What was a genius? A genius was someone who, on the day of their seventeenth birthday, could already stand at the pinnacle of martial prowess in the entire nation.
Ishihara Masami’s petite figure soared a hundred meters into the air. Then, invisible sword qi tore through the void from a single swing of her sword. That strike split the Zoro Group’s headquarters, which stood tall for sixty-seven years, cleanly in half down the center.
Instantly, alarms blared as shouts and screams erupted. The sounds of panic echoed in all directions. Ishihara Masami charged into the building without hesitation, and the sound of battle followed immediately from within.
The crack of gunfire rang out clearly, along with the thunder of explosions. It wasn’t surprising that the Zoro Group, one of the major conglomerates in Jiepeng, possessed firearms but no one expected they had also stockpiled heavy, unconventional weaponry.
Even so, none of it posed any real threat to Ishihara Masami. It only slightly slowed her pace. Moments later, the girl returned to Li Xiaofei’s side, drenched in blood, her blade still in hand.
“Yamamoto Jōichirō isn’t there,” she said. “I asked the people inside. He was the one who sent Yamamoto Tamaki to Rebun Island.”
Li Xiaofei gave a small nod.
Ishihara Masami added, “He’s at Silent Lake on Mount Hakutou.”
Li Xiaofei looked at her.
“I’m going to Silent Lake,” Ishihara Masami declared.
Li Xiaofei placed a hand on her shoulder. His Sword Harnessing Technique surged and they soared into the sky. Just a few breaths later, they arrived above Mount Hakutou.
Their figures descended from the clouds, appearing by the shores of Silent Lake. The Sword Sect’s response was swift.
In under a minute, Kojirō and Kitagawa Keiko were at the sect’s gate, leading hundreds of Sword Sect disciples. A tense standoff formed between both sides.
Kojirō’s expression was grim as he took in the unparalleled genius he had once chosen as the pillar of the sect’s next hundred years now standing alongside the greatest enemy of Jiepeng. His heart burned with fury.
“Masami.” Kojirō suppressed his anger and said, “I’ve just learned about what happened on Rebun Island. I deeply sympathize with the tragedy that befell your biological family.”
After speaking, he bowed deeply. Then he continued, “But the murderer has already died by your sword. Yamamoto Tamaki and nearly all of the Zoro Group’s top brass have all been slaughtered. Isn’t that enough? Can’t you let go of your hatred now?”
“I’ll be able to let go of it when I kill Yamamoto Jōichirō,” Ishihara Masami said coldly.
“Old Master Yamamoto is indeed at Silent Lake right now,” Kojirō replied. “He came to atone for his sins. He has been kneeling at the Chen Sword Hall for a full day and night. He knows he was wrong.”
“If he knows he was wrong, then let him come out and die,” Ishihara Masami said.
Kojirō’s face twitched slightly as he tried to persuade her. “Death is not the best way to punish someone. You have a long road ahead of you; you shouldn’t drown yourself in hatred.”
Ishihara Masami didn’t respond. But the sword in her hand began to hum softly. It was a faint, metallic resonance that vibrated through the air, carrying invisible killing intent through the early winter breeze.
That was her answer. Every time she blinked, every breath she took, every beat of her heart sent images of her slaughtered parents, sister, brother-in-law, nephew and younger siblings through her mind.
Hatred had grown like wild vines, wrapping around every vein in her body. She couldn't let it go and she didn’t want to.
Kojirō knew there was no persuading her. He turned toward Kitagawa Keiko, Ishihara Masami’s master. The one who had saved and shaped her. Kitagawa Keiko slowly walked forward, stopping ten steps away. She looked at the girl standing before her.
For a moment, it was as if she were looking at her younger self. Perhaps the reason she had taken Ishihara Masami into the Sword Sect all those years ago was because she had seen a reflection of her own past in the girl from their very first meeting.
“You’ve suffered, child,” Kitagawa Keiko said gently.
Ishihara Masami’s voice trembled, soft and lost like a whisper in the wind. She murmured, “Master...”
Of all the people at Silent Lake, her master was the last person that she wanted to face. Yet fate had placed them on opposing sides. Kitagawa Keiko stepped closer, one step at a time.
She came to stand before Ishihara Masami. She slowly reached out, gently brushing the girl’s face as her thin fingers tucked back strands of wind-blown hair from her disciple’s temple. Ishihara Masami didn’t flinch. Nor did she resist.
At this range, Kitagawa Keiko could have erased her completely from this world in a single thought. She didn’t. Her hand came to rest gently on Ishihara Masami’s brow.
Ishihara Masami slowly closed her eyes. If her master wanted to kill her... Then so be it. But in the very next moment, she felt a faint warmth seep from Kitagawa Keiko’s palm into her skin.
Startled, she opened her eyes and saw the old woman before her aging at a pace visible to the naked eye. In the blink of an eye, Kitagawa Keiko withered like a dry leaf and her body was reduced to a skeletal husk. All of her vitality drained out of her.
“Keiko... what are you doing?!” From afar, Kojirō’s voice rang out, filled with horror and disbelief.
“Child...” Kitagawa Keiko’s eyes were barely able to stay open as she looked gently at Ishihara Masami. “I’m proud that you upheld the principles of a swordswoman. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
Ishihara Masami stood frozen. “Master, you...”
Kitagawa Keiko turned with great effort, her frail body trembling as she looked at Kojirō in the distance. She said, “Koji-kun... tell me... have I lived my life true? To you, and to the Sword Sect?”
Kojirō’s throat tightened, as if a stone was lodged in it. In that moment of panic and sorrow, he couldn’t utter a single word.
Of course she had. The once peerless, dazzling Keiko had devoted her youth, her martial talent, her freedom and her beliefs to the Sword Sect. She should have been a goddess standing high above the heavens. Instead, she had become a hunched, forgotten sword slave, cloaked in the shadows for two hundred years.
The sound of a blade piercing flesh rang out as a sword protruded out from Kitagawa Keiko’s back. Blood welled from the wound and began to trickle down.
Droplets of blood fell to the ground.
“Masami... from this day on, you are free,” said Kitagawa Keiko as her body fell forward.
She gripped her own wakizashi with both hands and plunged it deeper into her chest, straight into her heart.
“Master!” Ishihara Masami rushed forward and caught the old woman in her arms. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes and fell uncontrollably. But she saw that her master wore a faint smile on her face in death.
It was release. It was peace. Ishihara Masami raised her head and looked across at Kojirō, who stood frozen in place. His body trembled slightly and the corners of his mouth twitched faintly.
Only now, at this very moment, did he begin to realize all the things he had ignored for so long. Even the most mediocre fool wouldn't willingly spend a lifetime as a nameless shadow.
And Kitagawa Keiko... was no fool. She had been a dazzling prodigy, a woman of unmatched grace and strength. She had endured the fate the sect imposed on her. Perhaps it was simply because, when forced to choose between herself and the sect, she had chosen the latter.
She had accepted her destiny. But she could not bear to see another version of herself walk the same path again. Especially after witnessing the Yamamoto family’s arrogance, stupidity and madness laid bare. Keiko had never known freedom. So, she used her death to give the sect an answer and to shatter the shackles that bound her most beloved disciple.
Kojirō trembled, because he had believed he understood Keiko. He believed their bond was deep, that their hearts were in sync. And yet... he had never truly seen her.
Silently, he stepped aside. The Sword Sect disciples behind him parted as well. Ishihara Masami, cradling her master’s lifeless body, walked step by step into Silent Lake and into the Chen Sword Hall.
Sounds of battle and furious shouting echoed from within. Moments later, she carried the severed head of Yamamoto Jōichirō.