The Extreme Sword Dragon (10)
"Know what?"
She spun into a dance of living flames, and in a single heartbeat I was hurled to the far edge of the arena. The cuff of my sleeve, barely kissed by the fire, flashed metallic gold before detonating in a violent blaze. I snapped my head back to escape the explosion, and her voice slid directly into my skull.
The realization hit like a hammer. Of course she was older than me by a considerable margin, and I already knew she had stepped into that exalted stage early in life. The gap in cultivation was one thing, but her age? How had I forgotten?
"Why the shocked face again?"
A sharp crackle cut the air as two fluttering sleeves whipped toward my left side. I slashed them aside, and she leaned in close once more, her voice threading through my mind like silk over a blade.
She was right. Having undergone complete bodily rebirth, she would remain frozen in the prime of her youth forever. Reliable information on the priestesses of the western Fire-Worshipping Cult was nearly nonexistent. A perfect deception.
As much as it stung, I had to admit the truth. If she had truly reached the Transcendent realm, the fact that I was still breathing was a miracle in itself.
Obviously. If she had wanted to throw the match, she could have pretended to clash with me and collapsed at any time.
That was the requirement. That was the outcome I needed. That was the resolve I carried. I had chosen to become the Dragon Phoenix, and no matter who stood before me, I had to win. Her words left a bitter taste, yet on this point I could only agree. I readjusted my grip on the sword and dispersed the Sword Qi surrounding it.
Waves of golden fire surged from every direction. Rather than evade as I had before, I chose to meet them head-on. Enveloping my blade in inner energy, I brought it down with the will to sever all things in two.
Yet the sea of flames refused to part. My sword sliced uselessly through empty fire, and the inferno swallowed me whole.
The scorching agony washed over me in full. I raised my sword once more. Only then did I truly understand: Nazar had not used her full power until this moment. From here on, she would fight without restraint.
Countless souls across the world place their faith in gods. Some believe Buddha will guide them to paradise and spend their lives refining their inner hearts. Their insight runs deep; their patience is boundless. Others trust that the Primordial Heavenly Venerable will cleanse the chaos destined to engulf the world and follow his Dao until their final breath. Their conduct is upright, their minds crystal clear.
They worship different gods, follow different paths, uphold different laws. Yet does the principle that all streams ultimately return to one apply even here?
Martial artists who possess genuine faith are almost always strong. The deity they venerate may be vague in form, something they have never once laid eyes on in their entire lives, yet that very god makes them powerful. Even though it is not a god that symbolizes martial arts itself.
It is faith that lights the way. That path of devotion forges their swords into something sharper, harder, deadlier.
Fwoooosh.
Then what would happen if a believer like this existed? A woman who followed her god with blind, fanatical devotion, for whom the path her god offered was the very tyranny of power itself, and who had witnessed that god with her own eyes?
She would reach the end of the martial path.
Roooar.
Yes. It was that simple.
The flames roared without pause, fiercer and more savage than anything she had displayed before, as though everything until now had been nothing more than a polite warm-up. She intended to break through me from the front. Even a Transcendent who had undergone rebirth possessed only average external defense without specialized training, and her realm was still restricted. My calculations said it was possible.
But that entire line of thinking collapsed the moment its single unconscious premise proved false.
Fwoooosh.
The premise had been that my sword could pierce those flames.
My strikes refused to land cleanly. The blazing waves neutralized both my sword techniques and my Sword Qi.
"Can't get through, can you?"
My blade seemed to cut the fire, yet the moment it neared her grasp the power bled away. I forced it through with everything I had, but all I severed was a scrap of cloth that instantly turned to ash.
"Why do you think that is? Before, it was because I avoided your sword path, but your flames still cut through just fine."
The fire condensed into a sharp spearhead and shot forward. I twisted aside using the Heaven-Suppressing Divine Step, scattering the flames before thrusting my sword into the opening. A clean hit in the space of a single breath.
"The reason is simple," she said.
Yet the wound was barely a half-inch deep. She ignored it as if it were nothing, sharpening her nails with flame and charging again.
"You've grown weaker. To be precise—"
Our weapons clashed once more.
"—it's because you're suppressing your own strength."
Suppressing it? I could understand becoming weaker. My realm had dropped, the madness and killing intent had been scrubbed from my sword, and the only trait left in my technique was speed, both its greatest strength and its fatal flaw. But the word suppress made no sense.
Suppression implied I had once been noticeably stronger than I was now, yet I had never reached a higher state than this.
"Hmm… you still haven't felt it?"
She tilted her head as if pondering, then her body snapped like a drawn bow and vanished from my sight. I couldn't track her. When she reappeared, she was already directly in front of me.
The flames had taken on a deep crimson hue. Their speed, power, and heat surpassed anything I could hope to overcome.
"…Insane."
This was practically the next realm beyond Transcendence. No, it might as well be. Blocking with my sword would do nothing but waste my strength. Trying to stop that inferno with a narrow blade was like throwing eggs at a boulder. I circulated every ounce of energy I possessed, pulled my body back, and shielded my vital points as best I could.
The crimson flame struck true. It devoured my entire reserve of inner energy, then twisted and wrapped around me, setting my whole body ablaze. The threat was overwhelming. The Poison Dragon's half-hearted attacks from before were nothing in comparison, nor was the desperate, uncoordinated assault by the Demonic Cult members when I had been their greatest threat.
For a moment the red fire filled my vision and I saw the reaper standing behind it.
I'm going to die.
The moment that thought formed, an inexplicable vitality flooded my limbs. Every sense sharpened to a razor's edge. Every muscle swelled and contracted to its absolute limit.
Boom!
The power behind my sword changed. Even without full Sword Qi, the edge was honed at least fifty percent sharper. Far faster, far more precise, it reached Nazar in an instant. Her pupils dilated. She swept her hand upward, raising a wall of flame.
"…As I thought!"
The wall tore apart like paper. My sword reached her. The cut was two or three times longer and deeper than before.
Huh?
Now that I thought about it, this had happened once before. A year ago, when I sparred with my master, the brief taste of life-or-death crisis had caused me to unleash a flood of killing techniques. The pinnacle of lethal swordplay I had only been capable of during my days immersed in the Demonic Cult. I should never draw that forth again.
Yet the thick scent of blood on my blade enchanted me before I could stop myself.
"…Just a moment."
I realized I could never defeat her without it. Hadn't I seen the proof? If I borrowed that killing sword for even a short while, I could slice through those annoying flames with far greater ease.
"…No. I can't."
I wrestled with myself. The first compromise always leads to a second and a third. Even if my blade had grown dull and I could no longer shed blood, I had to remain upright. Hadn't I sworn it? In the face of that miserable, wretched death, I had promised myself.
But my body was already moving toward her throat.
The sword flew, scattering blood in chaotic arcs. At the same time my reason blurred, and the internal conflict tilted further toward violence. I lost track of how long I swung in that trance. I simply focused every ounce of awareness on the tip of my blade and kept cutting.
Then I heard her voice.
"…It seems I've lost."
Nazar stood drenched in blood. Her white veil had turned scarlet, and elegant skin was carved with deep sword wounds. I dropped my blade at once. In the chaos of my mind I barely managed to regain control of my sanity.
What the hell did I just…
While I stood reeling, she coughed up thick gouts of blood, yet somehow looked delighted as she picked up the sword I had discarded and offered it back to me. A faint, ecstatic smile graced her lips.
"See? You're stronger like this."
The bloodstained path you cannot help but chase. That is your true nature.