Chapter 695: Integrated Mastery

"Unfilial son!"

In the study, his father's roar shook heaven and earth.

The last time Tormond had seen his father this furious, he had been six years old.

Back then, he had run wildly through the fields with the daughter of the countryside manor's steward, laughing, throwing mud, rolling his clothes dirty, and having the time of his life, only to be seen by his returning father and great-uncle.

He still remembered his father's ashen face, and remembered the faint sneer between his great-uncle's brows.

And now, many years later, his father trembled all over, pointing at him through gritted teeth.

"House Razor Mallos, a thousand years of inheritance, has now been destroyed in your hands!"

A thousand years of inheritance, destroyed in my hands?

Ha.

Tormond wanted to laugh.

Laugh loudly.

"If House Mallos can be destroyed so easily," he said expressionlessly, "then perhaps its fate was already exhausted?"

His father grew even angrier. He rose and drew his sword, only to have a hand press down on his shoulder.

"Do not panic."

Great-uncle sat at his father's left, as calm as always. For many years, he had made plans for his father and the family, resourceful and devoted.

But was that why he had entered the Punishment Wing? Because he was calm enough when skinning prisoners?

Or because when it came to how to torment people, Great-uncle was also good at making plans?

"We still have one final chance." Great-uncle's expression was composed.

"You have no chance," Tormond said coldly. "The grave crime of colluding with the enemy and betraying the kingdom. It is only a matter of time before the Black Prophet and his Kingdom's Secret Intelligence Department trace it here."

"I will kill you before then!" his father roared.

Why, why did they all like using this to intimidate others?

Even when it had no effect at all?

"Why, little Tor?" Great-uncle's voice came, his words carrying exhaustion he tried hard to hide.

"Why do this? Why betray us?"

Tormond was silent.

Why?

He opened his lips. "Because..."

Because...

Because all of this had been destined long ago.

He looked at his furious father and calm great-uncle and spoke softly.

"Because none of this is real."

That was right.

Royal Guard Watchman Tormond Mallos stood in the study, looking at the red fire behind his father and great-uncle, his gaze deep as water, his heart clear as a mirror.

This was not reality.

Because this place was too beautiful.

Too gentle.

Because Father's study was brightly colored and splendid.

And the world, the real world, the present world, his world, should be...

Dead silence and desolation.

"Father, Great-uncle, you and this place, everything here, are false. Only that killer's ability." Mallos spoke softly.

"Unfilial son!" his father roared, making the fire behind him sway.

Great-uncle took a deep breath.

"Since matters have come to this, there is no other way." The aged great-uncle seemed not to hear his answer, and his voice sharpened. "I will go see Big Barney right now. We act tonight."

"Uncle?" His father turned his head, shocked.

Just like in memory.

Great-uncle ignored his father.

"And you, little Tor." Great-uncle looked at him, smiling at the corner of his mouth. "Do you think this is over?"

At that moment, everything before Mallos' eyes burst into raging flames!

The flames burned through the study, corridor, halls, and rooms. They burned through the Mallos family manor and fields. The colors before his eyes peeled off piece by piece, turning scorched black and pale, revealing a wasteland.

The way the world should be.

In this wasteland, a deadly cold light, Lausanne II's blade, cut open the air and whistled toward him!

Mallos, who had come awake, used all his strength. He rolled toward the sword on the ground, turned back with everything he had, and blocked.

Bang!

Metal collided with an ear-piercing sound.

The opponent held every advantage of angle and timing. Mallos, who blocked in haste, could not withstand the force and retreated several steps.

"You think I did not know?"

Lausanne's words were urgent, but his steps were steady as he pressed forward step by step.

"Did not know what kind of person Joaquin was? Did not know what Joaquin gave for me, for his students and squires?"

Looking at Lausanne, Mallos retreated step by step.

It seems I only lost focus for an instant, Mallos thought.

And this Lausanne II did not even realize he had activated his ability.

Strange. A supreme-class expert with countless battles behind him could not skillfully use his own ability?

"And yet what did he receive!"

Lausanne's voice was cold, and his longsword suddenly emerged!

Damn it!

The Watchman cursed inwardly. In the end, he had nowhere left to retreat and was forced to meet the attack.

Ding!

Mallos parried this thrust, but Lausanne's wrist trembled, and sword light flashed again!

This was... rapier swordsmanship?

The Watchman recognized it. What the opponent was using was a rapier art widely spread in the southwest and brought to prominence by Kuradel, the "Thorn Divine Sword" of the Tower of Eradication. It specialized in the unpredictable and was hard to guard against.

This fellow really knows a lot!

"Nine squires. Nine kni- no, eight knights," Lausanne's eyes outside the mask were dim and silent, like a dead man's eyes, yet they never stopped catching Mallos' openings. "All carried hopes, were taught by him to become accomplished, yet each had a different personality and each held different ideals."

Swish!

Amid the friction of metal, Mallos parried the second strike, but his figure was wretched and on the verge of collapse.

"Thus in the Bloody Year, four served the royal family, two stood on the rebels' side, and two others followed different lords... And Joaquin, Joaquin could only watch helplessly as the knights he had trained turned against one another, slaughtering each other with the various martial arts he had painstakingly taught them," Lausanne's voice continued. "One student cut off another student's head, then was cut through the throat by a third, then a fourth went to take revenge... cycling again and again, without end, until all eight knights..."

"Not one survived."

The third thrust attacked again.

Mallos withdrew with difficulty and assumed the best defensive posture against rapier swordsmanship. Eh?

At that moment, Lausanne II turned, joined both hands, and the original thrust transformed instantly into a fierce downward chop!

The Watchman was abruptly shocked.

This was the main attacking form of Forged Blade Arms Art, the Steel Cross, a martial art ordinary to the point of being basic among all Imperial Wind schools, yet trained into a supreme technique in the hands of the Thousand-Blade Knight?

But...

Without time to react, Mallos could only hastily change moves and forcibly endure this Steel Cross!

Clang!

With a great ring, Mallos' hands trembled. The longsword flew from his grip, and his entire body lost balance and fell heavily to the ground.

The battle ended in a flash, and the field returned to quiet.

"As for poor Joaquin, he was powerless against this. This time, he had no hand left to smash." Lausanne spoke faintly.

Mallos clutched the blood seeping from his chest and coughed painfully. A blood mark had also appeared on his face.

Victory and defeat had been decided.

He looked toward the weapon that had flown ten feet away and sighed inwardly.

No, perhaps it should be said that victory and defeat had been decided long ago.

Lausanne II wiped the blood from his sword with his sleeve and walked toward Mallos.

"He did not die depressed because of me, not because he lost his sword hand, and even less because he was poor and miserable."

The black-clothed killer stared coldly at the defeated man beneath him, wary of the short weapons in the other's clothing.

"It was entirely because of himself."

The field was quiet for one second.

Mallos struggled to sit up and sighed inwardly at the other's skill.

In one move just now, Lausanne had used Thorn rapier swordsmanship and Forged Blade Arms Art, or rather, part of each.

All right. Perhaps the other party had learned both, even though their styles were completely opposite. That was not much. But...

"That move just now. How did you do it?"

Mallos stared steadily at his opponent.

This fellow had taken whole, integrated sword arts and split them apart inch by inch, separating them from their respective systems, then transformed and recombined these utterly different fragments, perfectly fusing them into one move in actual combat, creating a new move most suitable for the current battle situation... as if, as if after the elegant and fluid rapier half-move, the solemn and forceful Steel Cross should naturally have followed in the latter half, seamless and without obstruction?

This required unparalleled mastery of existing sword arts, deep understanding of their sword principles and sword paths, and thorough grasp of the essence of different swordsmanship...

No, the difficulty of this was no less than drawing strengths from many schools, then creating a new martial art from scratch, surpassing the blue from which it came.

Especially in a tense battle where there was no room for delay?

Such skill, even for the knowledgeable Watchman, was something he had never heard of, never seen.

"Thanks to you."

But Lausanne II seemed to know what he was wondering.

"The me from long ago could not have done it. At least not so smoothly."

Mallos froze at his words.

Lausanne silently looked at the Watchman.

"Seventeen skilled fighters under you. Quite a few of them could even display supreme-class techniques. Their styles differed and their specialties varied: strange and changeable, swift and fierce, upright and balanced, endless and unceasing, perfectly coordinated, rhythmic and orderly... And you divided them into teams, raised strengths and avoided weaknesses, took strong points and supplemented flaws. With bows and crossbows added in, you formed a high-pressure formation and complex battlefield capable of suppressing and even wounding a supreme-class expert."

This was not surprising either, Lausanne thought. The origin of Imperial Wind swordsmanship, the legion knights of the ancient empire, had walked this road. Relying on numbers and cooperation, discipline and formation, they firmly suppressed the temple disciples who had pushed individual valor to the limit. Under the imperial orders from a thousand years ago, they surrounded and killed peak experts one by one, demolishing the Knightly Temple over and over.

"And do you know how many years it has been since I had the chance to clash head-on with opponents of this weight, to exert myself fully, to temper swordsmanship between life and death, and verify my skills under extreme pressure?"

Lausanne raised his notched longsword and sighed deeply.

"So, thanks to you for giving me this chance, this occasion."

Perhaps also thanks to "it."

Letting him advance another step.

How refreshing.

Mallos instantly understood and sighed inwardly.

So that was it.

The one who improved tonight was not only Miranda Arunde.

The enemy before him did not need his ability at all to already be a first-rate master.

But Lausanne II looked at his own weapon, his gaze distant.

"You know, fusing different schools and connecting the martial arts of a hundred families, bridging differences and disagreements such as Imperial Wind and Temple into one, this was originally Joaquin's ideal and ambition on the martial path."

It was also why he taught according to talent, encouraged his students to pursue individuality, and accepted hundreds of rivers.

Unfortunately, even Joaquin, who mastered sword principles, could never bridge the people who used them, even when they were his own squires and students.

Because the noble path of knighthood had long since become ancient history.

Because the rules of this world favored something else.

Lausanne slowly walked before Mallos.

Mallos looked at his blood-covered hands, and the light in his eyes gradually dimmed.

Damn it.

At least a month unable to hold a sword.

Perhaps not even able to hold that little stuffed bear.

If he still had a chance to hold it.

He closed his eyes.

"Pick up your sword or dagger."

Mallos opened his eyes.

"A commander covering the rear for his subordinates," Lausanne looked down at him from above, his gaze dark. "Should not die unarmed."

Mallos froze slightly, then smiled.

"When Standard-bearer Aknight's remains were discovered, he was lying on a high platform ordinary people could not reach. His clothes and armor were neat, his remains peaceful. His sword had been placed in his hand, and two gold coins rested over his eyes for burial."

Lausanne did not speak.

Mallos sighed, but did not go for his own sword.

"Master Joaquin still left you something, more or less. Right?"

Lausanne's gaze moved.

"No," Lausanne's fingers brushed over the notches on his sword, but his gaze did not leave Mallos' hands. "At least not as much as he thought."

"Then what about this?" Mallos pointed at Lausanne's feet.

Lausanne lowered his head doubtfully. "What?"

In the next second, Mallos suddenly sprang up from the ground, silver light appearing in his hands!

But Lausanne, who had been wary the entire time, had already expected it. His longsword moved, parrying the thrusts of the two daggers, then he quickly retreated to prevent Mallos from closing in and repeating his old trick.

At this moment, the sound of wind came from the sky!

Lausanne's expression changed. He had just raised his head when a huge black shadow came down over him!

Whoosh.

It was a large wagon loaded with goods.

It dropped from the air and landed directly on Lausanne II's position.

Crash!

With a thunderous bang, the wagon slammed into the ground, dust surging!

Mallos clutched his injured arm and retreated rapidly. He looked at the bridge pier overhead and shook his head slightly.

"This."

He picked up his sword with no small difficulty, looked at the warped wagon in the dust, and revealed a smile.

Plan Z complete.

What a pity. Such an incredible swordsman.

But at this moment-

"Your subordinate used this move once already."

The Watchman, who had been about to turn and leave, halted.

Several seconds later, the wagon's outline appeared in the spreading dust.

Under the enormous impact, its frame was twisted, its wheels shattered, and the sign and streamers on it were crooked.

Lausanne II knelt on one knee atop the wagon roof, covered in dust and in a sorry state.

"Can you not show a little originality?"

But his body was intact.

No severed hands or legs, no broken bones or fractures.

Mallos closed his eyes sadly.

Truly difficult.

All right.

"What did you just say? Originality?"

Lausanne on the wagon roof snorted coldly, but his expression suddenly changed.

Thud!

With a muffled sound, a crossbow bolt sank deep into the wagon roof, several steps from Lausanne.

Before he could wonder why the shot had missed, he heard the sound of a mechanism. More than a dozen slender, swift shadows shot from the wagon roof and rushed toward Lausanne II!

Lausanne reacted extremely quickly. Sword light flashed repeatedly, knocking away more than half the black shadows, but several still flew back and forth, pouncing onto Lausanne II's legs!

Snap!

When the final black shadow came to a stop, Lausanne II saw what was before him. These black shadows were solid ropes, six in all, binding his waist and legs tightly to the four corners of the wagon.

This was...

"A rope-trap mechanism refined by the Guard Wing. Its main point is to restrict and obstruct the enemy's movement." Mallos snorted softly.

It only required some time to set up in advance, and needed force as strong as a crossbow bolt to trigger it.

Lausanne frowned.

Mallos smiled faintly and dragged his heavily injured body as he waved his sword overhead.

As for the principle behind the trap, mm, it was actually surprisingly simple. Very much like a mousetrap.

But there was no need to say that part aloud.

After all, the Guard Wing also had to request a budget.

"That is it?"

In the next second, Lausanne raised and lowered his sword, cutting through one of the ropes at an unbelievable speed!

Mallos frowned.

Bad.

Could the binding ropes not be a little sturdier?

Ah, forget it.

After all, the Guard Wing also had to request a budget.

As he thought, Lausanne swung his sword again and cut another rope.

"What meaning is there in doing this?"

Lausanne II said coldly, sword light flashing in his hand as he cut the third rope.

Mallos' brows tightened more and more.

Damn it.

Could they not change the ropes to fine steel wire, or at least sharp blades? Add a little damage?

But it was best not for him to say that.

After all, the Guard Wing also had to request a budget.

In the next second, Lausanne's expression changed. He sank his shoulder and turned his head!

Whoosh-thud!

An arrow descended from the sky, brushing past Lausanne's ear and burying itself firmly in the wagon!

Looking at this arrow, Mallos frowned hard again.

Could they shoot any wider?

Whoosh!

Another arrow fell.

As he wished, this one was even farther off. It dropped straight behind Mallos and stuck by his foot.

But different from before, the tail of this crossbow bolt was tied with a long rope, hanging down all the way from the bridge overhead.

Finally.

Mallos let out a breath.

Lausanne II's gaze moved, and he cut through the fourth rope.

"Leaving already?"

Mallos grabbed the rope on the arrow and wrapped it around his arm once, then said something inexplicable.

"One shot twenty, five shots sixty."

Lausanne's brow moved.

"Ten shots one hundred. Buy more, get more." Mallos tightened the rope in his hand and lifted his chin.

Lausanne did not understand. "What?"

Whoosh!

Another arrow, a flaming arrow, shot down from above!

It accurately shot through the wagon window and stabbed into the carriage, the arrowhead still crackling as it burned.

On the expensive arrow tail exposed outside the window was carved a black lion.

This was...

Looking at the flaming arrow before him, Lausanne's expression changed.

He forcefully cut the fifth rope that blocked his vision and finally saw the banners and sign on the side of the wagon.

[Emerald Celebration Exclusive: Suleiman's Old Brand Pitch-Crystal Fireworks. Ten Years of Reputation. Handcrafted. Full Load. Fierce Effect.]

[Changing Trades Clearance, Loss-Making Sale, Final Day!]

[Warning: Open flames strictly forbidden near this stall cart!]

Looking at such a large wagon, Lausanne's pupils froze.

Mallos sighed and forcefully waved his hand overhead.

No.

Seeing Mallos' movement, this thought flashed through Lausanne II's mind.

The flames in the carriage burned brighter and brighter, releasing ominous sizzling sounds.

In the next second, Lausanne struck with all his strength, roaring as he cut toward the final rope binding him.

"No-"

Boom!

An earth-shaking explosion!

The unremarkable wagon instantly fell apart, one after another, turning into countless lights!

Boom! Boom!

Amid the dazzling light exploding beneath him and Lausanne II's unwilling roar, Mallos pulled the rope and rose into the air, flying toward the top of the bridge!

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The open ground beneath the bridge was instantly covered in a curtain of fire and rain, leaving nothing visible.

Only pitch-crystal fireworks shot in every direction, brilliantly colorful and incomparably splendid.

Boom! Boom!

Sent off by this dazzling light, Mallos pulled the rope, stepped diagonally against the bridge pier, and flew straight up!

"Clustered simultaneous firing." Covered in blood, Mallos looked at the brilliant scene beneath him and coughed once. "Better effect."

What a pity.

The instant the rope reached the top, Mallos decisively reached out and firmly gripped a hand extended from above.

A hand wearing a black glove.

Mallos raised his head and frowned. "Why is it you?"

Above the Watchman, Miranda hung upside down in midair, one leg wrapped around the rope. She tossed aside her hanging braid and laughed coldly.

"Because I weigh the least."

Mallos frowned.

He held Miranda's hand. The two, one upright and one inverted, met each other's eyes while hanging beneath North Gate Bridge, connected by a single rope.

Boom! Boom, boom, boom!

Beneath them, an entire wagon of festival fireworks grew even more magnificent, drawing cries of surprise from many citizens in the distance.

"I saw just now. You really are good with short weapons," the upside-down Miranda tilted her head, her gaze sharp. "Blade of Terror."

Mallos' brow trembled.

"Do me a favor, Lady Miranda."

"Mm-hm?"

"Do not learn from the little brat and make up nicknames."

The two were silent for a while.

"Of course not."

The upside-down Miranda blinked.

"Mr. Blade."

The rope tightened again, slow and powerful, pulling both of them up to the bridge surface.