Chapter 198: Qinggang Sword, Zhao Yun

Before the words had even faded, a howling rush of air slammed into him; a towering figure over two meters tall shattered the ground beneath his feet and closed the distance between them in an instant, roaring as he swung his axe-sword.

“Boom!”

A deafening crash echoed as Saber blocked the axe-sword with an invisible blade.

The howling air burst into a gale, revealing blue circuits glowing on Rin Tohsaka’s calf as she leapt backward, clutching her sister, landing atop the tree branch where Archer hid.

Kiritsugu rolled on the spot, snatched up a broken branch, strengthened it with his aura, and shouted without looking back:

“Run!”

Bai Zeming didn’t hesitate—he activated his propulsion device and flew toward Yanagidani Temple on the mountain.

He wasn’t worried about the outcome of this battle—or rather, more accurately, this very deployment had been intentional on his part.

Because in the original story, a similar battle had occurred, and it was crucial—it determined whether Illya would develop interest and affection toward Kiritsugu as her brother.

He deliberately left the Tohsaka sisters and Kiritsugu behind precisely to recreate this battle.

If possible, he might even use this chance to raise Illya’s affection and draw her into the alliance.

Even if something went wrong, it didn’t matter—he still had another invitation, ready to summon a powerhouse to turn the tide at any moment.

With these thoughts in mind, Bai Zeming and Zhao Yun headed toward Yanagidani Temple.

Arriving at the stone steps before the mountain gate, Bai Zeming slowed to a stop.

Zhao Yun halted below the steps, his silver spear held horizontally before him, his expression calm as he gazed at the figure atop the steps.

Following his gaze, a swordsman in purple robes stood there, gripping a five-foot-long katana, his deep blue eyes filled with delight as he looked down at Zhao Yun.

A cool night breeze swept over the stone steps, swirling fallen leaves across the ground.

The swordsman planted his long blade into the earth, smiled broadly, and raised both hands in a formal Central Plains martial posture, bowing to the silver-armored, silver-spear-wielding Zhao Yun below.

“A humble student greets General Zhao!”

Fluent Mandarin flowed from his lips, leaving Bai Zeming stunned.

“You speak Chinese?”

“Of course!”

The swordsman lowered his arms, gripped his blade again, and smiled lightly at Bai Zeming in the air: “I was born in Bunroku 4—equivalent to the Wanli era of Ming China…”

So that’s it!

Bai Zeming suddenly understood.

According to the plot he knew, this false Assassin’s true name was Sasaki Kojirō—a legendary swordsman from the island nation, an ancient warrior whose true identity was unknown.

He wielded the five-foot-long blade known as “Monohoshizao” with effortless mastery, making him one of the island nation’s defining symbols of swordsmanship.

In folk legends, he was portrayed as the archrival of Miyamoto Musashi, the island nation’s “Sword Saint.”

Unlike Miyamoto Musashi, who came from humble origins, Sasaki Kojirō was a wealthy playboy, raised amid adoration and privilege, mingling only with the elite.

In that era, the Central Plains remained the center of the world; for over a thousand years, neighboring nations had been steeped in Confucian culture, and virtually every upper-class person with even modest means could read Chinese characters.

Sasaki Kojirō, born into wealth, naturally spoke fluent Central Plains Mandarin.

Seeing Bai Zeming seemed to grasp the truth, Sasaki Kojirō smiled faintly, then turned his head, his blue eyes burning with fervor as he fixed them on Zhao Yun.

“Though I’ve been bound to a mediocre Master, to meet General Zhao in this world—and even have the chance to fight you—is already more than I could ever have hoped for!”

With that, his expression turned serious; he slowly raised his blade to shoulder height, his gaze calm and focused on Zhao Yun:

“This blade is called Bichū Aoe, also known as Monohoshizao—five feet long, forged from fine iron.”

“Its wielder is the nameless swordsman of the Iwato school—Sasaki Kojirō. I humbly request your instruction, General!”

Hearing this solemn self-introduction, Zhao Yun—who had remained silent until now—suddenly planted his spear into the ground, drew the gleaming Qinggang Sword from his waist, and said calmly:

“This sword is named Qinggang, forged by a master craftsman of Yuzhou—three feet six inches long, sharp enough to sever hair and cleave iron like mud.”

“Long ago on Changban Slope, I seized this blade from Xiahou En, the bodyguard who carried Cao Cao’s personal sword, and charged through countless enemy ranks with it.”

“Wherever its blade passed, even hundred-fold tempered armor split like plain silk; when tested on cattle and horses, it severed a hundred beasts without a single nick…”

Is that it?

Sasaki Kojirō stared fixedly at the gleaming blade, listening to Zhao Yun’s slow, deliberate description.

In a daze, he seemed to stand again on the ancient Changban Slope, gazing upon the figure of the white horse and silver spear.

“Good! Good! Good!”

Sasaki Kojirō snapped back to reality, his eyes alight with joy and fervor as he stared at Zhao Yun:

“General Zhao, I beg you—teach me!”

In the next instant, Sasaki Kojirō’s figure vanished like a gust of wind.

The fifteen-centimeter-long katana tore through the air, shrieking as it clashed with the Qinggang Sword above and below, sending showers of sparks flying.

Feeling the terrifying force transmitted through the blade, Sasaki Kojirō’s expression grew even more ecstatic.

Without hesitation, he twisted his grip, flipping the blade in a bizarre motion and slashing diagonally again, sliding along the edge of the Qinggang Sword.

“Ssshh—”

Sparks erupted violently between the sword’s spine and the blade’s edge.

Zhao Yun generated power from his feet, twisted his waist and hips, evading the slash, then swept his Qinggang Sword in a smooth arc, driving it straight into Sasaki Kojirō’s exposed chest and abdomen.

“Clang!”

The equally long hilt intercepted the thrust.

Sasaki Kojirō kicked upward against the sword’s spine, launching the Qinggang Sword away, then leapt backward, creating distance between them as they faced off.

“No wonder you’re the famed Zhao Zilong of Changshan!”

He stared at Zhao Yun with bright eyes, praising without restraint: “Even without your spear, your swordsmanship is peerless!”

“So are you.”

Zhao Yun swung his sword, pointing its tip toward the ground, and said coolly: “I assumed such a backwater land, inhabited by barbarians, could never produce a true martial artist—yet here you stand, worthy of the hall.”

“Hahaha!”

Sasaki Kojirō laughed heartily, as if Zhao Yun’s words were not an insult but a badge of honor.

“Again!”

In an instant, his figure vanished once more, colliding with Zhao Yun below.

“Clang! Clang! Clang!”

The crisp ring of steel on steel echoed fiercely along the stone steps.

Bai Zeming watched the two figures locked in fierce combat below, astonished that this so-called island nation swordsman could match Zhao Yun evenly.

After a moment’s thought, he used his Master’s authority to check Sasaki Kojirō’s parameters.

“Strength C, Endurance E, Magic E, Luck A, Agility… A+!”

Bai Zeming stared in shock at the last two values.

Especially Agility—higher than Zhao Yun’s?!

This wasn’t surprising: as a legendary figure widely celebrated in island nation folklore, Sasaki Kojirō received massive local fame bonuses, enhancing his stats accordingly.

If these two were real historical figures, the outcome would be entirely different…

“Clang! Clang! Clang!”

As the katana and Qinggang Sword clashed repeatedly, Zhao Yun gradually discerned his opponent’s style.

The next instant, his sword technique shifted abruptly; the previously lightning-fast Qinggang Sword suddenly grew heavy as a mountain, ignoring the intricate force within the katana and slamming down, clinging tightly to its blade.

Sasaki Kojirō’s pupils contracted—he instantly raised his hilt to block.

But just as the hilt neared the sword’s edge, the heavy blade shifted again—like lightning—it stabbed straight into his exposed chest.

“Pthsh—”

The blade grazed the hilt and left a crimson slash across his pale purple kimono.

They pulled apart again; Zhao Yun swung his Qinggang Sword, leaving a trail of blood on the ground.

Sasaki Kojirō snapped his head up, eyes blazing as he stared at Zhao Yun: “What was that?”

“Merely a simple shift between light and heavy.”

Zhao Yun’s expression remained calm: “Chasing speed alone is flawed. A true master of the sword must fuse all variations into a single strike—making the light feel heavy, and the heavy feel light…”

“In this regard, Wang Yue of Liaodong is the only true master I’ve ever encountered.”

“With your current extreme technique, you wouldn’t last three strikes against him!”

Wang Yue of Liaodong…

The legendary Sword Saint of the Eastern Han?!

Sasaki Kojirō’s eyes grew even brighter.

“Your words, General, have deeply instructed me!”

“Then I shall now be serious—General, beware!”

Sasaki Kojirō roared, instantly shifting his stance, raising his katana high above his head, and bringing it down with the force of splitting a mountain.

“Clang! Clang! Clang!”

The sharp blade became an invisible blur, unleashing a storm of relentless attacks that pressed down on Zhao Yun.

But this was only surface appearance—Zhao Yun’s expression didn’t change; his Qinggang Sword remained steady, effortlessly countering every strike.

At that moment, Bai Zeming, who had been watching intently above, suddenly froze.

The next instant, his figure vanished—as if swallowed by something—disappearing instantly from above the stone steps.

Zhao Yun sensed his Master’s departure and instantly grew furious; his Qinggang Sword surged forward with unprecedented speed, smashing aside the five-foot katana with overwhelming force.

“Whir!”

As the blade and sword hummed in resonance, Sasaki Kojirō staggered back two steps, staring at Zhao Yun in shock.

Zhao Yun glared, switched the Qinggang Sword to his left hand, and reached out with his right to draw the Bright Silver Dragon-Guard Spear from the ground.

“Wait, General Zhao!”

Sasaki Kojirō, eager to preserve this opportunity for a sword duel, quickly protested: “General Zhao, please calm down—this was not my doing; it must be the work of that she-fox!”

“She-fox?”

Zhao Yun’s expression softened slightly, but then he frowned.

Sasaki Kojirō nodded earnestly and revealed the information he knew.

“So, it was Caster who used spatial magic to move one of the Masters?”

Sasaki Kojirō replied earnestly: “That must be it!”

Zhao Yun frowned: “If so, I have no time to waste on you…”

“Wait!”

Sasaki Kojirō grew serious: “Since you’re pressed for time, shall we settle this with a single strike?”

“I have a sword technique—born of a moment when I tried to cut down a flying swallow, and the motion came naturally.”

“It’s not a powerful move, but it’s one I take great pride in—I beg you, General, to witness it!”

Zhao Yun frowned, planted his silver spear back into the ground, and regarded Sasaki Kojirō with a calm gaze.

“I’ll give you three breaths…”

(End of Chapter)