Kitamura-kun, I'll End This Battle With One Sword, Broadcast in Slow Motion Ten Thousand Times, Interpreting What Strength Is

Uesugi Tetsu looked up and watched Kitamura Yūyū across the arena. His face seemed somewhat haggard, but his eyes had transformed into blades sharp enough to cut through iron.

It had to be said that Kitamura Yūyū's immense Essence, Qi, and Spirit had practically taken on physical form.

At the same time, its direction was extremely clear. It formed a straight line that landed directly above his head.

It was as if it intended to split him in half from top to bottom.

Under such pressure, let alone ordinary people—even swordsmen who had trained for years might have felt their legs go weak and lost their nerve before the battle even began.

Ririko could do something like this, but she did not possess such a vast amount of Essence, Qi, and Spirit. The Two-Shaku-Sama's protective halo could rival it in total volume, but she could not control the halo's circulation.

"Kitamura Yūyū can fully be called someone who has achieved something."

Uesugi Tetsu did not act rashly.

So Kitamura Yūyū also stood motionless, merely keeping his right hand on the hilt while watching Uesugi Tetsu's movements from the corners of his eyes.

For a moment, the arena sank into a silent, deathly stillness.

But the spectators inside Sky City Stadium did not shout things like "Are they going to fight or not?" or "Why are they just standing there?" as they had before.

Instead, just like the atmosphere on the arena floor, they either unconsciously held their breath or pressed their lips together, allowing the silence to spread rapidly throughout the stadium like a series of bombs exploding in succession.

Was it pressure, or something else?

The two of them were clearly only standing on the arena floor, yet every ordinary person felt anxious, their toes gripping the ground and