“Next, we have the most noble recipient of the Order of the Garter, the Grand Cross of Saint Michael and Saint George, the Grand Cross of the Bath, the Victoria Cross and the lower grades of Knighthood, the leader of the anti-colonial movement, the bell-ringer of the East India Company, the hero of the Crimean War, a Fellow of the Royal Society, a lifelong dear friend of literary giants such as Dickens and Great Dumas, a steadfast supporter of scientific luminaries like Faraday and Darwin, having served as assistant under-secretary, deputy under-secretary, and permanent under-secretary in departments of the Home Office and the Navy Department of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, the inaugural Cabinet Secretary and head of the civil service, the first graduate and most distinguished alumnus of our school. Please welcome Sir Arthur Hastings to deliver a speech on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the University of London.”
Arthur's gaze swept across the crowd before him, looking at the young faces and murmured, “Agares, what do you think I should say?”
The Red Devil's wraith hovered behind him, saliva almost dribbling from the corner of his mouth, “Look at these ignorant souls; they still worship you as a hero. Why not say something they'd like to hear?”
Arthur took a deep breath and let out a deafening roar, “Oxford is a bunch of whores' bastards!”
“Oh!!!!”
The audience erupted into thunderous applause.
“Cambridge is the same!” he added immediately.
The applause grew even more fervent...
(The protagonist, possessed by a devil, travels through 19th-century Britain in a world without magic)

I am Arthur Hastings, Cultural Counsellor of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland to Russia. Actually, I am neither dead nor missing; I have been staying at a small inn in Druiysk. I need 500 rubles to go to St. Petersburg and take office, whether they are silver rubles or paper rubles. If you give me the money, as soon as I reach St. Petersburg, I will immediately free you from serfdom and grant you a piece of land to become a nobleman.


Ha! Not even the Devil would believe such things, let alone people have faith in it?


Better to rely on oneself than on others!


Sir Arthur Hastings, after all, is a man who crawled his way out of the pigsties of Yorkshire, out of the riffraff of Greenwich, and through the hail of bullets under the Tower of London. If he were defeated by such petty difficulties, wouldn't Talleyrand, that old lame Frenchman, look down on him?


Chapter 1321 - Chapter 179: Mysterious Guest (Part 2)