Li Baoguo was gravely injured. The iron blade was lodged deep in his heart. No one dared to pull it out, nor did they dare to move him. A single mistake could mean instant death.
Fortunately, though he was severely wounded, he remained standing. His face was as pale as gold leaf, his breath weak as a thread, yet he had not collapsed.
The young Celestial Master had been burned into charcoal. His entire body was pitch black, with severe burns all over his body. However, there was still the faintest sign of breath beneath his nostrils.
Daoist Sanjue had suffered the lightest injuries. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth, but thanks to the protection of his Azure Lightning Soft Sword, his wounds were not life-threatening.
Qi Honglei, however, stood motionless. Blood seeped from all seven orifices, making it seemed like he had external injuries. But there was no heartbeat or breath from him. He was already dead.
Zhang Hongjing’s heart sank. This battle had nearly wiped out the four strongest warriors recruited by the Dragon Group, causing its strength to plummet drastically. She forced herself to stay calm, trying to issue an order when—
A piercing sound tore through the air as a flash of light streaked onto the arena. A figure suddenly appeared in front of Oniba Henzō. It was a man of about 1.7 meters tall, neither fat nor thin, with an average build. He wore a black bamboo hat and a simple short robe, the kind that only impoverished samurai in ancient Jiepeng would wear. His feet were bare, blackened with dirt.
He carried five swords on his back: one greatsword, two longswords and two wakizashi short swords. His attire was strange. In Jiepeng, a samurai traditionally carried no more than three swords, a greatsword, a longsword and a wakizashi.
Even a Sword Saint followed this rule. Carrying five swords was a violation of Jiepeng’s swordsmanship tradition. In such a rigidly structured society, this was considered a serious offense. There was only one exception.
The sword bearer slave. Every top-tier swordsman was accompanied by a sword bearer slave, whose duty was to carry their master’s swords. A living scabbard.
But not just anyone could serve as a sword bearer slave in Jiepeng’s martial world. Only those with extraordinary talent in swordsmanship and exceptional strength were qualified to be recognized as one.
To the elite standing at the peak of the hierarchy, this role was considered an honor. It was a mark of acceptance, an acknowledgment from the nobility toward a gifted warrior. The man now standing before Oniba Henzō was the sword bearer slave of Jiepeng’s greatest Sword Saint.
His name was Takano Kumagawa. To be chosen as Oniba Henzō’s sword bearer slave spoke volumes about his unparalleled talent and formidable strength in swordsmanship.
Takano Kumagawa was once a swordsmanship prodigy, capable of standing on equal footing with Oniba Henzō. For a time, his brilliance had dazzled the world. But due to his lowly birth, he was forced to conceal his name, wear a straw hat, don a servant’s attire and bear the burden of carrying another’s swords. He became a living scabbard.
According to the traditions of Jiepeng’s Sword Sect, if a master fell in battle, his sword bearer slave was duty-bound to seek vengeance. If he failed, he was to follow his master in death. Takano Kumagawa now stood in silence before the battered yet still-standing corpse of Oniba Henzō.
“Senior Brother...” He called out softly.
Memories flooded back, one after another. The day they entered the Sword Sect together, to training side by side. The moment when fate split their paths where one inherited the title of Sword Saint, while the other became a mere sword bearer slave.
Memories buried by nearly a century of time resurfaced. He remembered the duels they had fought, the ones he had never lost. He remembered the day he had been defeated. Defeated by fate. By his birth. He had been the stronger one. Yet he had become the servant.
Still, Takano Kumagawa harbored no resentment toward Oniba Henzō. He always knew Oniba Henzō was not at fault. On the contrary, his senior brother had always cared for him, and helped him with everything he had.
When Oniba Henzō was chosen to inherit the title of Sword Saint, he had refused seven times. Seven times, he had pleaded to step down. But in the end, the Sword Sect’s elders had forced him to accept the position.
The fault lay with the Sword Sect. The fault lay with those who sat high above the clouds, who dictated the fates of others with a single glance, making decisions based solely on their own whims. Those decrepit, self-important relics of the past.
Back then, Takano Kumagawa had no choice but to become a sword bearer slave. But on that day, he made a solemn vow. As long as his senior brother lived, he would bear his swords. If his senior brother fell, he would unbind himself from them. From that moment on, he would carry a sword in his hands and never on his back.
"The day has come. The shackles are broken. I return to my true self... I, Takano Kumagawa, am a swordsman, not a slave anymore."
A single tear fell from his eye and slid down his cheek.
Senior Brother... Your entire life was dedicated to the sword. Someone as pure as you was trapped for so many years, shackled by those decrepit old fools under the name of the sect. They bound you, confused you, and made you hesitate.
But today. Today, you wielded the freest sword of your life. That sword was the boldest moment of your entire existence. So go now. Go to a world where only the sword remains. Leave everything that follows to me.
Takano Kumagawa suddenly reached out.
Oniba Henzō’s broken body was shattered by a single palm strike, turning into countless fragments of dust. The remains of the once-mighty Sword Saint scattered into the cold night wind, drifting away like ashes.
"Uncle Takano... what are you doing?"
"Takano Kumagawa, have you lost your mind?"
"You bastard! How dare you desecrate Master’s body? Commit seppuku and atone for your sins immediately!"
The disciples of the Sword Sect surrounded the remains of Oniba Henzō, their faces filled with rage and hatred. The young, pampered disciples hurled furious accusations at Takano Kumagawa, their voices loud and indignant.
A crimson arc of blood streaked through the air as heads rolled onto the ground. The elite heirs of the Jiepeng Sword Sect, the disciples of Oniba Henzō, the offspring of wealthy and powerful families all fell lifelessly to the ground before they could even react.
Takano Kumagawa’s face remained as expressionless as if he had merely crushed a handful of insects. The sudden massacre caught everyone off guard. Screams erupted in waves from the distant spectator stands.
"Senior Takano, what are you doing?" Tōan Ritsu and the other members of the superhumans group had just emerged from the stadium’s corridors, only to be met with this horrifying sight. They stood frozen in shock.
Takano Kumagawa glanced at them but did not strike. Unlike the complacent and corrupt Sword Sect elders, he held a certain admiration for these ambitious superhumans. At the very least, he saw a reflection of his past self in them.
"Let the new era begin today." He took a deep breath, intoxicated by the moment.
He spread his arms wide as he welcomed the darkness. Thick, swirling clouds of black-red mist erupted from behind him and billowed into the air.
The ominous mist engulfed the entire Olympic Stadium within seconds. The sinister, blood-red fog pulsed with an eerie life of its own, as if it were an entity from the depths of hell. Chilling, tormented wails echoed from within like a chorus of nightmarish screams.
"Stop him!" Zhang Hongjing shouted urgently.
She had no idea what these crimson mists would bring, but her instincts screamed that Jinshi City would fall into an unprecedented catastrophe if they continued spreading.
Tōan Ritsu also felt a deep sense of unease.
"Lord Takano, please stop!" He quickly stepped forward and pleaded, "This is Great Xia, please don’t—"
Before he could even finish his sentence, Takano Kumagawa flicked his wrist lightly. The Sky level superhuman, Tōan Ritsu, one of the strongest among the superhumans, was flung away like a husk of straw in a hurricane and smashed violently into the ground.
"The new era has arrived. Only chaos, blood, death, and wailing can bring forth a new world and order. Destruction begins with this city of Xia people," said Takano Kumagawa as he hovered in midair like a divine apostle of the apocalypse.
His eyes turned toward the grandstand. In an instant, his eyes locked onto the leaders of the two nations. He said, "If I kill you, war will become unstoppable... Hahaha. Big shots, huh? Die."
Two massive tendrils of black mist, as thick as demonic serpents, tore through the air, lunging toward the two national leaders with terrifying speed.