Every single sword stroke from Yagyu Munenori was imbued with an overwhelming, domineering force. Each swing seemed capable of cleaving mountains and parting rivers. Even before a strike landed, the snowflakes ahead would be swept clear, like a tranquil sea suddenly churned by colossal waves. Those with weaker strength would be wounded by the mere sword energy alone.
Yet, Jiang Fei was like a small boat amidst these towering waves. Though rocked violently by the storm, it never capsized, navigating steadily and safely. Every seemingly casual sword swing he made was, in fact, the most optimal and exquisite strike, always finding the single most stable point within Yagyu Munenori’s tempestuous swordplay, emerging unscathed.
‘What kind of sword technique is this? How can it be so profound? Even though I have comprehended the realm where ‘no sword surpasses having a sword’, achieving what could be considered mastery, reaching the pinnacle of swordsmanship… why can’t I harm him?’ No matter how much of a grandmaster Yagyu Munenori was, or how much he embodied the demeanor of a top expert, he couldn’t help the astonishment rising within him at this moment.
He could clearly sense that Jiang Fei’s realm in swordsmanship cultivation was not as high as his own. Although Jiang Fei could also use any grass or wood as a sword, unleashing the formidable power of any blade type, he had evidently not yet achieved true mastery of the sword.
In Yagyu Munenori’s view, Jiang Fei seemed more like he had grasped a supreme, ultimate truth of the sword path, learned a method of applying swordsmanship, which endowed him with this ability to dismantle all sword techniques.
This kind of swordsmanship caused a faint tremor in Yagyu Munenori’s confidence—confidence that had always believed his own sword path was flawless, capable of sweeping across all sword styles under heaven.
The Iaido drawing technique was peerlessly exquisite, arguably the most powerful sword move in the entire island nation. But within the martial world of China, could the sword intent derived from his technique still be considered the strongest? Witnessing Jiang Fei’s unfathomable, almost ghostly swordsmanship, Yagyu Munenori felt a sensation akin to what Miyamoto Ichizen had once experienced facing him.
Back then, the proud and arrogant Miyamoto Ichizen, who believed his dual-sword style could overpower the single-sword style, had his pride severely deflated after being defeated by Yagyu Munenori. He no longer dared to consider the dual-sword style the strongest. In fact, during over a decade of seclusion that followed, while he didn’t abandon the dual-sword style, he found himself unconsciously contemplating Yagyu Munenori’s techniques, beginning to study the single-sword style!
Now, Yagyu Munenori himself felt a strong urge to peer into the true essence of Jiang Fei’s sword technique, a desire to study and unravel it.
Of course, Yagyu Munenori had not been defeated by Jiang Fei. In fact, it was impossible for him to be defeated by Jiang Fei.
“Hah!”
After another mid-air clash of their wooden swords, both figures plummeted like cannonballs. Watching Jiang Fei, who used the Wudang Cloud-Ladder Soaring technique to stabilize himself in the air, leveraging the advantage of pressing down from above, Yagyu Munenori let out a low shout. His right hand gripping the wooden sword trembled and shook incessantly, making it impossible to discern which point he intended to attack.
Simultaneously, he abandoned all defense, transforming his entire body into a sword, as if merging his very being with the wooden blade. He poured his all into propelling the sword, thrusting towards Jiang Fei!
Body transformed into a sword, with no retreat. This strike represented his resolute decision, a desperate, all-out move where he let go of everything. He no longer borrowed power from the heavens and earth; he only harnessed his own strength, converging it entirely into this single thrust.
Swish!
Therefore, this strike was exceptionally fast, its lethality extraordinarily great. It was as if Yagyu Munenori had become a meteor streaking across the sky, defying the current to shoot upwards towards Jiang Fei.
Jiang Fei, thrusting downwards from mid-air, having already executed the Wudang Cloud-Ladder Soaring technique, naturally had no room to evade. He could only passively engage. However, the silver lining was that while Yagyu Munenori’s all-out, no-holds-barred move represented immense power and speed unattainable under normal circumstances, in exchanging everything for killing force, it often meant losing the crucial balance of swordsmanship, becoming obsessive, bordering on a demonic sword.
A demonic sword may possess overwhelming lethality, but it inevitably harbors fatal flaws and vulnerabilities. There is always a trade-off.
This was akin to cultivation secret arts in fantasy novels that could drastically boost one’s power in a short time, but afterward, side effects would set in, causing one’s strength to plummet, even leaving one utterly powerless for an extended period.
Looking at Yagyu Munenori surging upwards against the flow, Jiang Fei easily discerned three flaws and weaknesses in this move—the most vulnerabilities Yagyu Munenori had shown since their duel began.
To neutralize Yanagi Seiji, Jiang Fei didn’t need to exploit all three flaws; targeting just one would be enough to claim the old master’s life. However, the moment Jiang Fei exploited a flaw to kill Yagyu Munenori, the overwhelming lethality Yagyu Munenori gained in exchange for that flaw would very likely also claim Jiang Fei’s life!
Put simply, Yagyu Munenori, forced into a corner by Jiang Fei, had chosen a mutually destructive tactic—inflicting heavy losses on the enemy at great cost to himself—to fight desperately.
As for who would live and who would die, it would depend on fate, on whose luck held out.
Jiang Fei’s eyes turned sharp. He did not retreat, nor could he. He advanced resolutely!
Clang!
Like Mars colliding with Earth, in the blink of an eye, their figures had already crossed paths.
This move lacked the domineering force of the drawing technique or the eeriness of the clone slash. It was simply clean, efficient, without the slightest hesitation. By the time the onlookers registered what happened, both men had already landed on the ground, standing back-to-back a dozen meters apart, their wooden swords still held in the attacking posture from their final strikes.
After fighting for so long, the two finally came to a stop. It was as if a deafeningly noisy factory had suddenly fallen silent. The world returned to stillness, with only the sound of the howling wind. Pure white snowflakes finally began to settle on both Jiang Fei and Yagyu Munenori.
One flake, two flakes, three flakes…
All the spectators widened their eyes, not daring to breathe, their gazes fixed intently on the two figures, desperate to see the outcome of that final exchange—who had won, who had lost, whether one would fall.
One second, two seconds, three seconds…
Suddenly, the fabric of Jiang Fei’s robe at his abdomen split open. A stream of crimson blood welled up, staining his clothes and the settling snowflakes a bright red.
Simultaneously, on Yagyu Munenori’s broad, bare chest—adorned with what some might call distinctive chest hair—the skin and flesh suddenly tore open. A long wound, like a fissure, cracked apart!
Yagyu Munenori lowered his head to look at his chest. There was no fury or shame on his face. His smile remained gentle, a look of generous resignation as he sighed, “Injured. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the taste of being wounded. Good, very good…”
Jiang Fei turned his head back and said earnestly, “Please don’t show off right now.”
