Sherlock Holmes is not a warp god.

"Fren, your mother and I are going back to rest now."

The situation described by Fren stirred up some unpleasant memories for Timothy and Wanda.

Wanda helped his wife upstairs and turned back to Fren before going up, saying, "If you're tired, take a day off and rest at home."

Furen felt pretty good. He hadn't undergone any brain enhancement or even neural enhancement at all, but occasionally pulling an all-nighter didn't affect his condition.

After washing the teapot and teacups, I returned to my room on the second floor.

It was very small, about ten square meters, far smaller than the rooms in the manor. But it was very clean and gave me peace of mind.

Lying in bed, Fren thought about Professor Olsen's abilities from not long ago. The scene, in particular, centered on Professor Olsen, with numerous arcs of electricity spreading out like a spiderweb, was truly unforgettable.

"How enviable..." Fren put his hands behind his head, looked at the ceiling, and pondered Professor Olsen's identity as a neuroscientist.

The [Elemental System - Electromagnetism] and [Neurology] are indeed related.

In his past life, Fren was a science and engineering student. He studied biology in high school and knew that neurons in the nervous system mainly transmit signals through electrical and chemical signals.

Based on what Fren currently knows, he understands that the supernatural system of this world is a product of the interaction between mystical knowledge and the real world.

All abilities are based on the material world.

Such beings, who transcend the constraints of matter, can walk like gods between reality and the subspace with their willpower alone, and possess boundless power, have not yet been heard of at Furen's level.

However, mastering the basics of the real world is definitely the right thing to do.

Furen wondered if there was even the slightest possibility that the knowledge he gained as a science and engineering student in his previous life could allow him to show off his skills in this world.

However, Furen wasn't sure about this. After graduating from university, he went to work to earn money. Ninety percent of what he learned in his undergraduate studies was knowledge from over a decade or even several decades ago. Furen knew he needed to learn more to understand the contemporary relevance of that knowledge.

With five months until the start of university, Fren thought he could ask his parents to help him find some books to read.

Those on the mystical side might not agree to advance contact, but those on the conventional technological side should have no problem.

Fren didn't know how creative he was, but his learning ability should be guaranteed, and he didn't disappoint the name "Sherlock Holmes".

He should be slightly stronger than Sherlock.

......

The Holmes couple were also not asleep in their other bedroom on the second floor.

This includes not only 001 to 009, but also the children in the laboratory division who serve as the denominator.

Those children were just seeds that had just sprouted.

The country has wronged them, just as they have wronged their own daughter.

The Holmes thought of their more talented, but also more unfortunate, daughter.

Their daughter went astray because they hadn't raised her properly, and her death from illness later broke their hearts.

"Oros..."

Timothy, as a mother, lay in bed and whispered a name.

Wanda Holmes remained silent, got up and went to the study on the first floor, sat down at the desk, spread out paper and pen, and wrote down a few names.

He decided to do something about the lab project as well.

No matter where you are in this world, the last people who should shed tears are children.

-

early morning.

After working non-stop for several days, even sleeping on airplanes, Mycroft finally stepped out of the airport in Berlin.

He had just returned from a place called Sheringford, and to be honest, dealing with the prisoners there was more exhausting than dealing with the mess Charlotte had caused at the border.

Fortunately, although her sister's intelligence and abilities are outrageous, they are not so strange as to be considered evil.

A prison that exhausts the wisdom of this era in both the mystical and technological spheres is sufficient to completely control her.

"Next..." Mycroft had a schedule in his memory palace that he could adjust at any time.

This schedule is better than any planning app that will appear in the next few decades.

All tasks within each time period are labeled with a combination of "urgent" and "important" tags and arranged according to priority.

For other matters, Mycroft would think things through before deciding whether to attach even a single label.

However, there are exceptions.

In the central government, Mycroft was a cold and ruthless office machine; any work he authorized was meticulously executed without a single loophole.

His outward image is one of cold indifference, showing no interest in anything other than self-interest.

But in reality, once it involves family members, the matter immediately becomes urgent and important.

Mycroft's inner thoughts are probably similar to Ding Xiu's "I need more money" as the top fighter in Embroidered Spring Blade.

Aside from family, lab-related matters aren't a high priority.

But now...

"Charlotte..." Mycroft sighed to the heavens.

Judging from his expression, the beautiful secretary and bodyguard next to him was already used to it.

No matter how much he grumbled, he still had to get the driver to step on the gas and go wipe his brother's butt.

"To the mine...to the military district," Mycroft instructed the driver.

The laboratory beneath the mine is now finished, so even if Sherlock is there, it won't make a difference if I go there again.

Two hours later, as Fren had already started work, a cruise ship docked at the port of Aostania.

Amidst the bustling crowd of tourists, a slender figure departed from the port, swept away by the air currents, transforming into a spring breeze and drifting into the distance at several times the speed of sound.

In just over ten minutes, we arrived in Berlin, hundreds of kilometers away.

"That's too slow."

The woman was very dissatisfied. She had plenty of time, but that didn't stop her from hating wasting it on meaningless things.

Standing before a manor, the woman floated inside, ignoring the surveillance cameras and the locked gates. She seemed to be nothing more than a wisp of air, leaving no footprints on the ground as she moved expertly through the vast building.

She often returns here, and the house occasionally changes from what she remembers.

Without exception, all these changes originated from a despicable thief.

A thief who stole her life.

The reason for returning after more than ten days was probably because the thief had returned to live there after graduating, and the changes in the house were the most drastic.

The tulips that were originally intended for decoration have been replaced with camellias.

The scent I smelled also carried a hint of the aroma of burning oily wood.

The woman frowned; she disliked change and believed things should stay exactly as she remembered them.

Upon reaching the third floor and opening a door, her initial displeasure instantly transformed into a ferocious rage. She gritted her teeth, her eyes flashing with murderous intent, staring intently at the creases on the bed.

The wind blew up the teddy bear and the lingering scent on the sheets, which she caught, and instantly recognized who it was. A quick glance at the creases and the toys carelessly tossed on the bed revealed what this person had done.

Women don't mind their rooms being cleaned or washed, because it's a normal thing.

But the thief came to his room, to his bed, and played with his only toy.

He deserves to die!