When the plot-skips players into the game world

Today's Avalon has no nobility, but is ruled by knights. Although the royal family can bestow armor on knights, they essentially have little actual power. They can only indirectly influence the Round Table Hall by cultivating new knights loyal to the royal family... However, when compared to the merchants, the substantial influence of the royal family over the new class of knights is much inferior. A new generation of knight families who possess only restrained power, without a foundation or money, are easily influenced by their sponsors.

Professor Moriarty, Edward's foster father, is in the business of doing just that.

Among the old knight families, some are flourishing while others are in decline. The latter includes those who are willing to accept patronage and those who are not.

Some pride themselves on their nobility, fundamentally different from the new knights of common blood; others are tired of the endless squabbles at the Round Table Hall and the invisible hands that manipulate from beyond its confines; and some are greedy enough to want to take control and directly seize the merchants' wealth.

Even though these people have different stances, they share a common demand.

—That is to restore the rule of the nobility.

Therefore, in addition to the Star Antimony people, there are also some ministers in the Glass Island who are secretly supporting the Noble Red Society.

Edward has no affection for Avalon. He doesn't care about Avalon or Alktoth.

He was once a wandering orphan on the streets, who later became a "Moriarty". Afterward, he graduated with distinction and joined the Supervisory Court directly, responsible for monitoring suspected knights, examining officials suspected of corruption, and screening spies from other countries.

In the process, he saw too much ugliness that was utterly different from what he had imagined in his youth. The law did not uphold justice and morality but the Authority of the Round Table Hall—not even the Authority of the Hall of Silver and Tin.

Compared with the knights, repaying Moriarty's foster care was evidently more important.

Edward had previously asked his foster father on which side they should stand.

But Old James's answer was, "You stand by my side, Edward."

Now, Edward was glad that the Sweater Brothers Association and the person behind the Pelican Bar had no connection. Otherwise, he didn't know how to stop Sherlock's persistent investigation.

His old friend was too smart, too sensitive.

Any hesitation or avoidance of the truth on his part would likely be noticed by him.

Edward had very few friends—extremely few.

He did not wish to one day lose another important friend.

—Fortunately, this was a misguided direction of investigation.

"Although I don't know who provided this... but I thank you. You keep investigating in this direction, Sherlock,"

Edward thought to himself.

Giving the bored detective something to do would prevent him from having nothing better to do and turning back to investigate the Pelican Bar."

As he thought of this, he suddenly felt a stirring in his heart.

He still had another case at hand—considering the safety of the common people and his own family, this matter needed to be dealt with promptly. After all, they did not stand with the Noble Red Society, but were maintaining a Balance.

Thus, Edward said, "Perhaps it's not entirely unrelated."

"I've just remembered something else. Currently, the Supervisory Court is investigating a case codenamed 'Redstone'.

"There's a batch of powerful, small-sized portable alchemical bombs that have been smuggled from the Pelican Bar to Avalon. The Supervisory Court suspects the buyer might be someone high within the kingdom. But even if they are portable, they can't be stored at home. One reason is it's unsafe, and the other is they're easy to detect.

"If they haven't had the chance to be moved yet, they should be in the Lohar District now. You mentioned the Sweater Brothers Association's base is an abandoned chemical factory, so it's reasonable to store them there... "

Edward stopped there, suddenly sensing something.

He heard someone's heartbeat.

Sherlock, a second behind, also seemed to notice something and immediately looked up.

A blue-white brilliance flowed in his pupils, and Sherlock issued a decree without hesitation: "[Still]!"

A brilliant radiance like that of a newborn star burst forth from his side, spreading out in all directions.

In the corner behind him, an assassin squatting there was suddenly jolted out of invisibility, his entire being covered by a white light, as if turned to stone.

After half a second, he broke free from the binding.

Realizing the binding force was not strong, the assassin's eyes turned vicious. The dagger in his hand flicked into a correct grip.

He crouched slightly, his body once again merging into the shadows. He wanted to rush forward and assassinate Sherlock first, then escape quickly.

However, a sudden tremble surged in the assassin's heart, an intense sense of crisis overwhelmed him—

"—[Arrest]."

Edward issued the command with impassive authority.

Two pure white triangles materialized out of thin air around the assassin's wrists as he attempted to stealthily move again, and then a powerful magnetic force pulled his hands together, shackling them. The assassin, who had been dashing forward, was thrown off balance by the force, stumbling and nearly falling. The poison-coated dagger, now useless due to the tightened restraints on his wrists, clattered to the ground.

Then, the overlapping triangles forming a hexagram zipped upwards, keeping level with the ground... suspending the assassin in mid-air.

Lucky hit.

Thinking this, Edward allowed a rare smile to cross his lips.

He slowly approached the young assassin, who was now restrained and showing a look of terror on his face.

"Looks like the fish has been hooked, Hermes."
Experience tales at m v|l e'm,p| y- r

Edward said leisurely, "I am going to proceed... Remember to plug your ears."

"No need. I'm hardly some pure young maiden. Besides, these members of the Strangler Party are bound for Execution Square sooner or later," said Sherlock, arms crossed and composed, "I instructed you to bring a handkerchief, which means I had already envisioned this scene. After all, I shouldn't be taking action... but you are from the Supervisory Court, and you have the right to carry out summary executions."

"I'm actually more curious. Your subordinates—I recall there is a girl who quite admires you, right? Has she ever seen you search through a criminal's memory?"

"What do you think the work of the Supervisory Court involves, Hermes? What we do is much dirtier than this," Edward scoffed.

"I guess I was really lucky not to have joined the Supervisory Court with you back in the day," Sherlock remarked lazily, "After all, I thought as the head of the Supervisory Court you wouldn't need to go out on assignments."

"I also worked my way up from the front lines, Mr. Hermes. And I am not some great leader. I can't say more, still within the confidentiality period—three more years and I can tell you what my first mission was," Edward replied.

As he spoke, he slowly pulled out his white handkerchief from the pocket over his heart and began to close in slowly.

His towering figure cast a shadow and his slow yet resolute movements were terrifying in the extreme.

"No, don't... I will tell you, I will say everything... Spare my life..."

The young voice of the Strangler Party member, one who had followed the Path of Adaptation, sounded unexpectedly.

"I cannot spare you, thief. Your death is inevitable," Edward said icily, "How many people have you killed? Five? Six?"

"You think nobody would notice you, you think you've cleverly buried the evidence..."

He methodically unfolded the handkerchief soaked in a soporific magic potion and pressed it fiercely over the struggling assassin's face.

Muffled grunts of struggle could be heard from beneath the handkerchief.

The next moment, Edward's eyes filled with a dazzling white light. Five runic symbols extended from his fingers clenched on the assassin's cheek, rapidly tracing over the man's greasy, black curly hair, causing it to shine.

"—The law grants me the necessary power to search," Edward announced solemnly.

Along with the muffled screams from beneath the handkerchief, grayish-white smoke seeped from the assassin's facial orifices, slowly inhaled by Edward.

Finally, he released his grip and lifted the [Decree: Arrest].

The assassin's body fell lifelessly to the ground. Blood slowly oozed from the handkerchief stuck to his face. The white runic symbols on his throat, behind his ears, and on top of his head where the handkerchief didn't cover gradually faded.

Edward did not bother to retrieve his white handkerchief.

After all, his Soul-Searching Spell could only be used once a day, and a face covered with a handkerchief also signified that the person had been "searched".

"We've hit the right place, Hermes—at least in part. The Sweater Brothers Association is indeed connected to the Noble Red Society, you're right.

"—One batch of Alchemical Bombs is stored right now in this abandoned chemical factory."