"This power..."
Saxon’s eyes widened, bloodshot, his feet sinking deep into the ground. Yet, under the imnse force, he continued to slide backward, leaving two long gouges of twenty to thirty ters. Even his steel-plated boots were worn through.
"Co on! How many more punches can you take?" Aeridar yelled, rapidly charging towards Saxon.
"Slash!" Saxon roared, bringing down Quince, and a massive blue slash appeared in response.
"That kind of slash wouldn’t even hit a fly!" Facing the incoming slash, Aeridar flickered and easily dodged it.
Boom!
The massive slash struck the ground, instantly tearing it open. The blue sword wave extended hundreds of ters before dissipating, forming a crack several hundred ters long.
Dong!
Charging to Saxon’s front, Aeridar unleashed another punch. This punch even pierced the air, carrying a powerful burst of energy, and once again struck Quince’s blade. Quince rang and vibrated continuously under Aeridar’s imnse strength.
This ti, Saxon could no longer hold his long sword. With a "clink," the sword flew over ten ters away, while Saxon himself was sent flying backward with a "whoosh."
Thud!
After flying nearly a hundred ters, Saxon finally fell from mid-air, creating a shallow crater on the ground. But his body still couldn’t stop sliding backward for quite a distance, leaving a long, clear scratch before finally coming to a halt.
Puff!
Lying on the ground, Saxon spat out a mouthful of blood mist, staining the earth.
"Get up and fight again! Didn’t you say you could fight for another day?" Aeridar pulled out a finely crafted ivory flintlock pistol from behind his waist and slowly walked towards him, pacing.
"Ugh... cough..." Saxon supported himself with his cracked tiger’s mouth, struggling to sit up on the ground, still coughing up blood.
Aeridar picked up Quince from the ground, then walked to a spot less than five ters away and stopped. He raised the flintlock pistol, pointing it at Saxon. "What? Giving up?"
"Give up? Impossible!" Saxon scoffed, his body suddenly springing up. Both his arms hardened with Armant Haki, and with a ferocious expression, he charged at Aeridar.
Bang!
A loud bang, and three flashes of light streaked across the space.
"Ah!"
Saxon cried out, staggering and kneeling on the ground. A bloody arm fell to the ground. His left arm was severed at the shoulder, copious amounts of blood spilling. His arm had been shot clean off with a single bullet.
"D-damn it! How could it have such power?" Saxon looked at the flintlock pistol in Aeridar’s hand in disbelief.
With his expertise, he naturally recognized that while this gun was a rare masterpiece capable of firing three or four shots consecutively, its power wasn’t great enough to sever a normal person’s arm with one shot, let alone a top-tier swordsman whose body far surpassed ordinary humans.
More importantly, the bullet’s speed was too fast. He could easily dodge bullets from ordinary flintlock pistols, but this bullet was at least twice as fast, aning his Observation Haki registered it, but he couldn’t react in ti.
"The left arm was severed just now, but you’re accustod to wielding your sword with your right hand. What if your right arm is also severed? Can you still fight for another day?" Aeridar shifted the gun’s muzzle, pointing it at Saxon’s right arm, a cruel, mocking grin on his face.
"Cough..." Saxon coughed up a mouthful of blood, his face pale as he looked at Aeridar, then uttered a shocking statent: "Your goal isn’t just to help Casey gain the throne, is it?!"
Aeridar’s heart jolted, and his grip on the gun involuntarily tightened.
"Heheheh... cough, cough... Indeed. Seeing the ambition in your eyes, I knew that fool Casey would never be able to persuade soone like you to help him, you bastard," Saxon said, clutching his wound, his tone filled with disdain and mockery for Third Prince Casey.
"That’s right, but I’m not the type of villain who likes to monologue. I won’t ramble on and tell you a bunch of things," Aeridar’s face turned cold, and he pointed the gun at Saxon’s chest. "So, you might as well die!"
Bang!
Another loud bang. A faint yellow spark erupted from the gun muzzle again, followed by a wisp of smoke.
Thud!
Saxon’s body suddenly fell backward, a hint of disbelief still lingering on his face. A penetrating hole had appeared in his chest; one could see the ground behind him through it.
"Hah..." Blowing on the muzzle, Aeridar returned the gun to his lower back. He looked at Saxon, whose life was fading, and gave a cruel grin, a smirk forming on his lips. "Excellent. This country... will soon belong to !"
Elvish Saxon, the Sea Splitter swordsman, t his defeat in the Clifford Royal Palace at the hands of Golden Ring Chris T. Aeridar, one of the Seven Warlords Alliance, at the age of fifty-two...
...
"Two-Sword Style: Bloodslash!!!"
Accompanied by a furious roar, a crimson slash seed to tear through the void. The terrifying killing intent caused the temperature to plumt, making one feel cold.
The crimson slash, transford into a sword wave, instantly rent the earth, splitting the massive rock garden in the center of the plaza in two. It even flew into the noble district, slicing half a ten-story building vertically.
"How terrifying! I almost died! Hahahaha!" Mando, clad in a black robe, appeared next to the collapsed rock garden, looking at a severed corner of his clothing.
Clang!
Limmings held his sword, parrying Marcus’s large ring-halberd. A violent clash of tal rang out, and a surging wave of air imdiately swept in all directions.
Both sides engaged in a brief struggle, then simultaneously retreated a step.
But in less than a second, they resud their fierce struggle with their blades.
"Disgusting bastard!"
Arlan used Geppo, dropping directly from mid-air and throwing a punch downwards. At the sa ti, his arm muscles rapidly contracted, generating enormous kinetic energy.
Rumble!
A deafening explosion shook the ground. Dense black smoke and flas shot into the sky. The shockwave from the explosion stirred up a cloud of dust, and the ground was instantly blasted into a charred crater over ten ters in diater.
"Damn it, he got away again!" Standing in the crater, Arlan pulled his deeply embedded arm from the ground and spat in annoyance.
Clang!
Oliver held his sword forward with his right hand, parrying a black short sword’s slash.
Mando looked at Oliver and cursed, "Hook-nosed bastard! I really want to cut off your nose!"
Whoosh!
Ignoring the curses, Oliver’s face was grim. He deflected the short sword, then his left hand’s Yubashiri swept horizontally to cut at Mando’s waist.
Thwack!
A spire that had fallen from the city wall dozens of ters away was split in two, cleanly sliced by an invisible slash.
The Mando in front of him had vanished again, leaving only half a blue brick on the ground.
"The Swap-Swap Fruit... such a pain in the ass," Oliver’s face was dark as he stomped on the half-brick, shattering it.
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