Legend Management Bureau Chapter 129

[ … words ]

“Ahaha, slip of the tongue,” Du Yu said with a laugh. “How about it, Sister Qianqiu? The Queen Mother of the West isn’t angry, is she?”

“Of course not. What would the Queen Mother of the West have to be angry about?” Dong Qianqiu replied. “You handled this matter beautifully. Naturally, she wouldn’t say anything negative.”

Du Yu nodded slightly at those words. He then turned around in front of the three foreign envoys, facing an empty corner, and announced:

“Fellow immortals! If you think your little brother’s performance just now was outstanding, let’s see those gifts roll in!”

Understanding his intent, Dong Qianqiu immediately adjusted the camera to focus squarely on Du Yu’s face.

Before the immortals could even react, the user ‘Future Immortal Realm’s Number One Artificer’ gifted another rocket.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” Du Yu acted as if he could physically see the rocket, hastily cupping his hands in gratitude. “Thanks to this big brother for the rocket! Today, I’m going to give our members a special reward!”

“A… reward?” The immortals were a little confused.

“Whoever gifts five rockets first will have their name carved into the streets of London in the year 1888! I am a man of my word, brothers, so let those gifts fly!”

Du Yu nodded in satisfaction. “Sister Qianqiu, do me a favor. If any good friend hits five rockets first, let me know their name immediately.”

Watching Du Yu’s bustling figure from the sidelines, a faint smile involuntarily touched Chada’s lips.

‘Perhaps I really can learn something from this exchange conference after all,’ she thought.

It was true. Why was this man so happy?

And as for herself, when exactly had she stopped being happy?

When she first discovered she could wield time magic and travel freely through the eras, Chada’s joy had been beyond words. Yet, throughout centuries of temporal leaps, she had gradually lost that happiness. Instead, her hands had become stained with blood and filth. Her daily mood resembled a pool of stagnant water—lifeless, undisturbed, and reeking of rot.

Now that she no longer needed to hoard money, if possible, shouldn’t she take Kathy to see the beautiful sights across every corner and era of this world, and finally live a happy life?

Du Yu seemed exhausted. After performing to an empty space for a good while, he turned around, sat down, and poured himself a cup of water from the kettle. Taking a sip, he looked mildly surprised to discover it was actually tea.

“Is it to your liking?” Chada asked. “Our country is also a great consumer of tea.”

“It is,” Du Yu agreed, nodding. “It tastes a bit different from what we have back home, but it is genuinely good.”

Chada smiled, her eyes fixed on him.

“Come on, Sister England, do not look at me with that smile. It gives me the creeps,” Du Yu muttered, letting out a soft sigh. “What is our next move? Have you written your provocation letter yet?”

“I have,” Chada replied with a slight nod. “The letter has already been sent out, though not to the police. I sent it to the Central News Agency.”

“Then let us keep moving,” Du Yu urged. “We need to finish this legend quickly. Did you not want to get back to see your daughter? Let us hurry up and help Lizzie with the murders, then get to the disemboweling. I have thought it through—this is dirty, exhausting work, and as the only man here, I do not mind lending a hand.”

Chada suddenly hesitated for a moment before speaking up. “I have actually changed my mind… You were right. I should not keep doing these things.”

“Huh?”

Du Yu, Asuka, and Ramla were all somewhat stunned.

“You mean…” Du Yu said, struggling to understand. “We are not going to correct this legend anymore?”

“Of course not, sir,” Chada said with a smile. “This legend actually has two solutions. I had always been using the first one because it pays five to seven pounds more than the second.”

“Oh?” Du Yu raised an eyebrow. ‘Practice really does make perfect,’ he thought. ‘A single legend actually has multiple solutions?’

“Senior Chada, what is the second solution?” Asuka asked.

“It is very simple.” Chada picked up her pen and paper again. “All we need to do is leak the deeds of Jack the Ripper to the media and let them sensationalize the story.”

“Tell the media?” Du Yu asked in confusion. “What effect would that have?”

“The first effect is that I will no longer be able to ask Ms. Lizzie for money.”

“Damn it… that is not important,” Du Yu said. “What about the second effect?”

“The second effect… is that this report will awaken the real Jacks hiding on the streets.”

“Ah!” Du Yu suddenly understood. “I think I get it, but… isn’t that a bit too dark?”

“It is,” Chada agreed with a nod. “As I told you, sir, the East End of London in 1888 is a notorious lawless zone. Murders happen here every single day. However, to maintain the public’s confidence in them, the Metropolitan Police suppress all the information and refuse to expose it.”

“Uh… that makes sense. This is the capital, after all.”

“I will write down the details of Jack the Ripper’s deeds and mail them to major media outlets like The Times, Reuters, and the Daily Mail. Before long, all of England will tremble at this name. And those Jacks lurking in every corner of the streets will begin imitating his methods, murdering people in broad daylight, and pinning the blame on a Jack who does not even exist.”

“I see… That way, Jack the Ripper will become the most infamous criminal in the history of the British Empire.” Du Yu nodded. “But Chada, why did you suddenly change your mind?”

Chada revealed a sweet smile, radiating a warm, maternal aura. “Because I… cannot embrace my Kathy with bloodstained hands.”

Du Yu and Shiranui Asuka both smiled and nodded. Indeed, this was for the best, wasn’t it?

True to her word, Chada wrote several consecutive anonymous letters. In them, she claimed to be a resident of the East End who had passed by the crime scenes on numerous occasions. She not only detailed the gruesome state of the corpses but also exposed how the British police had been covering up the news. The letters further alleged that the killer seemed to go by the name Jack and exclusively targeted middle-aged prostitutes. She advised an investigation into all recently deceased middle-aged prostitutes to determine if there were more victims.

At the same time, the Central News Agency received a letter of provocation. The writer claimed to be the murderer of the two prostitutes—Jack—and threatened to kill more, daring the police to just wait and see. The letter was signed Jack the Ripper. Du Yu knew the true author of this letter was Chada.

Upon receiving the letters, the media outlets eagerly launched extensive coverage. Instantly, the name Jack echoed throughout London, plunging the public into a state of panic. The matter even alarmed Queen Victoria. The Metropolitan Police dared not act negligently; they not only admitted the occurrence of the two cases but also confessed to concealing the details of the investigations.

Strangely, the very next day, the Central News Agency received another provocative letter. The handwriting differed from the previous one, and the signature had changed to Saucy Jack. The letter declared that the killer would strike twice the following day, warning the police to be ready at all times.

Just as Chada had predicted, the Jacks had been awakened.

As a result, the police ramped up their forces, conducting massive patrols through the streets of London every night.

Yet, there was no longer just one Jack. Or rather, in the darkness, anyone could be Jack.

September 30th was an exceedingly dark day. At one o’clock in the morning, a forty-four-year-old Swedish prostitute named Elizabeth Stride was brutally murdered.

However, her cause of death was a single fatal slit to the throat. Just as the police were puzzling over why Jack had changed his modus operandi, merely forty-five minutes later, the body of a forty-six-year-old prostitute named Catherine Eddowes was discovered in Mitre Square. Just like the previous cases, she had been viciously disemboweled. Her intestines were draped over her right shoulder, and her kidneys, along with parts of her reproductive organs, had been excised.

The killer had claimed two lives in different locations within an incredibly brief window of time. Not only the citizens but even the police were beginning to panic. The authorities immediately cordoned off both streets, preparing to encircle the perpetrator and finally bring Jack to justice. But then, they received yet another report…

On a high brick wall about six miles away from the crime scenes, a blood-soaked piece of women’s clothing had inexplicably appeared. Though no victim was found, an eerie message had been scrawled across the wall—

The Jews are to be blamed for nothing!

(The Jews are not a people to be hated without reason!)

Police Superintendent Thomas Arnold immediately realized the gravity of the situation. It seemed someone was trying to pin the killer’s identity on the Jewish community. To prevent the eruption of anti-Semitic riots, he ordered his men to wash the message away before daybreak. The contents of that scrawl were only witnessed by a few officers on the scene, who would only mention it in their memoirs long after the fact.

Jack the Ripper was like a phantom, appearing at a moment’s notice on streets located miles apart, slaughtering middle-aged prostitutes without rhyme or reason. Following Chada, Du Yu and the others continuously stepped through portals, fast-forwarding through time. Everything unfolded exactly as Chada had foreseen—even though Ms. Lizzie Williams no longer committed any murders herself, identical killings continued to occur again and again.

The Jacks roamed the streets. In the dead of night in London that year, you could not trust anyone.

Why was Jack the Ripper never caught?

Because no matter which murderer was apprehended, Jack would not disappear. He would simply continue to strike. Every time a new prostitute was killed, the Jack who had previously been caught was cleared of suspicion.

Why was no one ever convicted?

Because everyone had an alibi of some sort. Not a single one of them could have possibly killed so many people simultaneously.

On October 16th, the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee received yet another letter. The handwriting was different from all the previous ones. It began with the words “From Hell” and was accompanied by half of a human kidney.

Ruthless, arrogant, and brazen became synonymous with the name Jack.

Following the progression of the case, Du Yu and his group arrived at the final day—November 8th, 1888.

On this day, the final victim, Mary Jane Kelly, was murdered.

It was worth noting that Mary was only twenty-five years old. Not only did she fall outside Jack the Ripper’s usual target demographic, but her condition upon death was even more tragic. There were ligature marks around her neck, suggesting that Jack had suddenly altered his methods and chosen to strangle his victim alive.

The victim’s abdomen was not just sliced open; her entire chest cavity had been cleaved apart as well. When the corpse was discovered, all of her organs were exposed to the open air. Her breasts, ears, and nose had been cleanly severed and taken away. She had died with her eyes wide open. Devoid of her nose and ears, with every protruding feature of her body amputated, she looked like a hideous, malevolent spirit. The scene was painted in blood—the ceiling, the walls, the floor—all thoroughly drenched in crimson. It was a terrifying, gruesome sight.

It was just like when a monstrously fierce wolf suddenly appears within a pack, forcing the other wolves into submission.

All the other Jacks were completely horrified by this particular case.

None of them ever made a move again, and the true culprit of this murder did not claim any more lives, either. From this day forward, Jack the Ripper vanished from the face of the earth.