Chapter 24: If you hear the truth in the morning, you can die in the evening.

Lilith landed in this gloomy neighborhood. She looked at the scattered wooden houses that seemed to grow naturally with interest. The people here would build these shaky houses by themselves, and then a dozen or more families would share a water pipe and a bathroom.

This place is too dirty and too chaotic.

But for her, it is a hotbed.

Because this is also a proof of human beings' efforts to survive.

They are resisting the absurd and unreasonable fate. The world allowed them to be born before they prepared the resources for them to live well.

And this will bring tragedy.

But humans are probably used to this absurdity.

So they embarked on a journey to pursue meaning.

The biggest difference between humans and them is that humans give themselves nature. They can become heroes or scum. Of course, humans also show considerable stupidity in this freedom.

For example, many scums think they are heroes.

For example, this excellent Jack the Ripper.

He recklessly poured his self-proclaimed excellent but worthless genes into the bodies of his prey. He declared his superiority. He had no empathy for the death of his kind, because he thought he had surpassed his kind.

This was the meaning he gave to himself.

Lilith walked quietly on the road.

But Gold didn't want her to kill him, because it would not produce deep and black despair. She wanted to see him being knocked down by the life he looked down on.

Even if the gods generously lent you power, you would still be tied to the gallows by ants, crows would tear your corpse apart, and everyone would say, look, that's a disgusting guy, he doesn't deserve to be a human being.

Although Lilith couldn't understand Gold's wishes, she chose to protect her friend.

If Gold loved me half as much as I loved her, Lilith thought, that should be a lot of love.

Sean sneered at this.

"Your excessive love is too cheap." Sean said, "Don't you know the iron rule of human society?"

"What iron rule?" Lilith asked.

"The more you have, the less valuable it is." Sean said leisurely, "So your love is too much, so it is very cheap. For people like me and Gold, love is more precious."

"Just be grateful if I give you a little." Sean said with a smile.

"What kind of heresy is this," Lilith said, "Are we, the kinder side, all cheap?"

"You have so many believers, and you like to talk about love. According to human values, of course you are cheap." Sean waved his hand, "We are more valuable."

"I won't talk to you anymore." Lilith said, flipping her hair and squatting on the gray roof, "Introduce me to your believer."

"Aren't I already here?" Sean waved his hand impatiently, "But I can't feel him, he doesn't seem to be here now."

"Where can he go?" Lilith asked, combing her thick crimson hair with her fingers, "Did he get rich and move to a new house, or is he afraid of being caught and running away."

"He should just be away from here temporarily," Sean said, "His clinic is not closed, and he doesn't seem to have any luggage."

"Did he go hunting?" Lilith said, she gathered her thick and dense red hair behind her head, "That's not very smart."

"He found a scapegoat, but he couldn't resist his own nature and set out," Lilith laughed, revealing sharp canine teeth that didn't belong to humans. "It's just an absurd story of humans losing to instinct."

"I guess it's not this type of absurdity." Sean said slowly, "The reason he set out was to kill someone, someone who seemed to have seen some aspects of his true self."

"He sent a provocative letter to the newspaper." Lilith said with a smile, "I thought he liked being caught."

"This is also a kind of absurdity of humans." She said slowly, "Thinking that he is more noble than instinct, and then finally finding out that he still has to surrender to instinct. It's a unique absurd drama."

Jack the Ripper once sent three provocative letters to the newspaper, openly challenging the world, saying that they would never be able to catch him, and they would never be able to defeat him.

The reporter held a lamp and tried to find it in the warehouse. He remembered that these letters had a common feature, all written with the left hand, and the wording was very sophisticated.

He finally found it. He packed all the evidence and his manuscript into a suitcase and walked out of the newspaper office.

He stopped a carriage.

"Go to Scotland Yard," he told the driver.

It must be said that after having the answer, it became much easier to deduce the cause and effect. He has now pieced together the complete clue that the criminal is a doctor.

"A doctor?" Redtress took a puff of cigarette. "If it is just a doctor, it cannot rule out Sherlock Holmes' suspicion of committing the crime. After all, it is well known that he has an excellent doctor as a friend." "

That's right," said the reporter, "but I plan to make all this public, so that many people will participate and find the most suitable doctor."

Redtress nodded and agreed with his plan. Watson took his manuscript and read it.

"You are worthy of being the uncrowned king of the London press." Watson praised sincerely, "But who is this detective Thomas here?"

"I can't say that I found all these out myself. What if Jack the Ripper takes revenge on me before you catch him?" said the reporter.

"But I have a colleague who is indeed named Thomas," Redtress said with his chin set, his knuckles turned over, tapping the table thoughtfully, "given that the criminal is so vicious, if there really is such a detective Thomas, he might really come to your door and do something."

"So I think you should change to a more uncommon name, preferably one that you made up like Shakespeare, so that no unlucky person will have to bear that guy's wrath." Redtress suggested, lighting a cigarette for himself. He had been working all night and was really exhausted mentally.

The reporter nodded. "Then I'll go back and change it to," he turned the pen in his hand and thought for a while, "How about Delphi? The Temple of Delphi was a place that revealed the truth in ancient Greece, and no one would call it that in modern times."

"However, I'll add a suffix and call it Telfer. What do you think?" he asked, stuffing the pen into his jacket pocket and taking the manuscript back from Watson's hand, "Since you think there's no problem with the rest of the name."

"I'll go back and change the name, and then publish it tomorrow." The reporter said, stuffing the manuscript into his briefcase, "I think we'll collect the key evidence soon."

Of course, he has already prepared the key evidence, which will soon appear in their script.

"Not bad," Watson said enthusiastically.

It has to be said that Holmes's decision to involve this reporter was a very correct one. Watson did not have that much social energy to guide Redtress to solve the case.

And they could not let Redtress come into contact with the mysterious things, otherwise his authority would be greatly reduced, and Luna undoubtedly did not have the ability to attend the human court.

So Luna was arranged to try to drag this reporter into the water. With his social ability, ability to control public opinion, and excellent editing ability, he could indeed push Redtress step by step towards the truth.

Publishing this article is a critical step. Then the reporter has prepared evidence that can prove that the doctor is most likely Allen. When the time comes, as long as it is published in the newspaper, find an informant to take these things, and you can send the infamous Jack the Ripper to court.

Redtress knew nothing about the mysterious power of the other world throughout the whole process, and naturally he also had the ability to persuade the public and the judge.

With Lilith protecting other people in the slums and Gold tying him up to prevent him from escaping abroad, it is only a matter of time for this plan to succeed.

Watson couldn't help but feel a little tired, and Redtress also raised his hand and massaged his solar plexus for a while.

"To be honest, Dr. Watson, I felt from the beginning that it couldn't be Sherlock Holmes, but compared to believing in our friendship, I must believe in the evidence first." Redtress said, scratching the back of his head, making his already sparse hair look even worse.

"And now there is no other way except to put him in prison." Redtress said, "Jack the Ripper is very cunning, and he left too few traces." "

And the outside world basically believes that Sherlock Holmes is Jack the Ripper. Several good husbands or good fathers have threatened to lynch him." Redtress buried his head in his hands, overwhelmed, "Public opinion is often like a surging tide. It's too easy to kill a person."

"Is he still refusing to drink water?" Watson asked softly.

"He drinks very little." Redtress said, pinching his brows heavily. "He had a high fever this morning, but when the doctor asked him to drink water to replenish his fluids, he refused to drink more than one glass of water."

"Why is he so resistant to drinking water?" Redtress couldn't help but say, feeling very strange about this. "Many people say that it is the influence of some kind of cult."

Watson knew that it was to remember the information related to Luna, but as a doctor, he knew the consequences of lack of water. A high fever was only the first step, and then there would be more terrible things.

He had to find a way to arrange for Luna to meet him.

However, before Luna met him, she had to meet Redtress, and Redtress's nerves would be affected.

Unless there was another possibility that they could arrest Jack the Ripper within two days.

Is this possibility big? Watson couldn't help but make a cross. He couldn't help but pray to the sky, whether it was God or the gods.

"Lord, you said that you would pull out the fangs of poisonous snakes and trample lions under your feet, but now such a demon is wandering in the world." Watson thought to himself, "If you really exist."

"Please let us defeat him."

"Please let his worthless body rot forever on the gallows."

The reporter got off the carriage and walked into the newspaper office. He planned to work all night, but he felt something strange.

The door of the newspaper office seemed to have been opened once.

Because he was involved in many cases and dealt with various villains, the reporter liked to put a hair on the door lock every time he went out. He might be too tired. After pushing the door open, he realized that he didn't seem to see the hair.

But it seemed too late.

He felt a chill, and someone had put a sharp knife on his neck.

"You," the reporter felt his throat tighten, and cold sweat quickly flowed down his body, "You, are Jack the Ripper?"

"You really have some skills," the low and hoarse voice came from behind, and then he heard the sound of a box, as if the man hooked a box with his foot. He knew that it was most likely the box that contained all the evidence related to the accusation of this man, "I actually found so many things."

He was going to die, and then the evidence would be destroyed.

This thought surged helplessly in the reporter's heart.

And now he really had no way to escape, and after these evidences disappeared, this person finally filled all the loopholes in his perfect crime and would be completely at large, and a new unlucky doctor would take over and die.

Even Dr. Watson.

It can be said that Dr. Watson killed the reporter who found the evidence and burned the evidence for his best friend.

According to the current public opinion outside, they will believe it.

These people will believe it, the whole society will believe it, all the mobs will believe it, after all, he planted it in them with his own hands, he knows their hearts too well, this hypothesis will definitely be very popular, they will definitely believe it, and find all the evidence in their favor to complete this popular story.

However, the person who killed him will always be at large, laughing at everything in the dark.

He felt angry.

He felt genuine anger, as if his internal organs were burning, his angry eyes were bloodshot, he finally understood how unwilling those who died unjustly were before they died, if they had ghosts, they must have been so angry when they saw the words he wrote.

He understood everything, the moment before he died.

However, mortals can die in the evening if they hear the truth in the morning.

He suddenly caught something, he remembered something.

This must be useful, he said loudly before Jack's knife slashed down, "These are all provided to me by Detective Telfair. It's useless for you to kill me. He said that after I pay the balance, he will give me something else." "

Detective Telfair." He heard the other party repeat it, but he felt his trachea was cut off, and the boiling blood plasma burned his lungs. He couldn't breathe and fell to the ground, twitching helplessly, which reminded him of the headless dragonfly he saw when he was a child.

Then he remembered the story his grandmother told him. Dragonflies are the most courageous animals. They never retreat, always move forward bravely. They are the mounts of goblins. Goblins ride on them and defend the safety of the forest with blood again and again.

"It's Detective Telfair." He squeezed out this sentence with his throat, and it sounded pitiful and dying in his ears.

Then he closed his eyes. He knew that his life had come to an end.

He suddenly remembered that during the church service, the pastor said, "My duty has been fulfilled, my road has come to an end, His kingdom will be open to me, my future is bright, and the Almighty Father will heal all pain and heal all wounds.

As long as you wake up deeply before you die. If

you hear the truth in the morning, you can die in the evening."

Is this the case, he thought, he seemed to see the light, but it seemed not.

Alan stretched out his foot and kicked the body lying on the ground. It was indeed completely dead.

Since he heard his voice, he was a strong witness. How could he let him live? This poor despicable man was trying to sell out his friends before he died.

Allen couldn't help but feel that his sanctions were just and reasonable.

But Telfer was indeed capable. He thought, since he was the doctor who found the survivor, he could go to the police station tomorrow to ask about the survivor's recent situation, and then find out who Telfer was.