Swordsmanship

The secret temporary base of the Kusanagi Clan was constructed in secret after the founding of Takigakure.

The location was not large, but it was sufficient to temporarily house the clan. The entire clan did not consist of many people; numbering in the hundreds, even for a clan that claimed every member was a ninja, those who could truly be called ninjas barely scraped together a hundred. Among them, the majority were mid-to-low-level ninjas who could only master one to three techniques of a single nature, and their chakra would be exhausted after casting them five or six times.

Usually, ninjas at this stage relied more on close-quarters combat with blades and long-range shuriken throwing, the Kusanagi Clan especially so.

However, attached to the Kusanagi Clan were also a large number of orphan cannon-fodder genin.

But in the eyes of Yura, at best, they were merely samurai who knew a few tricks, could run faster, and jump higher.

Walking through the streets of the temporary base as if no one were around, with torches flickering all around, children in their teens or even younger stood guard with ninja swords, their faces full of vigilance. The patrols they formed wandered almost without rest. In the eyes of these children, there was numbness and dead silence, almost all wearing the same frozen, expressionless faces. Seeing Shin-getsu, a formal member of the Kusanagi Clan, they bowed respectfully and let him pass without suspicion or questioning.

Watching this scene with interest, Yura couldn't help but think that Orochimaru's fondness for adopting orphans must be a hereditary trait of the family.

The path was unobstructed. Following Shin-getsu, Yura soon arrived at a main house, a typical Japanese-style courtyard that focused on creating a tranquil atmosphere while manifesting the dignity of a ninja clan.

Shin-getsu stepped forward to speak with the layers of guarding ninjas, informing them that he had important intelligence to report.

The guarding Kusanagi Clan ninjas dared not delay; pressing their hands to the swords at their waists, they vanished with a Body Flicker, returning in no time to notify Shin-getsu that he was granted an audience.

Passing through the courtyard filled with flowers, trees, mountains, and water, they arrived at a Japanese-style room in the main building to meet the head of the Kusanagi Clan.

The man was a middle-aged man of about thirty, lean and tall, wearing a plain white kimono with a rope tied behind his waist. This object was a shimenawa, commonly seen at shrines, signifying sanctity and also serving as a barrier marker, as well as holding a protective meaning. As a clan that guarded the sacred treasure, the Kusanagi Sword, the meaning of wearing a shimenawa to turn one's body into a barrier was obvious.

The man had a long sword hanging at his waist, a double-edged straight blade. Yura saw at a glance that this sword was the Kusanagi Sword, also known as the Ame-no-Murakumo-no-Tsurugi, or the Sky Tachi.

"Shin-getsu, what is it you have to report?" the clan head asked.

Hearing this, Shin-getsu's eyelid twitched, and he glanced covertly to his side at Yura, who stood with a calm expression and a faint smile on her lips.

Even seeing it with his own eyes, he found it hard to believe how she had swaggered all the way here without anyone noticing anything amiss.

It was truly a terrifying assassination technique.

Shin-getsu closed his eyes; he could already see the clan head's death.

Caught off guard and ambushed, he couldn't think of any reason why the man could survive.

"Rumor has it that in the clan's swordsmanship, you are the master."

Startled, the man jerked his head to look at Yura, who had suddenly spoken. His pupils contracted and dilated violently, filled with shock and disbelief.

Weak, too weak.

He couldn't even detect anything unusual; she was just an ordinary human.

Yura looked at this man, a man she could only look up to in the past.

"Who are you!?" the man demanded in a deep voice, his body subconsciously tensing in reaction, shifting from a relaxed sitting posture to a half-crouch, his right hand hovering over the hilt at his waist.

"As expected, you wouldn't remember a nobody like me." Yura smiled faintly, her crimson eyes fixed on the man as she said, "Clan Head, Kusanagi Kijuro..."

"You are..." The man's face turned gloomy, his expression shifting as he pondered, saying, "Did you not die at the hands of the God of Shinobi?"

"I did not," Yura said. "Thanks to the clan's care, I have returned."

A haze rose in his eyes, and the man asked in a deep voice, "Was the attack outside the village your doing?"

Without answering such a boring question, Yura drew the Onikiri from her waist.

"Clan Head, I have had some recent insights and have polished a sword technique. I hope for your guidance." Yura smiled lightly.

"Onikiri—!" The man opened his eyes slightly, staring at the eerie blood-red blade in Yura's hand, and said, "You are actually able to wield this demon blade!"

Rising to his feet, the man slowly drew the Kusanagi Sword. The snow-white, four-sided blade was stained with a cold, crimson hue under the flickering candlelight.

Yura gently stroked the spine of the blade and flicked it with her finger. The crimson blade became even more scarlet and frigid, and the sword responded with a high-pitched, bloodthirsty hum.

Cold killing intent lay in ambush...

Watching this scene, Shin-getsu held his breath.

"It's quite strange; this blade seems to have been waiting for my arrival since the beginning." Yura smiled faintly, her crimson eyes flickering with ghost fire in the candlelight.

No, the ghost fire was actually burning.

Red Secret Technique: Infinite Blade.

Strands of hair spread along the fine patterns and residual blood grease on the blade, dense and thick, as sparks of ghostly blue fire leaped until the ghostly blue flames spread to cover the entire blade. Roaring, vengeful skulls twisted and writhed within the ghostly blue hellfire.

An ordinary blade could not withstand Yura's ghost fire, but Onikiri was different.

The fire burned for only an instant before extinguishing, leaving the blade still crimson and cold.

"To think..." Kijuro's eyes trembled slightly, and he said with difficulty, "You have developed Onikiri to this extent, a hellfire composed of resentment and hatred..." His feet shifted slowly on the tatami mats, moving sideways as he tested the distance and read Yura's sword intent...

What is sword intent?

It is not a boring thing like a long-range slash thrown from a blade, but a kind of aura—a thing belonging to a samurai.

Yura held her sword with both hands, taking a stance, raising the blade to the right side of her face with the tip pointing toward the ceiling, held high and vertical.

This was a technique Yura had only recently learned: Kusanagi Style Swordsmanship, a tachi technique, Ichi no Tachi.

Seeing this stance, Kijuro's eyelid twitched.

This was a strike of certain death, a strike of certain doom. An Ichi no Tachi swung with the resolve to die, a firm attitude without the slightest hesitation—either the enemy dies, or I do.

This was a secret language that only swordsmen could understand.

It was an act of ultimate disregard and humiliation.

This kind of desperate, grunt-level swordsmanship required only a few days of training to allow a common soldier to trade lives with a seasoned warrior on the battlefield.

"You bastard..." His eyes were filled with gravity, a sense of intuition known only to swordsmen. Hui Shiliu said coldly, "You monster, have you lost all capacity for joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure?"

Without "joy," there is no Battle Spirit; without "anger," there is no Killing Intent; and the absence of "sorrow" ensures that one feels no pity or hesitation when killing. Consequently, one's sword aura becomes impossible for an opponent to read during combat.

Therefore, in a duel of swordsmanship where speed and striking first are paramount, it becomes impossible to easily predict the opponent's next move.

This grants a decisive advantage in the duels of sword masters.

And in a duel of blades, it is fast, so very fast; in the blink of an eye, life and death are decided.

In ninja battles, where combatants often trade dozens of blows back and forth, it was, in the eyes of Yura and the Kusanagi Clan, nothing more than a game for children.

Cold sweat flowed silently down Hui Shiliu's forehead, cheeks, and spine.

Since becoming a yokai, Yura had reached the level of a Sword Saint in both reading and concealing sword aura. The Kusanagi Clan had always sought to erase human emotion to forge the perfect swordsman, and Yura was the greatest masterpiece they had ever created.

"Do you have any last words, Lord Hui Shiliu?" Yura simply held her blade in a stance and smiled faintly. "If you don't intend to strike first, I shall begin..."

In truth, having been closed in upon to this extent without even noticing Yura, Hui Shiliu already knew that her mastery of the sword had long since surpassed his own, becoming as unfathomable as a ghost or god.

Sweat dripped from his chin.

If he could not read her sword aura, and his own sword path was being predicted and seen through, he would not be able to parry even a single strike. So, what if he tried to provoke her?

"As I thought, with your talent for swordsmanship, I should have killed you back then!"

"You know it, don't you! That village where you were born! It was I who led the men to slaughter it!"

"Who told those lowly peasants to refuse to hand over their grain! I had no choice but to order them all killed! Including your parents..."

Yura smiled faintly. In the Warring States period, ninja clans were often strapped for cash and occasionally moonlighted as mountain bandits to collect supplies; it was a common occurrence. Yura herself had participated in such things—otherwise, raising so many orphans would have been far too difficult.

Looking into those calm, indifferent, and ripple-free crimson eyes, an invisible terror and despair gripped Hui Shiliu's heart so tightly it nearly stopped beating.

"Die—!!!"

With a roar, a lightning-fast strike thrust out from Hui Shiliu's hand!

Shin-getsu closed his eyes. Although his own swordsmanship was poor, even he could see that the Clan Head had suffered a total collapse in the clash of sword auras!

He did not understand the sword, so he saw Yura like a frog in a well gazing at the moon. Hui Shiliu understood the sword, so he saw Yura like a mayfly gazing at the vast blue sky.

And because of that, he was all the more desperate and broken.