Outskirts of Red Armor City, Land of Iron.
Snow and wind swept across the wilderness, visibility less than ten meters, the world a chaotic blur of grayish-white.
The gale howled, kicking up thick snow from the ground and forming fleeting, twisting dragons of snow.
Within this violent natural curtain, the discordant clash of metal stubbornly pierced through the wind and snow!
Clang! Clang! Bang!
The fierce clashing of weapons was at times crisp, at times dull, and at times explosive, tearing through the whimpering wind in a rhythmic display of power.
Suddenly!
Bang!!!!
An exceptionally heavy boom erupted, as if a heavy hammer had struck a solid iron anvil!
A burly, tall figure stumbled backward from the center of the fray, his feet plowing two deep furrows in the snow before being swallowed by the churning curtain of white.
However, Yagyū Sōichirō, who had repelled his opponent with a single staff strike, showed no relief; instead, his expression grew increasingly solemn.
The dark iron staff in his hand hung slightly low, its shaft vibrating with a noticeable, high-frequency tremor.
In that hard clash just now, the opponent's strength seemed to have become even more concentrated and heavy since their last encounter!
Before he could think further, a full-throated, even excited shout rang out from the swirling snow like the beating of a war drum:
"Hmph!"
"My blood is boiling! Here I come!"
The moment the voice fell, the thick snow ahead seemed to be crudely pushed aside by an invisible force!
A tall, sturdy figure burst through the snow. The weapon in his hand had changed—it was no longer a common tachi, but an ancient, menacing, and exceptionally heavy black halberd!
The massive blade of the halberd reflected a cold light in the snow. With matchless power, he raised it high with his right hand, swinging it like a mountain-splitting axe along the most brutal and direct path toward Yagyū Sōichirō!
Before the halberd even arrived, the terrifying wind pressure, carrying the momentum of its descent and his full strength, had already flattened and pushed away a large area of snow below!
Yagyū Sōichirō's pupils shrank. Not daring to be careless, he exhaled sharply, his arm muscles bulging. He stomped down, shattering the snow beneath him, and swung his dark iron staff upward in a fierce counter-strike!
"Come on!"
Clang!!!
This collision was far louder than any before! It was no longer a crisp metallic ring, but more like two solid, iron-clad battering rams colliding at full force!
Boom!
A visible ring of air, accompanied by surging chakra and pure ripples of power, exploded outward from the two of them. It instantly cleared and shattered the snow within a radius of dozens of meters, exposing the frozen earth beneath and revealing spiderweb-like cracks!
In the next moment, Yagyū Sōichirō let out a muffled groan. Blood rushed to his face, and a clear, numbing vibration shot through the bones of his arms holding the staff. He could no longer stay rooted to the spot and was pushed back repeatedly by the colossal force of the halberd's strike!
Thud! Thud! Thud!
His heavy footsteps left a series of deep pits in the snow as he retreated over a dozen meters before finally stabilizing himself.
He looked up sharply at the tall figure becoming clear again in the snow, his heart filled with shock and uncertainty.
'This guy... after not seeing him for a few months, his pure strength has actually increased this much?!'
---
The one fighting Yagyū Sōichirō was, of course, Isshin.
Since the day he received formal recognition from the Red Armor City Swordsmanship Association and became Master Isshin, his behavior had been strange—not opening a dojo or taking disciples, but wandering the city like a lion patrolling its territory, practicing his sword in public.
But at least he had settled down somewhat and hadn't caused any major disturbances.
However, Yagyū Sōichirō's peaceful days did not last long.
Soon, under the pretext of "learning from the strengths of a hundred schools and gathering the techniques of a thousand sects to perfect my Ashina Style swordsmanship," this guy began visiting every other dojo in Red Armor City, actively requesting sparring matches.
His methods were swift and decisive, often deciding the outcome in a few moves. Although he didn't injure anyone, many dojo masters lost face.
For a time, grievances rose throughout the city. Various complaints and moans flew like snowflakes onto Yagyū Sōichirō's desk as the chairman, annoying him to no end.
He had to personally talk to Isshin, warning him that as a master recognized by the association, he needed to be mindful of his influence and maintain the unity of Red Armor City's swordsmanship circle, rather than acting so recklessly.
Perhaps he was somewhat moved, but the more likely reason was that he had already sparred with most of the dojos in Red Armor City and had run out of new opponents.
Thus, this guy's range of activity expanded rapidly, starting from Red Armor City and radiating toward the surrounding towns.
Within just a few months, almost every slightly famous dojo or swordsmanship master in the area around Red Armor City had been visited by this tall youth, who carried a sword on his hip and a halberd on his shoulder, bluntly asking for instruction.
The nearby swordsmanship circle was thrown into turmoil by him. Letters of complaint and protest flew toward the Red Armor City Swordsmanship Association in even greater numbers, pointing the finger directly at Yagyū Sōichirō—he's your man from the association, you deal with him!
Finally, after another batch of strongly worded joint letters arrived, Yagyū Sōichirō reached the end of his patience. He went straight to Isshin and said with a dark face, "You brat, are you really this combative? Can't you stay still for a moment? Since you want to fight so badly, instead of causing trouble everywhere, why don't you just come find this old man!"
And so, this intense scene unfolded before them in the snow outside Red Armor City.
---
In the distance, on a hillside covered in thick snow.
A travel-worn youth, draped in a tattered winter cloak, lay prone in the snow, watching the scene.
He held his breath, not even daring to blink despite the frost on his eyelashes, his eyes wide as he stared intently at the two superhuman figures and their clash in the wilderness below.
It was none other than Yamagami Motoya.
Since traveling north alone from the Land of Hot Springs, crossing the Land of Rice Fields, and stepping into the Land of Iron, known for its cold and steel, he had been urgently asking for news and searching for any possible way to gain power.
Soon, a name repeatedly reached his ears—Isshin of the Ashina Style.
Rumor had it that this young swordsmanship master was challenging people all over the southeast, stirring up trouble with his formidable strength and reckless actions.
Upon learning of his connection to Red Armor City, Yamagami Motoya ignored his fatigue and rushed in this direction.
He climbed over the last snowy mountain, and the outline of Red Armor City was already in sight. He hadn't expected to witness such a breathtaking scene in the wilderness before even entering the city!
The two combatants shattered the snow and cracked the ground with every move. The clash of their weapons sounded like thunder. Just by watching, the escaping ripples of power and the tangible aura made his heart pound wildly, making it almost hard to breathe.
He gritted his teeth hard, his nails digging into the cold snow, his heart surging with an indescribable shock.