"You!"
The disciples of the Seishin Meichi Style flushed with fury, ready to step forward and teach this arrogant brat—who dared mock their master's name—a harsh lesson.
"Alright, alright." Isshin acted as if he hadn't noticed their movements at all. "Your master sent you to show me the way, not to fight me. Don't waste time—let's go."
His calm, slightly impatient tone left the disciples—who had been building up steam—choking on their own anger.
The lead disciple glared at him fiercely, chest heaving several times. In the end, remembering his master's strict orders, he could only snort heavily, swallow his fury, turn around, and spit out a single stiff word:
"Move!"
The group walked through Akame Castle's wide streets in heavy silence. The guiding disciples moved quickly, as if trying to shake off the trouble behind them with sheer speed.
Isshin followed at a leisurely pace, his eyes sweeping across the blacksmith workshops and sword shops lining both sides of the street, listening to the rhythmic clanging coming from inside. His expression remained calm, as if he were simply sightseeing.
Before long, they arrived at a large, solemn mansion that occupied a wide plot of land.
Black-tiled white walls, with a majestic plaque above the tall gate reading "Seishin Meichi" in bold, powerful strokes. Passing through the gate and crossing the meticulously maintained garden, they reached the main dojo.
The dojo was extremely spacious. At this moment, seated along both sides were more than a dozen middle-aged or elderly men with deep, condensed auras and varied attire.
Some sat with arms crossed, others sat ramrod straight. Their gazes were sharp as blades, all locking onto Isshin the moment he stepped into the dojo.
These men were all the notable dojo masters and renowned instructors of Akame Castle. An invisible pressure filled the air, so heavy that a pin dropping could be heard.
At the head of the dojo, in the main seat, sat a particularly tall and burly middle-aged man who looked like an iron tower. He wore a dark gray sword uniform with a simple haori over it. His square face had hard lines, and beneath thick brows his eyes were slightly closed, as if dozing.
The most eye-catching thing was the pitch-black, perfectly round iron staff placed beside him. Even lying still, it gave off a heavy, impossible-to-ignore presence.
This man was none other than the founder of the Seishin Meichi Style, president of the Akame Castle Swordsmanship Association, and Sword Master—Yagyu Souichirou.
The guiding disciple quickly stepped forward and respectfully reported in front of Yagyu Souichirou, "Master, the person has been brought."
Yagyu Souichirou slowly opened his eyes. His gaze wasn't particularly sharp or aggressive, but it was deep as an ancient well, carrying the dignity and insight accumulated over many years. He calmly looked at Isshin standing in the center of the dojo.
The entire dojo fell deathly silent. All the observing dojo masters and instructors held their breath, waiting for the Sword Master to speak while carefully appraising this young madman who dared challenge his way here.
"You came from south to north, challenging more than twenty dojos across eight cities. Let me ask you—what is it you seek by acting this way?"
Yagyu Souichirou did not immediately attack. His deep gaze lingered on Isshin for a moment before he spoke slowly.
"Sharpen the sword in my hand and verify the way in my heart. Besides…" Isshin paused, his voice steady. "I wish to open a dojo here in the name of the Ashina Style and pass on what I have learned."
"Oh?" Yagyu Souichirou narrowed his eyes slightly, a sharp glint flashing in the narrow slits.
"Since you've come to Akame Castle, I assume you intend to do the same as before."
He raised one thick hand and pointed to both sides of the dojo. "All the reputable, qualified masters in Akame Castle are here today. If you want to verify yourself, they stand before you."
Yagyu Souichirou's gaze returned to Isshin as he continued, "As for your desire to open a dojo and teach students here…"
The corner of his mouth seemed to curve into an extremely faint, almost imperceptible arc. "That is a matter for later! Only after you pass the test before you and prove you have the qualifications will I, as president of the local Swordsmanship Association, grant you the right to open a dojo."
His words were calm, yet they clearly transmitted enormous pressure. The atmosphere inside the dojo grew even heavier, almost tangible.
In that suffocating silence, Isshin suddenly smiled. His gaze swept across the displeased masters on both sides, his voice clear and carrying an unmistakable matter-of-fact tone:
"Good! Since everyone's already here, it saves time. Do you want to come one by one… or all at once?"
"Insolent!"
"Outrageous!"
"Arrogant whelp!"
"Brat who doesn't know the height of the heavens!"
The moment the words left his mouth, it was like cold water hitting boiling oil—the entire dojo exploded!
The masters could no longer hold back, all of them shouting in fury.
They were all respected figures in Akame Castle. When had they ever been looked down upon like this by some nameless junior?
This wasn't a challenge anymore—it was outright humiliation!
"Let me teach you some manners!" A sharp, piercing shout rang out.
From the left side of the seating area, a lean, monkey-like figure shot forward. With a light leap he landed cleanly in front of Isshin.
The man looked about forty, with eyes sharp as a hawk's. A long sword and a short sword hung at his waist. He was the master of the "Flying Swallow Twin Blades Style," known for his lightning-fast dual-wield attacks—Asuka Kyousuke.
His right hand was already resting on the long sword's hilt as he stared coldly at Isshin. "Flying Swallow Twin Blades Style! Asuka Kyousuke!"
Isshin's expression didn't change. His right hand simply settled calmly on the hilt of his own slightly larger katana as he returned the introduction: "Ashina Style, Isshin."
The instant the words fell, Asuka Kyousuke moved!
With a sharp shing, the long sword left its sheath, drawing a streak of cold light. His body shot forward like a swallow skimming water, the blade thrusting straight for Isshin's throat—fast, precise, lethal!
At the same time, his left hand quietly moved toward the short sword, the follow-up combo already coiled and ready.
But Isshin was faster!
Almost the exact moment Asuka Kyousuke's long sword cleared its sheath, Isshin moved too. He didn't retreat. Instead, he stepped forward!
The step wasn't large, but it perfectly cut into the extreme limit of the opponent's range—right before the thrust could fully extend.
His wrist flicked. The scabbard shot forward like an iron club, smashing with pinpoint accuracy into Asuka Kyousuke's sword-wrist!
Clang!
Scabbard met sword guard with a crisp metallic ring!
What power!?
Asuka Kyousuke felt his wrist go numb. His lightning thrust was forcibly interrupted, and the follow-up short-sword combo died before it could begin. Shock flashed through his heart. He reacted instantly, changing his grip to slash at the scabbard with the blade's edge.
But Isshin's movements flowed like water, no pauses at all. The moment the scabbard struck, his real blade flashed like lightning!
Shing!
The katana left its sheath—not a standard iaijutsu draw, but using the recoil from the scabbard strike combined with a powerful waist twist. The edge sliced upward from an incredibly tricky angle, aiming straight for the gap under Asuka Kyousuke's raised arm!
So fast it left only afterimages!
Asuka Kyousuke's pupils shrank to pinpricks. At the last possible instant he barely managed to bring his sword back to block.
Clang!
Blades clashed, sparks flying!
The force transmitted through Isshin's blade far exceeded Asuka Kyousuke's expectations. His arm went numb, his center completely exposed once again.
Isshin's blade flowed downward, the flat of the sword whipping like a lash and slamming heavily into Asuka Kyousuke's side.
"Ugh!"
Asuka Kyousuke let out a muffled groan. The powerful blow sent him flying sideways. He stumbled and crashed more than ten meters away, his long sword spinning out of his hand and clattering onto the polished stone floor. He clutched his abdomen, curled up, and for a moment couldn't even stand.
One exchange. The fight was already decided!
The angry shouts inside the dojo cut off instantly, replaced by a wave of suppressed gasps.
Asuka Kyousuke's famous twin-blade speed attack was well-known in Akame Castle, yet he couldn't even last one round?
"That isn't how you fight!"
At the side of the dojo, a lean, goat-bearded master sitting in the back row spoke to the disciple behind him: "Against an opponent like this, the key is… um, to predict his power generation and break his rhythm."
The young disciple listened with a blank face and instinctively asked, "Master, how exactly do you predict it? And how do you break the rhythm?"
"Well… the subtleties of this cannot be fully explained in words. You must watch more and comprehend it yourself."
The goat-bearded master finished speaking and sat up straight again, saying nothing more, looking profoundly mysterious.