It was expected that there would be two supre experts present.
One was none other than Leader Regis.
The other would naturally co from Golden Peak's clan.
After all, they wouldn't want half of Eastern Mountain to fall into the hands of either demonic cults or the unorthodox sects.
But no one anticipated a third.
Even when reports ca in, disbelief clouded their judgnt.
A re fourteen-year-old girl?
It had to be a mistake—a misinterpretation of the sword light's trajectory, they thought.
"Impossible…"
Yet, what flowed through that sword was undoubtedly sword energy.
Even if it wasn't fully solidified yet,
That child was undoubtedly a supre expert at the entry-level.
"Everyone, reform the formation!"
A loud voice commanded, breaking the tense silence.
The one wearing a crimson headband, unlike the others, stood out.
Vera instinctively recognized him as the Vice Commander.
As she took a single step forward, thirty-six of the remaining forty n surged into position in unison.
The thirty-six swords ca together to form a sword formation.
It was the second and most lethal battle formation taught to them by the Sword Ghost.
"…The Thirty-Six Blade Blood Heaven Sword. This ti, it won't break so easily," soone muttered with grim determination.
And indeed, their words carried weight.
From five to thirty-six n, the scale had shifted.
The larger the formation, the more varied and deceptive its moves beca.
Their training must have been rigorous, as the thirty-six moved like a single, well-oiled chanism.
"Vera, young warrior," Leader Regis called out.
"Yes, Leader," she responded.
"Leave it to ."
His words held no hesitation, and the way he addressed her was telling.
It wasn't "young lady" or any other title reserved for aristocratic girls.
It was the title reserved for a true warrior of the martial world, a recognition of her skill.
Vera obediently stepped back a few paces,
Stealing a glance at Gareth, who was staring at her.
Her gaze questioned his: Why are you looking at like that?
But instead of answering, Gareth averted his eyes, feigning disinterest.
"Vera, are you alright?"
A familiar voice called out from behind. It was Marcus.
It seed he had arrived alongside Ethan.
"Yes, Senior Brother. I'm unhard."
"Don't push yourself too hard. Rember how you collapsed last ti."
"…I'm fine."
Vera glanced behind her.
Ethan's eyes betrayed his unease.
Of course, it was only natural—he had likely never faced true killing intent before.
Marcus must have coaxed and encouraged him to co this far.
"And you, Senior Brother? Are you alright?" she asked.
"What do you an?"
"We may belong to the unorthodox sect, but we ca here to kill people."
Marcus offered a faint smile and patted Ethan's back.
"This one, it seems, has never truly felt killing intent before."
"W-What? And have you, Senior Brother, killed soone before?" Ethan stamred.
"I've never killed anyone myself…"
Marcus trailed off, his words catching under Vera's scrutinizing gaze.
A brief, wry smile crossed his face.
"I've co close to being killed by soone, though."
"What? What does that even an?"
"This isn't the ti for stories. Let's focus on surviving for now."
At that mont, a thunderous explosion resounded from ahead.
BOOM!
The deafening roar was the sound of Leader Regis's Demon-Cleaving Spear slamming into the thirty-six blades.
"Is he insane?!"
"What kind of monstrous strength…!"
The cries of the thirty-six were mixed with shock and disbelief as they staggered backward several steps.
No wonder—seven of their blades had already shattered.
"Co at , you spiny little porcupines!"
Leader Regis's taunt rang loud and clear.
The trembling of their bodies, and by extension their swords, revealed their fear.
It was a laughable sight—just a group of frightened porcupines curling up defensively.
What good was the legendary Thirty-Six Blade Blood Heaven Sword, a signature of the Demonic Cult,
If the individual swords couldn't even generate proper sword light?
Against a supre expert who could wield sword energy,
Even thirty-six steel blades were no more than needles in the hands of ants.
And now, seven of those needles were broken.
The truth was clear: formations were a tool for the weak to challenge the strong.
But even that required the assumption that their weapons wouldn't shatter.
To face a supre expert with a formation composed of ordinary first-rate martial artists?
The very concept of martial arts revolved around surpassing numbers with overwhelming strength.
If re numbers were enough to prevail, then…
Why would titles like supre expert even exist?
"Hold the line! Create an opening! I will finish this!"
The Vice Commander shouted, raising his sword high.
The blade shimred, bathed in blinding sword light.
The sight reignited the morale of the remaining warriors, and they let out fierce battle cries.
It was almost amusing—believing that their sword light would be enough to save them.
They believed that if they ford the Combined Formation, they could create an opening to kill even a mid-tier supre expert.
Belief creates montum, and montum turns into overwhelming pressure.
Even if it ant certain death, they burned with resolve.
"Let's go!"
"The Vice Commander is with us! If we kill him, Leader Regis will be dealt with by the Clan Master!"
"Attack!!"
The first-rate warriors who made up the formation began to produce synchronized resonance.
It was the sound of swords singing—the Sword Chi.
Among them, one or two even managed to generate faint sword light beyond the chi.
"…Fine, co at . I'll snap every one of your necks."
In response, Regis infused his spear with overwhelming inner energy.
The clash was inevitable.
A fierce wind whipped into a storm as the two forces collided,
A tornado of dust and chaos erupting at the epicenter of their battle.
Through the haze, Vera saw it.
The inevitability created by blood.
A chance born of coincidence.
"Haahhh!!!"
Two or three of them sacrificed themselves.
As the spear thrust into their broken blades, they willingly threw their bodies onto it.
Gripping the embedded spear shaft, they clung to it with all their might.
"Y-You bastards!!"
It might have been manageable if it were just one person.
But three warriors, willing to die, clung to the spear,
Their bodies pierced through, rendering the spear immobile.
It was impossible to wield the weapon effectively anymore.
And in that brief opening…
A crimson blade surged toward Regis's throat,
The blade wielded by the Vice Commander.
"For the Clan Master's vengeance!!!"
But at that mont, a pitch-black blade intercepted the crimson sword.
When did she…?
The sa question flashed in both Regis's and the Vice Commander's minds.
For Vera, it was no surprise.
Not because her movent techniques had reached perfection,
But because she had seen it.
The Vice Commander's crimson blade, riding the bloodline created by the broken defense of Regis's Demon-Cleaving Spear.
A line of red that connected the two.
The mont the spear was caught, the Vice Commander's blade followed that line flawlessly.
In that fleeting instant, a re breath of ti,
The chance was clear to her—a path for the sword.
Vera moved the mont the spear was caught.
There was only one opening,
And the trajectory of the sword was already visible to her.
All she had to do was et it first.
"That vengeance belongs to ."
Her Falling Blossom Sword struck like a shadow,
Piercing through the gap in the chaos.
Squelch.
The black blade drove through the Vice Commander's right wrist.
"Aaaahhh!!!"
"This is the end."
With a cold and calm expression, Vera swung her sword.
The Vice Commander's wrist was severed diagonally,
His blade clattering to the ground, its brilliance extinguished without its master.
"Vera, young warrior."
"You were in danger," she said simply.
Several surviving warriors, stunned by the turn of events, thrust their blades toward her in desperation.
Vera effortlessly parried and deflected their attacks.
"How… How did you know?" one of them stamred.
"I saw it. But first, shouldn't we focus on the current situation?"
"…Understood."
Regis cast aside his skeptical gaze and nodded.
Vera stepped aside, noticing the gathering of imnse inner energy in his right hand.
From her position to his diagonal flank,
The First Form of the Fiery Blade clan Spear Arts was unleashed.
Piercing Strike to Break the Horde.
A single strike that obliterated all in its path.
BOOM!
Once again, the deafening sound of Thunderclap Explosion echoed,
And the thirty-six warriors were thrown backward like autumn leaves caught in a gale.
"Attack them all!"
Seizing the mont, Regis barked his command.
The broken formation was swiftly overwheld as twenty vagrant warriors surged forward,
Tearing through their ranks.
"Aaahh! My arm, my arm!!"
"rcy! Please spare !"
"Gaaahhh!!!"
The scene devolved into carnage.
The stench of blood thickened, filling the air with an iron tang.
Vera inhaled deeply,
Letting the sweet taste of blood settle in her lungs.
The rising malevolent energy within her was quelled as she directed it toward her Black dragon,
Its devouring aura absorbing her violent energy.
The act left her shrouded in a faint killing intent,
Her hair and sleeves rippling from the force of her inner energy.
"…Haa."
But not all enemies had fallen.
A few cunning survivors targeted Ethan and Marcus,
Believing that the young warriors could not possibly be supre experts.
Their calculation was sound.
What they hadn't accounted for was that Vera would never let them pass. Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire
Swoosh. Splatter.
Her Falling Blossom Sword, cloaked in sword energy, sliced through one of the attackers,
Severing his upper body from his lower half.
The man's torso twisted in midair before crashing to the ground in two pieces.
Ethan witnessed the grueso display in full.
"Ugh… Th-that… Ugh…"
"Ethan, Senior Brother. Steel yourself," Vera said firmly.
"Y-yes… Of course."
Vera wiped the blood splatter from her cheek,
And without hesitation, leapt back into the fray.
Her long, dark blade weaved through the battlefield,
Each swing leaving crimson arcs that danced in the air like petals.
Like blossoming flowers of blood,
The crimson Cherry blossoms of her sword technique painted the battlefield.
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