Chapter 157: Money Problems
如是我門 一時主 在以色列國
加利利海 與大弟子衆五千人俱
爾時 世尊 食時 取五餅並兩尾魚
仰天祝謝 擘之 而給餅與厥徒 厥徒給與眾
眾皆食得飽 後收取餘餅滿十二筐
主告 禍不單行 丐也不單行
Thus I heard.
At one time, the Lord was by the Sea of Galilee in the land of Israel, together with five thousand people.
When the hour of the meal came, the Holy One took five barley loaves and two fish in hand.
He looked up to heaven, gave thanks, broke the bread, and gave it to the disciples, and the disciples shared it with the people. All ate their fill, and when the leftovers were gathered, they filled twelve baskets.
Then the Lord said.
You know miserable do love company.
And beggars match with beggars.
-Old Tradition-
The instant Moriarty appeared behind me, I had already entered Faust Moment.
Time flowed slowly.
But I had not the slightest margin left.
His strike was swift, and without hesitation.
Just as he had moments ago flowed essence into the wind, hardened it into a solid, and joined it to Westminster Palace to make a foothold.
Moriarty was now forcing high-density essence into the air and forming an ultra-heavy bludgeon to crush me.
Though it was invisible, my Qi-sense did not miss the aura of the cube that had appeared above my head.
A bizarre artificial object, made from atmosphere and human power mixed into one.
It was so transparent that even an eye technique could not confirm its presence.
Yet the quality and volume of internal energy radiating from its surface were such that even a blind man in this place would have sensed it.
And even as my mind raced at high speed, that great invisible die kept falling toward the crown of my head.
It was not gravity alone.
The bludgeon was being dragged down even faster by Moriarty’s own Poltergeist.
By the Kung-Fu principle of universal gravitation discovered by Sir Newton, natural essence and human internal energy could carry weight as well.
If one moved intent and assigned weight to power that had scarcely any substance, it would not be difficult for a fist-sized lump of essence to weigh a thousand pounds.
Come to think of it, was not the 1322.77 Pound Weight itself a Kung-Fu applying that same principle?
Then how many ‘units’ worth of internal energy lay within that object now plummeting above my head at such a savage speed?
When weight was added to a vast power that could turn not liquid but gas into hard crystal, could my body endure it?
The answer was no.
Instinct whispered that I must evade with the Ulster Classic, that it was not too late.
But my exceptional reason produced a far better choice in an instant.
-Thump!
Instead of fleeing with lightness skill, I shoved Watson with all my strength.
“……?!”
Only then did Watson realize what was happening, and she looked at me.
Our gazes crossed. I had little time left.
How does one convey emotions that cannot be put into words?
I tried the expression I had practiced before a mirror more than once in my previous life—only to give up.
No reliance on letters.
A farewell smile meant to convey a heart that existed beyond the alphabet.
The final moment, arriving far earlier than I had expected.
The face reflected in Watson’s eyes looked far more at peace than I had expected.
What a relief.
That I could make the right choice to the very end.
<You may close your eyes now, Watson.>
Leaving that brief Direct Message, I lowered my head.
For the sight of being ambushed and turned into a handful of blood was too shameful to show a lady.
The time that had been walking slowly with us suddenly sprinted ahead without warning.
A weight of death, falling while shoving the air aside, leaving no room to react.
The moment I finished my resolve, something cut into the edge of my vision.
-BOOM!
A club flying in at a speed far beyond my cognition knocked aside the invisible weapon Moriarty had created on the spot.
The transparent cube flew into Westminster Palace and, by smashing into the wall and leaving a mark, asserted that it had existed.
“……?!”
Reflexively unfolding my eye technique, I confirmed the hero’s identity reflected in my water-made lens.
A beggar, a very old one at that.
Yet his rags held not a single Knot of the sort that high-ranking beggars usually wore in strings.
A barefoot old man who did not even wear vintage shoes.
Even a youth’s soles would have hurt from such intimate contact with broken glass, yet he treated it as nothing. Among beggars, he was the very lowest of the low—
If given the task of expressing ‘poverty of the elderly’ through clothing, his getup would be a perfect example.
However.
As history had proven again and again.
What a man wore had never once proven the chivalry within him.
“A fellow I’ve never seen before.”
Ragged clothes, yet the veteran’s body, revealed through his loosened front, was trained to the extreme.
Skin from which fat seemed all but excluded covered finely torn muscle fibers. The mark of ferocious training.
The countless scars etched upon it were medals the martial world itself had pinned to the old man’s body.
All were signs of strength that could not be earned without overcoming the trials time delivered.
And.
The golf club crafted from ancient jade was a sacred relic of the Homeless Clan, the Ball-Driving Staff, an object only the Dragon Head could possess.1
“I did not come to save anyone, so don’t misunderstand.”
Ol’ Dirty Bastard.
The great hero, Oliver Twist, said to me, his face frozen cold.
“…After the rude vermin of the Afternoon Tea Party, now the beggars’ kingpin. The Son of Man can only wonder. Since when has London become so vulgar a city?”
Moriarty muttered in a tone strangely heavy with religious color.
There were words that bothered me, but now was not the time to think deeply on them.
“Come this way for now, Watson.”
“…What is happening right now?”
“Who knows? Just know this is not a situation we can resolve.”
Taking advantage of the two masters facing off, I seized Watson and quickly widened the distance.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Moriarty struck again at my head, but once more the Dragon Head’s No. 1 wood snapped it away.
From that face, without a grain of sincerity, it seemed he hadn’t even drawn out a tenth of his full strength.
If I left the rear to the great hero, Oliver Twist, and withdrew now, Watson and I could survive.
The problem was what came after.
I glanced quietly at the great hero Twist’s hand.
He had only deflected Moriarty’s moves twice, techniques applied not as killing moves but as a Kung-Fu used in place of lightness skill, yet Twist’s arm was already tensed to the brim.
He too was surely failing to hide his shock at the transcendent strength of the opponent before him.
Unless Sir Newton or even Her Majesty the Queen joined in, it would be hard to avoid annihilation.
At least Moriarty was trying to kill no one but me, the one who had been rude to him, so saving the others would not be so difficult.
Moriarty was a great villain, but he did not kill without reason.
He had a rational temperament that showed interest in nothing but curiosity and profit.
…No. What in the world am I thinking?
After resolving to bring Moriarty down without sacrificing anyone, how could my heart already be weakening?
Even if killing Moriarty was impossible right now, there had to be a way to send him back quietly.
I had to think of it before it was too late.
The single thread that would open a path of life for us.
“I have no business with beggars. If you don’t interfere, I will permit you to live.”
As expected, Moriarty spoke to Oliver Twist in a tone of pure arrogance.
“The world is my home and the sky my roof. Why would this old man need your permission?”
The great hero Twist smiled with the ease of an old master and leveled the Ball-Driving Staff at Moriarty’s face.
“Last time, the river flowed backward. Today the wind is bound in one place, and the night sky shows through the clouds. Do you think I will simply watch a fiend who violates the natural order stroll through London without giving a single coin of alms to a beggar?”
“…You mean to extort petty coin from the Son of Man?”
“A ‘Son of Man’, from something that isn’t even human? It’s our first meeting, but this old man will grant you mercy.”
-Ting!
The beggar elder pulled a coin from his robes and flicked it with a finger.
An Arhat Coin used for firing instead of hidden weapons.
But of course it was intercepted by Moriarty’s Poltergeist.
“Payment for the match in advance. Use it as the ferryman’s fare on the Styx.”
“Hah….”
Moriarty burst into laughter as though it were absurd.
A hair-trigger situation, with no telling when the next clash would erupt.
And yet, why was it?
Looking at this Moriarty, different from my memories, I felt the faintest hope.
‘He truly has gained transcendent power, but that much more, the gaps to exploit stand out.’
The fact that he revealed his face in the middle of London without a care proved he was fundamentally different from the Moriarty I had faced before my regression.
He had gained overwhelming power, but his caution and prudence had diminished in equal measure.
His coming in person to Westminster Palace just to find the one who put the Phantom Fist into prison was proof of it.
Had the number of things he could solve by force increased so much that he no longer bothered to use his head for ordinary matters?
He still thought rationally, but now that he had begun relying on force, and lost his carefulness because of it. I might be able to drive him off by an entirely different method.
‘I must think of it before it’s too late. What is needed to make Moriarty withdraw of his own accord is…’
I had kept Watson at a distance so she wouldn’t be swept into the fight, but if Ol’ Dirty Bastard lost, we wouldn’t be safe either.
How could I send him back?
For the sake of protecting my precious friend’s life, I had to think of it. No matter what.
‘Protect…something precious?’
It was then.
A lightning-bolt realization pierced my Niwan Palace.
What does a criminal value most?
The answer had been decided from the start.
“I came out today as a rare little outing, and I had no intention of killing insects. But if you insist on becoming Punishment Tea, it can’t be helped.”
Moriarty, who, having achieved rejuvenation and no longer leaking energy outward, drew up a dreadful aura.
And then, the moment he was about to strike.
I fired off a single Direct Message.
Moriarty’s gaze turned to me.
<…Pardon?> -CRASH!
In the next instant, Moriarty’s figure shot up into the sky.