On the battlefield.
Yagyu Souichirou forced down the turbulent blood and Cakra in his chest. He looked at the youth standing proudly in the snowstorm a short distance away—one hand casually holding a katana upside down, the other resting a heavy halberd on his shoulder. The boy's eyes burned with the fire of battle, looking as if he didn't even know the meaning of the word "fatigue."
Yagyu slowly exhaled a plume of white breath and tightened his grip on his heavy iron staff.
"You okay, President?" Isshin asked, lowering the Sky-Piercer Halberd from his shoulder and planting it heavily into the snow with a muffled thud.
This savagely designed, terrifying halberd was the product of his advancement to the [Sword Master] class and his subsequent enlightenment regarding the Principle of Weaponry.
Since the system trait explicitly stated that mastering other weapons would yield twice the results with half the effort, he had no reason not to take advantage of it. Who knows, he might even generate some new traits in the future—maybe something like Weapon Master or Martial Saint?
Furthermore, the legendary figure who bore the title of "Sword Saint Isshin" in his previous life had always embodied a combat aesthetic that refused to be bound by a single weapon. Every weapon was at his disposal. He didn't just use a sword; he used a spear.
He even used a gun!
So, he had asked City Lord Takeda Nobutsuna to commission skilled craftsmen to forge this Sky-Piercer Halberd. This weapon was both a heavy hammer of raw power and an extension of technical skill, combining stabbing, slashing, hooking, pecking, smashing, and chopping into one. It was the weapon that could best unleash the potential of his monstrously powerful physique.
The primary material for this halberd was a type of ore unique to the Land of Iron called Dark Iron.
While its chakra conductivity was only average, it possessed two extremely prominent characteristics: extreme weight and unparalleled hardness.
The iron staff that had accompanied Yagyu Souichirou for many years was also forged primarily from this rare Dark Iron.
"Hmph. I'm not so old that I need a brat like you to worry about me!" Yagyu Souichirou snorted coldly, holding his iron staff horizontally in front of him, his eyes sharp as knives. "As for you, running around causing trouble everywhere these past few months... it seems your martial arts haven't degraded. However, if you think this little bit of improvement gives you the right to act however you want, you're dead wrong!"
Before he even finished speaking, the snow beneath his feet exploded. His massive figure kicked up a wave of snow. His iron staff was no longer executing simple smashes and sweeps; it transformed into a dense blur of afterimages, like a violent storm or crashing mountains, perfectly blending power and technique as it enveloped all of Isshin's vital spots!
Isshin's eyes erupted with blinding light. Instead of fear, he felt pure joy. He let out a loud laugh. "Bring it on!"
The katana in his left hand moved like a startled dragon, parrying, deflecting, and precisely cutting into the gaps of the staff's afterimages to neutralize the heavy assault.
Meanwhile, the Sky-Piercer Halberd in his right hand struck like a giant python lunging from its cave. Sometimes he used the shaft for a hard block, and sometimes he used the crescent blade to bite and tear. Its power was fierce and tyrannical as it violently clashed against the sky full of staff strikes!
Clang! Clang! Clang! BOOM!
An even denser, more intense series of collisions erupted across the snowy wilderness. Where the two men fought, snow and mud flew everywhere, and shockwaves of air shot out in all directions. It was like an invisible, giant meat grinder tearing the area apart.
On the hill, Motoya Yamagami watched, his mind shaken so badly he almost forgot to breathe.
What these two combatants were displaying was a pure, violent kind of strength he had never even imagined!
It wasn't a strength that relied on bizarre genjutsu or flashy ninjutsu. It was a strength rooted in bodies tempered through thousands of hardships, exquisitely refined techniques, and an indomitable will!
Back on the battlefield, after another dozen or so brutal exchanges, Yagyu Souichirou was once again shaken by the savage force erupting from the heavy halberd. His blood and Cakra churned as he slid backward.
He barely managed to stabilize himself. Seeing that the fire in the youth's eyes was burning even hotter, showing absolutely no signs of fatigue and looking ready to charge in again, Yagyu hurriedly slammed his iron staff into the snow and raised a hand.
"Stop! Stop!"
"We're done fighting! That's enough for today!"
Hearing this, Isshin instantly halted his assault. He stood the Sky-Piercer Halberd firmly on his shoulder, his face showing a hint of regret, though his breathing remained long and steady. "You've had enough already, President?"
"Enough?" Yagyu Souichirou snorted irritably, shaking his slightly numb arms. "If we keep fighting, my old bones are going to fall apart. You brat... you're a damn monster... alright, let's head back to the city!"
His words carried seven parts helplessness and three parts genuine awe.
Yagyu Souichirou had been extraordinarily gifted since childhood, famous for his divine strength. His physique and that heavy iron staff had crushed countless opponents.
Ever since his debut, in the realm of pure physical strength, he had rarely met his match. He had long grown accustomed to a combat style that used overwhelming power to crush technique—one strike to conquer ten.
But this youth named Isshin was an absolute anomaly. When they first met, the boy's strength was already terrifying, but at least Yagyu could wrestle with him and fight head-on for dozens of exchanges without losing ground.
Now, just a few short months later, Yagyu was struggling after barely a dozen exchanges, and was even being suppressed and pushed back.
Isshin didn't press the issue. He laughed casually. "Whatever you say, President."
He rested the halberd on his shoulder again and turned to leave with Yagyu Souichirou.
However, right as he turned, he seemed to inadvertently glance toward a snow-covered hill diagonally behind him.
On the hill, the fully focused Motoya Yamagami instinctively tensed up, feeling as if he had been pricked by an icy needle.
But when he focused his eyes again, Isshin had already looked away. Walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Yagyu Souichirou, the two took large strides toward Akame Castle, their figures quickly vanishing into the endless blizzard.
Was that an illusion...? Motoya wondered, filled with shock and doubt. But soon, a much stronger emotion drowned out that hesitation.
He slowly stood up from behind the snowy slope and brushed the snow off his body. His eyes were locked dead onto the direction where the two men had disappeared, especially the tall silhouette carrying the halberd.
Inside his chest, the heart that had been repeatedly battered by national hatred, family tragedy, and cold reality until it was nearly numb was now beating violently with unprecedented force.
Every frame of the duel he had just witnessed was seared deeply into his mind like a red-hot branding iron.
The deafening crashes of clashing metal, the terrifying power that shattered the snow and cracked the earth, and above all, the pure strength and battle-crazed demeanor displayed by that tall youth—like a humanoid beast!
That kind of power... that kind of arrogant, pure, overwhelming strength that looked down on everything!
"Is this... the power of a samurai?"
He muttered to himself, his voice hoarse.
Wasn't this exactly what he needed? Wasn't this the blade that could slice through the Church of the Holy God's hypocritical veil and exact a blood debt from the high-and-mighty traitors to his nation?
Take him as my master! I must take him as my master!
No matter the cost, I absolutely must learn this superhuman martial art from that Master Isshin!
His resolve, like quenched steel, turned freezing cold and rock-hard amidst the howling blizzard.
Motoya stood up completely from behind the slope, ignoring the numbness in his limbs from lying still for so long. He brushed off the nearly frozen snow covering his clothes and checked the sword at his waist and the flintlock pistol hidden in his coat.
He pulled his winter hood down lower, hiding most of his face and leaving only a pair of eyes burning with obsession.
Then, he stepped forward. No longer hiding his presence, he trudged through ankle-deep snow, walking steadily and unyieldingly toward the city that would soon decide his future destiny.
The blizzard grew fiercer, as if trying to stop this boy carrying the burning fire of revenge from getting any closer.
Yet, in a world completely swallowed by white, his silhouette stood out with a bizarre, stubborn clarity.