Chapter 373 - 212

Chapter 212: Nothing That Cannot Be Cut: Hawkeye's Final Lesson!Twilight on Kuraigana Island was shrouded in a near-violent silence.The skeletons of the former kingdom cast long, crooked shadows under the blood-red setting sun.On this stage of death, the only sign of life was the shriek of blades tearing through the air.White steam rose from Zoro's bronze-colored back, and every inch of his muscles coiled and released like steel wire.Three blades roared around him!wado ichimonji was as calm as deep-sea cold iron, sandai kitetsu emitted a bloodthirsty low moan, while Black Blade Shusui echoed with the heavy dragon-like roar of the dragon-slaying samurai of Wano Country.His figure turned into three intersecting, tearing afterimages among the tombstones; wherever the blade light touched, the ancient stone monuments were carved with new scars, and gravel splattered like rain flying in reverse.However, no matter how violent or swift his strikes were, he could never touch that silent figure standing at the highest point of the ruins.Mihawk, Hawkeye, seemed to be a part of these ruins, homogeneous with the shadows and originating from the same source as the desolation."Too slow."The voice landed.Like a piece of cold black iron, it struck precisely into the gap between every one of Zoro's movements.Clang—!!!This time, Hawkeye's blade moved.In an instant, the world lost its gravity.The ground between the two collapsed silently, presenting visible cracks spreading like a spiderweb.The space itself seemed to become an ice mirror struck by great force; before emitting an unbearable groan, it first presented twisted and broken patterns.Overhead, the oppressive, rolling dark clouds were brutally dispersed by two invisible sword intents rising into the sky.Starlight fell bleakly, illuminating the mangled earth below and Zoro's suddenly frozen figure."Your sword is screaming," Hawkeye's golden pupils looked down at him, that gaze penetrating the sweat and steam, reaching deep into his soul, "but your heart is whispering."Zoro gasped, his three blades still raised in the air, his muscles trembling slightly from the sudden stop."Why do you swing your sword?" Hawkeye walked down the ruins step by step, his black boots stepping on the gravel without making a sound, "For a promise to the departed? For the protection of your living companions? Or purely for your own hunger for the word'Strongest'?"He stopped a few steps in front of Zoro; at this distance, life and death were but a thin line."These are all good, and they are all sources of your strength."Hawkeye's gaze swept over the Shusui in Zoro's hand, that pitch-black blade seemingly a vortex, sucking in his gaze, "But if you cannot forge them into one, tempering them into a'Slash' will that has no stagnation... there will always be a layer of fog before your blade's edge."His finger pointed gently at the blade of Shusui from a distance."Your blades, Roronoa, they are still telling the stories of their previous owners."The promise of wado ichimonji, the curse of the Kitetsu, the land and souls carried by Shusui...Hawkeye's tone was flat, yet every word carried a thousand pounds of weight, "When they can forget all the past and only tell the story of 'Roronoa Zoro'... you will have truly touched that threshold."He stepped back slightly and gripped the hilt of black blade yoru with his right hand.An extremely simple movement, yet it caused the lingering chirping of insects in the ruins, the sound of the wind, and even the trajectory of the flowing starlight to freeze."Watch closely."Hawkeye's voice sank, carrying an unprecedented solemnity."I will not execute this sword strike a second time."The moment the words fell—Zoro's pupils shrank to pinpoints.He saw it, but could not understand.In his perception, Hawkeye's figure began to "dissolve."That iconic black hat, those sharp golden eyes, that upright body, and even the aloof aura surrounding him... all began to collapse inward, converging toward an absolute, dark, and sharp "point."That point was black blade yoru.It was not the person converging toward the blade... but the "boundary" between the person and the blade that was disappearing!Will, memory, cultivation, the ultimate realization of swordsmanship, loneliness, pride, and even the intention of "teaching" at this moment...All the intangible and formless parts belonging to the "person" turned into the purest torrent of spirit, surging into that black blade without any obstruction.At the same time, the concept of "Severance" that black blade yoru had tempered through countless battles, the sharp essence that could cut through anything, and the darkness that carried everything, also flowed in reverse, soaking and reconstructing Hawkeye's "existence."The person is the blade, the blade is the person.The slash is me, and I am the slash.There was no longer any distinction; they were one.Then, he moved.There were no techniques, no names, not even the process of a "swing."It was just that ultimate concept of "Slash," where person and blade were one, "flowing" forward an inch.Boom—!!Heaven and earth lost their voice, and all things lost their color.A trajectory of "Nothingness" was born out of thin air.Wherever the trajectory passed, space parted as smoothly as the most fragile silk.Everything was completely erased, leaving behind a bottomless abyss with edges as smooth as a mirror.The trajectory went straight up, cutting through the atmosphere, slicing the thick clouds like fabric into a "heavenly scar" hundreds of meters wide, straight enough to be heart-stopping.Starlight poured down from the rift, yet it twisted and refracted eerily near the trajectory.The trajectory extended to the end of the horizon, sinking into the pitch-black sea level.Dead silence.Absolute dead silence lasted for what felt like a century.Then—Boom!!!!!!!!!At the distant horizon where the sea met the sky, a wall of seawater, exactly the same width as the rift in the sky and straight enough to violate all laws of nature, rose up with a roar, stabbing straight into the sky!That was the solidified, raging wave lifted up after the concept of "Slash" swept across the seabed.The wind began to flow again, carrying the salty fishy smell of seawater and the scorched scent of evaporated soil.Sound returned, and the world changed from a static painting back into flowing time and space.Hawkeye was still standing in the same place, black blade yoru already back behind his shoulder.Fine beads of sweat seeped from his forehead, and his breathing carried a trace of almost imperceptible disorder.But those golden eyes, which were always sharp, were now brighter and deeper than any star, as if the sword strike just now had also tempered himself.Zoro stood frozen, his blood seeming to have truly frozen.The low humming of the three blades in his hand had long since stopped, replaced by a subtle trembling that was almost like submission.It was not fear, but the most instinctive reaction of life when facing a higher level of "existence."That was not a "technique."That was... a "realm"!!It was the tempering of one's own will through fire and water, the life-and-death attachment to the soul of the blade, ultimately breaking through the shackles of the physical form, and becoming a manifestation of the underlying "sharpness" rule of the world!!Hawkeye's voice rang out, hoarser than usual, yet heavy enough to crush mountains:"Remember this feeling, Roronoa."He took one last deep look at Zoro, his gaze complex and difficult to understand; there was scrutiny, expectation, a trace of entrustment, and also the determination to sever attachments."When you no longer feel that you are 'using' the blade... when you yourself are the concept of'Slash'...""Only then, before you..."He turned around, his black cloak rising in the air currents that had not yet calmed down, leaving behind the last five words, which merged into the deeper shadows of the ruins along with his back:"...'Nothing That Cannot Be Cut'."Under the starlight, only Zoro was left.Before him was the miraculous sword scar that traversed the island and the atmosphere, and the world of swordsmanship in his mind that was roaring, completely overturned, and reignited.This lesson had no chants or mental methods, no disassembly of techniques.There was only a pure display of a "realm," an impact and brand on the level of the soul.A seed named "Supreme," carrying the shock and loneliness of cutting through heaven and earth, was buried deep in the deepest part of his swordsman soul, waiting for the day to break through the soil and cut through destiny.