Peak Showdown

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Harlan on the field shed his armor, stood bare-chested, and faced Xilan with a stone longsword in hand.

Xilan also removed his mentor's robe and tied it around his waist. He likewise held a stone sword as he faced Harlan.

The two stood solemnly opposite each other. The fierce auras surrounding the two sword masters collided violently in the air, their invisible pressure clashing with each other.

"Stone swords? Want to start with something traditional? Does that old body of yours need a warm-up?" Harlan asked in an exaggerated tone, flourishing his sword in a dazzling arc.

"Are you an idiot?" Xilan sneered. His stone sword traced a semicircle in front of him as he assumed a defensive stance. "We're just giving the apprentices a demonstration. I believe it will make a greater impression than verbal instruction."

Even at the moment of the duel, Xilan did not forget his duties as a mentor.

A duel between two sword masters was an opportunity that could not be found even by chance. How much the apprentices could learn would depend on their talent.

With battles breaking out frequently now, all the experts were fighting outside. It was impossible to find a sword master to provide guidance.

Since an opponent had come knocking today, Xilan naturally intended to make good use of the opportunity.

The so-called traditional swordsmanship was a "contradictory" sword technique developed by the Night Watchers for tempering oneself.

It was not fierce, nor particularly aggressive, but anyone skilled in using it could be said to possess truly bizarre swordsmanship.

It had been born from Nul White Stone, and its sword technique was called Self-Restraint.

When the white stone was ground down to one millimeter thick, it displayed a special property. It was incredibly tough lengthwise, but with just a tiny amount of force applied across the blade, it would shatter.

A match of Self-Restraint was very simple: both sides could attack with any move, but while cutting off the opponent's sword, they also had to keep their own sword from breaking.

It sounded difficult, but in practice, it was even harder.

It tested both sides' control and mastery of technique in every way.

Since they were starting with something traditional, neither side carried a tense, confrontational air. Instead, they approached each other quite casually.

Harlan bounced along the way, completely relaxed as he adjusted every muscle in his body to its optimal state.

Xilan did much the same, swinging his limbs and relaxing his taut nerves.

"Clang—" The two stone swords struck each other, their clear ringing echoing across the training ground. The crisp sound was both a formal greeting and a declaration of battle.

Harlan launched the first attack. The instant their blades touched, the muscles in his arm suddenly tensed. His stone sword slid down along Xilan's blade and chopped straight toward his face!

"Your intent is too obvious!" Xilan's old yet powerful voice still sounded like a teacher offering instruction.

He gently turned his blade sideways, meeting blade with blade and forcing Harlan to halt his slash.

Indeed! When stone blades collided, the side that used more force was actually at a disadvantage, as its blade was more likely to break at the point of impact.

"Hmph!" Harlan grunted. The muscles in both his arms suddenly jolted, forcibly bringing the descending blade to an instant stop!

This was the essence of Self-Restraint: stopping the blade abruptly!

It required powerful bodily control, manipulating one's muscles to bring a rapidly moving stone sword to a complete stop in an instant!

At the moment it stopped, Harlan's blade slashed sideways in defiance of inertia, cutting out a perfect ninety-degree angle.

"Mm!"

At the edge of the training ground, the tactical apprentices gasped in amazement.

This kind of battle had no shrill clash of blades and no dazzling sword techniques. There was only a brutal test of basic skills.

Doom also watched with his fists clenched. Just imagine how terrifying it would be on the battlefield if your opponent could swing his sword at will and freely control the direction of his blade.

Xilan's expression was stern. It was time for his sword to teach the young man a lesson as well.

The two separated after the exchange. Xilan's stone sword swept upward from below, launching an attack from underneath.

Harlan's swordsmanship was full of aggression. He was never going to raise his blade horizontally to block. Instead, he chopped down from above, striking at the incoming blade as well.

"Whoever stops first is a coward!"

That message flashed through his eyes. Their gazes met, their blazing eyes seeming to fight a battle of their own, each trying to bore a hole through the other.

Neither was willing to yield. They were determined to establish who was superior.

"Ha!"

A muffled grunt rang out. The instant their blades touched, both sides exhaled heavily almost simultaneously and stopped their swords at the same time.

Instant stops, instant slashes. Those two simple movements left the two great sword masters drenched in sweat after only two exchanges.

Their legs were rooted like the intertwined roots of ancient trees, while the muscles in their arms bulged and knotted. The instant their veins rose, they had to relax again.

Even seasoned warriors found such a burden difficult to bear.

Their swords touched "lightly." Facing each other like mirror images, they kept their blades in precise contact as they advanced and retreated.

Their mastery of technique and control over their strength were beyond what ordinary people—or even the Night Watchers—could achieve.

The two great sword masters kept their blades pressed together for only a few seconds before sweat poured down their faces and their muscles reddened from repeatedly tensing and stretching in an instant.

"That's enough of a warm-up, isn't it?"

Harlan could see that Xilan was running out of stamina, so he gave him a way out.

"More or less!" Xilan understood as well. Traditional swordsmanship was too simple for two great sword masters, making it difficult for either to gain the upper hand.

In a match of Self-Restraint, one master had to cut off the other's sword.

By all logic, even if this kind of contest continued until both were exhausted, it would still be difficult to determine a winner.

They were better off saving some strength for the second stage and using their true swordsmanship to decide the victor.

Traditional swordsmanship was basic swordsmanship, and every Night Watcher could use it. The techniques that truly decided victory were Advanced Swordsmanship.

It was a very broad term. Any swordsmanship that went beyond the basic techniques was called Advanced Swordsmanship.

Harlan's Instinctive Sword Technique was Advanced Swordsmanship, and Xilan's sword techniques were Advanced Swordsmanship as well. There was almost no fixed definition. As long as someone developed a style of their own, it was considered Advanced Swordsmanship.

After changing to refined-iron longswords, the two rested for a few breaths and prepared for the second stage.

Hearing that the two intended to get serious, Queen Daisy's expression changed dramatically, as if she had recalled an important lesson from the past.

"You may study and draw reference from Harlan's swordsmanship later, but you must not learn anything else from him!"

"Promise me!" Daisy changed from her usual gentleness and said sternly to Doom, "Not a single bit!"

Seeing the solemn expression on his mother's face, Doom also answered seriously, "I promise! I won't learn anything except his swordsmanship!"

The next moment, Harlan spoke from the field.

Doom finally understood the reason for his mother's prohibition—Harlan's sword techniques could be used as reference, but nothing else about him was worth learning.

"Old man! When my wife gave birth to your great-grandchild, you didn't even come to visit?"

Harlan's mouth was faster than the sword in his hand. The instant he spoke, he threw Xilan's momentum into disarray, and Doom clearly saw the veins bulging on Xilan's forehead.

In that brief moment of hesitation, Harlan seized the opportunity and closed in. His sword swept out in a seamless barrage, forcing Xilan back again and again.

As everyone knew, Harlan's swordsmanship was famous for its aggression. Every time he struck, he aimed for vital points and the throat.

"Look at you. Your sword hand is shaking. Why don't you retire and go home?" His mouth was no less aggressive than his sword.

Doom had heard of the Champion Swordsman, but he had never learned much about the man himself.

Now, seeing the person chattering nonstop on the field, Doom felt restless. He had never expected his guard to be just as aggressive with his mouth.

"Although it's a very effective strategy, do not copy it!"

Queen Daisy solemnly reminded him again. Doom had never seen her look so serious before. "You are a prince of the Norwick Family. You may lose with dignity, but you must not win like him."

Doom nodded, understanding what his mother meant.

His status was different from Harlan's. The Champion Swordsman could act without restraint and use any means to obtain victory. That was his duty.

But royalty had to maintain its dignity!