Chapter 64: Scimitar Of Allah (1)
The martial artists of the Dian Cang Clan are like the moon, hiding a deadly blade on the dark side unseen by others.
–Mark Twain1
“It’s of no consequence. If anything, your involvement would only be a hindrance.”
Lestrade pressed, but I slipped the pen from his pocket and finished a note on the hem of my coat.
“Where are you going, Holmes!”
“I’m busy now, let’s talk later!!”
The inspector persistently tried to follow, but I lost him with quick steps down the stairs of Scotland Yard.
“Father, was it…”
Timothy Young’s parents have long passed away.
There is no record of the Phantom Fist being adopted by anyone. In that case, the word ‘father’ that he kept bringing up would refer to someone other than family, and such cases are extremely limited in the British Empire.
A few possibilities come to mind.
The first is Heavenly Father.
The second is Father Of Faith.
The third is the Godfather of the Italian Kung-Fu underworld.
The fourth is a priest or a Father.
It’s unlikely that the Phantom Fist learned Kung-Fu directly from God or Abraham, so the first and second are excluded.
The third is also unrealistic. There was no connection found between Timothy Young and the Mafia.
So what’s left is the fourth.
Moriarty’s identity in the public eye is likely a priest of the Zion Clan, or the leader of a religious group.
Considering the characteristics of those who protested at Westminster Church, they too are undoubtedly followers of Moriarty.
“There you are, hiding in the shadows.”
At last, the faint outline of Moriarty, concealed somewhere in London, began to take shape.
However, at the moment I opened the door to leave Scotland Yard.
“Hmm?”
I saw dozens of rats appearing from somewhere, rushing past my feet and out.
Leading the pack was one with particularly white fur and a large body, exuding an unusual aura for a rat.
A spiritual creature. One that had survived for quite a while.
Though it was true I was suffering from chronic elixir addiction, I had no intention of cutting open a rat in the heart of London to take its internal organs, so I simply watched the backs of the rats disappearing into the darkness.
“…Wait.”
Then suddenly, a bad premonition flitted past my brain.
Rats escaping in such numbers only happens before a ship sinks or a building collapses.
Animals are known to flee early, sensing signs of disaster with a sensitivity beyond human understanding.
Especially if a spiritual creature, with senses incomparable to ordinary creatures, was among them―
“As expected…! So that’s what it was…!”
If this continues, the Phantom Fist will be killed by Moriarty.
I immediately turned around and began to run up the stairs.
While Sherlock Holmes, disguised as the Sebastian Moran of his memory, met Timothy Young, the real Colonel was in a completely different place.
‘…He’s late.’
This place is St. Paul’s Cathedral, built to a height of 365 feet according to the design of Christopher Wren, an architect deeply versed in Astro-Qi-sics.
Sebastian Moran stood on the large and beautiful dome of the Anglican cathedral, created to expand the infrastructure for religious activities and Kung-Fu training.
“At this rate, I’ll become an old man.”
Under the moonlight, a former soldier leaning obliquely against a cross that emitted a subtle glow was spreading his Qi Sense widely.
Following the orders of the Cult Leader, he was searching all over London for the Qi Frequency of the Phantom Fist, Timothy Young.
He was called out of hiding after a long time, but his honest feeling was to handle this annoying task quickly and go fishing.
“Found it.”
It was then.
The extraordinary Qi Sense of the markswordsman detected the Qi Frequency.
“Whitehall direction…”
It was a special wavelength that ordinary martial artists could never detect, but Sebastian Moran, who had undergone professional training, did not miss it.
‘Did they lock him up at Scotland Yard instead of a jail? At least they used their heads a bit.’
Moran, who jumped off the roof of St. Paul’s Cathedral, took his fishing rod and leaped southwest, demonstrating exceptional lightness skills, and arrived at the north end of Blackfriars Bridge, crossing the Thames River in just two steps.
‘This place will do.’
The target was emitting a Qi Frequency from the top floor of Scotland Yard.
Despite the fact that his line of sight was obstructed by the Waterloo Bridge and other buildings, making it difficult to secure a shooting line, Moran slowly began to perform his Warming Up.
Neither the distance of one mile nor the bridges and buildings blocking his view had any meaning in front of his Qi Sense.
When the target ingests the illusory pill, a pseudo-organ mimicking the lower elixir field is created in the body, and the Qi Frequency generated at this time possessed a completely different nature from that of an ordinary martial artist.
The Qi Frequency was the wave of Essence. And the essence of the wave was to undulate and ripple.
The Qi Frequency emitted by the pseudo-organ was a very low Qi Frequency that vibrated 300,000 times per second, penetrating building walls, sea water, and even clouds, carrying their signal far away.
Moran was tracking this in real-time, waiting for an opportunity to strike.
“…Hmm.”
While monitoring Timothy Young’s Qi Frequency, he noticed the fluctuations becoming noticeably disturbed.
Could there have been a clash with the police under surveillance?
However, the seasoned markswordsman Sebastian Moran remained unperturbed, simply waiting calmly for the right moment.
After a while, the Colonel, having confirmed the stabilization of the Qi Frequency, opened his eyes narrowly.
His sharp gaze was fixed directly on the target that had just risen beyond the Thames River flowing under the moonlight, Waterloo Bridge, and beyond the buildings and thick, sturdy walls obstructing his view.
-Chang!
The fishing rod unwound completely, bending flexibly. Pulling on the thin bamboo joint at the end revealed a thin blade the length of a finger.
The fishing rod, entirely crafted from bamboo, was Moran’s ingenious weapon.
Ascalon.
Some called it a spear, others a sword, the unique weapon of Saint George.
The cute spearhead or blade, which did not match the legend of slaying a dragon, was swaying comically in the wind blowing over the Thames River.
But only for a moment.
The sharp blade, which was swaying this way and that, responded to Moran’s Essence and straightened firmly together with the fishing rod.
The composition of the blade was a miraculous substance among those called Heavenly Substances and Earthly Rarities, said to be harder to find than plucking a star from the sky, known as Shape Memory Tai-yi Alloy.
The unique property that allowed it to freely transition between softness and hardness was granting Ascalon the aspects of both a flexible and rigid weapon simultaneously.
“Ssssss…”
Moran lifted his head to check the target’s location and took a deep breath, gathering his energy.
As the unique technique of the Moran family circulated through his meridians, a haze created by his internal energy enveloped him.
-Whoosh!
In the next moment, the leather encasing the heels of his shoes turned to dust and scattered.
What was revealed beneath the shedded disguise was a pair of black and heavy spikes made of black gold on the soles, with sharp spikes cast on the ground.
These swordsmanship spikes2 were worn to prevent slipping during the run-up of the markswordsman and to control the recoil generated when performing the Jezail Sword Technique.
-Whirrrrr…
Moran, who had released the supreme stealth technique that concealed his presence and aura, began to reverse the mnemonic of the Jezail Sword Technique.
Paradox, the severing blow shared by all Demonic arts existing in the martial world.
Kung-Fu are like two sides of a coin, and by reversing the formula of Orthodox Kung-Fu and adding slight variations, one can draw out the dark power of Demonic arts.
The tyrannical power of Demonic arts comes from deliberately distorting the balance of Orthodox Kung-Fu, perfected through the research of countless people over many years.
By reversing and unfolding the mnemonic of the Jezail Sword Technique, three things can be achieved.
The increase in speed, penetration, and range of the Sword aura.
Moran ignored the acupoints and tilted the axis of Essence flowing within his body to concentrate all his energy into his right hand.
-BOOOOOOM!!!!
The rotation of Essence, adding transverse flow to the longitudinal direction.
Suddenly, the flow of the Thames seemed to intensify, and the moon’s reflection in the river became violently distorted.
It was because the interference emitted by Moran’s Enhanced Energy caused the mist above Blackfriars Bridge, as well as the river flowing beneath the bridge, to start swirling counterclockwise.
-Tatat!
Moran’s form leaped twice in place, and as soon as he landed, he shot forward.
A high-speed run-up. The markswordsman confined the inhaled breath in his lungs and regulated his acupoints and minor meridians.
Moran continued the advancement of the Jezail Sword Technique and unleashed his beloved sword in movements that were unbelievable as part of the introductory moves of the world’s best thrusting Jezail Sword Technique.
Swinging Ascalon at an invisible speed, the muscles in his whole body and Enhanced Energy coordinated, and the form began to flow like water from his fingertips.
Movements that resemble crude fly fishing more than swordsmanship.
In the moment he extended his arm, a change occurred in the weapon, which had been hardened by perfect Essence control.
-Swish!
The blade attached to the tip bent softly like a whip.
Its trajectory traced a tiny crescent moon.
-Screeech!!
-Crash!
The moment the heel of the swordsmanship spikes skidded across the solid floor of Blackfriars Church and came to a halt, the Essence held within the sword’s tip was released forward.
*-New Moon Like A Famed Sword *
-Cutting the Sun on the Mountain Peak
*-Falling Without A Sound *
-Sunshine Cast Across the Road3
Paradox.
-Sunshine Cast Across the Road
-Falling Without A Sound
-Cutting the Sun on the Mountain Peak
-New Moon Like A Famed Sword4
Following the inverse formula, the Dian Cang Clan’s esoterica, Allahu Akbar, unfolded.
A stream of Sword aura flew through the night sky of London faster than sound.
According to the scriptures, the moon god Allah felled the sun and became the sole god.
The Allahu Akbar is a move mimicking that miracle, Jihad.
The moonlight gazing down from the high sky can be obscured by London’s clouds and fog.
But that Sword aura, known as the Scimitar Of Allah, pierces through all things.
Neither the distance of 1760 yards, nor the bridges and buildings that obstruct the line of sight between the markswordsman and the target, can protect the Phantom Fist from the cold sword light scattered by the Jezail Sword Technique.
This is death in the shape of a crescent moon, the Judgment of God.
The Sword aura flew along the straight line drawn by intention without a single error, and Moran did not need to verify the result with his own eyes.
“…Paha!”
The moment Moran exhaled the breath he had been holding after executing the strike, a massive shock and sound engulfed Blackfriars Bridge.
-Bang!
The sound of destruction echoed long after the Sword aura hit its target.
The bridge, built with the latest construction methods, was engulfed in intense vibrations, followed by―
Just for a brief moment.
The Thames River flowed in reverse.
- TL/N: The original quote is as follows—Everyone is a moon and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody ️
- TL/N: Spikes as in, field shoes ️
- -新月如名劍 -斫上山頭日 -墜地却無聲 -日華亦橫路 ️
- -日華亦橫路 -墜地却無聲 -斫上山頭日 -新月如名劍 ️