Shinjuro had also successfully mastered [Grip of Ten Thousand Jun].
The Bright Red Nichirin Blade technique, lost for centuries, now burned steadily in his hands.
It was not as blazing as Xia Xi's, but it was unmistakably red.
He stared at the crimson Nichirin Blade in his hands for a long time.
He seemed to have momentarily forgotten even the aching weakness in his lower back.
"So..." His voice caught with a trace of disbelief. "So I'm a chosen one too?"
Seriously, could you stop obsessing over the words [chosen one]?
Yoriichi's been dead for centuries.
Why keep bringing him up?
Xia Xi waved dismissively. "Yes, yes, you're the chosen one today. Happy now?"
Only then did Shinjuro come back to his senses and shake his head at Xia Xi.
"No, that's not right."
"You're the true chosen one, Xia Xi."
He raised his head, his gaze settling on the boy.
"Whether it's your mastery of Breathing Styles..."
"Or this sword technique lost for centuries... I've trained for nearly thirty years, but I've never reached your level."
"In the end, I'm just a Swordsman of the Rengoku Family following my ancestors' teachings."
"But you, Xia Xi-how long did it take you?"
"Three years? Two? No, it hasn't even been two years, has it?"
Shinjuro's tone was calm.
"Whether it's your Breathing Style or your overall strength, you've already surpassed all of us Nine Hashira."
"Even a lost technique like this..."
"You could bring it back into the world through your own talent for combat and tireless effort."
"Honestly, if one day you told me the Breathing Style you developed was on par with Sun Breathing, or even surpassed it..."
"I wouldn't be surprised at all."
As far as Xia Xi's strength went...
Shinjuro was now utterly convinced.
Perhaps Xia Xi