The other sealed door of the stone hall slowly opened after the death of the Pyro Regisvine, revealing a narrow passage behind it.
This time, Victor Wang rested briefly before continuing forward.
Not long after he entered the passage, the door behind him slammed shut. Then, the walls on either side of the path began to close in, forcing him to move forward continuously.
Fortunately, the corridor wasn't too long. After sprinting at full speed for about a minute, he reached the end.
It was another stone hall, identical to the previous one—except for the 'BOSS' awaiting inside.
"Why are you here!"
"I have no obligation to explain that to you."
A burly physique, wild short hair, a rugged and dark-skinned face, and a scar so unforgettable it burned into memory—such a figure paired with lifeless eyes.
Victor Wang's breathing grew heavy, anger welling up inside him. Isshin, The Cursed Blade and the Chief Instructor—why were they at the boundary between life and death?
Something was wrong... That Pyro Regisvine with the Blazing Whopperflower face and now this cursed blade—both had shared mortal combat with him. He had even suspected that Blazing Whopperflower was some vengeful spirit come for his life. Could he be the vengeful one? Did the 'Boundary' grant him the chance to claim vengeance?
He raised his sword toward Isshin: "You're just an illusion."
Isshin didn't deny it, merely chuckled coldly. "Heh. As long as you're happy, think whatever you want."
It had become far more adept at controlling the Chief Instructor's body. With a powerful jerk of the left arm, it flung up a cloak stripped from a Hilichurl Ranger, then reversed the sword to point back. "Not that it'll change the fact that you'll fall to my hand."
The battle erupted. Wentian Sword clashed with Isshin, its clash ringing sharply through the enclosed chamber.
What infuriated Victor Wang was Isshin's mocking use of Favonius Bladework. Yet its technique lacked finesse—each strike was stiff and dull, far from the overwhelming assault of their previous encounter, and without the explosive strength that had once disarmed him.
As though reading his mind, Isshin curled the instructor's mouth into a grotesque grin. "You respect this person. You don't want to damage his body. Fine then, let's play for real. I can't leave this world anyway."
"..."
"Hahahaha! Let me tell you—this person's mind is already drowning in the illusion I created. Do you even remember how many days it's been since you parted ways?"
"18 days."
"Oh-ho! You actually remember? But is that really all? No no no—it's been 1.55 million days! 4,260 years!
"You want to know when he finally broke? Let me think… He held on for a while—spent the first twenty years looking skyward, watching the outside world. Eventually, he stopped that meaningless routine, but even then he endured until the fiftieth year before collapsing entirely.
"But that's still just a sliver of those 4,260 years! An ant is an ant, after all."
In a flash of swords, the two broke apart after another exchange.
"Why does an illusion talk so damn much?"
"Right? Just thinking about how my real self is having fun thousands of miles away while I'm stuck dealing with a bug like you—makes my teeth itch with hate. Why am I the one fighting you?"
Isshin sounded genuinely annoyed. It began switching up its techniques, blending sword styles from multiple schools—chaotic yet strangely coherent. Its attack strength escalated.
"You hate my real body too, don't you? How about I let you go, so you can kill it yourself?"
Dozens more strikes clashed. After a swift repositioning, Victor Wang hooked his left index finger. "It's still too early to say who'll win."
"Hmph! Forget it—you can't kill him. Let me just imprison your spirit for fun. Let's see how long you last in my illusion." The provocation escalated as Isshin picked up speed.
Victor Wang began unleashing his true strength.
He had been using this fight to practice his swordsmanship. Though Isshin had started out nonchalant, its killing intent was genuine. This kind of high-pressure training, with death breathing down his neck, was rare and invaluable.
As for its words—once he confirmed it wasn't the real body, he tuned them all out like background noise.
Isshin soon noticed that Victor Wang's defense was speeding up. Compared to his barely-holding-on state 18 days ago, now he blocked every strike, not allowing even a single blow to connect. That meant Isshin couldn't leverage its deadliest abilities.
Isshin unleashed brute force. Victor Wang responded by empowering himself with elemental energy. This annoyed Isshin, who tried to tap into the cursed powers hidden in the sword's hilt to end the fight—but the vortex swirled for ages without producing anything.
"Hmph! I don't need anything else—I can kill you with swordsmanship alone!"
"What are you even talking about? That's nonsense!"
Victor Wang now treated Isshin as nothing more than a whetstone—to sharpen his blade to perfection.
Sword intent! Sword intent! Whatever it truly means—I only need to win!
He began launching counterattacks. The Wentian Sword aimed for the Chief Instructor's right arm. Even if the real Isshin and the real Chief Instructor stood before him now, he would no longer show any mercy. He had come to realize that hesitation was useless in battle. Only by cutting at the root...
But Isshin was no easy opponent. While there was no clear 'intent' in its style, the combination of its movements and the instructor's muscular frame formed a dazzling, illogical storm of swordplay. Victor Wang couldn't find an opening.
The stone hall offered no advantage—dull, featureless, barren.
The standoff dragged on. One mistake from either side could end it.
Victor Wang's condition was far from ideal. Defending against the Pyro Regisvine's explosion earlier had severely drained his mental energy. Now he relied on elemental power to boost his strength, but he might not win a prolonged duel.
Just as he debated whether to risk an opening, Isshin lost patience first.
Not because it was out of energy—but because of its nature. Being forced to fight a "bug" like him for so long bored it to the core. It wanted victory, and fast.
It began ignoring certain strikes, launching suicidal attacks by sacrificing the instructor's body. Though the instructor accumulated gruesome gashes, Victor Wang was instantly pushed back.
Isshin cackled wildly, driving Victor Wang into a wall. Eventually, using the Chief Instructor's brick-like muscles and bones, it trapped the Wentian Sword between the left armpit and elbow. The hand—already worn to bare bone—clamped down on the sword and wouldn't let go.
Victor Wang had no choice but to release the blade. Thirty blades of wind shot from every angle toward the instructor.
"Give up! You may revive, but this time I won't kill you. I'll just lock you in an illusion—and use your body to wreak havoc out there!"
Victor Wang was finally about to be struck down in terror. He summoned thick elemental energy in his right hand to block the blow, hoping to avoid contact—but Isshin's sword pierced mercilessly through it, impaling his entire right palm.
Isshin's crazed laughter echoed in his ears. His spirit was dragged into the illusion.
…
"Grandpa, why do we throw little fish back when we catch them?" Little Silvia asked curiously.
Before Grandpa could reply, Victor Wang answered, "I know! Because little fish are pitiful and not worth much. If we let them go, they can grow up, and then we can eat them!"
Grandpa chuckled warmly. "Catching tiny fish gives no satisfaction, and the fish aren't happy either. Better to respect one another—let them grow some more."
"But if they're already hooked, can they still live?"
The white-haired elder patted Little Silvia's head. "Little Silvia, whether it lives is its business. Whether you let it go is yours."
Victor Wang cut in again. "It's the same with being a person—whether something succeeds is up to it, but whether you try is up to you."
He pointed to the sky with one hand and stroked an imaginary beard with the other.
"How do you know so much?"
"Because I asked Grandpa all these questions the last time we went fishing! Hahaha!"
Grandpa nodded approvingly. "Victor remembers everything. Good boy."
Sitting silently on Grandpa's left, Gavin Wang suddenly lifted his fishing rod. A tiny fish, barely two fingers wide, dangled from the line. He sighed, reeled it in, and removed the hook.
"Huh, it's already dead."
"Dead?" "Dead?"
Victor Wang and Silvia Wang, not fishing themselves, said in unison.
"Dead."
"I know! We should bury it!"
Little Silvia ran over from Grandpa's right side, carefully examined the fish, then told Victor Wang, "Let's dig a hole and bury it."
"Dead?"
"Dead. It's not breathing."
"Dead?"
"Dead! Look!" Little Silvia cupped the fish in his small hands and held it up to Victor Wang.
"…You dig the hole. I have something else to do."
Victor Wang slowly surveyed his surroundings, confirming they were by the Liuqing River near his hometown—a tributary of the Yellow River teeming with wild fish.
This illusion must have drawn from a childhood memory—the only time the three siblings went fishing together under Grandpa's guidance.
He looked up. The sky shattered, revealing the real-world scene—his right hand blocking Isshin, only to be run through. The sword had pierced halfway through his palm and was still driving deeper.
"Phew~ Seems I woke up just in time."
"What are you talking about?" Silvia Wang tilted his head in confusion.
Wang Gan glanced over and muttered, "Chuunibyou."
"What's that?"
"Don't worry about him. He'll grow out of it."
"Oh…"
Victor Wang couldn't help but laugh, but couldn't explain either. He raised his right hand toward the sky, mimicking the same posture as in the shattered sky above, and imagined an invisible power forming in his palm.
It was wind. Seventy blades of wind layered together like onions, forming the devastating Erosion Blast.
Of course, in this illusion it was merely imagination—while outside, thanks to the time differential, the attack hadn't fully formed.
There was still about a second before his palm would reach Isshin's hilt. In the illusion, that equated to a day and a half. Until then, he had to maintain this chuunibyou pose… hopefully without being interrupted by his family...
Still, the illusion targeted the spirit. In theory, simply holding that thought should be enough. Maybe he didn't need to physically pose… but he wouldn't dare risk it.