The Almighty Martial Arts System - Chapter 262

Liu Yunduo’s strength had indeed surged. Before she made her move, most people in the courtyard hadn’t even noticed her arrival—let alone seen how she drew her sword.

Even Yamamoto Wakamizu, who had been overwhelming Su Mengnan and disarming him in under ten moves, was caught off guard. All she saw was a flash of steel before her blade was knocked away mid-strike.

A chill ran down her spine. Even without Miyamoto’s warning, she knew she stood no chance against Liu Yunduo. She’d never imagined the Kendo Alliance’s leader could be this terrifying.

“No wonder she defeated Senior Brother Fujino… How can someone so young wield a sword like this?!”

Su Mengnan, meanwhile, was still wide-eyed with shock. Yamamoto’s attack had been ruthless—he’d been certain his leg was done for.

Then, like a blade descending from the heavens, Liu Yunduo appeared. Her long hair flowed like a celestial maiden’s, and for a moment, Su Mengnan felt the absurd urge to weep with gratitude.

“Leader! You came just in time!” He clutched his chest dramatically, playing the frightened fop.

Liu Yunduo shot him a withering glare. “Serves you right. Maybe losing a leg would’ve knocked some sense into you.”

Su Mengnan pouted. “I was just trying to help…”

“Help? By rattling Miyamoto’s focus before the duel?” She scoffed. “Your tricks might work on your spoiled friends, but do you really think Japan’s sword saints will bow to your sharp tongue? If words won wars, the world would be at peace!”

She was equal parts exasperated and amused. Did Su Mengnan truly believe a master like Miyamoto could be unsettled by petty taunts?

For a second, she’d almost let Yamamoto cut him. If this fool ever regained control of the alliance, it’d be a disaster.

“Get lost. Embarrass us like this again, and I’ll beat you senseless.”

“…Yes, ma’am.” Su Mengnan slunk backward like a scolded puppy.

Not even his father could reduce him to such meek obedience.

Miyamoto, meanwhile, gestured for Yamamoto to retreat, clearing the courtyard for the duel.

“China never ceases to produce remarkable talents,” he said, his voice calm. “Leader Liu, your skill surprises me—but so does your character. You face challenges head-on, without deceit. No wonder you’ve achieved so much, so young.” A faint nod. “My disciple Fujino was outclassed. His defeat was deserved.”

Liu Yunduo tilted her head. “You surprise me too.”

“Then know this: I will fight you with my full strength.” Miyamoto’s gaze sharpened. “You are worthy of my drawn blade.”

“‘Worthy of drawing your sword’?” Liu Yunduo’s eyes narrowed. “Is that all?”

The phrase sounded like praise—but to a warrior, it was a veiled insult.

“Worthy” meant she wasn’t his equal. That once his blade left its sheath, her loss was inevitable.

Miyamoto simply smiled.

“Keep smiling. Let’s see how long it lasts.”

With a gust of wind, Liu Yunduo vanished.

One blink, and she was already at Miyamoto’s throat, her sword a silver streak.

This strike was faster, leaner, and deadlier than anything she’d shown at the Central Martial Arts Hall a month prior. Though it targeted a dozen vital points, the motion seemed deceptively plain—no flourishes, no wasted movement.

Su Mengnan’s jaw dropped. “Wait… this looks like Jiang Fei’s style! Plain but lethal. Did she spend her seclusion rebuilding her technique around his principles?”

He was right. Liu Yunduo had refined her swordsmanship, stripping away ornamentation to focus on one truth:

A sword’s purpose is to kill.

Where her strikes once whistled through the air, they now cut soundlessly, as if slicing through void itself.

Yet for all her progress, she lacked Jiang Fei’s mastery of “No-Sword, No-Form”. She still attacked first, still relied on technique.

True formlessness was beyond her.

(And likely beyond Miyamoto too. Perhaps only Jiang Fei had ever grasped it…)

But if Liu Yunduo was lightning, Miyamoto was light itself.

His draw was too fast to see—not the twin blades she expected, but a single katana, gripped with both hands.

Shing!

The air around him exploded with blade intent, a storm of invisible edges that stalled Liu Yunduo’s thrust mid-air. Her unstoppable momentum shattered against his will.

In battle, momentum is everything. Lose it, and you’ve already lost.

Clang—!

Steel shrieked. To onlookers, the exchange was a blur—Liu Yunduo’s offense reversed in an instant as Miyamoto unleashed a Sevenfold Slash.

Bam! Bam! Bam—!

Each strike drove Liu Yunduo back, her feet cracking the stone tiles. On the seventh blow, her sword splintered into shards.

Had she lacked internal energy, the first slash would’ve cleaved her in two.

Now disarmed, with Miyamoto still advancing, Su Mengnan and the others screamed internally.

How could she survive this?

Then—a breeze stirred.

Instead of retreating, Liu Yunduo swayed like a willow, her sleeves billowing as if gathering wind. The shattered blade fragments hovered mid-air, then shot forward like bullets, a deadly hail aimed at Miyamoto’s heart.

A move no one saw coming.

Yet Miyamoto’s eyes lit up with delight.

For the first time, his left hand drew the second blade—Muramasa, the Demon Sword.

Twin katanas whirled, weaving an impenetrable net that deflected every shard. Some even reversed course, forcing Liu Yunduo to leap back empty-handed.

“Leader—CATCH!” Su Mengnan hurled his sword.

Liu Yunduo snatched it mid-air without looking, landing in a ready stance.

One blade against two.

Ten meters apart, their gazes locked—tension thicker than steel.