Juliet Trick

A cool sword and warm elixir field, live long.
-British Proverb-

Pavlov, sprawled on the ground, had trouble getting up.

That was only natural.

That last blow had shaken his insides, and twisted his Qi and blood too.

‘It’s stronger than I expected.’

Baritsu’s Slow-Fist Tai Chi was a completely different fist art from the Wu-tang Clan’s orthodox Tai Chi, but in that it was a fist art where offense and defense were one, it was the same.

The core Kung-Fu principle behind Baritsu’s Slow-Fist Tai Chi was Figure-Eight Tai Chi.

If you twist the center of the energy circulating in a circle, the shape of an hourglass is formed.

At that moment, my meridians and Natural Qi gain a fierce elasticity that, to return to their original form, causes rotation in a vertical direction around the axis of their original rotation.

But then, what happens if you twist Tai Chi with even greater force.

The answer was this.

Tai Chi, twisted into the shape of the numeral eight, coils into a double-structured spiral and takes on the form of a spring or a mainspring.

An intangible structure that not only stores the force used to twist Tai Chi, but after becoming a spiral, even shoves back pressing force with overwhelming elasticity.

And I compressed it, forced it into my elixir field, and activated its efficacy.

That’s right.

Something strange was happening inside my body, something even the eccentrics of the martial world did not know.

Wu-tang’s Tai Chi, the representative of Soft Punch, makes its identity in letting every technique an enemy throws flow away, or receiving and returning it, through subtle principles.

But Baritsu’s Slow-Fist Tai Chi, true to its name, focuses on stealing the enemy’s space, narrowing their room to move, erasing their freedom of action, and then delivering a blow they cannot evade.

There were two main reasons I could bring Pavlov down just now.

One was enhancing the weight and might of my Essence through the secret Slow-Fist Tai Chi.

The other was that, as mentioned above, I could use his strength.

Of course, it was not like the Wu-tang Clan’s orthodox Tai Chi, flowing or returning the internal energy contained in the opponent’s technique in that moment.

What mattered was the efficacy of the structure compressed inside my elixir field.

Figure-Eight Tai Chi rotates unceasingly inside my elixir field, accepting force applied from the outside.

I bounced away the Demonic Qi Pavlov released with the springlike elasticity of that structure, then used part of the absorbed force to twist the Figure-Eight Tai Chi further.

The more he attacked, the more force was stored in the Figure-Eight, and each time I twisted it, my internal energy took on a harder nature.

Thus, the proper way of Slow-Fist was to close the distance with slow, steadily pressuring movement, and then unleash the saved force on an opponent who could no longer release Impact at the optimal range.

The strike, layered with the ferocious rotation of internal energy that erupted as the stored force in Figure-Eight Tai Chi was released, delivered a shock far more violent than it looked, and the hulking Kung-Fuist Pavlov fell in a single blow.

-Pat!

When I released the remaining force bound to the Figure-Eight Tai Chi in my elixir field, the ring instantly returned to its original shape.

Unlike Gravitation which sucks in the opponent’s internal energy, this was a method that used elasticity and reaction, so after using it once, the meridians became swallowed by fatigue, and it was not a Kung-Fu I wanted to use often.

Pavlov using demonic arts was also one reason I was worn down.

Just touching his energy made the seals in my head keep trying to loosen, so throughout the fight I felt like I would go mad.

If I let loose the King’s Wraith, Hamlet, there was no telling what would happen, so all I could do was be as careful as possible.

Still, whatever the method, it was fortunate I achieved my goal.

For the record, the goal I meant was not defeating Pavlov.

My intent had never changed from the start.

The goal was to keep Ivan Pavlov’s feet bound for as long as possible.

If I accomplished that alone, the plan would conclude successfully.

“…It’s not over! Until I carry out the Tsar’s order, I—”

I heard a growl and turned, and saw Pavlov forcing himself up, exuding a sinister aura.

His legs wobbled, his voice cracked, and blood kept flowing from his mouth.

To take that and endure, should I call it tremendous willpower.

With respect for the Russian martial artist, I decided to tell him the truth.

“Stop. No matter how you struggle, it will do you no good.”
“Hand over Irene Adler. Until then, I will not go back.”
“Then your premise is wrong.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Irene Adler is no longer here.”
“…?!”

The hulking intelligentia showed open confusion.

“What… did you say?”
“I have not said even once that Irene Adler remained here.”

Pavlov stared into my eyes in silence.

He looked as if he did not know what reaction he should show.

If he believed me, he would have to admit he had been played by my hand all along.

Somehow calming himself down, he steadied his panting breath and asked me.

“Then where is Irene Adler now?”
“She is in a place our hands cannot reach.”
“…Don’t tell me she’s already fled to France—”
“No. She has gone somewhere farther.”

The moment I finished speaking, the door of Green Willow Manor, where the firefighting had been paused, creaked open.

“Follow me.”

I walked into the estate slowly with Pavlov.

On the first floor, Irene Adler was there, along with the Afternoon Tea Party members surrounding her.

Pale skin and lips drained of blood.

The estate staff surrounding the fallen leader on the floor kept silent.

“She’s smiling.”

Pavlov muttered as he checked Irene Adler’s face.

“So she is.”

The surgeon was right.

Irene Adler seemed to have ended her life with an expression of pure happiness and delight.

What could have been so funny, so enjoyable?

She died laughing, so it could be called a good death, at least.

“What a shame. You came all the way here on the Tsar’s orders.”

Instead of replying to me, Pavlov trudged to Irene Adler’s corpse and knelt on one knee.

He opened the corpse’s eyelids and checked the pupil’s reflex, then felt for a pulse, and finally let out a deep sigh.

“…She’s truly dead.”

He looked hollow for a moment, but Pavlov’s face quickly returned to its usual bluntness.

-Boo-woong!

The instant I saw Pavlov lift that heavy fist, I stepped between him and the corpse.

“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I intend to smash her head.”

The next moment, those guarding Irene Adler’s corpse all revealed killing intent at once.

A firm resolve to not let their mistress’s corpse be defiled, even if they died by Pavlov’s hand.

Of course, that bear of a surgeon was not someone who would fear mere killing intent, but as for using Kung-Fu on a corpse, London only needed one person for that.

“A man calling himself a physician should not try to insult the dead. And is she not a woman, at that?”
“…”

Pavlov hesitated for a time, then slowly nodded.

“The objective is achieved. I will return now.”

Whether it was murder, or suicide.

Or what she had gone through.

As if such details did not matter, the surgeon stood, then left the estate without even looking back.

“…He’s a hard man to understand.”

Just from the Kung-Fu he trained, I could tell he was a man driven by objectives, but I did not expect him to be this dry.

Even if he confirmed Irene Adler’s death, that attitude of “the objective is achieved, regardless of the process” was absurd.

“Well, if I let him smash her head, I would have been in trouble. Should I be grateful he left at this point today?”

And exactly thirty seconds later.

After confirming Pavlov had left the scene, SIS agents entered Green Willow Manor with Mycroft.

“You’re late.”
/<I have no idea what you mean, little brother. I have been watching your performance from start to finish.>

True, the fact that the Afternoon Tea Party members were gathered inside Green Willow Manor meant that while I fought Pavlov, Mycroft used Dusk Ink to find the Afternoon Tea Party members hiding underground, so it was not as if he had been doing nothing.

And the fact that Irene Adler’s corpse was here meant Head Professor Louise finished every preparation as planned.

“Um… so, when will our leader rise?”

One of the Afternoon Tea Party members who had kept silent asked, looking between Mycroft and me.

Right. If everything was proceeding smoothly, there was no need to hide the truth from them.

“Rise? What do you mean? Afternoon Tea Party Leader Irene Adler is already dead.”
“Hey, that’s not what you promised!! You said she’d only pretend to be dead—”
/<Me? When, exactly?>
“You bastard!!”

Mycroft shrugged, and one of the underworld men rushed at him, but the attempt was stopped by an SIS agent waiting nearby.

“Calm yourself. Irene Adler will not rise. Instead, though it is not quite that… she will soon be revived.”
“What do you—”

A familiar presence from beyond the door.

“This way, Yan.”

I called my helper’s name.

“Looks like I’m not too late.”

Through the crack of the open door, the undertaker of the Chenzhou Yan Clan poked his face in.

“So, the corpse.”

When I pointed to Irene Adler, who had died with a silent smile, Yan gave a bright grin.

While the Little Heavenly Demon fought a fierce battle with Pavlov, secret work was underway in the underground prison.

Irene Adler had been knocked unconscious by Louise Carroll’s blow from within the dark.

Looking down at the Afternoon Tea Party Leader sprawled on the floor, Louise fell into worry.

“Huh? Huh?… What should I do? At this rate she’ll r-really die.”

In her hand was a small vial.

Inside was a single drop of a special poison secretly passed down in the Chenzhou Yan Clan.

“They said if she doesn’t drink this while feeling good, we can’t save her later… right.”

The reason Louise was troubled was simple.

The poison of the Thousand-Year Ice Silkworm that the Little Heavenly Demon entrusted was originally something only the Chenzhou Yan Clan’s direct line could use.

The silkworm’s fierce poison, holding powerful Cold Qi, freezes the body of whoever ingests it.

Even a single drop leads to death, but the Chenzhou Yan Clan had used this poison for another purpose.

To preserve an ancestor’s body completely in cold, then revive them as a Living Dead Man or a Dead Man.

But that was only possible because the Chenzhou Yan Clan’s old Kung-Fuists held the devoted resolve to willingly offer their bodies for their descendants.

When a Kung-Fuist feels happiness, the Nihwan Palace causes a certain positive change in intent.

The chemical released at that time reacts with the Thousand-Year Ice Silkworm’s poison and changes into an entirely different substance, gaining special efficacy.

Without that process, ingesting the Thousand-Year Ice Silkworm’s poison only makes you fall to the poison as is, turning into a lump of ice.

“Even if Miss Louise wakes this lady up, she won’t laugh or be happy. She’ll only scream and curse, riiiight…”

After worrying for a while, Louise came up with a clever idea.

“Miss Louise is amazing… Totally a good idea. Genius pretty girl!”

-Slap!

Louise grabbed her by the collar and slapped her, and Irene Adler looked up at Louise with eyes startled like a rabbit’s.

“I’m sorry, lady.”

Louise sealed Irene Adler’s movement with an acupoint strike.

Then she moved her hair like snakes and began tickling the Mistress of Green Willow’s Bubbling Spring acupoint.

“Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha!!! Stop. Stop it!!! Gkh. Gkik… Ghahk!! P-please stop…!!!”