Chapter 219: The Rakshasa, Otto
"You claim you came all this way to test your sword," Rovel said, his voice smooth but pressing. "Yet, how can you call it a true test if you refuse to draw blood?"
Sushang blinked, genuine confusion swirling in her dark eyes. "Why must testing a blade involve taking a life?"
In her sheltered mind, a trial of the sword was merely a contest of skill. A way to measure one's own strength against another. Wasn't it enough to simply disarm and defeat an opponent? What did murder have to do with martial arts?
"If it were truly just a matter of measuring your raw strength, your master would suffice," Rovel explained, his tone indifferent as he leaned back against the cold stone wall. "She is far stronger than you and knows your exact limits. There would be absolutely no reason for her to send you all the way out to a desolate wasteland like this."
He paused, letting the silence stretch for a beat. "Testing your sword is meant to temper your mind. It broadens your worldly experience and forces you to grow. And seeing blood... well, that is simply the fastest way to shatter a naive worldview."
"Take your master, Cheng Lingshuang, for example," he continued. "She descended the mountain to test her sword when she was a mere four years old. She severed heads without so much as a blink."
A fleeting memory crossed Rovel's mind. Back then, he had been right in the middle of lecturing Lingshuang, only to have his avatar ruthlessly struck down before he could even finish his sentence. Her only justification had been a deadpan: 'Senior Brother said I could kill.' That was the fundamental difference between a true prodigy of the sword and a sheltered girl playing hero.
"How is that even possible? Four years old?!" Sushang's eyes widened, her jaw dropping in sheer disbelief. Her master had never once mentioned such a bloody past.
Suspicion quickly replaced her shock. She glared at Rovel, convinced he was spinning wild tales. Just moments ago, this guy acted entirely clueless about the basic affairs of the martial world, yet now he claimed to know intimate details about Lingshuang's childhood?
'Hmph... This guy is just a delusional liar,'she thought, crossing her arms.'How pitiful. He looks about my age, but his brain is completely broken.'
"Suit yourself," Rovel sighed, waving a hand as if dismissing the topic entirely. "I can see your Heart Essence has already reached the [Bright Mirror] stage. Out here in the martial world, aside from your senior uncles, you would be hard-pressed to find anyone capable of defeating you in a direct clash."
He shifted his posture, making it abundantly clear he had no intention of holding her hand through this ordeal.
"Hmph! If you aren't going to help, then just say so," Sushang grumbled. "Stop lecturing me using my master's tone!" She stuck her tongue out at him, a childish gesture that completely ruined her attempt at looking intimidating.
Rovel offered no retort. He simply closed his eyes, leaning his head against the damp wall to quietly organize the wealth of information he had just coaxed out of the gullible girl.
Seeing him slip into a restful silence, Sushang let out a bored huff. She sat cross-legged on the dirty straw and began silently reciting the Sword Heart Mantra to pass the time. Deep within her consciousness, her Sword Heart rippled. It transitioned smoothly from [Still Water] to [Dustless], and then elevated from [Dustless] into the pristine clarity of [Bright Mirror].
However, the moment she attempted to push her limits and break through to the legendary final stage, [Taixu], a violent, splitting pain pierced her skull. Sushang's face drained of all color. Cold sweat poured down her forehead, her breathing turning ragged as she clutched her temples.
"Trying to force a breakthrough to the Taixu Realm without ever having taken a life," Rovel remarked, opening one eye to observe her trembling form. A dry, mocking smile touched his lips. "Ambitious, but foolish."
"Oh? Do you understand the Sword Heart Mantra so perfectly?" Sushang snapped, her brows knitting together as she glared at him. Annoyance flared hot in her chest. She could accept hitting a bottleneck in her cultivation, but being openly ridiculed by a stranger was a bitter pill to swallow. "Tell me then, what level has your grand Sword Heart reached?"
"Oh, I haven't formed a Sword Heart at all," Rovel answered with complete honesty, the smile on his face widening into something far more dangerous. "However, even without one, you still might not be able to beat me."
Sushang's eyes widened in sheer disbelief. How could a man who hadn't even condensed a basic Sword Heart dare to speak with such arrogance?
Every single advancement within the Taixu Sword Heart represented a massive, qualitative leap in a martial artist's ability to manipulate True Qi. For the cultivators of Shenzhou, True Qi was the absolute standard by which all strength was measured. In a duel between two Sword Heart practitioners, whoever could command the greater volume of True Qi would naturally dictate the flow of battle.
Of course, it only guaranteed an advantage. Her master, for instance, could string her up from a tree and beat her black and blue without using a single drop of True Qi. But Sushang absolutely refused to believe this smug stranger possessed that kind of monstrous physical prowess.
"Hmph! Then please enlighten me, Senior Brother!" Sushang challenged, her small face flushed with defiance as she heavily emphasized the title, dripping with sarcasm.
"I have no interest in fighting you," Rovel replied, not even bothering to look up from his relaxed posture. "Sparring with a little girl who faints at the sight of blood is incredibly boring."
While Sushang's raw talent and physical strength were certainly up to standard, she was simply too green. The martial world was never just a straightforward arena of honorable duels and raw power. Deception, poisoned wine, and daggers in the dark were the true currency of this realm. Even someone as impossibly powerful as the Red Kite had fallen victim to a treacherous backstab. Compared to that legendary immortal, how much strength did this naive girl truly possess?
"You... Hmph!" Sushang choked on her own frustration. Her fists clenched, but her strict upbringing prevented her from launching a sneak attack against an opponent who refused to raise his guard.
'Arghhh, he is so infuriating!' she screamed internally. Puffing out her cheeks like an angry squirrel, she stomped over to the far corner of the cell and sat down, aggressively sulking in the shadows.
Roughly an hour passed in tense silence before the heavy iron door of the dungeon groaned open. The rusty hinges squealed, echoing down the damp corridor. A burly sand bandit swaggered into the holding area, a cruel, leering smirk plastered across his scarred face. He stopped before their cell and pointed a thick finger at Sushang.
"You. Our Chief wants to see you."
"I've been exposed..." Sushang muttered, slapping a hand against her forehead. She felt incredibly stupid. She had been locked inside a cage while the bandits roamed freely outside; of course the guards were going to report her suspicious behavior to Eagle.
Resigning herself to the situation, she dusted off her robes, stood up, and walked toward the open cell door.
Seeing her move, Rovel pushed himself off the wall and calmly followed a few paces behind. As he reached the threshold, the bandit stepped into his path, thrusting a hand out with arrogant authority.
"Where do you think you're going? The Chief didn't ask for you! Get your ass back in there and sta—ugh!"
Sushang had paused, secretly hoping to watch the smug Rovel make a fool of himself against the burly guard. Instead, her breath hitched.
In a blur of motion too fast for the naked eye to track, Rovel's hand shot forward, his fingers clamping around the bandit's thick throat like a vice of solid steel.
Crack.
A sickening, wet crunch echoed through the cramped corridor. The bandit's neck was snapped at an unnatural angle, his life extinguished in a fraction of a second.
Sushang froze, her face instantly draining of all color. Her stomach churned violently, a wave of intense nausea rising from deep within her chest. She clamped a hand over her mouth, fighting the sudden, overwhelming urge to vomit.
Rovel casually discarded the limp corpse, tossing the heavy man aside as if he weighed no more than a sack of rotten grain. Rather than following Sushang out into the main courtyard, he turned his attention deeper into the dungeon, his eyes scanning the adjacent cells as if searching for something specific.
Forcing herself to swallow the bile in her throat, Sushang averted her gaze from the dead body and hurried outside into the blinding sunlight.
It didn't take long for Rovel to locate his true target. Sitting in a solitary cell at the very end of the hall was a man with striking blonde hair and piercing green eyes—a foreigner, a Rakshasa.
Otto Apocalypse.
The man sat perfectly still in the gloom, his intense, unwavering gaze locked onto a heavy white coffin resting on the floor beside him. The silence surrounding him was heavy, suffocating.
Rovel approached the iron bars, gripped the heavy padlock, and casually twisted. The metal groaned and snapped under his sheer grip strength. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The sharp sound pulled Otto from the depths of his melancholic memories. The blonde man slowly turned his head, his green eyes sweeping over Rovel. Assuming the intruder was just another low-level sand bandit coming to harass him, Otto offered nothing more than a dismissive glance before turning his attention back to the coffin, completely ignoring the newcomer.
"Go," Rovel commanded, his voice calm but carrying an obvious weight.
Otto blinked, finally giving Rovel his full attention. Though the foreigner had yet to master the complex language of Shenzhou, he had picked up enough to understand basic commands. Yet, Otto remained seated, his brow furrowing in silent confusion. Why would a bandit be setting him free?
Rovel met the man's guarded gaze. "I am going to find the Red Kite."
The moment those two words left Rovel's lips, a sharp, dangerous light ignited within Otto's emerald eyes. The foreigner had no idea how this stranger knew of his ultimate goal, nor did he care. If this man was also seeking the legendary immortal of Shenzhou, their paths were aligned.
Without a single word, Otto stood up, effortlessly hoisted the massive white coffin onto his shoulder, and followed Rovel out of the shadows.
The moment they stepped out of the dungeon and into the sun-baked courtyard, a crisp, resounding slap echoed through the air. Rovel looked up just in time to see Sushang stumbling backward, a bright red handprint blooming across her cheek. The bandit leader, Eagle, stood over her, his hand still raised.
"Heh..." A dry chuckle escaped Rovel's lips, the sound cutting through the tense atmosphere.
"Who the hell are you?!" Eagle barked, his sharp, hawk-like gaze snapping toward the dungeon entrance.
The bandit chief cut an imposing figure, clad in a blue short-coat with matching half-sleeves that exposed his heavily muscled arms. Golden waist armor glinted in the harsh sunlight, and a wicked long saber rested menacingly at his hip.
Eagle narrowed his eyes, his mind racing. He had absolutely no memory of capturing this man. Rovel possessed a refined, striking appearance—he would have easily been classified as high-quality merchandise, much like the blonde Rakshasa standing behind him. If his men had dragged someone like that into camp, Eagle would have remembered. The only logical conclusion was that this intruder had snuck in alongside the little girl.
Furious at the breach in security, Eagle whipped his head around to glare at the three sand bandits guarding the courtyard, convinced they had accepted a bribe to look the other way.
"Chi... Chief! We swear, we don't know who he is either!" one of the bandits stammered, raising his hands in a desperate panic as he backed away.
But their pleas fell on deaf ears. Eagle's face twisted in rage. He unleashed a devastating [Tiger Roar], a shockwave of condensed True Qi that slammed into the three guards. The sheer concussive force shattered their heart meridians in an instant. The bandits collapsed like broken puppets, dark blood oozing from their seven orifices as they died before they even hit the dirt.
Rovel watched the brutal execution with mild interest, his eyes tracking the flow of the bandit chief's energy.
"The martial arts of the Luo family of Hedong," Rovel noted aloud, his voice carrying easily across the courtyard. He tilted his head, a cold smirk forming on his lips. "And it seems you've even succumbed to mara."
The dark, corrupted aura clinging to Eagle's body was unmistakable. Rovel took a slow breath, finally noticing the oppressive atmosphere of the environment. The ambient Honkai Energy in this desolate canyon was exceptionally dense, far higher than normal. His eyes narrowed as the pieces clicked together.
'Such a heavy concentration of corruption... Could it be that the corpse of the Emperor-class Honkai Beast, Taowu, is buried directly beneath this stronghold?'
[Inorin's Note:
Enjoying the story? Dropping a quick review, comment, or Power Stone means the world to me and keeps these daily updates flowing!
Want to read 50 chapters ahead or just want to help keep a shameless translator alive? (My livelihood actually depends on this, haha 😭). You can support me directly here:
(P.S. Just remove the brackets and replace the [.] with a regular dot . to use the links!)
✨ Patreon (50 Advanced Chapters): patreon[.]com/InorinTL
☕ Ko-fi (Support / Sponsor): ko-fi[.]com/InorinTL
Thank you so much for reading and keeping this project alive!]