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The Shadow of Great Britain

“Next, we have the most noble recipient of the Order of the Garter, the Grand Cross of Saint Michael and Saint George, the Grand Cross of the Bath, the Victoria Cross and the lower grades of Knighthood, the leader of the anti-colonial movement, the bell-ringer of the East India Company, the hero of the Crimean War, a Fellow of the Royal Society, a lifelong dear friend of literary giants such as Dickens and Great Dumas, a steadfast supporter of scientific luminaries like Faraday and Darwin, having served as assistant under-secretary, deputy under-secretary, and permanent under-secretary in departments of the Home Office and the Navy Department of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, the inaugural Cabinet Secretary and head of the civil service, the first graduate and most distinguished alumnus of our school. Please welcome Sir Arthur Hastings to deliver a speech on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the University of London.” Arthur's gaze swept across the crowd before him, looking at the young faces and murmured, “Agares, what do you think I should say?” The Red Devil's wraith hovered behind him, saliva almost dribbling from the corner of his mouth, “Look at these ignorant souls; they still worship you as a hero. Why not say something they'd like to hear?” Arthur took a deep breath and let out a deafening roar, “Oxford is a bunch of whores' bastards!” “Oh!!!!” The audience erupted into thunderous applause. “Cambridge is the same!” he added immediately. The applause grew even more fervent... (The protagonist, possessed by a devil, travels through 19th-century Britain in a world without magic)

Chasing Time · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
270 Chs

Chapter 107: Science Leaps Forward

In the preparation room for the Royal Society's lecture, Charles Wheatstone was covered in sweat, his lips pale, his shirt soaked. The thought of standing on the podium and facing hundreds, perhaps thousands, of listeners tomorrow made his legs tremble uncontrollably.

Wheatstone sat in the chair for a while, but feeling restless, he stood up and paced the room. However, it wasn't long before his calves felt weak again.

Just this morning, he had felt in better physical condition than ever before, but now he felt as if death were not far off.

Wheatstone muttered, "Maybe I should find an opportunity to escape London until the Royal Society has forgotten about me, then come back?"

As Wheatstone was talking to himself, he heard a click; the bolted door was pushed open from the outside.

Startled, Wheatstone stepped back, nearly knocking over the floor mirror behind him.

He exclaimed, "Isn't it too early for me? I'm not supposed to go on stage until tomorrow."