Inside the field.
Yagyū Sōichirō suppressed the churning blood in his chest. He looked at the youth standing tall not far away in the wind and snow, holding a tachi upside down in one hand and carrying a heavy war halberd on his shoulder. His eyes blazed with fighting spirit like fire, as if he didn't know the meaning of fatigue. Yagyū Sōichirō slowly exhaled a puff of white air and tightened his grip on the dark iron rod once more.
"President, are you alright?" Isshin lowered the fangtian painted halberd from his shoulder, planting it heavily into the snow with a dull thud.
This ferociously shaped war halberd was the product of his promotion to [Sword Master] and his realization of the principles of weapon combat.
Since the entry had clearly prompted that mastering other weapons would yield twice the result with half the effort, he had no reason not to take advantage of it. Perhaps it would even generate some new entries in the future?
Such as Weapon Master, Martial Saint, or something similar.
Besides, what that "Isshin" crowned with the name of Sword Saint had displayed was an aesthetic of combat that was not restricted to a single weapon; all sorts of weapons could be used with ease. He used not only swords but also spears.
He even used "guns"!
Thus, he had requested City Lord Takeda Nobutsuna to mobilize skilled craftsmen to forge this halberd. This weapon was both a heavy hammer of power and an extension of technique, combining various technical changes such as piercing, slashing, hooking, pecking, smashing, and cleaving. It was the weapon best suited to utilize his powerful physique.
The primary material of this halberd was an ore called Black Iron, a specialty of the Land of Iron.
This ore's conductivity for chakra could only be considered average, but it possessed two extremely prominent characteristics: extreme weight and unparalleled hardness.
The main body of Yagyū Sōichirō's iron rod, which had accompanied him for many years, was also forged from this rare Black Iron.
"Hmph, I am not so old that I needs a brat like you to worry about me!" Yagyū Sōichirō snorted coldly, holding his iron rod horizontally in front of him, his eyes as sharp as blades. "On the other hand, you've been causing trouble everywhere these past few months; it seems your martial arts haven't regressed. However, if you think you can act willfully with just this bit of progress, you're still far from it!"
Before his voice could fade, the snow beneath his feet exploded. His burly figure kicked up a wave of snow. The iron rod was no longer used for simple smashing and sweeping; instead, it transformed into layers of rod shadows, like a violent storm or a collapsing mountain, merging power and technique to envelop Isshin's vital points!
Isshin's eyes blazed with intense light. Instead of being alarmed, he was delighted and laughed loudly, "Well, come!"
The tachi in his left hand rose like a feather, parrying and flicking, precisely cutting into the gaps of the rod shadows to neutralize the heavy offensive.
The halberd in his right hand was like a giant python emerging from its cave, sometimes blocking with the shaft and sometimes tearing with the crescent blade. Its power was fierce and overbearing, clashing violently with the sky full of rod shadows!
Clang! Clang! Clang! Boom!
Even more dense and intense sounds of collision erupted in the snowy wilderness. Where the two fought, snow and mud flew, and gusts of energy shot out in all directions, as if an invisible giant meat grinder was turning that area upside down.
On the hillside, Yamagami Motoya watched with a shaken mind, almost forgetting to breathe.
What the two combatants displayed was a pure and violent strength he had never imagined!
It did not rely on eerie genjutsu or brilliant ninjutsu, but was rooted in a body tempered a thousand times, exquisite skills, and an indomitable will!
---
In the field, after another dozen rounds of hard clashing, Yagyū Sōichirō was once again shaken by the tyrannical force erupting from the heavy halberd, his blood churning as he slid backward.
He managed to stabilize himself with great difficulty. Seeing that the fire of battle in the boy's eyes was even more intense and that he showed no signs of fatigue, even preparing to charge again, he hastily planted his iron rod in the snow and raised a hand, shouting:
"Stop, stop!"
"No more fighting! That's enough for today!"
Hearing this, Isshin immediately ceased his offensive. He held the halberd steadily on his shoulder, a slight trace of regret on his face, though his breathing remained steady. "Is the president satisfied already?"
"Satisfied?" Yagyū Sōichirō snorted in annoyance, shaking his somewhat numb arms. "If we keep fighting, these old bones of mine are likely to fall apart. You brat, you're simply a monster... Fine, let's head back to the city!"
His words carried seven parts helplessness and three parts genuine sentiment.
Yagyū Sōichirō had been gifted since childhood, known for his strength. His physique and that dark iron rod had suppressed countless opponents.
Since his debut, in this field of pure strength competition, he could be said to have rarely met his match. He had long been accustomed to the combat style of breaking through technique with power and suppressing everything with a single strike.
But the boy named Isshin before him was an outright anomaly. When they first met, the other's strength was already terrifying, but at least he could still compete and hold his ground for dozens of rounds without falling behind.
Now, after only a few short months, he couldn't keep up after just a dozen rounds, and later he was even being suppressed and beaten by the opponent.
Isshin didn't press further and smiled freely. "Then I'll listen to the president."
He shouldered the war halberd again and turned to follow Yagyū Sōichirō.
However, just as he turned, he glanced seemingly inadvertently toward a certain hillside in the rear that was obscured by wind and snow.
On the hillside, the focused Yamagami Motoya subconsciously tensed up, as if pricked by a cold needle.
But when he looked again, Isshin had already withdrawn his gaze and was walking side-by-side with Yagyū Sōichirō toward Red Armor City, their figures soon disappearing into the vast wind and snow.
"Was it an illusion..." Yamagami Motoya was uncertain, but immediately, even stronger emotions overwhelmed this bit of doubt.
He slowly stood up from behind the snow slope, brushing off the snow on his body. His eyes were fixed on the direction where the two had disappeared, especially the tall back carrying the war halberd.
In his chest, that heart, repeatedly hammered by national enmity and family hatred and the cold reality until it was almost numb, was now beating violently with unprecedented intensity.
Every frame of the duel just now was like a red-hot iron, deeply engraved in his mind.
The thunderous sound of clashing metal, the power that shattered snow and split the ground, and especially the pure strength and combat frenzy displayed by that tall youth!
That kind of power... that toughness and purity!
"Is this... the power of a samurai?"
He muttered to himself, his voice hoarse.
Wasn't this exactly what he needed? Wasn't it the blade that could cut through the hypocritical veil of the Holy Spirit Church and demand payment in blood from the high-and-mighty traitors to the country?
'Take him as my master! I must take him as my master!'
'No matter the price, I must learn this extraordinary martial art from that master instructor named Isshin!'
His determination, like quenched steel, became cold and hard in the swirling snow.
Yamagami Motoya suddenly stood up completely from behind the snow slope. Ignoring the numbness in his limbs from lying there for a long time, he brushed off the snow that had almost frozen hard on him and checked the sword at his waist and the firearm in his arms.
He pulled his winter hood lower, covering most of his face and only revealing a pair of eyes burning with obsession.
Then, he stepped forward, no longer hiding his figure, and walked steadfastly toward the city that would decide his future destiny, treading through the ankle-deep snow.
The wind and snow grew fiercer, as if trying to stop this youth carrying the blazing fire of revenge from approaching.
But his back in the world of white showed a strange stubbornness and clarity.