"Damn it! Don't be too arrogant!" Another roar erupted from the right as a burly, red-faced man stepped forward. He held a peculiar weapon—a kusarigama, a long handle connected to a sharp sickle and a heavy iron ball by a chain.
" Kusarigama Style—Shimazu Shigekuni!"
He stood opposite Isshin, assuming a stance. The chain rattled softly as the sickle blade and iron ball hung one in front of the other, faintly sealing off Isshin's space to dodge left or right.
Isshin's expression remained unchanged as he gave a brief response: "Ashina Style, Isshin."
The moment the words fell, Shimazu Shigekuni moved!
With a flick of his wrist, the heavy iron ball whistled through the air first, arcing toward the ground at Isshin's side to trap his movement and distract him. Simultaneously, he stepped forward, launching the true killing move: the sharp sickle followed immediately after the iron ball, striking silently toward Isshin's ankle like a venomous snake's tongue!
Combining mid-to-long range suppression with eerie assassination strikes was the very essence of kusarigama combat.
Isshin's eyes narrowed slightly. In the lightning-fast interval as the iron ball hit the ground and the sickle struck, his footsteps shifted in a series of intricate movements. His body moved like a feather in the wind, and with near-instinctive precision, he avoided the sickle's strange arc by a hair's breadth. Simultaneously, he retreated half a step, perfectly clearing the potential range of the bouncing iron ball.
Seeing his strike miss, Shimazu Shigekuni immediately changed techniques. He pulled back his arm, the chain clattering as the sickle and iron ball crossed in the air like living things—one aimed to decapitate, the other to sweep the legs, in a continuous onslaught!
However, Isshin seemed to have long since seen through this pattern of interwoven feints and strikes.
He stopped retreating. In the subtle gap where the chain technique had reached its limit and the momentum was shifting, he suddenly took a step forward, and the long sword in his hand finally left its sheath completely!
Clang!
The blade light surged like a reverse snow-white waterfall. It didn't strike the chain or the sickle, but instead thrust with even greater speed and a straighter path directly at Shimazu Shigekuni's central axis, which he had to keep forward to control the chain!
Replacing defense with offense, he went straight for the vitals!
Shimazu Shigekuni was shocked and hurriedly pulled the chain back to parry while sidestepping to dodge.
Clang!
The tip of the sword struck the middle of the chain that had been pulled back in a rush, sending sparks flying.
Isshin's wrist jolted, and a majestic force surged through the chain. Shimazu Shigekuni felt his palms burn, and the chain nearly flew out of his control.
Isshin's momentum was not yet spent. The moment the thrust was blocked, he pressed downward, the blade sliding along the chain. The tsuba slammed heavily into Shimazu Shigekuni's ribs, which were exposed due to his sidestep!
Boom!
"Argh!" Shimazu Shigekuni cried out in pain. His burly frame shuddered violently as he stumbled back, his chain technique completely falling apart, leaving him wide open.
Isshin followed him like a shadow, landing a simple and swift kick right in the center of his chest and abdomen.
Thud!
Shimazu Shigekuni was kicked flying backward. His back slammed into the wall at the edge of the dojo with a dull thud, and he slowly slid down to a sitting position. The kusarigama slipped from his hands, and for a moment, he couldn't stand up again.
Another round, clean and decisive!
'The weapons these people use are truly strange and diverse. Are these guys really swordsmen?'
Isshin complained inwardly.
Meanwhile, the dojo had fallen into a dead silence. Deep wariness and solemnity appeared on the faces of the remaining masters.
Yagyū Sōichirō remained seated in the primary position, his face as calm as still water, as if the victories and defeats in the arena hadn't caused the slightest ripple in his emotions.
His gaze swept over the masters on both sides, who were as quiet as cicadas in winter. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an invisible pressure:
"Is there anyone else willing to step forward and instruct this young swordsman from afar?"
The masters looked at each other. Some subconsciously averted their eyes, some lowered their heads to straighten their already neat collars, and others coughed lightly, stroking their beards with a feigned air of profound thought, as if they were in deep deliberation.
For a time, only the faint rustle of clothing and a slightly awkward silence remained in the dojo.
The bold arrogance they had displayed earlier while competing to shout insults had completely vanished.
"Hmph!"
A heavy, cold snort suddenly broke the silence. Yagyū Sōichirō's tall frame stood up from where he was, the hem of his wide haori fluttering without any wind.
He didn't look at anyone. He simply used the tip of his right foot to seemingly casually flick the end of the dark iron staff lying horizontally on the ground.
Whir!
That incredibly heavy iron staff, made of some unknown material, actually flew up at the touch of his foot, turning into a blurred black shadow that went whistling and spinning toward the center of the dojo!
And Yagyū Sōichirō himself moved at almost the same moment!
His burly figure exploded with an amazing speed that belied his size. Moving even faster than the staff, he caught up to it in mid-air. Reaching out with a hand as large as a cattail fan, he firmly caught the spinning lethal weapon in his palm!
There was no declaration of war, no greeting, and he even skipped the meeting of eyes.
While still in the air, Yagyū Sōichirō used the momentum of his forward charge and descent to grip the middle of the iron staff with both hands. With a ferocious posture capable of splitting mountains and shattering rocks, he smashed it down toward Isshin's head in the center of the field!
Whoosh!
The iron staff tore through the air, letting out a heavy and piercing wail, as if even the air were being crushed and pushed aside by this strike!
Before the staff even arrived, the pure, savage, and suffocating wind pressure rushed at him, violently pulling the stray hairs on Isshin's forehead backward!
Facing this thunderous strike, there was no fear in Isshin's eyes; instead, a burning battle intent ignited.
His muscles bulged. Without dodging or evading, he exhaled a sharp breath. Gripping the hilt with both hands, he performed a straightforward upward slash that condensed his entire body's strength, boldly striking against the wind!
"Well met!"
Clang!!!!!
Sword and staff met, exploding with a metallic roar far more terrifying than any previous collision—one that almost shattered eardrums! Dazzling sparks burst out like fireworks!
An indescribable, violent force surged through the blade. Isshin's specially made hard-soled boots ground against the bluestone floor, making an ear-piercing screeching sound as he slid back more than three feet, plowing two clear furrows into the ground.
His arms felt slightly numb and his blood churned, but his heart skipped a beat with excitement—what incredible strength!
However, the one even more shocked was Yagyū Sōichirō! His certain-hit strike, delivered from above with the advantage of initiative, was actually parried head-on by this youth!?
Furthermore, the counter-shock force coming from the other end of the iron staff was heavy and strong, causing his arms to tremble slightly, almost losing his grip!
'How was this possible?'
He possessed innate strength, coupled with decades of bitter training. The power of his staff was enough to crush boulders and refined steel; ordinary samurai would collapse upon contact. Not only did this youth block it, but he also had the strength to send back a counter-shock?
"Good strength!" Yagyū Sōichirō couldn't help but growl, his surprise instantly transforming into a raging fire of battle.
The muscles in his arms bulged like twisted steel. He pulled the iron staff back and thrust it forward, changing from a smash to a stab. It lunged like a bear emerging from its cave, aimed straight at Isshin's chest and abdomen!
It was faster, and the power was even more concentrated!
"Come!" Isshin laughed loudly, as if the ferocity in his bones had been stirred.
He likewise advanced instead of retreating. Twisting his waist and hips, he held his blade horizontally, using the thick tsuba and spine of the sword as a shield to clash head-on once again!
Thud!!!
The dull sound was like striking a giant bell. Isshin's body shuddered, cracks spreading across the stone tiles beneath his feet, while Yagyū Sōichirō's figure also swayed from the recoil.
Their eyes met, and there was no longer any intent to test each other—only the most primitive clash of power and madness remained!
Bang, bang, bang! Clang, clang, clang!
The center of the dojo instantly turned into the eye of a storm!
Isshin completely abandoned maneuvering and technique. His swordsmanship became grand and heavy, every strike carrying immense weight and a whistle that tore through the air. Whether hacking, slashing, or sweeping, he continuously clashed with that spinning giant black iron staff without any trickery!
Yagyū Sōichirō's staff techniques were even more wild and violent, raining down blows and sweeping through everything, showcasing the aesthetics of power to the extreme.
Stone fragments flew, and dust filled the air.
Every collision made the entire dojo tremble. The onlookers were forced to retreat repeatedly, their faces filled with horror.
This was not at all the kendo match of sophisticated parries and counters they knew; it was two humanoid beasts locked in a struggle using the most savage methods!
However, amidst this suffocating exchange of attacks, the stormy waves in Yagyū Sōichirō's heart grew more and more turbulent.