Blade Of The Sword Saint Novels & Stories

Things were done differently here. Saint stepped forward, and his Gamma handed him a ceremonial blade, silver-edged, etched with runes that shimmered faintly under the moonlight. Without hesitation, Saint turned his palm upward and dragged the blade across it. The sound of wet flesh splitting made me flinch. Dark and thick blood welled instantly, glinting red-black under the light. The witch held up a silver bowl, and Saint’s blood dripped into it. The smell of iron, smoke, and something electric underneath it filled my lungs and burned the back of my throat.

Lorenzo asked. Guillermo's expression darkened as he spoke through gritted teeth. "That useless fool seems to be injured." Lorenzo's jaw dropped. "Alfredo is the Sword Saint, a peak martial god. Who could possibly hurt him?" Guillermo clenched his teeth, taking a long moment before responding. "Andrew. That little bastard is back! I never expected he'd have the guts to go after Alfredo the moment he crossed the border. If he didn't have some incredible martial power or a deadly trump card, there was no way he would dare to challenge Alfredo!"

Eryndor's Shadowing dagger seemed to dance in the moonlight, its dark blade slicing through the air with a haunting screee-ksss. Each strike landed with a thud-thwack-thoom, sending tremors through the troop's warriors. The troop's hearts raced as the violent zing-ting-zap of clashing daggers filled the field. The savages of warriors, fueled by fury and loyalty, clashed in a frenzy of arms and teeth. The ground grew slick with blood, the earthy smell mingling with the metallic tang of steel. Jack Wolf stood firm, his Moon-whisper spear shining with a soft, ethereal light. He parried Eryndor's strikes with a precision born of desperation, his movements a blur of speed and strength.

Cameo asked from behind me as I stepped into the air-conditioned space. I ignored him. My fingers drifted lazily over the weapons. Metal kissing my skin, while one name burned through my mind. Abel Roshid. “Sir?” “Cameo, do as I’ve said.” My voice cut in, cold and final. His heavy sigh followed, then the sound of the door closing behind him. When I was alone, I picked the flick blade with serrated edges. Unsheathed it and ran my thumb along the ridges, feeling every bite of it. A dark smile curled on my face.

“Even with your belly ripped open, you still cling to life.” Bending down, Huang Fu brought his face within a mere inch of Xiu Jian’s bowed head, close enough to hear the ragged, desperate gasps of his foe. Huang Fu’s eyes gleamed as he watched Xiu Jian grimace in unbearable pain. Scarlet trickled from Xiu Jian’s temple, sliding down toward his eye. With a swift motion, Huang Fu reached for the sacred blade at Xiu Jian’s left hip—the legendary sword sheathed in a scabbard adorned with golden dragon carvings.

Damon POV The first blade came from the left. I deflected it, slammed my shoulder into the attacker, and drove my knife up under his ribs. He dropped without a sound. More came—sprinting through the trees, shouting Axel’s name like it was a war cry. I met them head-on. Steel met flesh. Blood soaked into the dirt. I moved on instinct. Dodge, strike, kill. My breath was ragged, my arms heavy, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. I carved a path forward through the chaos, eyes scanning the battlefield, listening for anything—anyone—that could tell me where Kalilah was.

It commanded a respect he was unwilling to give to anything else. The end came not from a master stroke, but from the ground. Leigh stepped back onto a loose stone, her ankle twisting. She stumbled, her guard faltering for a crucial second. Makil's blade swept in, hooked hers, and wrenched it from her grasp. It flew through the air, landing with a dull thud in the dirt. He stood over her, his sword point hovering near her chest. They were both gasping, steam rising from their bodies in the cold air.

BLADE 3. Pain. It was all I felt when I shot my eyes opened. I felt so sore and tired. The memories of how Lorenzo plunged deeper into me last night filled my mind. He was so cruel to me. I didn't find any enjoyment in it at all. I tried lifting my hands and I was happy It was back to functioning. My tit hurts too as a result of the sucking he did last night.

Exactly as seen earlier in the castle. The sword. “What does that one do?” I asked, pointing to it. “It drinks blood. For anyone it kills, their blood is stored in the blade. You would try to always have a clothing between you and the hilt” That did not sound more beneficial than fairy dust. “So how useful would it be to protect me?” With only a smile, “very” Time to close the deal. “I have one silver coin” playing with the coins against my fingers. “Make it three and we have a deal”

Furthermore, no matter how strong a person was, once the terrifying sword aura locked onto them, they could not escape and could only wait for their death. Twenty years ago, there was a powerful person named Elder Stone Sword. He claimed that no one could challenge his attainment in swordsmanship. However, the Sword Blast took his life too. When Preston used the Sword Blast, Elder Stone Sword could not avoid it, as if his body was fixed in place. "What a powerful sword aura." Darryl took a deep breath and praised as Preston got closer and closer. "It is no surprise he is known as the Saber Saint. With such a powerful sword aura, I doubt that even Master could block that attack."