sinovels Chapter 397: The New Star Returns
Chapter 397: The New Star Returns
Just as Lancelot and that group of hawk faction elders were convulsing on the ground, losing control of the situation due to the bloodline backlash from the Initial Protocol, another group of people barged through the conference room door that Sir Henderson had just crashed open.
This group wore meticulously tailored black suits, carried heavy briefcases, and had badges symbolizing diplomatic immunity from different countries pinned to their chests.
Leading them was a middle-aged man with hair slicked back to a glossy shine, his face wearing a professional coldness.
He was Mr. Morgan's special envoy.
And behind him followed the private secretary of the British Prime Minister, a special commissioner from the French Third Republic, and a counselor from the United States embassy in Switzerland.
This was a team composed of ordinary people.
But at this moment, the "weight" they carried even surpassed that of the recently manifested Knight Protocol.
"It seems we've arrived just in time."
The envoy scanned the chaotic conference room, his gaze lingering briefly on the hawk faction high-ranking members writhing in pain, then turned to Sir Henderson standing beside the round table.
He gave a slight bow, took out a thick document stamped with the steel seals of multiple nations from his briefcase, and gently placed it on the round table, right beside that parchment protocol."Sir Henderson." The envoy's voice was flat and dry.
"This is a joint ultimatum from London, Paris, and Washington."
"In light of I.A.R.C.'s recent extreme internal management chaos, and a series of 'overreactions' endangering public safety created by certain radical factions in Tintagel, Saigon, New York, and other locations."
"The governments of various nations have reached a consensus."
The envoy pushed the document, which slid across the smooth tabletop and stopped before Percival, the only current Round Table Knight.
"If, within the coming period, the Association cannot restore normal order and eliminate those radicals attempting to place themselves above secular law."
"Then, this is the consequence."
Percival lowered her head to glance at the first page of the document. The clauses there were shocking.
Freeze all of I.A.R.C.'s offshore accounts and gold reserves worldwide.
Cut off all tax exemption policies and logistics privileges for shell companies under the Association's name.
More fatal was the final clause.
Military forces of various nations would list all known I.A.R.C. branches as "potential terrorist organization strongholds" and authorize the use of all firepower, including heavy artillery and naval vessels, for "precision elimination."
For a long time, the inner world had been able to stand above the surface world, relying on mysterious abilities and fear.
But the arrogance of the hawk faction had made them forget one thing: under the tide of the Second Industrial Revolution, humanity's war machine had evolved to a point where it could crush "anomalies."
When mystery is no longer mysterious, when magic faces artillery fire, former hunters can also become prey.
"Is this Mr. Morgan's method?"
Sir Henderson looked at the document, a complex smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
He had used an ancient blood covenant to dismantle the enemy's foundation from within.
And Morgan, far away in New York, had used modern money and politics to seal the enemy's retreat from the outside.
This was a siege hunt.
"We accept."
Sir Henderson raised his head, his voice regaining its usual authority.
"Tell the Prime Minister and the Presidents that the purge has ended. We are planning to convene a new hearing."
"Order is about to be restored."
...
The streets of East London were everywhere marked with scorched traces and shattered barricades.
A fully armed squad of Inspectors was moving quickly through an alley near Baker Street.
They wore black standard-issue trench coats, carried heavy backpacks, and held rifles ready to fire at any moment.
Walking at the front was Henry Ackerman.
The man known as "the Purger" was currently in an extremely excited state of slaughter.
His eyes were bloodshot, and the massive executioner's scythe in his hand emitted a nauseating smell of blood.
Just moments ago, he had received a tip that those fugitives might have sneaked back here.
"Block the neighborhood."
Ackerman's voice was hoarse and crazed.
"Don't let a single fly escape. If you encounter resistance, execute on the spot."
He was not yet aware of what had happened in Geneva.
In his closed-off world, as long as he killed all opponents, truth would be on his side.
"Sir."
The communications soldier behind him suddenly stopped, his voice trembling slightly.
"What is it?" Ackerman roared without turning his head. "I told you to block, not to stand there daydreaming!"
"No... sir, it's... it's an urgent message from headquarters."
The communications soldier took off his headset, looking pale at Ackerman's back.
"It's also... a full-channel broadcast."
Ackerman frowned. He turned around and snatched the message board from the communications soldier's hand.
It was an extremely brief directive.
【Geneva Supreme Council Order No. 1024】
【Relieve Henry Ackerman of all duties.】
【All special action teams are to stand down immediately and surrender weapons.】
【Those who disobey will be treated as deserters.】
"This is impossible..."
Ackerman's hand trembled. He violently threw the message board to the ground, smashing it to pieces.
"This is forged! This is a trick by those traitors!"
"Continue the operation! Charge in!"
He raised his scythe, trying to rally the team again.
But no one moved.
The Inspectors who usually obeyed his every command had all stopped in their tracks.
They looked at each other, their eyes filled with confusion and fear.
More importantly, Ackerman suddenly felt a sweet taste in his throat.
"Pfft!"
A mouthful of black blood gushed from his mouth.
His body swayed, and the scythe in his hand clattered to the ground.
As a direct subordinate and bloodline collateral of the elders, he had not escaped the punishment of that ancient covenant either.
"No..."
Ackerman knelt on the muddy street.
He reached out, trying to grab something, but could only clutch a handful of damp, cold air.
The fog at the alley entrance dispersed.
A squad of ordinary military police in dark blue uniforms, led by a group of I.A.R.C. investigators, surrounded the area.
The Inspectors silently laid down their weapons, removed the backpacks from their backs, and raised their hands.
A stern-faced executor walked up to Ackerman, taking out a pair of silver handcuffs engraved with runes.
"Henry Ackerman."
The executor's voice was cold and mechanical.
"You are under arrest."
Ackerman looked up.
He looked at that executor, then at the thick fog gradually dissipating in the distance, and the sunlight piercing through the clouds.
The madness on his face gradually faded, replaced by a bitter, miserable smile.
...
One week later.
London, Baker Street 221B.
The morning sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, spilling onto the oak desk.
Lin Jie sat in an armchair, holding a freshly delivered copy of The Times.
The newspaper's front-page headline was printed with a striking line: "Government Announces Formation of Special Advisory Committee to Address Recent Frequent 'Unconventional' Security Incidents."
This was a euphemistic way of saying it.
It meant I.A.R.C. was attempting to gradually integrate into the world's order in a more gentle, more controlled manner.
Although the Secrecy Law still existed, that absolute barrier had been broken.
"Knock, knock, knock."
A knocking sound came from downstairs.
Mrs. Hudson's voice echoed in the hallway. "Mr. Lin, you have a visitor."
Lin Jie put down the newspaper and stood up. The door was pushed open, and a familiar figure walked in.
Barton Chris, who had now regained his former composure.
He wore a brand new, well-tailored black three-piece suit. His top hat was polished to a shine, and the walking stick in his hand had been replaced with a more exquisite ebony cane.
"Good morning, Lin."
Barton took off his hat and hung it on the coat rack by the door.
"It seems you've recovered well."
"Compared to crawling around in sewers, this is indeed much more comfortable."
Lin Jie smiled and pointed to the sofa opposite.
"Sit. Tea or coffee?"
"Tea, thank you."
Barton sat down, took out a stack of documents from his briefcase, and placed them on the table.
"I'm here to deliver some things."
"First, regarding that red notice."
He pushed a revocation order stamped with the Geneva Supreme Council's steel seal toward Lin Jie.
"All charges have been dropped."
"After review, the Council has determined that your series of actions in Tintagel and London were 'necessary interventions to uphold the fundamental interests of the Association.'"
"Although the process was somewhat... unorthodox."
The corner of Barton's mouth twitched slightly.
"But the result was good."
"Also, this is your compensation."
He took out another check.
The number on it was enough to buy half of Baker Street.
"This was allocated from the assets of those confiscated hawk faction families."
"Besides this, the Redgrave family accounts have also been unfrozen. I imagine Ethan is probably opening champagne to celebrate in New York right now."
Lin Jie glanced at the check and casually set it aside.
Money was important to him, but not the most important thing.
"And this."
Barton took out a black leather-bound cover from his bag.
It was the latest edition of the Record of Elite Investigators.
The cover was still that steady black, but the gold-embossed lettering seemed even more dazzling than before.
"Open it and see," Barton said.
Lin Jie opened the record.
He didn't bother scrutinizing the familiar names at the front; Barton must have had a reason for asking him to look.
Reaching page seventy-eight, there was a printed photo.
In the photo, he wore a black trench coat, his gaze cold, the background a blurry rainy night.
【Rank: NO.78】
【Codename: Scalpel】
【Status: Active】
【Evaluation: A hunter adept at dissecting all mysteries with rationality and precise tactics. He is order amidst chaos, and the wielder of the blade in desperate situations.】
Lin Jie's finger lightly traced over that line of text.
From an unknown rookie on the new arrivals list to the top hundred of the main rankings.
This wasn't just a promotion in rank; it was confirmation of qualification.
"Congratulations, Lin."
Barton's voice carried a note of sincerity.
"You deserve this. I knew I wasn't wrong to bring you into the Association."
"And, from what I know, this ranking is still a conservative estimate."
Lin Jie closed the record.
"Keeping a low profile is good."
"In this world, reputation can sometimes be more dangerous than bullets."
"A wise choice."
Barton nodded.
He picked up his teacup, took a sip, then seemed to remember something and set the cup down.
"About that little girl."
"Lily Weston."
Lin Jie leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharpening.
"How is she?"
"Rest assured."
Barton waved a hand.
"She is safe."
"The Association has taken over the underground containment area of St. Mary's. All coercive experiments have been halted."
"We invited the best psychiatrists and mystics to conduct a joint consultation on her."
"The conclusion is... that kind of 'Synesthesia' cannot be completely severed. Because it has already become part of her soul."
Barton sighed.
"However, we can teach her how to control it."
"How to build her own mental barrier in this noisy world."
"The Association has sent a senior female mentor—recommended by Lady Percival—to the Weston home under the guise of a private tutor to provide one-on-one guidance to Lily."
"She is at home now, with her parents."
The weight in Lin Jie's heart finally lifted.
This was the best outcome, neither depriving Lily of her freedom nor leaving that unstable factor without a safety valve.
"Thank you."
Lin Jie said.
"This is what we owe her."
Barton stood up and put his hat back on.
"Well, my task is complete."
"Next, there's a huge mess waiting for me to clean up in the Underground City."
"Rebuilding order is much harder than destroying it."
He walked to the door, hand on the doorknob, then suddenly stopped.
"Oh, Lin."
"Sir Henderson asked me to bring you a message."
Barton turned his head back, his gaze profound.
"He said, although the Projection has stabilized for now."
"The source remains."
"If we don't resolve the root cause that split the world, everything we've done is merely delaying death."
"He hopes you can prepare yourself."
Lin Jie nodded. Of course he knew.
He touched the two cold badges in his pocket.
That disaster which destroyed the real world was still hidden deep within the mists of history.
"Tell him I'll be prepared."
Lin Jie said softly.
Barton left, and the room returned to quiet.
Lin Jie walked to the window, pushed it open. The fog outside had mostly dissipated.
The long-awaited sunlight spilled onto the cobblestones of Baker Street. Rickshaw pullers were shouting, newspaper boys were running, and the scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the bakery.
This was still an unreal world.
But looking at those people bustling about for their livelihoods, at those vivid smiling faces.
Lin Jie felt that all of this was still worthwhile.
William was polishing his trench club in the next room.
Julian was organizing the rubbings brought back from Tintagel in the study.
Evelyn was downstairs discussing the dinner menu with Mrs. Hudson.
They were all here.
That was enough.