As Allen's words fell, the surrounding bandits all stepped back in unison, fear etched onto their faces.
No joke—an upper-level Kenjutsu Ryuu (Sword God Style) swordsman just lost. Who among them wanted to be the next offering?
In the back, a low-level swordsman tried to flee, thinking himself safe behind the crowd.
But the moment he turned, a sharp wind howled behind his ear. A piercing sonic boom exploded behind his head!
In the corner of his eye, something gleamed—then vanished into the forest beyond.
He froze. A chilling sensation swept his side, followed by the sound of water pattering onto the ground.
Turning back, he met the horrified stares of those nearby.
Confused, he looked down.
A thick red column was gushing from a gaping hole in his chest. The chest he had once proudly trained was now gone—replaced by a hollow cavity.
Coughing up blood and shredded organs, he stumbled, trying to look back.
The shocked faces around him blurred, but Allen—that harmless-looking slaughterer in the distance—remained perfectly clear.
Allen still held a throwing posture, hand outstretched. When their eyes met, he even smiled.
Darkness.
Thud. His corpse collapsed like a ragdoll.
The others turned their gaze to the one who had thrown the sword with a flash—a Northern God Style throwing technique.
Allen calmly retracted his open hand. The fallen man's sword was gone. A faint green glow swept across Allen's body—almost unnoticeable.
The night wind blew wild. But Allen's voice rang clear:
"Let me remind you: tonight, you only have two choices."
"One: kneel and wait for death."
"Two: kill me."
"Before that, though..."
He glanced at their stunned faces, letting his blade catch the firelight. He pointed it past them, straight at Banbao, who looked quite uneasy.
"No one runs."
"So... my advice? All of you come at once. Because..."
Allen sheathed his blade, licked the blood from his cheek.
"I'm in a hurry."
Silence.
The bandits looked around at each other, unsure whether to advance or retreat.
At the back, Greyhawk exchanged a knowing look with Banbao. Both wore grim expressions.
Greyhawk drew in a breath to shout—but dust stung his eyes.
Banbao moved!
With a burst of wind and gravel, he launched into the air! His blade traced a long arc of light, roaring toward Allen like a meteor!
Perception.
Allen lifted his head, chuckling. The forest fell still. Shocked expressions had just begun to form when Banbao's lithe body came crashing down like a beast, two-handed grip slashing!
The blade's edge reflected in Allen's narrowed pupils.
Hokushin Ryuu Counter-Slash Technique — Avalanche Drop.
A real-combat starter from the High Overhead stance, channeling all Douki into the blade for a wide-area burst.
But his grip…? Is he unskilled or bluffing?
As Allen thought this, Banbao collided with him—but at the last moment, Allen's blade rose to meet his.
Perfectly intercepting the strike.
Banbao's eyes gleamed.
BOOM!
The clash exploded. Banbao's weapon was blown aside!
But he had already abandoned his blade!
Twisting midair, he landed on all fours beside Allen, then lunged at his waist—a dagger gleamed in the firelight, aimed for Allen's ribs!
Yet before it could strike, Banbao's face twisted. For the second time, he dropped his weapon and flipped backward like a circus performer.
SHRIEK!
A piercing cry erupted where they'd stood. Allen had driven the broken dagger into the ground, pulling his own blade free from the fragments.
Turning slightly, he looked at Banbao.
Banbao had retreated a safe distance, grabbing a new sword from a nearby thug. He looked a mess, but his lips curled in amusement.
"So that self-made secret technique of yours hasn't advanced much after all. I tested it. You deliberately stopped a Ryuu technique midway and transitioned to a Kenjutsu wrist-drop stab aimed at my hand, huh? Not fast enough."
Allen gave a casual smirk.
"Avalanche Drop? Pretty average. Four-legged stance was interesting. But let's be honest, a guy who trains in flashy styles won't understand the fundamentals of real combat. Might as well stick to dog-paddling."
Banbao's smile faded. His eyes grew cold.
"That sharp tongue doesn't match your supposedly silent reputation."
Allen blinked.
"Takes one to know one."
Banbao's grimness had mostly vanished now. He raised his voice.
"Against me, interrupting your Ryuu technique for a counter worked. But what if everyone charges you at once? Can you still counter then?"
He didn't wait.
"You all saw that, right? This brat only defends with Suijin Ryuu (Water God Style). His counters aren't fast enough! He can't even use Silent Blade no Kata! Just swarm him, and he's done for! One thousand gold coins, then Rigatte and wine await us!"
Most of the thieves used Hokushin Ryuu or Kenjutsu Ryuu. Banbao's earlier exchange had revealed something—Allen might be provoking them as a tactical feint.
That seed of doubt festered fast.
The allure of 1,000 gold burned all hesitation away. They rationalized the earlier losses.
"That last guy's Silent Blade no Kata was weak anyway."
"Even if a few die, it won't be me."
"Just don't be reckless. Victory's guaranteed."
They felt confident again.
While the group readied themselves, Banbao subtly moved behind them, shielding himself with bodies. He exchanged a glance with Greyhawk.
Allen, however, observed it all with amusement.
In the past, taking down this many people overnight required caution. He'd need to wear them down, guerrilla-style.
Just like the ambush in Red Dragon's Upper Jaw.
But now?
Now things had changed.
Swordsmanship had advanced.
So had his Healing Magic glyphs.
And—
His self-made secret technique had evolved.
(End of Chapter)
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