"What's the point of shouting? Go on, show me."
If Raiden actually stopped talking just because Shinazugawa told him to, that would be a loss on his part.
Hadn't Shinazugawa been the one talking big earlier? This was only the beginning.
Half a morning had already passed, yet Shinazugawa still had not grasped the entrance to the Transparent World.
Shinazugawa shot him a sharp glare, then ignored him completely and continued searching for the feeling Raiden had described.
Azure wind blades flickered across the courtyard.
Watching him gradually settle, Raiden gave a slight nod.
Not bad.
Even if Shinazugawa had not reached the Transparent World yet, at least his emotions had stabilized.
Shinazugawa's gaze sharpened, fixed straight ahead. His Nichirin Blade trembled faintly, as if waiting for the perfect moment.
He repeated Raiden's words in his mind, adjusting his breathing, refining every movement.
"Control your breathing, use the smallest motion to release the greatest power…"
His stance grew smoother.
Then he moved.
"Wind Breathing, Sixth Form, Black Wind Mountain Mist!"
With a low roar, his blade cut upward in a sharp arc. A powerful gust followed, tearing through the air as a dark wind surged forward.
The attack twisted like a raging storm, rushing straight toward Raiden.
Raiden did not react immediately. His expression remained calm as he watched the incoming strike.
Then he stepped.
A simple movement, light and effortless, as if his body had no weight.
The attack passed him cleanly.
The wind brushed against his clothes, sharp and violent, proof of its force.
Behind him, the strike slammed into the courtyard.
The ground split open in a clean, deep line. Stones shattered and scattered in every direction.
The attack did not stop there.
It crashed straight into the rock formation nearby.
With a loud impact, the structure collapsed instantly. Large chunks broke apart, debris scattering across the courtyard as dust filled the air.
In seconds, the place was left in ruins.
Shinazugawa stared at the destruction, his eyes widening slightly.
He knew his own strength.
This was different.
He had used less effort than usual, yet the power was far greater than before.
So this is it…
The Transparent World.
A faint sense of satisfaction rose in him, and he gave a small nod.
"What are you nodding for?" Raiden's voice cut in. "You think that was impressive?"
Before Shinazugawa could react, Raiden appeared right in front of him.
Their faces were barely a fist apart.
Shinazugawa instinctively leaned back, irritation flashing across his face. He turned away, refusing to respond.
This guy was definitely doing it on purpose.
"Not talking?" Raiden smirked faintly. "Then watch carefully. I'll show you what that form is supposed to look like."
He slowly drew his Nichirin Blade.
The blade had been golden, but as he breathed, a cool azure color spread from the hilt, swallowing the gold completely.
The light flowed like water, carrying a quiet, chilling presence.
Shinazugawa's eyes narrowed.
Azure?
Nichirin Blades changed color based on the user's breathing. That much was certain.
So why did Raiden's blade shift like this?
Was he using Wind Breathing too?
Teaching the Wind Hashira his own style?
Shinazugawa let out a low scoff, though his focus did not waver.
Raiden's strength might be higher, but when it came to mastery of Wind Breathing, Shinazugawa trusted his own experience.
Raiden ignored him.
His expression turned serious, his gaze sharpening.
In an instant, his presence changed.
The air around him seemed to still.
He leaned forward slightly, entering complete focus.
His blade rose, glowing with a cold azure light under the sun.
With each breath, that light deepened, as if even the air was being drawn into it.
Then he moved.
A slight flick of the wrist.
The blade traced a clean arc.
An azure wind gathered, silent and restrained, hanging in the air without a single sound.
Yet the pressure it carried was suffocating.
"Wind Breathing, Sixth Form, Black Wind Mountain Mist."
The moment the words left his mouth, the attack surged forward.
A dark current cut through the air, swift and precise, like a shadow tearing across the sky.
Unlike Shinazugawa's earlier strike, this one made almost no noise.
But its presence was overwhelming.
The air split cleanly along its path, as if it had been sliced apart.
There was no wasted movement, no excess force.
Only precision.
Shinazugawa's eyes locked onto it, his body instinctively tensing.
Even without impact, the pressure alone made his skin sting, like countless invisible blades brushing against him.
The attack flew straight toward a wooden stake ahead, one already marked by years of training.
That stake was made of ironwood, dense and durable.
Even Shinazugawa had to put real strength into leaving marks on it.
Yet in the next moment, it meant nothing.
The blade passed through.
No sound.
No resistance.
The stake split cleanly in two, the surface smooth as a mirror, as if it had never been whole to begin with.
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Patreon = _Zeph