webnovel
#ADVENTURE
#REINCARNATION
#GENIUS
#HISTORICAL
#ACADEMY
#URBAN
#MECHA
#BIGSHOT
#POORTORICH
#ETHEREAL

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 · 奇幻
分數不夠
586 Chs
#ADVENTURE
#REINCARNATION
#GENIUS
#HISTORICAL
#ACADEMY
#URBAN
#MECHA
#BIGSHOT
#POORTORICH
#ETHEREAL

Chapter 38 The Journey to the Funeral

In the interrogation room at Scotland Yard, Arthur leaned against a chair.

Opposite the interrogation room, a makeshift wooden medical bed was set up, and several doctors with beads of sweat on their foreheads were carefully assembling and stitching the tiny corpse before them.

The supervising police officers standing behind Arthur saw this scene and their Adam's apples trembled from time to time.

Even the officers, accustomed to dirty environments and bloody scenes, struggled with this sight.

Some could not help but turn their heads away, while others furrowed their brows and closed their eyes.

After what felt like a long time, the doctors let out long breaths, raised their hands to wipe the sweat from their foreheads, then pursed their lips, glanced at Arthur sitting on the chair, and respectfully reported back,

"Mr. Hastings, the body has been sewn up."