"So, you actually have some crude strength, you nameless rat!" said the grandson of the Sword Saint. His face twisted with raw indignation as he recovered his stance, his jade-hilted rapier trembling with concentrated spiritual energy. "It does not matter. I will show you the true gap between a peasant and nobility. Seven Strikes of the Sword Saint—First Style: Stance of Death, Cut of Life!"
A blinding, emerald-green light suddenly erupted around his blade. The noble youth lunged forward like a striking viper, his rapier moving so fast that it appeared to split into three distinct, lethal paths, all rushing simultaneously toward Roy's vital points.
Roy did not hesitate for a single fraction of a second. Instead of wasting energy trying to block all three illusory trajectories, he gritted his teeth and drove his katana straight through the center line, aiming to smash the middle blade while willingly exposing his flanks to the remaining cuts.
