“Splendid, just what I wanted!” Alice barked a laugh that shook the rafters. She surged forward, dinner-plate hand swinging down like an avalanche to meet the descending sword. Steel and flesh collided with a metallic scream.
Clang! The shock wave blossomed outward, splintering windows, toppling tables, and hurling weaker disciples against the fractured walls of Whispers Tower. Within that maelstrom, the two masters fused into a single blur, neither yielding an inch.
Corin’s sword art unfolded like living calligraphy. One moment, the blade danced light as sunlight on water, darting away before an eye could track it.
The next it struck with thunderous finality, raw power crashing through the air in unstoppable surges. Every stroke dripped with ages of sword force insight, and the gathered disciples of Sword Sect felt blood roar hot through their veins.
Alice answered with brute grandeur. Her style was an open gate, sweeping, battering, magnificent. Backed by the durability of an Earthly Immortal, met the sword head-on, each palm strike packed with enough force to make the very air tremble.
Blade light and palm shadows intertwined, turning day to storm-tossed night. Roars echoed without pause, tables exploded to sawdust, pillars split, and the ancient tower shuddered on its groaning beams.
Spectators scrambled into the courtyard, forced back by the violence, and wonder stamped across every face.
“Good heavens, so this is what a duel between Earthly Immortals looks like! It’s terrifying!”
“Corin lives up to every rumor. That swordplay is unbelievable!”
“And Madam Pudge? Her flesh is absurd. She’s catching those blades bare-handed!”
The contest raged on and on; by the time someone bothered to count, the pair had already crossed three hundred exchanges without a clear victor.
At last, fatigue bled through their poise. Corin’s tunic hung in ribbons where palm wind had sliced him, and fresh blood traced a stubborn line from the corner of his mouth.
Alice fared no better, crimson welts, some out to bone, wept across her barrel chest, and breath came ragged. Both warriors had spent oceans of strength for the right to still stand.
Gasping, Alice grinned through blood-streaked teeth. “So this is the extent of your power, Corin?”
Her eyes burned with savage delight. “Then allow me to show the Sword Sect what real strength feels like!”
Power exploded from frame once more, a tide of raw energy pulled from some hidden reserve. Corin’s expression hardened, every muscle screamed that the edge of his limit loomed.
Her body is iron… My technique alone won’t finish this fight. He gathered the last of his strength around the sword hilt, knuckles whitening.
With a roar, Alice cried, “Blood Demon Dance!”
The wounds across bulk boiled; own blood whirled free, orbiting like scarlet comets. Her body swelled, muscle plates stacking until seemed more beast than woman.
“Sword Sect secret technique-Assembly of the Swords!” Corin could feel the terrifying power aimed straight at and knew was in danger. He fused every droplet of energy into the blade, white light trembling along its edge.
A thousand razor streams burst from his body, weaving overhead into a single titanic sword shadow. lt swung downward with the fury of a world ending, cleaving straight for the blood-drenched titan that was Alice.
The crimson whirlwind slammed into the titanic sword shadow, and the impact cracked the heavens with a blast that sounded like worlds colliding.
Boom!
Beneath that single detonation, Swordmaster City lurched on its foundations.
Whispers Tower collapsed into rubble, surrounding blocks sagged, and a dark shroud of dust rolled outward like a tidal wave. Every cultivator lining the streets froze, lungs locked, eyes pinned to that swirling curtain. Only after what felt like a lifetime did the haze begin to thin, surrendering the battlefield to sight once more.
As the last wisps drifted Skyward, two figures emerged. Corin wavered on his feet, one hand gripping his longsword like a crutch.
His face had blanched to the color of bone, fresh blood slipping from the corner of his mouth with every shallow breath. His aura, once sharp enough to carve granite, now flickered so faintly it seemed a candle about to die.
