Barton's final question—"Who exactly are you?"—though no longer hostile, still formed layers of unavoidable barriers.

Lin Jie understood clearly that his identity crisis had been temporarily resolved, but a trust crisis regarding his "abilities" was just beginning.

He had to provide a reasonable explanation that could be accepted by a professional organization like I.A.R.C., otherwise he would forever remain a "external variable" who was suspected and guarded against.

"Before answering that question, perhaps we should move to a more suitable place for conversation." Lin Jie glanced around the filthy alley filled with the smell of blood and sulfur, smiling as he proposed, "I assume you have those... how should I put it, 'safe houses' or similar locations?"

His deliberate use of the term "safe house" made Barton's eyebrows raise again.

This young man seemed to have an unusually deep understanding of how organizations like theirs operated.

Barton exchanged a look with Marcus, then finally nodded. "You're right, this really isn't the place to talk. Follow us."

After Marcus efficiently handled the scene, the three quickly left the alley that had witnessed too many secrets, disappearing into the maze-like night of the White Church District.

After many twists and turns, they finally arrived at an utterly unremarkable shop with a sign reading "Corleone Clock Repair."

Barton used a peculiarly shaped brass key to open the shop door with a complex method involving pauses and rotations.

Everything inside the shop was neatly arranged, with walls covered in various pendulums and gears, like a museum of time.

In the shop's inner room, Barton stood before a wall covered with pendulums and twisted the largest one following a "three turns left, two turns right" sequence.

"Click."

With a soft sound, the entire wall actually swung inward, revealing a deep passageway leading underground.

Lin Jie followed behind them, inwardly marveling.

This was what a professional secret organization should look like, far more sophisticated than the rat's nests he had been hiding in before.

The passage ended in a spacious, dry basement.

Unlike the Victorian-era classical atmosphere above ground, this place had a timeless, simple, and practical style.

Detailed maps of London hung on the walls, marked with various mysterious symbols using different colored pins.

A long table held various precision instruments made of brass and crystal that Lin Jie couldn't understand.

This was clearly one of I.A.R.C.'s bases in the White Church District.

"I think we can continue our previous conversation now." Barton gestured for Lin Jie to sit in a chair, then sat opposite him.

Marcus stood behind Barton like an iron tower, arms crossed, still maintaining his vigilance.

"Who I am—that question is simple." Lin Jie leaned back in his chair, putting himself in a relatively relaxed posture. "My name is Lin Jie, an unfortunate Chinese man who appeared on the wrong ship at the wrong time. If you want to check, you can easily find my name on the list of surviving laborers from the Sea Witch."

He voluntarily disclosed his identity, a gesture of goodwill.

"We will certainly verify that." Barton nodded, clearly not completely satisfied with this answer. "But that's not what I'm asking. What I want to know is, why can an ordinary person make such accurate predictions about UMA movements? The diary's information wasn't complete."

"Mr. Lin, in your previous explanation you used a word—'feeling.' I'm very interested to know exactly what kind of experience this 'feeling' of yours is?"

Barton's gaze seemed capable of completely dissecting Lin Jie's soul.

He hadn't been completely convinced by Lin Jie's previous explanation of "observation and association"—he keenly sensed that something deeper must be hidden behind it.

Lin Jie fell silent.

This was the core question he couldn't avoid.

He couldn't possibly reveal the existence of his transmigrator's golden finger—that would be equivalent to telling them "I'm an anomaly you can't understand," which would only get him sent to the laboratory table.

He had to provide a reasonable explanation that could be "compatible" with this world's power system.

He remembered the revolver that had helped him stay calm and improve his reaction speed during the fight; he remembered the lantern that had guided him at sea.

He realized that in this world, many supernatural powers seemed to be related to certain "mediums" and "rituals."

His ability could perhaps be packaged in this direction.

"Mr. Barton," Lin Jie began slowly, not answering directly but instead asking a counter-question, "I'd like to ask you something first. When tracking UMAs, do you use some... special mediums?"

He pointed to the "Aether Fluctuation Detector" that Barton had used on the table.

Barton hadn't expected him to counter-question, pausing slightly before frankly admitting, "Correct. We call them 'spiritual mediums.' The core of this detector is a specially treated UMA crystal that's extremely sensitive to spatial fluctuations. It helps us perceive 'anomalies' that ordinary people cannot detect."

"I see." Lin Jie showed an "enlightened" expression—this was exactly the stepping stone he needed.

"My situation might be somewhat similar to your instrument." Lin Jie carefully chose his words, beginning his carefully prepared narrative. "I can't explain where this ability comes from—perhaps innate, or perhaps accidentally awakened after experiencing certain things on that ship. I can only tell you about my experience."

"I call it... 'Reverberation Touch.'"

He proactively offered the name for his ability.

"When my body, particularly my blood, comes into contact with items that have been deeply entangled with 'anomalous events,' my mind receives some extremely vague, fragmented information fragments like echoes. I call them 'reverberations of events.'"

He began describing his experience in detail, but skillfully applied some artistic processing:

He described his [Reverberation Touch] from a passive trigger to an active skill requiring "blood as a medium."

This made his ability sound more like some ancient bloodline-based mystical art in this world, rather than an external cheat.

He emphasized the "limitations" and "dangers" of this ability.

"The information I can receive is extremely vague, full of noise, like a damaged old dream. More often, what I receive are just intense emotions—fear, anger, sorrow."

"I need to rely on myself to interpret these fragmented pieces of information and piece them together. And..." Lin Jie appropriately pressed his temples, a pained expression appearing on his face, "every time I engage in this interpretation, it places a tremendous burden on my mind."

"If the 'reverberation' I contact is too powerful, like... like that time on the Sea Witch, I almost went completely insane from mental exhaustion."

He perfectly incorporated the "cost" of the ability into his explanation—an ability with huge flaws and costs was far more believable and acceptable than a perfect one.

Finally, he provided the ultimate explanation for his astonishing performance in the "Jack the Ripper" case: "At the Berner Street crime scene, I touched that wall and felt a malicious 'reverberation' identical to the Mist Walker described in the diary, thus confirming its identity."

"And when predicting Mitre Square, I wasn't actually foreseeing the future. I was just... while interpreting the diary, through repeatedly touching that sketch, I captured from the 'reverberation' left by Cartographer Karl an extremely vague guess about this UMA's activity patterns."

"I'm just a translator, someone who translates the words he couldn't finish saying."

He cleverly attributed his greatest achievement—prediction—to the deceased hero Karl, which was both reasonable and a sophisticated rhetoric technique that could win their favor.

The entire basement fell into prolonged silence.

Marcus stood by, dumbfounded, completely unable to understand this ethereal ability based on "perception" and "interpretation."

Barton lowered his head, fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on the table.

He was digesting, analyzing, assessing the credibility of Lin Jie's words.

Bloodline-awakened mystical art? Contact sensitivity? Mental reverberations? Interpreting fragmented information? Huge mental load?

Although Lin Jie's explanation sounded incredible, it unexpectedly fit perfectly into I.A.R.C.'s cognitive framework of the inner world's power system.

In their archives were records of all kinds of strange ancient abilities that required mediums and costs to activate.

Gypsy crystal ball divination, Celtic druid leaf whispering... these all shared similarities with what Lin Jie described.

Most importantly, this explanation could perfectly cover all the suspicious points about Lin Jie.

Barton raised his head, his sharp eyes now stripped of all scrutiny and suspicion.

"So that's it... a 'retroactive sensory-type' ability based on blood and contact." Barton gave Lin Jie's ability a highly professional definition. "And you, possessing such an ability, also have a... terrifyingly calm 'tactical brain' capable of transforming those fragmented pieces of information into precise action plans."

"Mr. Lin," Barton stood up, proactively extending his hand to Lin Jie, "I retract all my previous offenses. Now, let me reintroduce myself."

"I am Barton Chris, third-level Investigator of the International Anomaly Research and Containment, abbreviated as I.A.R.C. I am deeply honored to fight alongside a powerful 'Interpreter' like you."