"Terrifying, terrifying... ho ho ho." Saitō Yakurō, master of the Training Hall, let out a strange laugh.
The bald old man in a dōgi, known as Saitō of Strength, gripped his sword as though bolstering his courage while tugging at his beard. Terrifying muscles rippled beneath his loose robes.
Just as Chiba Shūsaku was about to speak, he saw his second son approaching from the far end of the street.
The man, no longer young, rested a hand on the sword at his waist. His back stood ramrod straight, and his gaze fell directly upon his father and elder brother.
"Eijirō, you—"
As the old swordmaster looked at Chiba Eijirō, his eyes grew brighter and brighter. The expression gradually appearing on his face was no longer a father's affection for his son, but anticipation and excitement at meeting a worthy opponent.
"The younger generation is formidable! Truly formidable." Saitō Yakurō stroked his beard. "My useless son did not lose unfairly at all. The Chiba family has produced another swordmaster."
"You flatter me, Senior." Eijirō nodded reservedly. "Had I not watched the battle between the 'Demon Fox' and my elder brother, I could never have comprehended the secret sword."
Chiba Eijirō's talent was no less than Jūtarō's. The reason he had failed to comprehend the secret sword was because he had witnessed United States Federation military officers fire their guns and kill two swordmasters.
The blood of those two swordmasters had flowed across the long street. Even in death, their hands clutched their sword hilts tightly, never loosening in the slightest.
After that, Eijirō, who had once easily defeated Saitō Yakurō's son, quietly faded into obscurity.
—No matter how one trained in swordsmanship, before guns and cannons, a sword was nothing more than an embroidery needle.
He was far from the