Curse of Shattering (9)

At the dojo, Kamakura Keiji had volunteered to step forward, with a rather noble, ready-to-die air about him.

Even compared with the other members of the Gravekeeper family, he was in fairly good shape. But in just this short while, the white kendo uniform he'd just changed into was already spattered with blood.

It certainly suited the image of a gravekeeper better.

As he watched, Fu Qian calmly dodged a slash.

Unlike the couple of casual swings he'd taken earlier, the Kamakura Family clearly had a whole set of techniques for using this bizarrely shaped long sword.

The blade came down with a sound that seemed to make ghosts wail and spirits howl.

Was this Cursed Sword really supposed to cause Mental Pollution?

Fu Qian couldn't help feeling a little impressed.

It had been passed down for hundreds of years, after all. Even if it was the worst of its kind, surely it couldn't rely on mere theatrics.

Clang!

Fu Qian dodged Kamakura Keiji's backhand slash and flicked a finger against the blade, knocking it flying.

The last time he'd used that move was when he fought Veil, the female swordswoman.

It was her special training that had given him some firsthand insight into the way of the sword.

Of course, though both Veil and the man before him wielded swords, their styles couldn't have been more different.

Veil's twin swords were elegant and deadly, not mere showpieces by any means. But compared with this Cursed Sword, they were far more straightforward.

Aside from the eerie sound effects, every move Kamakura Keiji made felt grotesquely warped, like a butcher eagerly chopping someone to pieces.

His movements were practiced and vicious—but they were still just practiced meat-chopping.

Was this blade called the Pork Bone Slicer?

As Fu Qian made his quip,