Mystery: Starting from the Shadow World

Chapter 31 Searching for People

"This is a picture of young Elliott."

In the spacious carriage, Philip took the portrait of Elliot Vickroll, a ten-year-old child whose obvious freckles and long hair that almost covered his eyes made him look unremarkable.

"Do you have any of his unwashed clothes? That would make it easier to track him by scent. You know, finding someone based on a photo requires an intelligence network that spans Tingen, which our company doesn't have."

"No problem." Faced with Philip's explanation, the butler immediately agreed. He seemed a little uneasy in the silent atmosphere, so he took the initiative to explain the information about Elliott's kidnapping that morning.

Three people, armed. If the terrain allows and no extraordinary individuals appear, I alone should be able to handle this matter. Philip nodded calmly: "I roughly understand."

He looked out at the heavy rain, then glanced down at the photograph of little Elliott, and suddenly asked, "Is he wearing the same style of clothes today? I mean, this formal attire."

The butler paused for a moment, then said, "That's right, young Elliott won't have any other style of clothes."

"That's good."

As the lengthy and slow narration ended, Mr. Vikroll's carriage silently stopped on a street outside his house to avoid alerting the kidnappers.

The butler opened his umbrella and walked anxiously into the rain. Before long, he returned with a miniature gentleman's suit in his arms, his body covered in wet patches.

He held the clothes in both hands and handed them to Philip, then bowed slightly, removed his hat, and said, "Sir, please, I look forward to your good news."

I'm only twenty years old. Seeing the old butler with graying temples in front of him being so respectful and polite, Philip suppressed the strange feeling in his heart, took the clothes, and put one arm around his chest.

At the same time, his other hand unconsciously reached into his pocket and gently stroked a brand-new wire that had been bent into a right angle, and he secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

Fortunately, after learning that Philip only knew the pendulum divination method, Old Neil taught him a divination method called "the staff for finding lost items" under the pretext of "to prevent him from losing things in the future." The staff refers to a wire that has been bent at a right angle and is not bent.

By simply holding the shorter end and rotating it, one can determine the orientation of an object. Similar methods even exist on Earth, such as the black pen placed on a desk and spun during a quiet break in school.

Mr. Neil was quite farsighted. If I hadn't learned this divination, he probably would have had to take action. After all, no matter how skilled Klein is as a "diviner," he can't be used in two separate ways.

Tempted by the minimum 100 pounds, Philip lavishly chartered a four-wheeled carriage on the street, paid two sous to gag the driver, and quietly began his divination.

He placed the wire in his palm, rested his hand on the clothes in his pocket, pinched the shorter end and gently rotated it, silently reciting in his mind, "The position of the suit that Elliott is wearing today."

While the divination stick can only be used to find objects, in this special case, it can be used to find people. Because Little Elliott's clothes were exactly the same style yesterday and today, he was able to divine what he was wearing today based on the scent of yesterday's clothes.

As for the possibility of failure.

Either the other party had an extraordinary individual who interfered with divination, or these perverted kidnappers stripped their target of their clothes and threw them away on the road after kidnapping them.

Neither of these situations is right.

Thirty minutes later, following Philip's directions, which changed almost every few hundred meters, the carriage stopped in front of a building. Philip put away the wire, opened his umbrella, and went out.

Looking at the ordinary three-story house, Philip twisted the wire in his hand, put away his umbrella, his formal attire still soaked with water, and walked silently into the house, arriving at the stairwell.

"Above."

"Still upwards?" After trying twice, the wire remained defiant, flipping over on its own rotation, with the longer end pointing upwards.

Philip went up to the third floor and performed one last divination with his staff. After getting the answer that the wire was pointing to the right, he tapped his right teeth twice to activate his spiritual vision. The aura of the four people further confirmed his guess.

This corresponds exactly to Elliott and the three kidnappers.

Just as he stood there, contemplating whether to simply accept the 100 pounds or try his best to save the person, his thoughts suddenly froze. He frowned, his eyes, which had already been deactivated by spiritual vision, fixed on the tightly closed door behind him, and a feeling of unease began to stir within him.

I guessed wrong, is this really Elliott?

Or perhaps, something's not right about this room either.

The rain outside masked the silent stillness inside the building, but Philip's breathing gradually became heavy. The pressure from both sides made him, all alone, think about leaving now.

Thump, thump, thump

Slow, powerful footsteps sounded.

Someone is going upstairs!

Philip was startled, but thinking that the people downstairs were most likely just ordinary residents, he forced himself to calm down. He found a corner and unconsciously squatted down, leaning slightly forward, hiding there almost in a prone position.

In this way, as long as the other party is a resident on the second floor, there is absolutely no way they could see you.

But what if the other party goes up to the third floor?

The sound of the wooden staircase interlocking stopped temporarily, but soon resumed as Philip grew increasingly tense, indicating that the other party was skipping the second floor and heading straight for the third floor!

Not a single mistake, not a single poem, not a single post, not a single piece of content, not a single look!

Philip closed his eyes, exhaled, and tensed his nerves. He drew his revolver from his armpit holster, seized the opportunity, strode forward, and pointed the cold barrel directly at the chest of the man approaching from the center of the stairs. After waiting for the man to visibly freeze in shock, he slowly spoke:

"The person on the left, or the person on the right?"

The man, wearing a brown coat and carrying a large bag of bread, chuckled awkwardly, trying to control his voice. He quickly scanned the rooms on both sides and said, "Left side, sir, please remain calm."

Philip turned his head slightly to the right, pretending to glance at the room the other person was referring to, then looked away, still pointing the gun at him: "Well then, open the door and go home."

"No, sir, I..." Upon hearing this, a strange emotion flashed in the man's eyes. After a brief pause, he explained:

"My mother is at home. She's very old, and I'm afraid of frightening her. If you have anything to ask, could you go outside to talk?"

"I think you've misunderstood something."

Philip narrowed his eyes, a mocking smile on his face. "What I asked you just now wasn't a multiple-choice question, but a true/false one. Heh, all I needed was the answer to whether you live on the third floor."

"Because both of these companies are involved in cases."

(End of this chapter)