The Deceitful One

Chapter 95 Telegram From Nadir

Monday, 23rd November 1580.

Bryan swung both his hands with lightning-fast speed as four throwing knives flew out and embedded themselves into the heads of two wooden dummies. Two throwing knives per head. Bullseye.

He was currently in the practice area of the underground HQ of the Silver Owls, practicing with the throwing knives that he had bought from the secret gathering a few days back.

Taking out four more throwing knives from his pocket, Bryan threw them up in the air. Following that, he produced four thin strands of spiritual force and tied them around the hollow rings at the base of each of the knives.

Then, with just a thought, Bryan controlled the spiritual force strands and made the throwing knives fly across the practice area and toward the wooden dummies.

The throwing knives flew erratically, sometimes in a straight line while other times in a curved trajectory.

Finally, out of the four throwing knives, one hit the wooden dummy in the chest. One missed the target and flew past it. While the last two didn't even make it halfway through the distance.

'Looks like two is the most I can control at the moment. I still need to practice more,' Bryan thought.

This was the creative method he came up with on how to utilize the throwing knives. Through this method, Bryan could effectively use multiple knives in battle and take the enemy by surprise.

If there was one thing Bryan really liked, it was catching the enemy off guard.

As for fighting honorably? Bryan disdained such useless things. In battle, there was no honor, only life and death.

If fighting with underhanded methods could help keep him alive then why the hell not?

While Bryan was still pondering about how to better his control of spiritual force, he heard the sound of clapping coming from behind him.

He turned around and his gaze landed on Ron who was walking toward him while still clapping.

Ron exclaimed with deep admiration, "Such fine control over your spiritual force! I still can't believe you're only 18 years old. You're truly a genius, Bryan!"

Bryan smiled faintly, "Genius? Perhaps. But this is all due to the effort I put in. Even an unrivaled genius is insignificant without handwork."

Ron looked at Bryan deeply for a few moments and then sighed, "You're so mature for your age. It's good that you didn't let having a supreme-grade spiritual aptitude get to your head and make you cocky."

Bryan simply smiled back and changed the topic, "So, what's up?"

"Here, this letter came from the Church. I was asked to hand it to you. They said that it was a telegram from Nadir." Ron took out a white envelope from the inner pocket of his brown tailored coat and handed it to Bryan.

Elated, Bryan asked, "From Nadir? Is this from my teacher?"

Ron smiled, "It very well might be. The envelope is still sealed."

It had been exactly three months since Detective Watson had left Damascus and Bryan hadn't heard from him ever since. Thus, he was really glad to receive this telegram.

Bryan took the envelope from Ron as he beamed, "Thank you for delivering this to me."

Ron smiled warmly and patted Bryan's shoulder, "It was no problem at all."

He then took another envelope out from his coat's inner pocket and gave it to Bryan, "And this is your invitation."

Puzzled, Bryan asked, "Invitation for what?"

Ron explained, "My fiancée, Celine, and I are throwing a small party at our house this Saturday evening. We've invited all our close friends; now you're invited too. And I won't take no for an answer."

"Don't worry, I'll be there. Plus, I haven't met your fiancée as well." Bryan assured.

"Good. I still have some work to finish. I'll see you around then." Ron nodded and then turned around to leave.

Suddenly recalling something, Bryan hurriedly said, "Wait! Can you give this to the captain when he returns? I'm feeling slightly tired after going on patrol for the last two nights and might go home early today."

"Sure thing. What is it?" Ron turned back around and asked.

Bryan then took out two pieces of folded paper from his pocket and handed them to Ron, "These are facial sketches that I drew of two people that I ran into last weekend. It's highly likely that they're members of the Holy Blood Sect."

These were the sketches of Anthony and the brown-haired man that Bryan had encountered in the abandoned factory a couple of days back.

Ron's expression turned solemn at the mention of the Holy Blood Sect. He took the papers from Bryan and unfolded them to take a look.

His eyes narrowed when he saw the facial sketches of the two people. He then looked back at Bryan and said, "You did well, Bryan. I'll give this to the captain as soon as possible."

Bryan then pointed to the first sketch and added, "This person right here, his name is Anthony. He has blond hair, red eyes, and a lean figure. Hope that helps."

Ron nodded with a serious expression. The duo then bid their farewells and went their separate ways.

Coming out of the practice area, Bryan eagerly unsealed the envelope that contained the telegram and took the letter out.

It was a printed letter since a telegram was a bunch of codes that were sent via telegraph and converted to text with the help of a device.

With a smile etched on his face, Bryan began to read,

'Dearest Bryan,

I hope that you are in good health. I am very happy to inform you that I am finally a father. My wife, Abigail, has given birth to a baby girl. We have named her Amy.

My apologies for not making it back on time. I'm afraid that it might take me even longer to return to Damascus.

I thought that I would be able to come back within a month or two. But every time I look at Amy's little face, I just can't find myself leaving so soon.

Hopefully, I will return by February. Till then make sure to meditate diligently. Winter has almost arrived, wear warmer clothes and try to stay indoors whenever possible.

Yours truly,

James.'

The smile on Bryan's face grew brighter and brighter as he finished reading the telegram. He then folded the paper, put it back inside the envelope, and then kept it in his coat's inner pocket.

'Little Amy, huh? I wonder if she'll call me big brother Bryan or Uncle Bryan?' He smiled as he thought inwardly.

He was truly happy that his teacher was now a father. And didn't mind at all that he wasn't able to make it back to Damascus sooner. It was understandable that he wouldn't want to leave his newborn daughter so soon.

In a happy mood, he exited the HQ through the Sofia Public Library. He then called for a public carriage and instructed the driver to head to the location of the Dyke Family vacation house in the suburbs.

'I am coming to share my happiness with you, my slave,' Bryan grinned ear-to-ear. He looked out of the window of the public carriage and thought about all the lecherous things he was about to do to Lily.