Not a Crossguard, but the Crossguard
"It's a Japanese sword."
William slowly observed the sword Yasuo held. The blade measured two feet—about sixty centimeters. A single-edged weapon defined by its gentle curve.
He possessed a decent amount of knowledge about Japanese swords. That was only natural; they appeared like clockwork in any work connected to Japan. Even foreign films trotted them out at every opportunity, so while he might not know their swordsmanship, he understood exactly what kind of blade it was.
"A sword built for slashing. I heard its durability was poor in the medieval era."
Japanese swords of that period were notorious for their fragility. He judged it might even be possible to deliberately strike and snap one if he committed to the effort.
"And if it's focused on cutting, it'll rely mainly on the middle section."
Because of the single edge, neither the tip nor the base could deliver meaningful damage, so the wielder would favor slashes using the center of the blade.
Finishing his brief analysis, William spoke.
"I'll give you a handicap. No—three moves should be plenty."
This bastard...
He had already been grating on Yasuo's nerves before the duel, and now he piled provocation on top. Above all else, Yasuo could not tolerate being casually treated as inferior. A swordsman's pride would never allow it.
Yet he remained motionless, like a statue. No—he couldn't move.
Proposing a duel with such confidence means he's certain of victory.
At a glance, the man was no weaker than him. At best they were equals; at worst, Yasuo faced a superior swordsman. The blade also looked a foot and a half longer, so any reckless charge would be checked from a distance.
That was why he couldn't move rashly. Falling for the provocation would be no different from walking into his own execution.
Yasuo settled into his stance, eyes sunken.
"I gave you space. Aren't you coming?"
"...Hmph."
He's the next successor of the Hainan Sword Sect, so he should at least be artisan rank. That means he can use aura, right?
Yasuo could use aura as well. He simply hadn't yet determined how the man intended to wield it. There were martial artists who employed aura in bizarre ways, and the possibilities were endless. He needed to figure that out first.
Let's test the waters.
"If you won't come, then I will."
William approached with a deceptively loose gait, as if inviting an attack. Neither fast nor slow—yet every step looked ready to explode into a single, lethal cut.
Yasuo did not swing. Just as a carnivorous plant lures prey with sweet scent, he recognized that William's movements existed only to provoke a response.
The distance shrank to three steps—close enough that Yasuo could hear his own swallow. William's sword hovered at a vital point, yet Yasuo would need to step forward to reach him with a slash.
William openly sneered at the man who showed no intention of attacking.
"How can this be called a fight when you're so intimidated? Strong against the weak, weak against the strong—what a waste of the samurai name."
Yasuo ground his teeth. He had lost every subordinate, was surrounded, and entered the duel already wounded. There was no room for aggression.
"You think I'd fall for such cheap provocation?"
"Suit yourself."
The moment the words left his mouth, William's sword thrust forward—a probing stab. An obvious feint. Yasuo simply stepped aside without swinging, letting the blade pass. William retracted smoothly and returned to Ox Guard, defense once more solid.
"Coward."
"Nonsense."
With Yasuo's reply, William's sword carved a diagonal arc—a plain slash, no technique whatsoever. Dangerous if it landed, yet even a third-rate swordsman could deflect it.
Feeling puzzled, Yasuo caught the strike on his blade. The swords slid as though oiled. A soft blow, as if William had never meant to commit in the first place.
William returned to his starting stance and drew the sword vertically this time. Neither heavy nor light, the blade tapped the Japanese sword, rebounded gently, and settled back into position. Because he always recovered into defense immediately after attacking, Yasuo found no opening to counter.
Finally unable to endure it, Yasuo spoke.
"Are you mocking me?"
"Who knows..."
William let the words trail off, then swung from upper right to lower left while dropping his posture. The tip naturally aligned with Yasuo's heart.
Pflug.
The plow stance—hilt at the hip, point raised at an angle, ready to thrust. William met Yasuo's gaze.
From that stance, the next move is a thrust—
Before the thought finished, the sword in William's hand shot forward like an arrow. Yasuo raised his blade diagonally—the optimal angle to stop a thrust—and tried to deflect the charging giant's attack outward.
Got it!
Yasuo's sword, reacting at the last instant, shoved William's blade aside. Exactly as expected, William rotated with the momentum and retreated a step.
Yasuo understood in that moment: if he remained on the defensive, he would die without landing a single blow. The opponent was crushing him without ever showing a real attack.
I'm being completely toyed with.
With the initiative stolen, every action—attack or defense—danced to William's rhythm. To reverse it...
I have to seize the initiative back!
Yasuo's right foot stepped forward, following William's movement. His sword drew a crimson arc, swinging with enough force to cleave William's waist in two. At the same time, William's blade blazed with blue light.
Aura.
What the East called sword qi. The colliding crystals of destruction erupted in a shockwave that rattled the harbor.
"Now you're getting serious?"
"Let's see how long you can keep blocking!"
Yasuo poured out every technique he knew—downward strikes, slashes, thrusts, spinning cuts—each blow heavy with killing intent. William calmly adjusted his aura output and deflected them all. The longsword swordsmanship he had learned excelled at both unbreakable defense and sudden offense.
Slipping through the storm of strikes, William closed the distance and locked blades. The swords caught, then the crossguards slammed together.
Face to face, swords crossed, William bore down with his size and strength.
"Hey. Do you know this saying?"
"What nonsense are you spouting now, you oaf?"
"We have one on our side: never give ground to a knight."
William pressed his thumb firmly against the flat of his blade. One of the core techniques that made longsword swordsmanship the art of knights revealed itself.
"When you reach the afterlife, bow your head to the men you killed."
William's sword began to rotate outward around the crossguard. Yasuo, straining to hold the lock, could not follow the sudden motion.
The back edge!
The rotating blade tore a long gash across Yasuo's chest. The armor, reinforced only by sword qi, turned what should have been a fatal wound into a grave injury.
Like the veteran he was, Yasuo gritted his teeth and kept his grip. It wasn't fatal yet—if he could counterattack...
Damn it!
Before he could recover his stance, William's sword swung again—a diagonal cut so fierce the air itself seemed to tear. Yasuo staggered but managed to block the strike aimed at his neck.
Blocked—!?
The instant the thought formed, William stepped forward as though crossing blades and seized the upper part of his own sword with his left hand. A swordsman gripping the naked edge—an unthinkable act. Before Yasuo's confusion could clear, William drove both hands downward like a guillotine.
Unable to resist the crushing force, Yasuo's posture collapsed. In the next heartbeat the blade bit deep into the side of his neck.
"This... I don't want to die..."
"Farewell."
William's aura-wreathed sword sliced cleanly through Yasuo's throat. The head of the swordsman who had drenched Hainan Island in blood rolled across the harbor stones, trailing crimson.
"How is Young Hero Ha-jin's condition?"
"He's past the worst of it. But you... that head..."
"I told you I'd bring it before sunrise."
I set the severed head on a convenient rock and leaned against it, catching my breath. He hadn't been an especially difficult opponent, yet there had been some value in the experience.
"Uncle!"
"You're not hurt, are you?"
"No! I'm fine! What about you, Uncle?!"
"As you can see—not a scratch. Rest easy."
After a brief exchange with Hye-ryeong, I turned back to the sect leader.
When our eyes met, he spoke.
"We'll finish our talk after we return."
He was right—evacuating the wounded came first. Carrying an injured martial artist on my back, I joined their procession heading home.