Iron Cutting

"Heh heh, Saint Sanming, you've never even held a blade and cut someone before. Wanting to cultivate the sword path naturally comes with a trial."

Bael flew down into the field, spread his arms, and threw his head back with a roar. "Sword Domain—!"

With a sharp pull of both hands, a red crack split open in the sky, and a torrent suddenly poured out from within. Miming was startled. Weapons! Countless blades and swords came tumbling down from the sky like an avalanche, carrying the buzzing clang of collisions and the stench of blood, until they were buried in the surrounding ground.

Miming was immensely relieved that he was outside the Sword Domain's range. Beneath the torrent of sword rain, a person was as tiny as an ant. Even merely watching from the side, the oncoming sword aura alone was enough to drive an ordinary person insane.

Bael said, "There are roughly ten thousand blades and swords here. If you still can't achieve Iron Cutting after cutting them all apart, then go practice 'Flying Missile.' You'll never need to consider cultivating 'Vacuum' again, because you have no sword heart."

"Cut what?" Miming asked blankly.

"The Sword Pillar."

Bael casually waved two fingers, and a massive iron pillar crashed down from the sky, stabbing into the center of the field. The violent impact kicked up a gale, making the blades and swords on the ground hum in unison as the sound echoed without end. Then, the Sword Domain in the sky vanished.

The iron pillar was extremely strange. No one knew what material it was made of. It stood three zhang tall and was thick enough for one person to wrap their arms around. Human faces and skulls covered its surface.

Miming watched Bael leave and suddenly remembered him saying that he carried his beloved sword, "Canary," on his back. Yet no matter how he looked, Bael's back held only a pure-white cloak. There was no weapon in sight.

Could the sword be extremely small, so small that the cloak hides it when it's strapped to his back?

Miming turned his attention back to the various blades and swords scattered across the ground. They seemed to have been left behind by past wars, and there were supposedly ten thousand of them. Even from far away, he could smell the stench of blood.

Miming casually drew a long saber. It was the most common kind, a curved blade identical to the standard-issue weapons of the Marines. Its former owner might have been a Marine, but by now, he was probably dead. Sticky traces of blood still remained in the fuller.

Miming suddenly felt that a trace of warmth still lingered on the hilt, even the sweat of its former wielder. Holding it in his hand gave him a strange feeling, as though he had still been using this saber to fight an enemy only a moment ago.

This training might take several days. Since he had not informed the Boa Sisters beforehand, Miming could not help worrying. Cairns should keep an eye on them and take care of them, though.

As Miming was thinking this, a streak of sword light suddenly hacked toward him from the Sword Pillar.

Miming was badly startled and instinctively raised the saber in his hand to meet it, but he was a step too slow. The sword had already slashed across his face, leaving a searing pain.

All distracting thoughts vanished from Miming's mind. He retreated two steps in an instant and touched his cheek. There was no blood, but the pain was real—a pain that came from his very soul.

What's going on? Miming raised his saber toward the Sword Pillar. Did this pillar attack me? It's just a pillar!

With a furious shout, Miming swung his saber with all his strength at the Sword Pillar.

At that instant, one of the human faces on the Sword Pillar came alive. A vicious pirate with a scarred face suddenly appeared before him, roaring as he swung his saber into a clash with Miming.

With a crisp clang of metal, Miming's saber broke. The pirate's great saber cleaved Miming in half at the waist, and blood sprayed into the sky.

The illusion vanished. Miming lay on the ground, gasping desperately. The saber in his hand had been reduced to half its length.

The sensation of being killed had been so real. When he looked toward the Sword Pillar again, Miming was filled with terror. Every human face and skull on it seemed to have come alive, emitting all kinds of sounds: the mad shouts of pirates, the roars of Marines, women sobbing, children pleading for mercy, the sound of weapons chopping into bone, and the sight of heads flying through the air...

Miming suddenly realized that, at some point, the entire field had become a Sword Domain, enveloped by the stench of blood and death. Figures fought and slaughtered one another everywhere.

Pirates massacred villages. Marines and pirates fought desperately. Armies from unknown lands battled one another. Giants and monsters clashed as well. Countless scenes of slaughter intertwined into a hellish tableau. Everyone fought for their lives, and losing meant death!

Miming pulled a saber from the ground and charged madly toward the Sword Pillar. Yet one of the faces on the pillar suddenly transformed into a woman holding a child, her tearful face begging desperately for mercy.

Miming froze. Countless spears suddenly stabbed through him from behind, piercing his body. He screamed madly and swung his saber wildly, but in the end, he could only collapse helplessly into a pool of blood.

When the illusion faded, Miming almost suspected that he had gone insane. He could not even stand and only wanted to escape this land of death first. The towering Sword Pillar stood in the center of the field, looking like a grim reaper that reached from heaven to earth.

"I'm leaving... I'm not training anymore..." Miming crawled a few steps outward, then stopped.

The Boa Sisters' wretched forms, lying in cages with slave collars around their necks; the scars on Hancock's face; and Robin—the young Nico Robin clutching a book and desperately running for her life through the darkness—appeared before his eyes one after another.

"Waaah—!" Miming climbed to his feet, grabbed a saber, and charged madly toward the Sword Pillar.

A tall, vicious pirate swung a great saber at him. Miming met him calmly, even beginning to use his own techniques—Shadowless and Vajra—to fill his blade with Haki, evade the attacks, and strike back at his opponent! Why is this pirate so fast? His footwork was so swift that it seemed to vanish, yet his opponent could keep up with every change! Every saber strike he made was blocked by an answering slash from his opponent!

Amid the continuous clangs of metal, sparks flew in all directions.

Broken and shattered blades lay everywhere across the ground. Miming's figure tirelessly swung his saber, hacking at the Sword Pillar again and again.

On the towering steps, the Twelve Gods drank tea with great interest. The scene seemed particularly well suited to the atmosphere of afternoon tea. Their golden masks hung behind them, concealing their faces from everyone.

"Three hundred years, right?" said the one whose mask was a giant seven-colored flower. "Since Saint Ichi, he's the first Vacuum cultivator to enter this state so quickly."

"No." Sword God Bael shook his head. "Saint Ichi only entered this state after running away three times."

"Anubis, do you count?"

"No." Anubis shook his head. "I practiced Flying Missile first. Everyone practiced Flying Missile first."

"Then he's the first in five hundred years, right? After Bael, you, he's the only one."

All Twelve Gods grew excited. "The King's bloodline finally has someone who looks the part."

"Don't celebrate too soon." Bael's voice was solemn. "This is only a test of whether he is suited to cultivating 'Vacuum.' Whether he can pass still depends on the result."