[Mary Morstan feels a trace of appreciation for you.]
Under the night curtain of London, Russell, who was in the middle of fleeing, suddenly heard a prompt from the System and nearly fell headfirst into the River Thames.
"What the hell?"
The Phantom Thief's voice, filled with shock and confusion, was scattered by the wind.
"How did she end up appreciating me?"
Is she really a psychopath?
Forget it. Compared to that, let's look at tonight's earnings.
Thinking this, Russell opened the System panel.
[Name: Russell Watson]
[Reputation: Slightly Famous (Malice Points acquisition increased by 10%)]
[Class: Phantom Thief]
[Skills: Stealth (C+), Climbing (C), Sleight of Hand (C+), Investigation (C), Listening (C)]
[Tip: Upgradable attributes available]
[Malice Points Balance: 1630]
[Recent Action Rewards:
You repeatedly provoked Mary Morstan and danced on her minefield — Malice Points +780]
"Nice."
Russell let out a sigh of exclamation.
The Malice Points earned tonight were comparable to a month's worth of his usual haul.
It really should be like this. As long as everyone dedicates a little hate, wouldn't his days be filled with hope?
Since he had a surplus of Malice Points, it was about time to upgrade his attributes.
Russell's gaze fell upon his attribute panel, where there were still many unlocked skills, such as Fighting and the like.
These skills could be unlocked through training or by directly spending Malice Points; the initial unlocking cost for all skills was 200 Malice Points.
All unlocked skills started at level D, and upgrading required additional Malice Points.
Of course, this didn't mean that if it wasn't unlocked, he wouldn't know the skill.
For example: even without unlocking [Fighting], Russell wouldn't become a punching bag that couldn't fight back.
At most, when fighting, he would just swing his fists wildly like a brute.
But after unlocking [Fighting], he would know when to punch and when to dodge during combat.
Now that he had over a thousand Malice Points, this meant he could unlock at least five skills.
But many skills were actually unnecessary; they just looked like a lot.
Russell's gaze swept over the dazzling array of skills, and he finally chose a more pragmatic approach.
First, boost Fighting, Stealth, and Investigation. The others could be put aside for now; at least his current levels were sufficient to deal with most situations.
At most, he might upgrade Sleight of Hand to increase his lockpicking speed. But for ordinary households, or even noble families' safes, with his current level, it wouldn't take more than a minute at most.
Unless he was going to pry open a bank vault, he didn't need such a high level.
Thus, with a wave of his hand, Russell began allocating Malice Points. Accompanied by a series of notification sounds, portion after portion of knowledge was instilled into his mind.
This feeling was marvelous, like sudden enlightenment. Abruptly, his brain and body knew exactly what to do.
You really have to wonder who came up with this System thing.
[Skill: Fighting — Unlocked, Current Level D, Malice Points -200]
[Skill: Fighting D — Upgraded, Current Level D+, Malice Points -100]
[Skill: Fighting D+ — Upgraded, Current Level C, Malice Points -200]
[Skill: Stealth C+ — Upgraded, Current Level C++, Malice Points -600]
[Skill: Investigation C — Upgraded, Current Level C+, Malice Points -300]
[Current Balance: 230]
Welp, back to square one.
Looking at his meager remaining Malice Points, Russell instantly felt a pang of heartache.
He couldn't spend the rest recklessly; he still had to save them to buy miraculous tools from the System Shop.
[Twilight Shroud] was truly too useful, you know?
If not for that thing, forget about fleecing the sheep tonight—whether he could have come back in one piece would have been a question mark.
While running across the rooftops, Russell mentally gave the [Twilight Shroud] item a five-star review.
But thinking of the several hundred Malice Points he spent, Russell started grumbling in his heart again.
Upgrading skills felt just like getting a gym membership.
When you sign up, you're full of ambition, feeling like you'll turn into Superman tomorrow.
But after the money is really spent, you feel like there's no immediate change. Aside from an empty wallet, nothing is left.
Those fighting techniques just instilled into his brain—straight punches, hooks, side kicks, whip legs, and a pile of grappling and joint-locking techniques.
The theoretical knowledge was packed full, but the actual combat effectiveness still needed an opportunity to be tested.
He couldn't exactly run back to practice on Mary Morstan, could he?
Just thinking about that scene, Russell subconsciously shuddered.
Let it be. He was a gentleman; he wouldn't lower himself to her level.
Besides, she was truly ruthless.
Today she dared to stab him in the kidney; he didn't even dare to imagine what she would do next time.
While his thoughts ran wild, he already saw the familiar silhouette of Baker Street.
221B Baker Street under the night sky was quiet and peaceful, like a different world compared to the Morstan Estate surging with undercurrents a few blocks away.
Russell climbed back through his window lightly, his movements so skilled it was as if he had done it hundreds or thousands of times.
He took off his Phantom Thief outfit, changed into pajamas, and threw himself onto the bed, feeling as if the bones in his whole body were about to fall apart.
The mental and physical consumption tonight was truly too great, more tiring than attending eight consecutive advanced mathematics classes.
But just as he was about to enter dreamland, that torturous violin sound from the room next door rang out once again.
It was still the same old story—out of tune, like someone scratching a blackboard with their fingernails.
Russell buried his head in the pillow, attempting to isolate the noise pollution, but it was obviously futile.
"Sister, look at the time..." he complained feebly.
It seemed the Great Detective's case hadn't made any progress.
Russell tossed and turned like a pancake on the bed for a few minutes, finally sitting up in resignation.
There was no way he could sleep.
He put on his slippers, carried a cup of freshly made hot milk, and knocked on the door next room.
The door opened quickly.
Charlotte Holmes was wearing a silky dark blue nightgown, holding the noise-making violin and bow in her hands.
Her slightly curly black hair was a bit messy, and those grey-blue eyes were covered in bloodshot lines, but her gaze remained sharp.
Seeing Russell at the door, she frowned slightly: "Something the matter?"
"As your neighbor," Russell shook the hot milk in his hand and said solemnly.
"I believe I have an obligation to remind you that it is two o'clock in the morning. A normal London citizen with basic morality should be lying in bed right now.
"Instead of being here torturing a valuable violin, as well as a neighbor who has to go to school tomorrow."
Charlotte glanced at him, turned sideways to let him in, then turned back to the center of the room and threw the violin onto the sofa.
"Obviously, I've run into trouble." She was concise.
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