The riders of the Iron Cavalry stood at a distance, their throats parched as they swallowed hard against the mounting pressure. Though their faces and bodies were already drenched in sweat from ascending the treacherous, wooded slope, a new wave of cold perspiration broke out, threatening to wash away the salt of their previous exertion. The air itself seemed to groan under the weight of the two masters’ presence.
“Must you insist on choosing the cup of punishment?”
The Grand Nobleman’s hand moved with measured grace, her fingers curling around the hilt of her blade with a soft, metallic click. She widened her stance slightly, lowering her center of gravity. “If that is your wish… I shall not stop you.”
There was no flamboyant elegance in her movements, nor were they crude or jagged. She looked like a vast, ancient lake hidden in a deep valley where no wind blew and no man tread—a presence that neither felt pressure nor exerted it.
In stark contrast, Life-Stealing Ghost Sword let out a low, unsettling cackle. Around him, five swords drifted through the air, swimming with a slow, predatory rhythm, while the killing intent erupting from his body was so dense it began to take physical form, sending a primal shiver down the spines of all who watched.
[He’s manipulating five blades through Qi alone, and his killing intent is actually manifest…] one of the Iron Cavalry whispered through a mental transmission, his voice thick with disbelief. [His body is so saturated with bloodlust that it’s visible to the naked eye. This is madness. Is he even human, or is he some kind of ghost or goblin?]
[Hah…] another responded, the transmission flickering with unease. [How much blood must a man shed, and how many deaths must he witness, to become such a monster—]
The rider suddenly jerked his head toward the Ghost Sword. He felt something cold—a chill like a shard of ice—rake across his cheek. Life-Stealing Ghost Sword was staring directly at him, his blue eyes burning with a piercing intensity. The manifested killing intent had followed the master’s gaze, physically brushing against the rider’s skin.
Is he insane…?!
“Hey,” the Life-Stealing Ghost Sword said, his eyes never leaving the rider even as he addressed the group. “I’m trying to focus here. If you bastards don’t want to die before I even get started, shut the fuck up with the mental chatter.”
Though the Iron Cavalry couldn’t understand the Central Plains dialect perfectly, his menacing tone and the way he seemed to fire invisible needles from his eyes conveyed his intent with terrifying clarity.
“(U-Understood.)” The riders nodded frantically. Satisfied, Life-Stealing Ghost Sword let a savage grin split his face.
“Good. That’s more—”
The word died in his throat.
“(Opening.)”
The Grand Nobleman’s voice reached his ears, but her lead foot was already lunging forward, stomping the earth as if she were shrinking the very distance between them.
Ancient Style of Gaury: Steps of the Mir.
The blade she drew was a projectile of light, cleaving through the space between them faster than the sound of her own voice.
Sword of the Beginning: The Single Severance.
The gap vanished in an instant. The extended blade whistled toward Life-Stealing Ghost Sword’s throat with such explosive speed that he barely had time to roll his eyes back toward the front.
Clang! Tang! Clash!
A violent shockwave erupted as a storm of sparks filled the air. The Grand Nobleman’s strike was intercepted—not by the Ghost Sword’s hands, but by the three floating swords: Perception, Impulse, and Consciousness. They had moved as if possessed by a will of their own to shield their master.
“Hah!” Life-Stealing Ghost Sword laughed from behind his steel defenders. “You think you can find an opening with just that?”
The Grand Nobleman didn’t answer. Her expression remained a mask of absolute stillness as she fluidly torqued her wrist, maintaining the pressure on her blocked blade as she took another heavy step forward.
Ancient Style of Gaury: Stepping on Heaven.
BOOM!
It looked like a simple stomp, yet it felt as if a giant standing atop the clouds had slammed its heel down upon the earth. An invisible, crushing weight hammered into Life-Stealing Ghost Sword’s body.
This pressure…! It felt identical to the Mountain-Breaking Force utilized by Elder Yeom, but channeled through a stomp—a vibration of the very earth.
“If that’s all you’ve got…!” Life-Stealing Ghost Sword gnashed his teeth so hard sparks nearly flew, flooding his body with internal energy to resist the crushing gravity. “I’ve seen this little trick before!”
Only days ago in Shenyang, during the battle against Gam U-hyeon, the ‘Sword Dragon of Huashan,’ the ‘Seamless Heavenly Raiment’ Yeon Seo-rin had already demonstrated the counter to such ‘Ultra-Heavy’ techniques.
The Luoyang Yeon Clan’s Anti-Heavy Combat Art: Shattering the Heavens and Earth.
Just as he was about to initiate the counter-vibration to unravel the heavy force, his superhuman senses screamed a visceral warning.
Wait… this isn’t just a stomp. This is the Ultra-Heavy Sword channeled through the feet. Then where is her actual blade—?!
Before he could react to the realization, the Grand Nobleman’s lips moved again.
“(Slaying the Mountain God.)”
Screeech!
Her wrist, which had been locked against his three floating swords, twisted into a Silk-Reeling Force. That force traveled instantly into her blade, transforming it into a localized hurricane of steel.
Clang!
Life-Stealing Ghost Sword’s three swords, already suppressed by the ‘Stepping on Heaven’ technique, were swatted aside like flies. He tried to summon his remaining two blades, but within the heavy-gravity zone of the stomp, Form and Sensation were agonizingly slow to return to his hands.
“Fuck—!”
The curse had barely left his lips when a tempest of sword-light slammed into his chest.
K-K-K-K-KRA-BOOM!
An ear-splitting roar echoed through the forest as an explosive gale of wind and dust obliterated their vision.
“(Is it over…?!)”
“(As expected of our Lady!)”
The Iron Cavalry riders shouted, shielding their faces against the debris. But then, the Grand Nobleman’s white eyebrows twitched in displeasure. Her posture remained fixed in the follow-through of the strike, but her eyes were narrowed.
The sensation… it’s wrong.
She stared into the billowing dust cloud, from which a low, raspy cackle began to emerge.
“Well, well…”
As the dust settled, the first thing to appear was Life-Stealing Ghost Sword’s scarred, blood-streaked face. He was grinning like a demon.
“(Wh-What?!)”
“(He survived a direct hit from ‘Slaying the Mountain God’?!)”
Life-Stealing Ghost Sword let out a breathy laugh, wiping a trail of blood from his lip. “Holy shit. I almost died like a total amateur after all that big talk. That would’ve been embarrassing.”
Grand Nobleman’s face finally showed a flicker of raw emotion—a mix of profound irritation and stunned disbelief. She ground her teeth. “(You… you dared.)”
She stared at his hands. Life-Stealing Ghost Sword had caught her naked blade with his bare palms at the final, suicidal moment.
“Heh, surprised? It’s called catching the blade.” He gripped her sword with a strength that surpassed her own attempts to withdraw it, his expression turning ghoulish. “I saw some Japanese samurai-turned-pirates do this trick once. They were pretty good at it.”
Creeeeak!
Grand Nobleman flooded the blade with her internal energy until it vibrated with a lethal, singing edge, but Life-Stealing Ghost Sword didn’t let go. Even as fresh, crimson blood poured from his mangled palms, his grip remained iron-clad.
“Heh. Turns out, I’m a bit of a natural at it.”
He was talking trash to provoke her, but Grand Nobleman had no room to respond. The five swords—Form, Sensation, Perception, Impulse, and Consciousness—had recovered from being swatted and were now descending toward her from above like a rain of meteors.
Life-Stealing Ghost Sword’s Signature Style: The Asura Five Skandha Extremities. Technique: Explosive Slaughter.
“Why don’t you go ahead and die?”
The situation had inverted. Now, it was the Grand Nobleman who was weaponless, her primary blade trapped in the Ghost Sword’s bleeding hands.
She faced a split-second choice: abandon her sword and retreat, sacrificing her pride as a Haedong warrior, or hold on and be shredded by the five-fold telekinetic assault.
“(Grand Nobleman…!)”
“(Look out…!)”
Amidst the panicked cries of her subordinates, the Grand Nobleman chose a third option.
“(Hah!)”
A low grunt escaped her lips as her pupils flared with a blinding, incandescent light. Her concentration surged past its previous limits.
Ultimate Art: Heavenly Lord Indra. Technique: Heaven Ascent.
Life-Stealing Ghost Sword’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. In that frozen microsecond, it was as if she were possessed by a war god.
Tang! Ta-tang!
Without letting go of her sword, she used her feet—her ‘foot-blades’—to stomp, kick, and lash out in every direction. She swatted the five floating blades out of the air with her boots.
Tang! Clang!
What was truly miraculous was her precision. Even in that frantic blur, her strikes landed perfectly on the hilts of the swords, avoiding the lethal edges entirely.
“Are you kidding me…?!”
It was a display of divine skill that forced an involuntary exclamation of awe from the Ghost Sword’s mouth. But he had no time for admiration.
“(Hmph…!)”
Having built up sufficient momentum through her aerial kicks, the Grand Nobleman torqued her entire body into a violent spin, her steel-like grip still locked onto her hilt.
“Whoa, fuck?!”
Life-Stealing Ghost Sword reacted on instinct, releasing his bloody grip and throwing himself backward.
SCREEEEEEE!
The sound of the blade tearing through the vacuum of air was like a scream from the abyss. The Grand Nobleman completed her rotation and landed firmly on the forest floor, her presence once again as still as a mountain.
“Hoo…”
Having retreated to a safe distance, Life-Stealing Ghost Sword laughed, though he couldn’t hide the cold sweat on his brow. “You’re quite the spry old hag, aren’t you? Flying around like a damn bird at your age.”
“And you,” the Grand Nobleman replied, licking her lips as she recovered from the brush with death, “certainly live up to your infamous reputation.”
Life-Stealing Ghost Sword’s eyes flashed with a wild fire as he recalled his five swords. “I’m just getting warmed up, lady! The real show hasn’t even started!” A bestial growl rumbled in his chest.
“Is that so?” the Grand Nobleman’s white hair seemed to bristle with static as her own fighting spirit flared. “Good. I still have plenty left to show you.”
The Iron Cavalry riders knew then: this duel would only end when one of them stopped breathing.
“Sssssss…”
The two masters synchronized their breathing and internal energy, reaching a point of perfect unity just as they were about to launch their final, fatal strikes.
“That is quite enough. Stop this at once.”
A beautiful, composed voice drifted from the thicket as a woman stepped into the clearing. “I believe you both have enjoyed yourselves sufficiently.”
Life-Stealing Ghost Sword saw her golden eyes and clicked his tongue in annoyance. “…The Head Handmaiden.”
The Grand Nobleman turned her gaze toward the newcomer. “Head Handmaiden? You mean the Grand Young Master’s…?”
It was Jeong-ah, the Head Handmaiden and primary attendant to Yeon So-hyeon. She gave the two warriors a polite, perfunctory bow.
“Life-Stealing Ghost Sword. The remaining fleeing generals of Heilongjiang have all been captured. It is time for us to move.”
“Tsk.” The Ghost Sword grumbled, looking thoroughly deflated as he sheathed his blades. In the absence of his Lord, Jeong-ah’s word carried the weight of So-hyeon’s own command. He had no choice but to comply.
“You say you’ve captured all the fleeing generals?” the Grand Nobleman shifted her blade toward Jeong-ah. “Then if I cut you both down, the prisoners become mine.”
A refined, chilling killing intent radiated from the old woman. Jeong-ah, however, didn’t even blink.
“I’m afraid that will be quite difficult for you,” Jeong-ah replied calmly.
Just as Grand Nobleman’s eyebrows twitched, a rustling sound erupted from the surrounding undergrowth. From the shadows of the brush, dozens of cold, dark shapes emerged.
Click. Clack. Snap.
It was the Maid Corps, and their firearms were leveled directly at the Iron Cavalry.