The Shadow of Great Britain

35: Chapter 32 The Devil’s Murmur 35: Chapter 32 The Devil’s Murmur In the Greenwich District, at number 18 Central Street, inside a three-story building unremarkable in appearance.

It was already night, and through the faded blue curtains, one could see an oil lamp placed on the desk by the second-floor window.

Arthur, dressed in a police uniform, sat at the desk, his face illuminated by the soft and warm yellow light.

Next door, the noise from a couple arguing and the crying of children would periodically disturb the peace.

In the past, whenever this happened, Arthur would always step out to clear his head.

For over the years, his sleep had been shallow, and he could only rest a bit easier once everything around him quieted down.

But today was clearly different, he was neither agitated by the noise nor tormented by the inability to fall asleep.

Because he had devoted his entire attention to the task at hand.

In front of him lay two sets of documents, one was “Scotland Yard Internal Regulations,” and the other was the “Police Code of Conduct,” which outlined the principles and standards of police behavior.

Now and then, he would look up at them and, after pausing momentarily to reflect, he would pick up his quill and jot down his thoughts on an old newspaper beside him.

Only after considering and fine-tuning them until satisfied would he carefully transcribe them onto clean, white laid paper.

The “Scotland Yard Internal Regulations” and the “Police Code of Conduct” he turned over, page by page, as time slipped away moment by moment.

When he closed the last page and looked up, the oil in the desk lamp had nearly burned out, and the sun was rising outside the window.

Arthur leaned back in his chair and lazily stretched, when suddenly, five slender fingers with pitch-black nails landed on his desk, picking up the dozen or so pages he had compiled over the night.

Then came the familiar voice of Agares, mad yet somewhat composed, “Such beautiful handwriting.

Arthur, if one day I return to Hell, you might as well come and work as my clerk.”

Arthur closed his eyes and rubbed his face, not even thinking before he asked, “Agares, stop writing cheques you can’t cash.

By the way, where were you last night?

I didn’t see you the whole night.”

The Red Devil’s laugh echoed in Arthur’s ears, “You were so engrossed in your work, I couldn’t bear to interrupt you.

So I went to Windsor Castle for a stroll on my own.

Arthur, did you know?

Your King is about to die, he even urinates purple!”

Arthur was stunned and asked, “How do you know that?”

“Because I saw him pee!”

Arthur said with resignation, “Do you enjoy that as well?

What’s so appealing about an old, fat man?”

Agares laughed heartily, “Although there’s nothing appealing, I must always keep an eye on him.

“The stench of rot emanating from him is something even the crows could understand, and last night I followed the ravens from the Tower of London to find him.

“Arthur, think about it, a dying King, a coward who fears death, and a soul that has revelled in the riches and honor of the Mortal World, how could he willingly accept death?

“I guarantee you, he would trade half his wealth and power, and even his soul, for a decade or even just five years of life, making a pretty advantageous deal!

“Arthur, think it over, don’t be so obstinate.

I only want the soul; the rest is all yours.”

Arthur leaned in his chair and combed his greasy hair from staying up all night backward.

“I have to say, Agares, I’m starting to get tempted.”

Upon hearing this, Agares’s smile suddenly froze.

He first touched his own forehead, then felt Arthur’s.

The Red Devil said in confusion, “You’re not sick, are you?”

He then glanced at the rising sun outside the window and Arthur’s slightly darkened eyes from lack of sleep.

The Red Devil seriously gave his verdict, pointing at Arthur, “You must be delirious from lack of sleep.

Agreeing so readily, that’s really not like you.”

Arthur, amused and frustrated by Agares’s reaction, asked, “What on earth do you take me for?

I finally make up my mind to discuss some business with you, and this is how you react?”

The Red Devil furrowed his brows upon hearing this.

He pondered for a long time and then suddenly clapped his hands, laughing wildly, “You’re trying to scam me?

Arthur, you’re too young to play this game with me!

When I was with King Solomon…”

“When we breached Jerusalem.” Arthur picked up where the Red Devil had left off before he could finish.

He complained, “Agares, can’t you come up with something new?

After all, you are ranked among the top scholars in Hell, versed in the mysteries of astronomy, mathematics, and linguistics.

Can’t you speak with a bit more eloquence?”

Agares was somewhat puzzled by Arthur’s abnormal behavior today; he didn’t even retort immediately.

Instead, he tested the waters with, “Have you changed your mind?

No longer wish to take a ship and leave this cesspool, or to continue living like this?”

“Can a cesspool be left by simply taking a ship?”

Arthur twisted his sore neck, “To tell the truth, at this point in time, the North American colonies aren’t much stronger.

Going there, one either becomes a farmer on a piece of uncultivated land or starts as a junior worker in the city’s factories.

Although I despise this place, I at least have some friends here.

If I go to the North American colonies, I’d be a stranger in unfamiliar land, starting everything from scratch, and I would have to adapt to the new environment.

Besides, leaving simply because I despise it would feel like admitting defeat.

How could I be content if I don’t turn it upside down?”

Agares looked at Arthur’s sincere expression, and the corners of the Red Devil’s lips gradually curled up.

“My dear Arthur, you’ve finally understood this principle.”

Arthur picked up his cold cup of tea and took a gulp.

Leaning forward slightly, he asked Agares who sat on the table.

“Tell me, what should I do?”

As Agares heard this, the corner of the Red Devil’s mouth stretched like a split pumpkin, almost reaching the sky.

But his voice remained hoarse with a hint of deadly allure.

He picked up the manuscript that Arthur had taken three days to complete and said, “Arthur, haven’t you already figured out what to do?

As a renowned scholar from Hell, I don’t encourage you to ask questions for which the answers are preconceived.

I’m not interested in responding to fill-in-the-blank queries.

However, as a valuable trading client and a villainous student I have meticulously cultivated, Professor Agares is very pleased and very satisfied that you have done the necessary preparatory work for the upcoming lessons.”

Recall what you’ve learned in the history courses at the University of London and your past experiences.

Just as when you faced Chief Inspector Wilcox, I admit, an individual may wield a knife at the mighty.

Yet, at the same time, I firmly believe, the masses will always strike at the weakest.

Therefore, it’s impossible for your individual strength to change the entire society’s nature and historical shortcomings.

What the masses want most is not freedom but to be enslaved.

They are eager to obey, instinctively submitting to those who claim to be their leader.

And a leader’s influence rarely comes from reason; it often stems from prestige and emotion.

Moreover, this prestige and emotion belong solely to the individual and have nothing to do with your title or status.

As you quoted in Meditations before that young clerk at the court: ‘Men despise and flatter each other; they wish to be superior to others, and they prostrate themselves before them.’

The general public lacks discernment; therefore, they cannot judge the truth of matters, and many untenable views gain widespread agreement with ease.

What you need to do is to present ideas to them, and with action after action, reinforce the impression of this concept in their minds.

Once repetition reaches a certain threshold, your rhetoric will be embedded deep within them, becoming a creed they hold as truth.

They will not allow others to question their truth, nor will they permit the existence of opinions they deem fallacious.

Such entrenched, paranoid sentiments can only be shaken by replacing them with another extreme emotion.

By then, you will have become their deity, wielding powers far greater than commanding wind and rain, and perhaps this influence will last for centuries through your progeny.”

Agares’s smile faded, his figure gradually disappeared from Arthur’s sight, and the curtains swayed.

A gentle breeze fluttered through, carrying the manuscript into Arthur’s hands.

The bedroom fell silent, and Arthur’s ears could only hear a faint, devilish hum.

“Go ahead, Arthur, this will be the very foundation of your ascent to greatness.”