Facing the imminent bombardment of high-decibel sonic waves, Horitake merely raised a brow. The Chidori Stream enveloping his body began to shift.
One must not forget: the sound emitted by the Chidori—that chirping of a thousand birds—is, in itself, a high-frequency sound wave.
By simply adjusting the frequency of the lightning, the shrill screech of the Chidori could be tuned to interfere with, merge, and ultimately cancel out Urogi's sonic attack.
And then, it hit. The overwhelming wall of sound crashed into Horitake's position.
BOOM!
The earth around Horitake was instantly pulverized, blasting apart under the sheer pressure of the sonic destruction.
Yet, Horitake himself stood completely unscathed.
The purple electricity of the Chidori Stream shrouding him seemed to swallow the sound waves whole, rendering the high-decibel assault utterly useless.
The grin vanished from Urogi's face. He stared at the scene, baffled and greatly alarmed.
But he didn't dwell on his confusion for long. After all, Urogi's arsenal was not limited to sonic attacks alone.
Descending from the sky with blistering speed, Urogi dove like a bomber plane on a strafing run. As he swooped down toward Horitake, he extended his avian talons, aiming to tear his prey apart.
This clone, Urogi, was essentially a harpy—a bird-man hybrid. His limbs ended in razor-sharp claws capable of crushing solid rock with ease. His power was terrifying.
Moving with the predatory instinct of a raptor, he completed his dive, slashing viciously at Horitake!
"Where do you find the audacity to engage me in close quarters?"
Horitake scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. The lightning of the Chidori Stream instantly converged, flowing along the blade of Weiguang in a flash to form a blade of pure lightning.
Without a second word, Horitake swung the Chidori-infused blade directly at the diving demon!
The piercing power and sharpness of the Chidori were not things an ordinary demon could withstand.
Sensing the fatal danger, Urogi flapped his wings in a panic, desperately trying to turn and fly away.
However, the Chidori strike was too swift, too sudden. It connected—slicing cleanly into Urogi's wing!
Squelch!
Blood sprayed through the air, mingled with severed feathers. Urogi had been wounded in a single exchange. Terrified, he dared not descend again, flapping his remaining feathers frantically as he ascended, desperate to put distance between himself and the swordsman.
But Urogi was not the only demon present.
Over on the other side, the Demon of Hatred had recovered his wits. Ignoring his half-severed palm and the bloody, collapsed mess where his nose used to be, he roared with resentment and lunged forward, looking for all the world as if he intended to tear Horitake to shreds.
Horitake remained expressionless. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he snatched three drifting feathers from the air.
They were the very feathers that had been sheared from Urogi's body, now repurposed by Horitake as weapons.
Lightning crackled in his hand. Horitake gripped the three feathers and snapped his wrist toward the charging Hatred. The feathers shot forward like darts forged of refined steel!
The Demon of Hatred, still in mid-charge, suddenly realized the projectiles were flying toward him and turned pale with fright.
The feathers hurtling his way were wreathed in purple lightning.
And what did that signify? It meant that any wound caused by these feathers would not regenerate!
Worse still, the three feathers were aimed with lethal precision: one at his heart, one at his throat, and one at the space between his brows.
Every move was fatal; every strike showed no mercy!
To avoid instant death, the Demon of Hatred was forced to slam on the brakes, twisting his body violently in a desperate attempt to evade the projectiles.
He managed to dodge two of them completely. The third, however, he could not fully evade. It grazed him, gouging a large chunk of flesh from his shoulder!
Naturally, the wound on his shoulder showed no signs of healing.
Seeing their combined offensive fail so miserably, the two most volatile clones—Sekido (Anger) and Aizetsu (Sorrow)—could stand it no longer. Gripping a khakkhara staff and a cross-spear respectively, they charged at Horitake, initiating close-quarters combat.
Among the five distinct clones, only these two possessed melee weapons. If they didn't step up to fight, who would?
Granted, Karaku (Pleasure) held a leaf fan, but how was one supposed to use that as a melee weapon? He wasn't Uchiha Madara; he couldn't exactly work miracles with a war fan.
Sekido and Aizetsu advanced side-by-side, their staff and spear clashing violently with Horitake!
Horitake didn't indulge them in the slightest. Wielding his treasured blade, Weiguang, he entered a fierce white-knuckle skirmish with the two demons.
The speed and power on both sides were top-tier.
Between the three combatants, the afterimages of the staff, the spear, and the sword wove a deadly net. Every move was fraught with peril, yet executed with dazzling speed. Every collision of weapons ignited a blinding burst of sparks!
The battle between the one man and the two demons was intense, the offensive relentless, with neither side showing mercy.
Horitake fought one against two, yet he did not fall into a disadvantage. On the contrary, he seemed to handle it with ease.
Sekido and Aizetsu, fighting two against one, looked anything but relaxed. Their faces were heavy with gravity.
Horitake's Nichirin blade, Weiguang, was fashioned in the style of a Tang sword—a relatively short weapon compared to their polearms. Yet it was incomparably sharp, radiating a brilliant light and enhanced by the purple heavenly lightning. Its power was unfathomable.
Under Horitake's command, Weiguang became a blur of light and shadow, its defense airtight and its offense overwhelming. It was virtually impossible to guard against.
The weapons in the hands of Sekido and Aizetsu—whether the khakkhara staff or the cross-spear—were long-reach weapons, designed for wide, sweeping attacks and decisive blows.
The usage of these two weapons differed slightly.
The khakkhara could be considered a blunt instrument among long weapons. Sekido used it to smash, swing, and batter Horitake, but every strike was effortlessly parried.
The cross-spear was a piercing weapon, used primarily for thrusting, picking, and blocking. Unfortunately, these techniques proved equally futile against Horitake.
Against the heavy smashing of the staff, Horitake showed no fear, meeting brute force with his own terrifying physical strength and constitution.
Against the sharp tip of the cross-spear, Horitake was unconcerned. You think you are sharp? You are not necessarily sharper than my Weiguang. He met needle with point, countering sharpness with superior sharpness!
Although Sekido and Aizetsu were bullying the few with the many, fighting two against one, they felt incredibly stifled. They were barely coping, unable to gain any ground.
The reason was the ferocity and speed of Horitake's blade.
While their long weapons had a massive attack range, they lacked agility.
Horitake's Weiguang, being a shorter blade, was inherently more agile and perilous. Combined with Horitake's frightening speed, he became an unpredictable nightmare, capable of slipping past their guard to deliver a slash at any moment.
And it wasn't just speed and agility; Horitake's raw power was monstrous. He didn't shy away from a direct clash of strength!
As a result, amidst the rapid, ringing collision of steel, Sekido and Aizetsu felt increasingly restricted, their situation growing more dangerous by the second.
This fierce battle between the three triggered a tense observation from the sidelines.
Karaku, Urogi, and the Demon of Hatred—the other three clones—dared not intervene carelessly.
The frequency of attacks in the melee was simply too high. There was no opening. To rashly step in and try to help destroy Horitake would only disrupt their allies' rhythm and cause more harm than good.
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