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墨書 Inktalez
The officer's hand inched closer to the hilt of the blade, his fingertips brushing against the metal of Leng Lie, as if he were about to grasp a symbol of victory. A smirk crept onto his lips, filled with provocation and disdain, as he looked down at the ronin wearing a conical hat before him. He chuckled inwardly, convinced that this man was merely posturing and posed no real threat.
"It seems I need to personally test your worth," the officer said with a sneer, deliberately slowing his movements, as if attempting to transfer the pressure onto Leng Lie.
However, just as his wrist was about to exert force to draw the sword, Leng Lie tilted his head slightly. A deep voice emerged from beneath the brim of his hat, resonating like a warning bell from the abyss: "If it were me, I wouldn't want to draw my sword."
That voice pierced through the officer's eardrums like a frost-laden blade in winter. It carried no emotion but bore an invisible weight, pressing down on him like an insurmountable mountain.
The officer hesitated for a moment, his hand pausing slightly. A flicker of doubt crossed his eyes but was quickly overshadowed by anger and contempt. Gritting his teeth, he retorted, "Hmph! Don't try to scare me! I am a Level Seven Master of the Flame Blade Sect, having faced countless duels. Why would I fear someone like you, a nameless nobody? What a joke!"
No sooner had he spoken than he suddenly drew his sword without regard for martial ethics. The blade glinted coldly, carving a blinding arc in the light. Yet, at that very moment when the sword was barely unsheathed, an overwhelming Killing Intent surged forth like a tidal wave, enveloping the officer instantly.
This Killing Intent was chilling and bone-deep, as if thousands of sharp blades were simultaneously stabbing at him all over. His blood felt as though it had frozen in an instant. The officer's body stiffened abruptly; in his wide-open eyes, arrogance and pride crumbled away in an instant, replaced by profound fear. His hand froze mid-air, the blade only an inch out of its sheath, unable to advance any further.
He felt as though his limbs no longer belonged to him; his muscles were rigid and immovable. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead, soaking his back completely. His breath came in rapid gasps, as if a massive stone were crushing his chest, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
"What... what is this...?!" The officer's voice trembled with unmistakable terror.
Leng Lie stood tall like a solitary peak; his hand rested lightly on the hilt at his waist, and the blade within its sheath had not even stirred. Yet the officer felt as if he had been struck down countless times.
One strike, ten strikes, a hundred strikes... No! Thousands of strikes!
Each wave of Killing Intent felt tangible, slicing through his soul and willpower. The sensation of being severed was suffocatingly clear, as if his very existence had been utterly shattered and then forcibly reassembled.
The officer's legs began to weaken, his ankles trembling as if he would collapse to the ground at any moment. His gaze became vacant, his eyes unfocused, as though he had lost the ability to think.
His feet quivered slightly, and cold sweat poured down his face. He gritted his teeth, trying to maintain his stance, but the strength in his knees seemed to have vanished completely. Finally, his right leg buckled, crashing heavily to the ground with a muffled thud.
This kneeling caused the officer's face to flush crimson, humiliation and anger intertwining in his eyes. He struggled to rise, but his body swayed uncontrollably, ultimately collapsing awkwardly onto the floor. Gasping for breath, his expression shifted from terror to rage as he gritted his teeth and shouted, "Surround this guy! He attacked a soldier of Yang Chuan; he must be executed immediately!"
The officer's command fell like a spark in a haystack, instantly igniting a tense atmosphere in the teahouse. The Yang Chuan soldiers drew their swords or raised their Energy Guns, quickly encircling Leng Lie, blades and gun barrels all aimed at him. The cold light glimmered ominously, and the atmosphere was so heavy it felt as if the air itself was about to solidify.
The patrons of the teahouse held their breath, none daring to make a move. Some lowered their heads in feigned ignorance while others cautiously edged toward the corners, fearful that one misstep would make them the next target. Even some ronin who had previously harbored doubts about Leng Lie no longer dared to meet his gaze, hastily bowing their heads and silently praying that this confrontation wouldn’t bring disaster upon them.
Leng Lie remained standing straight, his hand lightly resting on the hilt of his sword at his waist. His gaze was icy, and the loose cloak fluttered gently in the breeze. He slowly lifted his head, locking eyes with the officer, his voice low yet laced with a chilling intensity: "Is this how your country treats its guests?"
His voice was not loud but struck like an invisible blade into the officer's heart, sending ripples through everyone in the teahouse. Each word carried an undeniable pressure that made people hold their breath in focus, as if all surrounding tension emanated from his presence.
The officer's complexion shifted between pale and flushed; he attempted to mask his embarrassment but found himself dwarfed by Leng Lie's imposing aura, unable to retort. He gritted his teeth but could not utter a word; the humiliation and anger in his eyes nearly consumed him.
Although the soldiers of Yang Chuan surrounded Leng Lie, their grip on their weapons wavered. Their gazes flickered with uncertainty written across their faces. This man had instilled an indescribable sense of pressure with just a glance and a few words; it felt as though even before drawing their blades, they had already lost much of their momentum.
With clenched jaws, the officer stood up angrily from the ground; his movements were somewhat stiff yet filled with murderous intent and humiliation. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and drew it from its sheath; the blade reflected the dim light of the teahouse with a chilling gleam. His voice echoed within the teahouse like a roar: "Kill him!"
At his command, the Yang Chuan soldiers surged forward all at once, swords clashing with a whistling sound through the air. However, just as the officer raised his hand and began to draw back his blade, Leng Lie struck.
In that instant, it felt as if time had been severed; a sharp metallic sound rang out in the air as Leng Lie's blade flashed like lightning through space. The officer barely registered Leng Lie's movement; all he saw was a blurred shadow of a blade slicing through his vision. His actions halted abruptly as if an invisible force had frozen him in place.
The officer's eyes widened as he looked down at his right arm, feeling a sense of dissonance, a strange discomfort emanating from his shoulder. The muscles in his arm were poised to strike, but as the forearm attempted to follow this force, he realized that his wrist seemed to have lost control, even… vanished.
"What…?" His voice was filled with disbelief and terror as his gaze slowly descended, revealing an image he could not accept.
His right arm was severed with an unnaturally clean break; the cut was smooth, without even a hint of ragged edges. The forearm that had held the knife now lay helplessly on the ground, producing a dull thud. Blood gushed from the stump where his arm once was, flowing like a fountain and appearing particularly shocking under the dim light.
"This… how is this possible…" The officer's voice was hoarse and trembling, his pupils constricting violently, his face pale as paper. He tried to lift his head, but the cold sweat on his forehead blurred his vision. He felt as if an invisible pressure had completely suppressed his body, crushing any thought of escape.
Leng Lie stood still, slowly sheathing his knife with an elegant and composed motion, as if the earlier strike had been merely routine. His gaze was cold and unfeeling, like a depthless sea devoid of warmth, fixed intently on the officer. His tone was chillingly calm: "Do you still wish to test me?"
The officer's body began to tremble involuntarily; his legs weakened, and he collapsed to the ground once more. Blood dripped from the severed arm onto the floorboards below, staining them red. The surrounding soldiers halted in their tracks, their hands gripping their weapons trembling slightly as they stared at Leng Lie with eyes full of fear and horror. No one dared to take another step forward.
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