Flower" takes effect.

"Also, thank you for your candor. In fact, I am also collecting information about my future self's identity after time travel, and what role I would play in human history. So far, the only one I know is Christopher Marlowe. After all, an atheist who can burn Catholics at the stake is just too much for me. The only downside is that I would have to go to school again. I never thought I would have such an opportunity during World War II. It's wonderful. If I could, I would like to burn some Puritans."

"Stop telling stupid jokes. You used to love telling these cruel jokes." Peggy Carter's aging lungs exchanged gases with the help of a ventilator. Salomon's words genuinely amused her, but her physical condition didn't support hearty laughter. However, Salomon wasn't telling a joke. "Ten minutes is enough. See you in the future, Salomon Damonette."

"Farewell, Ms. Carter." Salomon opened the bedroom door, gesturing for the frantic medical staff who were practically kicking it open. Most of these staff were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who, thanks to Peggy Carter's protection, had escaped punishment after the Hydra rebellion. After all, both MI6 and the American intelligence system had benefited from Peggy Carter's kindness. He took one last look at Peggy Carter lying on the hospital bed—death had spread its wings and enveloped this legendary agent; in his arcane eyes, she was completely covered by enormous black wings. Even he couldn't help Peggy Carter escape death, and even if he could, the price would be extremely high. Salomon turned and left without looking back, not disturbing anyone.

Including the white-haired old man sitting on the bench in front of the small house.

"You're dressed in mourning clothes. I hope you won't have another 'distant relative' die a violent death, Mr. Damonette."

"Pendragon. If you respect me so much, then please call me by my full name, Salomon Messiah Damonette Pendragon. It was my teacher who gave me this name, meaning 'Peaceful Ruler of Pendragon the Anointed,' a beautiful wish. I know you want to laugh, but I don't mind." The sorcerer arrived at Baker Street in a black taxi. After ringing the doorbell, he was immediately greeted with a warm welcome from Mrs. Hudson. After stuffing himself with six freshly baked biscuits and a cup of hot tea, he was finally allowed to ascend the stairs to Sherlock Holmes's room. Sherlock Holmes was not pleased to see the sorcerer sitting in the armchair—not only because Salomon had tricked him last time, but also because he hadn't cleaned his filthy footprints when he left Baker Street. Holmes and Watson spent about an hour cleaning the blood- and mud-stained boot marks from his boots; otherwise, Mrs. Hudson would have had a heart attack if she had seen the sight when she woke up.

"Perhaps you've forgotten, it was you who called me here, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Thank you, Watson. Without you, Holmes might have even forgotten the most basic hospitality."

"Tell him, Sherlock," Watson rubbed his hands together, patted his thigh, and sat down on another soft chair. "Or shall I tell him?"

Sherlock Holmes held out his hand, signaling Watson to take charge of the explanation and recap.

"Here's the thing, we've encountered an extremely bizarre case." Watson licked his lips. "So bizarre that Sherlock has even started to consider the possibility of magic."

"I don't believe in magic. In my opinion, you and your Kamar-Taj are just a high-tech cult. Maybe those monsters in the sewers are just genetically modified experimental products produced by your organization." Holmes suddenly interrupted Watson. "Illusions, hallucinogens, and the like, just like the alchemists of the past. Therefore, this is just a consultation, not help."

"Think what you will, Mr. Holmes. I admire people who view the world rationally." Salomon nodded approvingly. "I was unable to let you experience magic last time due to other commitments, but I believe we will have time after Mr. Watson's description. Please continue."

Distracted, Watson was at a loss for words. "Anyway, there's this criminal… a titled criminal who came back to life," he said. "Although he was kept in solitary confinement, he was still stabbed to death in prison with a sharpened toothbrush handle. But three days after his burial, his grave was dug up, and witnesses saw him leaving the cemetery in his burial clothes. The police cordoned off the area, and intelligence was involved; otherwise, this would be the headline of every major newspaper. We want to know…"

"Was magic involved?" Salomon raised an eyebrow. "As far as I know, no. I suspect the reason that titled criminal didn't make the newspapers or get media attention is because his case involved young girls, and also Epstein and the British royal family. A pedophile—even the most disgusting inmates in prison would despise such a person."

"How can you be so sure?" Sherlock Holmes strode from the window to the armchair where Salomon was sitting. "You haven't even been to the scene, haven't read the files!"

"Because we possess surveillance capabilities, non-physical surveillance capabilities. I mean, magic." Salomont emphasized the end of his sentence. "We measure magic by monitoring etheric waves. The structure is precise and stable, maintaining its accuracy for millions of years since the dawn of human civilization. The objects of observation even include both the observable and unobservable universes. If it's dark magic like resurrecting the dead, the Agamotto crystal ball can detect it; if it's resurrection, then the Agamotto crystal ball isn't even needed—that level of etheric wave can be sensed even by the most dull-witted apprentice in the London Sanctuary. By the way, I know both. As for why I can deduce the crimes committed—I also have evidence of Prince Andrew's crimes. Complete, clear evidence—evidence that even the most foolish judge could use to convict him. Guess where I found it?"

"MI6?" Watson asked.

"The CIA and KGB, don't forget the intelligence sharing between the US and the UK."

"In fact, it was Watson who insisted on inviting you. I've always believed that there's no inexplicable magic in this case, only unsolved mysteries," Sherlock Holmes immediately turned and walked away. "As for your cult, I'm not interested."

"He studied most of the secret societies in history, in the two weeks after you left," Watson added. "He still thinks your order is exactly the same as those Christian secret societies that promote holy marriage, except that they have access to high technology."

Salomon simply smiled. "Tell me, Sherlock Holmes, do you like skydiving?"

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)