Chapter 66: Scimitar Of Allah (3)
Good shoes take you to high levels.
–Italian Proverb1
As I passed through the smooth curve of the riverside, the Savoy Inn, Waterloo Bridge, Somerset House, and King’s College swept past my view one by one.
“Crazy.”
After turning onto the straight road and accelerating further, the north end of Blackfriars Bridge came into view directly ahead.
Sword in the left hand, axe in the right.
With full preparation, I charged into the spot where the mysterious assassin had been.
‘…Am I late?’
As expected, there was no sign of life on the bridge.
Just in case, I expanded my Qi Sense, but felt nothing. Well, having run more than a mile, there was certainly enough time for them to flee the scene.
Still, it was worth rushing all the way here.
Because I gained a few clues that I hadn’t noticed when the mysterious move pierced Scotland Yard earlier.
“Jezail Sword Technique…”
On Blackfriars Bridge, traces of the assassin were clearly left behind.
The culprit was a master of the Dian Cang Clan.
The mark left by the swordsmanship spike appeared to me like a massive scar etched in the middle of London’s face.
A mark deeper than any Jezail Mark I’ve ever seen.
I couldn’t hide my astonishment as I mentally reconstructed the markswordsman’s movements based on that.
The opponent completed the approach with overwhelming speed, and at the moment of sudden stop, unleashed the Sword aura.
Up to that point, it was something any ordinary Dian Cang Clan swordsman could imitate, but the problem was the range of the Sword aura.
“To pierce a mile in one shot… Is the culprit at least the level of a transcendent?”
The move that increases the destructive power of the Sword aura by condensing internal energy to a single point.
However, even if one were to use the Jezail Sword Technique in a general way, it’s not easy to shoot out the Sword aura to accurately pierce the target at Scotland Yard.
“……”
I had noticed from the moment I got closer to Blackfriars Bridge.
A dense aura spread across the bridge instead of fog.
The identity of the thickly distributed residue in the air is a sticky trace left by someone who used Demonic arts.
It was Demonic Essence.
‘Not only is the level of Demonic arts high, but the skill of the person themselves is also extraordinary.’
The fact that the floor of Blackfriars Bridge was a mess, as if dug up by a shovel, suggested the depth of their movement and internal energy.
It was the first time I had seen a move that left crescent-shaped penetration marks, but I could recognize that it was an advanced special move of the Dian Cang Clan.
There would be only a few swordsmen capable of such a feat, even in Afghanistan, the headquarters of the Dian Cang Clan.
“Not an Apostle but a European.”
The deeply indented footprints at the spot where the assassin began to accelerate and where they braked were different from the spiked formations of Pashtun or Hazara markswordsmen.
Footprints in the shape of commonly seen leather shoes.
I carefully swept the black powder left around the area with my finger and brought it to my nose.
“This is…”
The smell of high-quality cowhide.
The assassin seemed to have removed the leather covering the soles of their swordsmanship spikes before using the move.
It was a disguise technique used by European Dian Cang Clan warriors trained in the Jezail Sword Technique.
“I need more clues.”
I then followed the trail of the Jezail Mark and headed towards the position where the markswordsman stopped his run-up and decelerated with the spikes to fully execute his technique.
In the spot where the heat of friction still lingered and hot steam rose, there was a bit of river water left by the wave that had just swept over my leg.
It seemed to be the result of the river flowing backward due to the terrifying recoil of the Jezail Sword Technique, and had I been struck by the technique, I would not have remained unscathed.
In fact, even as I am investigating the traces now, I am holding a sword and an axe in both hands and spreading my Qi Senses to be able to block the technique if it comes flying at any time.
“There’s none.”
The second clue I was trying to verify from the Jezail Mark was the smell of glue.
Although they are using expensive Black Gold on the heel, swordsmanship spikes are fundamentally classified as consumables.
If one performs the Jezail Sword Technique several times while wearing swordsmanship spikes, the glue that secures the circumference of the sole melts due to the high heat generated during the run-up and abrupt braking, causing the shoe to be damaged.
However, there was no smell of melted glue to be found anywhere on the scene.
This means that the shoes worn by the markswordsman used a welt made of leather cord instead of glue to secure the upper and sole.
In all of Europe, one would be hard-pressed to find a craftsman who fashions swordsmanship spikes from quality cowhide, save for the cobblers of Northampton.
Additionally, even with the intense movement of a master capable of making the river flow backward, there were no traces of the thread sewing the welt being snapped and falling on the ground.
In other words, it means that his shoes were custom-made by a cobbler skilled in Kung-Fu using a hand-sewn method, not the machine-used Goodyear Welt method.
‘Were they swordsmanship spikes, personally crafted by the proud cobblers of Northampton, for a master who has honed the art of the Jezail Sword Technique…’
Logically speaking, it would be unimaginable for a cobbler from Northampton, driven by patriotism and stubbornness, to have crafted such shoes, shoes that symbolize the markswordsmen, responsible for the deaths of countless British soldiers.
Therefore, the conclusion is one.
“Military supplies.”
I recalled the details about the shoes, imagining the physique of the assassin based on the size of the footprints and stride.
The shoes worn were special custom-made items for several war heroes.
Even without having seen them directly, I could roughly imagine their shape through the clues left on site.
‘The material is black cowhide to conceal discoloration. Wingtip shoes with holes in the toe cap to vent the friction heat generated during techniques…’
While most army officers are made up of practitioners of the E-Mei Sister’s Fingertips, there are exceptions everywhere.
I’ve heard rumors.
Stories of a genius swordsman secretly nurtured by the British army to kill Pashtun markswordsmen.
The British army, suffering from the guerrilla warfare conducted by markswordsmen, finally persuaded a master from the Dian Cang Clan, captured as a prisoner, to teach all techniques to a genius warrior.
The British’s first markswordsman, perfected by taking the life of his Afghan markswordsman mentor, lived up to everyone’s expectations and climbed the ranks at an unprecedented speed with overwhelming achievements.
But one sunny day, the man disappeared from the battlefield without warning.
It was after this that mysterious Kung-Fu murders, caused by a markswordsman, began to be mentioned across Europe.
“To think I would encounter him in this world too.”
In Europe, there are fewer than five martial artists who can successfully make a 1760-yard sniper shot, including the top disciples of the E-Mei Sisters and a very few markswordsmen from the Dian Cang Clan.
And among them, the British martial artist, who wears men’s shoes, is the only one I know of.
I took out the mask I was using earlier to visit Timothy Young from my pocket and unfolded it.
The face of a murderer with a sly smile attached.
“Sebastian Moran.”
The right-hand man of James Moriarty and his most loyal hunting dog.
Sebastian Moran finally revealed himself in London Murim.
“For a card pulled out just to kill a mere Phantom Fist, it’s quite grand.”
Sebastian Moran.
Even before my regression, I had encountered him several times and narrowly escaped death.
He is a mountain that must be overcome to defeat Moriarty.
This confirms even more that the mastermind behind this serial murder case is James Moriarty.
However, there are still unresolved questions for me.
If he simply intended to eradicate a threat, there was no need to summon his cherished right-hand man, the ace in the hole, the Colonel.
“……”
It’s not that there aren’t any clues.
If Moriarty’s character in this world is exactly as I remember, he would want to instill fear in a vexing adversary who disrupted his plans.
Considering that before my regression, he once dropped an important witness I was trying to protect off a ship and then sent a taunting message in a letter, this seemed certain.
From the beginning, obtaining critical information from Timothy Young, who was affected by Hypnosis, would have been a distant hope, but Moriarty left a clear warning to the obstructionist through Sebastian Moran’s transcendental Sword aura sniping.
An unequivocal declaration of intent to kill anyone who stands in his way, no matter who they are.
“It seems that even if the world you live in changes, you remain the same.”
How could I forget?
The arrogant smile he wore until the last moment when he and I fell from Reichenbach.
Those eyes that seemed to say the universe was under his control, were not something a mere human should possess.
“This time, I will surely―”
Righteous anger flared up like wildfire.
He is the worst demon on earth that the laws cannot punish.
Bringing James Moriarty to the divine judgment of God is the earthly mandate given to me.
I swear, to fulfill that mission, to use any means necessary.
[Really…?]
It was then.
A voice I had never heard before whispered to me.
“Who―”
I stopped and looked around as I exited Blackfriars Bridge, but there was no one nearby except me.
Was it a sound transmission?
No, that voice could not have been a sound transmission in the first place.
My thoughts about Moriarty and the determination to erase him from this world were entirely within my own mind.
So the only one who could ask me such a question is me, Sherlock Holmes.
Only after reaching that conclusion did I realize the situation I was in.
“…I’ve been here too long.”
The true side effects of the Renewal Lionheart Method manifest in two main cases.
First.
When you have not consumed a sufficient amount of elixirs for a certain period and experience the first side effect of the method, withdrawal symptoms, to an extreme degree.
And secondly.
When exposed to the ferocious energy of a martial artist who has mastered Demonic arts.
I thought it would be fine when I encountered the Demonic energy of the Phantom Fist.
It was a mistake to stay on the bridge, even after being exposed to much stronger Demonic Essence, because I was too absorbed in investigating the traces of Sebastian Moran.
‘If Mycroft finds out, he’ll certainly laugh at me.’
I must return home before the symptoms worsen.
Luckily, it’s only auditory hallucinations for now.
If it were more severe, I wouldn’t have dared to meet Sir Harcourt in the afternoon.
‘The Zuckerberg family, the Postmaster General, and even the Home Secretary. There are so many people offering me gifts I didn’t even ask for. What should I request?’
After restoring the Heavenly Demon Cane to its original form, I grabbed my throbbing head and walked towards Baker Street.
Imagining the scene of telling Watson about my brief midnight adventure after she wakes up.
- TL/N: Original proverb: Le scarpe buone ti portano in posti buoni / Good shoes take you to good places ️