Bowblade Spirit Novel Novels & Stories

The court moved quickly, clearing space in the center of the chamber. The duel circle formed beneath the towering pillars of bone and stone. Adrian stepped into the open space. Across from him, Kharvek unsheathed a massive curved blade. “Try not to die too quickly,” the demon mocked. Adrian said nothing. The duel began. Kharvek attacked first. The demon moved with surprising speed for his size, his blade crashing down with enough force to crack the stone floor. Adrian twisted aside. Steel shrieked against steel as he raised his sword to deflect the next strike.

Rather, its spirit was the one shivering. If the Blood Lotus Demon Blade was considered the most bloodthirsty object in the world, then the Spirit-annihilation Halberd in Zuoqiu Yang's hand would be the object that was most prone to devouring spirits in the world. It was strong enough to swallow the soul of any cultivator. However, at this moment, Xiao Chen felt no fear. Rather, he felt a sense of affection from the weapon. For some reason, the demonic weapon in front of him felt very familiar. It was as if the halberd was once his many years ago.

The blade tilted toward Zara. I stepped in front of her without thinking. “Don’t,” I snarled. Voss’s lips curved. “Fascinating. It recognizes hierarchy already.” The blade lunged. It didn’t aim for my heart. It went for my bond. Pain exploded through me, white, searing, intimate. The blade skimmed my chest, carving a sigil into my skin that burned straight through flesh and into spirit. I hit the floor hard, the world shattering into sparks and echoes.

Blade sprang into action to catch it, but the boar was wild and rabid and was not surrendering without a fight. Even before Blade got even a slight scratch from the wild boar, it just dropped dead on his feet. I had to tell the spirits not to interfere with Blade unless I asked them to. They agreed, but a few days later, while Blade was sparring with one of his warriors, his body was enveloped in a black mist, and I had to scream and ask them to stop. I was terrified that if Mike attacked Blade, he would just drop dead. So, at this point, Blade and I decided that he was not to go into any friendly combat with anyone until I could make the spirits stop overprotecting him.

When the old man saw this, he ran forward and threw himself in front of the black miasma, not wanting to let Gerald’s spirit blade hurt Ember Lord. Swish! The spirit blade passed through the body of the old man.

BOOOOMMM! The soul blocked Xiao Chen’s attack, but it didn’t last long—a single kick sent it flying effortlessly. Before it could regain its balance, Xiao Chen had already appeared behind it and slashed the sword at the soul’s waist. But just as the soul was struck, Xiao Chen noticed something strange: the soul wasn’t split at all. The slash simply passed through as if it hadn’t cut anything at all, and a smile appeared on the spirit’s face. It had entered Xiao Chen’s body because it was certain that nothing could cut it—even if the sword was wielded by Xiao Chen’s spirit. But a sword is an inanimate object, so anything classified as an object couldn’t possibly touch it.

She fought like a wolf—elusive, patient, aiming for tendons and openings. Clack. Clack. THUMP. She landed a solid blow on his ribs. He returned one on her shoulder that numbed her arm for a second. They broke apart, breathing harder now, a new respect dawning in the space between them. This was no longer a test. It was a conversation. Their blades spoke a language of feints, parries, and counters. He learned she favored her left side when tiring. She learned he had a tells when he was about to lunge. They were evenly matched in skill, but differently schooled. His was the art of the duel. Hers was the art of the kill.

I approached the pedestal, and there, beside the urn, was a knife I hadn’t noticed before. It was a ceremonial dagger with a shiny silver blade that had runes etched onto it. I reached for the dagger without thinking, the handle fitting perfectly in my palm. I raised my other hand, and brought the dagger down, slashing across my skin deep enough to draw blood. My blood bubbled up eagerly, dripping onto the pedestal and hissing on contact with the stone. The runes glowed brighter, almost blinding me. I didn’t even feel the pain in my hand. The dagger tumbled out of my grasp, and with both hands, I reached for the urn.

"You're under arrest for witchcraft and consorting with demons!" She snarled, "You don't say." Then kicked his knee and cut his torch in half. The fire spilled across the ground, lighting the fog in gold. Kael threw his stolen blade into another hunter's chest, then caught the man's weapon midair as he fell. Every movement was controlled, brutal, clean. But there were too many. Four more shadows appeared in the trees, and this time, they weren't human. Seraphina's eyes widened. "Kael-"

I didn’t know which hurts more—the burn of the air or the terror that punched straight through my ribs. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The world was spinning, tilting, and blurring, and my eyes stung with dust and smoke. The scent hit me next—burning metal, gasoline, and rubber melted into something acrid and poisonous. Dante’s car—his new armoured black coupe was now a roaring inferno, flames clawed up toward the sky like hands desperate to escape.