Chapter 87: Sword Light

In the early morning, with no immediate threat of a zombie attack, everyone naturally indulged in a rare moment of leisure, sleeping in without worry. Compared to the nerve-wracking days before, when every second was spent on edge fearing a bite that could lead to infection, the current safety—where one could take a hot shower and eat a proper meal—was a luxury beyond measure. With their guard finally lowered, Takashi Komuro and the others sprawled across their beds, fast asleep.

Only Yexing and Saeko Busujima were exceptions. One had developed the habit of early rising through years of dedicated training to hone his strength, while the other, a young lady of the Busujima family, had been strictly raised by her father from childhood and had shown an astonishing natural talent. Achieving her current accomplishments was only possible through unwavering diligence.

Some distance away, five or six figures hid in elevated positions, watching Yexing through sniper scopes. Two more sat in the branches of another tree, closely observing Yexing’s every move through the dense leaves.

With some free time, Yexing began his daily sword-drawing practice, using the opportunity to instruct Saeko, who had only just begun her training. At her current level, she fell short of the standard Yexing demanded. To an outsider, it seemed as if Saeko was simply repeating the monotonous motion of drawing and sheathing her wooden sword over and over.

“It’s not enough. Again!” Yexing’s tone was strict; he allowed Saeko not a moment’s slackness in her training. Yet Saeko found joy in it, feeling her strength grow with each session. Every strike she delivered left deep gouges in the thick trunk before her, evidence of her increasing power.

“Just a bit more. Strike five times in rapid succession, then pause for three seconds. Focus—don’t think, let instinct guide your blade. Remember this feeling!” The tedious repetition of drawing her sword had gone on for nearly an hour without her realizing it. Saeko’s brow was beaded with sweat, a sign that her stamina was nearing its limits.

As Yexing spoke, Saeko’s mind was almost in a daze. She attacked five times in a row as instructed, her wooden sword’s tip slamming heavily against the tree trunk, sending chips of wood flying and leaving depressions the size of fists. Her mind was blank, her body moving seemingly of its own accord. She stepped forward, bent her elbow slightly, and with a resonant hum, drew her sword—a sound reminiscent of metal sliding against metal.

Saeko hadn’t seen it clearly herself, nor had the hidden watchers, who only sensed a fleeting yellowish light that vanished as quickly as it appeared, like a trick of the eye. A falling leaf was perfectly sliced in two as it drifted down. When Saeko came back to herself, she was stunned. Her consciousness had been blank; she had no idea what she’d done, only that she’d swung her sword. The clean, even cut was nothing like the mark a wooden sword would leave.

The next moment, something even more astonishing happened: the thick tree she’d been practicing on for years now bore an upward-slanting cut, as if it had been deliberately sharpened. Under the pull of gravity, the upper half of the tree toppled to the ground.

“Did I do that?” Saeko murmured in disbelief. Even with a sharp steel blade, it would be nearly impossible to sever a half-meter thick trunk in one blow, let alone with a wooden sword. The cut was smooth as a mirror, clearly the work of a razor-sharp weapon, while her wooden sword was nothing more than a blunt tool.

“Of course you did. I have no reason to joke with you,” Yexing said when he saw her disbelief. “Look at your scabbard. Recall the sensation from just now.”

Looking down, Saeko saw that her previously intact scabbard was now split cleanly in two and unusable. She closed her eyes and tried to recapture the moment. Standing there with her wooden sword for five full minutes, she finally opened her eyes again. It seemed as if something was flowing along her sword.

A thin, pale yellow glow now coated the blade. Anyone not looking closely might think it was simply the wood’s natural color. Saeko struck the remaining stump with her sword—and the trunk, like a block of tofu, parted without resistance.

“Very good. You found the feeling again in five minutes. You’ve learned to use sword energy, and it doesn’t take much stamina to maintain it. From now on, you won’t have to exert yourself to cut down zombies. Go get some rest—you may feel sore tomorrow,” Yexing said. In terms of swordsmanship, unleashing sword energy meant true initiation. At this level, both Saeko’s skill and her physical prowess would improve dramatically.

Through his system’s assessment, Yexing noted that Saeko’s combat power was approaching one hundred. When he’d first met Shizuka, someone whose strength surpassed everyone in the Afterlife, her combat power had been just over a hundred. Now, even if thousands of zombies surrounded Saeko, she could carve a bloody path to escape, given how slow and clumsy zombies were—slower even than an ordinary person’s walking pace.

“Thank you so much, Yexing. I’ll go rest now!” Realizing just how much she’d improved, Saeko thanked Yexing excitedly and went back inside.

After Saeko left, Yexing turned his gaze toward the other tree, his voice cold. “You’ve watched for long enough. Are you not coming out?”

The two in the tree cursed inwardly; nothing was worse for a spy than being discovered. After hesitating a moment, they decided to stay put, hoping Yexing was only bluffing. If they came down, it would be an admission.

When there was still no response, a cold light flashed in Yexing’s star-like eyes. He was never known for his patience, and being watched was something he despised. These people had been observing him and Saeko for nearly an entire morning. If not for their lack of murderous intent, he would have already killed them. Given the chance and their refusal to take it, he would show no mercy.

He gripped his sword, drew and sheathed it in one fluid motion—his sword-drawing skills far surpassing Saeko’s. A nearby tree fell with a crash, and the two watchers tumbled from the branches to the ground.

“Damn you! How dare you attack us, you brat!” one of them shouted. Though Yexing’s move had only caused them to fall, the drop from several meters up was painful enough to enrage them.

Yexing remained silent; he disliked speaking to strangers. The fact that he hadn’t beaten them was already generous—an apology was out of the question. In his mind, they had been the first to spy on him, and he had given them a chance. Now, their complaints were simply ignored as he turned away, disinterested.

“Stop right there! Didn’t you hear us talking to you? How dare you walk away!” they shouted, feeling deeply insulted by his indifference. One of them drew a pistol and fired a shot.

Shifting his stance lightly, Yexing turned, cold light flickering in his star-like eyes as if he were gazing at the dead. The bullet struck the ground at his feet; had he not moved, it would have hit his leg.