Mystery: Starting from the Shadow World

Chapter 72 The Card of Blasphemy

Time flies, and it's July 30th in the blink of an eye. Backlund has entered a time of year when there is absolutely no fog to obstruct the view, but it is still suffering from unbearable heat.

Inside the house at 19 Braun Street, Fors was slightly agitated. She twirled her hair with her fingers and then sighed.

Her good friend, the bounty hunter Hugh, had already left for the East District to pursue his career, but she, the novelist, was now in a predicament with Cardiac.

Ding-a-ling—

The gentle ringing of the doorbell brought Fors back from her sweltering mood. With a touch of curiosity, she stepped forward and opened the door, only to find the girl she had met by chance a few days ago standing outside.

He was also holding a copy of "The Stormy Manor" in his arms, along with a pile of papers covered in writing, which were pressed behind him. The top of the first paper still had a faint outline that allowed a literate person to guess its contents:

Sherlock

"Good morning, Miss Fors," Philip said with a slight bow, his tone calm and polite. "My name is Jane, Jane Charlotte, and I'm a fan of your books."

"Hello, I am Fors Wall."

Upon hearing that it was a fan of his book, Fors, who had been in a somewhat bad mood, subconsciously smiled. Inwardly praising her own judgment, she didn't forget to ask, "Miss Jane, is there anything I can help you with?"

Upon hearing this, Philip displayed just the right amount of restraint, but still handed "Stormy Mountain Villa" to the other party, saying, "I hope you can sign it for me. If possible, I would also like to ask you about the publication of the novel."

Novel published?

It seems your novel is called "Sherlock Holmes." Wow, such a young girl writing detective novels... Hmm, she's my fan. Even if her novel isn't satisfactory, I still need to encourage and help her!

Unbeknownst to Philip, Fors, who was signing her name with a pen, was already mentally preparing for the next part of the event, thinking about how not to discourage the girl.

She then led Philip into the living room, sat on the sofa, took the pile of manuscripts from him, and carefully began to open them.

"Um, aren't you going to ask me what I'd like to drink?" Philip blinked, the speechlessness in his eyes vanishing in an instant, but he ultimately remained silent, sitting there quietly, waiting for the bestselling novelist's evaluation of him.

To be honest, she was confident, but not very confident.

Judging from the online literature market of China in the future, "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes" would undoubtedly be considered a complete flop, and Philip was most familiar with online literature from this period.

As for the Victorian era, she didn't even know much about modern online novels, let alone this other world that was only similar to the Victorian era.

Moreover, after carefully comparing it with the real world, Philip had to revise a lot of information in the original book, to the point that she had to spend all day in the library to prevent the novel from containing logical errors that would make people, or even make curly-haired baboons, laugh.

After several days of hard work, Philip finally managed to complete this nerve-wracking finished product.

When Fors Wall saw that the protagonist, Watson, was a doctor at Backlund Medical School and a military doctor, he glanced at her almost imperceptibly, his eyes revealing a somewhat ambiguous meaning, and he seemed to have an urge to say something.

However, in the time that followed, her attention seemed to be drawn to the words, and she paid no attention to her surroundings. Her fingers, stained with the yellowing of cigarette smoke, moved the manuscript paper in front of her to the back again.

Philip sighed silently to himself, then picked up the copy of "Stormy Mountain Villa" that the other party had just returned to him and quietly began his third reading.

As for watching it a second time, it was because I was worried that Fors might ask some questions, and I didn't want to be mistaken for a fake fan, so I watched it again yesterday.

Half an hour passed, and after a moment of daze, Fors returned to reality and found Jane Charlotte still silently waiting for him while reading a novel. Her eyes gradually brightened:

"Miss Jane, this is wonderful!"

Having prepared himself mentally, Philip remained calm and even humbly inquired if there was anything that needed improvement.

Excellent, no, brilliant reasoning—it's hard to imagine that this is the work of human insight and wisdom. Deeply impressed by Sherlock Holmes, Fors thought to himself, feeling somewhat excited that the creation of this character reflected his own personality.

The woman, around twenty-three years old, suddenly perked up, pulled Jane Charlotte aside, and began to discuss the original text, offering her opinions gently and appropriately, and explaining relevant information about the novel's publication.

As a result, to Philip's complete surprise, her consultation with Fors was delayed until nearly noon. She barely managed to avoid being forced back into her male body by going into the restroom midway through the process, as she had exceeded the limits of "Silver White's" tolerance.

One o'clock in the afternoon.

After having lunch with Fors at the restaurant and returning to Braun Street, Philip finally went back to his room and took off the "silver" ring that had almost numbed him.

I'm going again in a couple of days.

He had already submitted his paper manuscript to Stanford Press in Hillston that morning, and now he just had to wait three days for the review process to be completed before he could pay for self-publishing.

There are still many things to do afterward, such as signing contracts, typesetting and layout, revising the manuscript, and even compiling it into a book. So, this whole process will take at least until the end of August or even September.

However, these are minor matters nowadays.

Philip walked to the suitcase in the corner, ran his fingers over it and gently stroked it, a smile playing on his lips, and his mood instantly improved.

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

The money from "Justice" had already been deposited into his account yesterday, and the amount was much higher than he had expected, a full £5900. Adding the £200 that Philip kept for himself after deducting his daily expenses, Philip now had a huge sum of £6100.

With this financial resources, one could easily attend the more upscale gatherings mentioned by Maritch. Information about extraordinary pets and messenger rituals, as well as the collection of Russell's diary and the purchase of extraordinary materials, would not be too much of a problem.

That evening, I went to ask them for the exact address of the party in Queens.

Speaking of which, the diary entry mentioned the collection of Russell's diaries. Philip's expression suddenly became somewhat complicated, and he then pulled out the folded copy of his own diary from his pocket:

"On March 14th, I created the seventh blasphemous card, 'The Judge'! What a handsome and dashing figure he is! I truly wish that he could be displayed before the world forever."

"Yes, that's right, that's what we'll do!"

"Hahaha, forever! I need a symbol that represents me forever, besides the 'Black Emperor'! I'm going to design a spell that no one can ever guess: 'Magnificent, noble, universally revered, and flawless Emperor Roselle!'"

"What a brilliant idea! Those guys will probably search their heads for this card forever. They'll never imagine that the target is so close, yet so far away!"

"But subconsciously, I feel that really no one can guess it, which is quite sad to think about. Sigh."

Even just getting close would be great.

"Any language is fine."

(End of this chapter)