Novel & Cerita Black Haired Swordmaster

Same as how Rion actually didn't need to eat to keep on living, but it just felt nice to taste and eat a meal. "Master Rexa," Rion greeted the old man. "It is indeed nice to see a legendary person like you here." Master Rexa laughed out loud. "What legendary? Are you trying to mock me right now? I'm just an old man with a back problem. What legendary are you talking about? Hah... you just want to sweet-talk me right now, didn't you? Quit it already! I'm just an old man." Master Rexa was a sword master from Frozen Lotus Pavilion. He was a senior sword master, well-known for his skill and vast experience. Even famous masters like those from Liebu Moluntain had high respect for him. He was trul

Black Maple Master unsheathed his gleaming metal sword, bracing himself for the impending clash. Alexander and his opponent engaged in a swift exchange. Alexander delivered a trio of slashes, each one bristling with a fierce, almost tangible force. Black Maple Master parried the first two blows, but the third pushed him to his limits, his aura flaring into a crimson hue. He had delved into the dark arts, mastering techniques even more sinister than the Grand Hart Lord. Boom! With another mighty swing, Alexander sent Feyen Cooper stumbling back. The red aura shielded Black Maple Master, leaving him with only a tingling sensation in his arm, no real harm done.

He lifted his right hand; a big black sword appeared firmly in his hand, accompanied by a crisp sound. The big black sword had a chilly aura, and it was a purple category weapon.

Professor James still have the relax expression on his face and just adjusted his posture, waiting for the red hair. The red hair guys swing his great-sword diagonally, creating wave of fire! 'Go red hair guy!' I could help but cheered deep within my mind, he was honestly brave to be the one to first step forward! I thought it would be the main cast but surprisingly it was the same person, who clearly love battle. I suppose his a battle maniac.

He knew himself that he cant buy a good sword as he have to buy body tempering technique too with this little amount of money. As he tried to pick a sword he saw a beautiful black sword in the corner of rack, Theo mesmerized and uttered," what a beautiful black sword", suddenly from back he heard the word," isn't it beautiful, to sad the cultivator from whom i got the sword told me that this sword cannot cut anything, its dull sword". Suddenly as if deciding something Theo decide that he will take that sword. Theo walked out of the blacksmith shop shouting," Thank you, old man jiang"

A man stood there—tall, pale, sharp in every angle. Black coat, high-collared and tailored. Gloves spotless. Hair dark, slicked back without a strand out of place. His face looked carved, not grown—handsome, but distant. At his hip, a sword. Slim. Precise. Like him. "Gareth," the young boy said. "Young master," the man replied. "You weren't there." The boy shrugged. "I already know how to swing a sword." "You know how to move your arms. That's different."

He looks like he’s trying to breathe through his mouth and not his nose, leaving me to assume he finds the scent off-putting, too. Tasha nods. “It’s not exactly the same, but it’s similar enough that whatever they’re from are definitely the same species if not the same…things.” She says “things” in a tone that projects both disgust and bewilderment. “Alpha!” I hear Channing call as he approaches with Blake and Serafina. It takes just a moment before I realize he’s carrying a human over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Who do you have there, Channing?” I ask, feeling my mouth go dry and the sensation of my stomach dropping, fearing the answer.

Another charges straight at me with a spear, but my dagger meets his throat before he can lunge. Huts collapse in showers of sparks. Others burn, filling the air with thick, choking smoke. I’m slick with blood but despite the workout, breathing is steady. My movements are sharp. I do not intend to use High Heal but Professor Sloane’s voice is still ringing in my head, reminding me about the drones overhead. A shadow falls over the flames. The largest hut’s door slams open, and he steps out. Towering, broad, wearing blackened armor that looks stolen from fallen warriors. His skin is darker green, his eyes brighter, more menacing. In each hand, a curved sword gleams.

Never to just one opponent. Yet here we were, witnessing the impossible. Sir Sirius Black had beaten Prince Thrystan in a joust. The disbelief rippled through the crowd as the Prince flung his helmet to the ground, his frustration palpable. Gasps erupted from the audience, and I watched his curly hair, more disheveled than ever, fall around his face as he ran his hands through it in agitation. His dark brown locks tumbled wildly, mirroring the storm brewing within him.

"I can. I am the Vampire Master, and this fool has done a wrong to me. He shall receive the punishment of death. Now leave!" Not waiting for any further protest from her, I slowly swing the man around; I want him to watch me in the eyes as I rip his throat to pieces. I want to show him what a monster I am. With my right hand, I yank his head to the side, exposing my fangs; I slice his skin open in shreds. His agonizing cries fill the silent air of the night. "Please stop," he pleads. "Nothing happened. We did not do anything."