From gathering strength to striking, the entire sequence took less than a second. Bella's blade struck the spine of Emma's wakizashi.
With a crisp clang, the wakizashi in Emma's hand snapped in half. Bella withdrew smoothly. "I yield."
Emma's eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly. She'd lost unfairly!
It wasn't that she wasn't calm, nor was there a problem with her combat strategy—she'd simply been tricked.
Bella had used five or six strange sword styles in succession, then suddenly pulled out a Japanese technique—and a famous iaijutsu move at that. The unexpected change made Emma hesitate for half a second. That half-second was all it took.
"Hahaha! Excellent swordsmanship! The all-embracing Katori Shintō-ryū? Good! What a formidable warrior woman!"
A hearty, aged voice rang out from the trees. Bella stepped back as the figure lightly landed on the ground.
He was tall and thin, wearing a tengu mask, draped in a straw raincoat, barefoot, with a tachi at his waist.
A vein throbbed at Bella's temple. "Warrior woman"—what the hell was that? Was this a compliment?
This was an insult, wasn't it?
She did feel a bit guilty about exploiting Emma's lack of combat experience, but she herself was fighting with insufficient stamina and affected by this world's heavier gravity. She'd suffered just as much.
"Come, come, come! You wanted to know our land of Ashina's martial level, didn't you? This old man has also practiced swordsmanship for a few years—nothing special, just average skill. Let me spar with you." The old man spoke with finality.
Bella frantically refused.
The "average skill" this old man mentioned was beyond what any ordinary person could handle.
You've got to be kidding! This old geezer was Isshin Ashina playing on an alt account. In the entire Sekiro world, aside from the god-like Divine Dragon, the final boss was this old man!
This was "average skill"? The man had practiced the sword his whole life. Sword Saint was his main class, Daimyo his side gig. Fight him in swordsmanship? That was vastly overestimating herself.
Bella knew her limits. She wasn't a martial artist. Of course, you couldn't find many martial artists in the modern world anyway.
This withered old man was different. He was a martial artist who aimed to reach the pinnacle of combat arts. She could use dazzling techniques to defeat Emma because Emma's main profession was physician, with swordsman as her side job. This old geezer was different—they were on completely different levels.
"I... I don't know how you measure time here. Um, a quarter-hour ago! A quarter-hour ago I just landed in your land of Ashina. Then I fought more than thirty exchanges with Miss Emma. I don't have the stamina to fight you now."
Bella waved a white flag, determined not to accept the challenge.
The old geezer snorted. "Insufficient stamina? You look quite vigorous to me. I'm seventy-two years old and suffering from serious illness. You don't even have the courage to face an old man like me? Hmm?"
Huh? Bella was somewhat tempted. That did make sense!
Isshin Ashina in his prime versus Isshin in his twilight years weren't the same concept. Sekiro wasn't some world where living longer meant deeper internal energy—there was no such thing as internal energy here. "The fist fears the young and strong." Wolf could cut his way through because he was young while the generation who'd stolen the country had all grown old.
Confidence was one of Bella's key attributes. Deep down, she was quite proud. After a secret comparison—could she really not beat a sickly old man?
Fight!
"Alright, let's have a match then!"
Isshin Ashina handed her a standard katana, signaling her to attack first.
Five minutes later...
Bella sat on the ground covered in blood, nose swollen and face bruised.
Emma tended to her wounds nearby.
The young woman still wore that gentle expression, though a hint of schadenfreude gleamed in her eyes. This barbarian wild woman finally got to experience the profound depth of our Eastern swordsmanship, didn't she?
What swordsmanship!
Bella's face was full of gloom. She'd cycled through seven or eight sword styles. She'd been guarding against Ashina-style's "invincible swordsmanship" the whole time, but while she'd anticipated the beginning, she hadn't foreseen the ending.
A gun hidden in the sword—Bella actually knew this trick. Barbossa had taught it to her. Between the Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea and Japan's Sword Saint, who ranked higher? Comparatively, they were actually about the same.
But Barbossa had stopped practicing martial arts in his later years. Purely in combat, he definitely couldn't beat Isshin Ashina.
Bella had practiced the gun-in-sword trick for a while, but as her martial arts became increasingly diverse, she hadn't continued studying it. This kind of technique ultimately couldn't make it to the main stage.
She'd been guarding against the old man pulling a gun. The old geezer did pull a gun—but not a matchlock. He pulled an M1911 from inside his robes!
Bang bang bang—the gunfire kept coming.
With only about a meter and a half between them, she desperately dodged bullets while Isshin Ashina charged in quickly, following up with a devastating cross slash.
Bella dodged the direct hit but still got slashed twice on the arm and once on the back. The old man even reversed his sword hilt and smacked her nose.
However, she fought back fiercely, landing a cut from his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth.
"Unconventional and adaptive—truly excellent swordsmanship! The swordsman is also outstanding!" Isshin touched his cheek, completely unconcerned about the wound.
He sheathed his sword. "You're the second woman to wound me. There are so many exquisite sword styles in the world... What a pity I'm already old."
He picked up a tree branch and demonstrated with empty hands, using the very techniques Bella had employed. Whether Spanish swordsmanship, French épée, or even German Liechtenauer longsword technique, in his hands they seemed both similar and different from the originals, yet carried an unusual charm.
"Your swordsmanship is too mixed, and you have no personal style," Isshin said seriously.
Bella knew what he was going to say, but she had a different view. "At my age, I should be learning from others' essence, standing on the shoulders of others to go further. Style is something to pursue when you're your age."
Isshin froze, then laughed heartily. "You need to learn from others' strengths when you're young? That's not wrong. I shouldn't judge young people by an old man's standards. You have real conviction. Ashina can't see young people with conviction anymore."
He pulled a book from his robes and tossed it to Bella. "When I was young, I also studied many sword styles—I can't even remember how many. But ultimately you must walk your own path. Here are some of my insights. I hope they help you."
"I'm done with this gun—it was a gift from your barbarians anyway. Take it." Isshin threw the M1911 to Bella, then left with Emma.
Bella happily picked up the pistol, only to discover it was completely out of ammo. Her face went blank. An empty gun—what the hell am I supposed to do with this? That old geezer was too crafty!