Sword Pilgrim Novels & Stories

Staring at Caspian, the old man spat out every word like a giant beating a war drum, shaking the void like a raging sea and rolling waves. "Where did this junior come from? How dare you hurt my disciple here and speak such nonsense? Now I'll let you know what a heavy price you'll have to pay for your rude words and deeds!" Starry Sky Silver Dragon Sword!"

He reached out and tapped the map, selecting the "Admiring Immortals State." In the instrument cultivator profession, he chose the most popular sub-profession: sword cultivator! Sword cultivators had the highest single-target damage, making them the most suitable for one-on-one combat and soloing bosses. Sebastian aimed to become the world's number one, which meant he would inevitably face numerous challenges in the future, including open confrontations, covert attacks, assassinations, and more.

He was enjoying himself but it hurts so bad. He kept moving his hips back and forth, saying his dirty words. I felt something gushing out of my opening. It was sticky. He pulled out and leaned over my pussy and spat on it. He rubbed his saliva and slipped in again. Fucking me with relentless fervor, draining the energy I have left. He hit a spot and we both moaned out at the same pace. I don't think I would be able to walk again after this. He kept pounding non stop. I felt that if he doesn't stop at any minutes, he would tear my pussy apart. I sobbed quietly. Only if I could stop him. Only if. My vision blurred with tears.

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.

“Just for a little while,” he sighed.It had been a long time since he had been out in a crowd, except the bloody wounded soldiers he had treated. The memories flooded him, and for a few seconds he was back on the battlefield, in the thick of it. Bloodied men lay all around him, some missing limbs from explosions. He was scrambling around, working as fast as he could to treat them, preparing them for surgery. He sighed to himself. He remembered how as a mercenary and a doctor, he had volunteered, as his father and brother before him, to aid the military. It was a reminder, to think before he killed, to get in and out with stealth, aiming to harm as little as possible.

Sir William, who was on the edge of the abyss, was staggering, and could scarcely have the strength to hold the shield, which slid across his chest, yet those on the edge cried out to be the same William of old again, and these words seemed to enchanted, coming from the throats of the comrades who wanted to see him again the same swordsman worthy of the knightly girdle, immediately the sharpest eye would have seen a murmur of encouragement floating on William's lips, and a fierce light in his eyes, which aimed his eyes d'Ampezzo who avoided their way. At the first touch of the swords, William retaliated briskly, and the spectators began to murmur quietly about the new champion, at the second

He let out a surprised grunt, his winded reflexes sending his pole rolling out of his reach. He recovered first and swung his left fist, catching me just below the eye. My world exploded, first red, then silver, my vision swamped by a storm of stars. I felt myself wobble as he laughed, throwing me off his chest like an annoying child. I lay on my back, my body tensed for whatever was coming as I tried to gauge which of the three men hovering above me was really him. I lashed out with my foot and hit nothing but air, the mistake narrowing him down to one of the other two images. He swore and kicked me, sending daggers of pain through my thigh.

Aiomi carried me as he dodge Frain’s one blow. He placed me far away to the area. I lost my breath as I watched them tirelessly bout each other. A few minutes passed and Aiomi and I fought him together. Frain was a good swordsman and he gave us a hard time. After all, he was once a student at the academy of swordsmen. As I distract Frain, Aiomi was able to slash his clothes down to his chest. Frain’s chest was filled with blood. It was flowing as he continued his aggressive attacks.

I couldn't be more uncertain. "Is it so hard to believe that I'm the real one?" It feels incredibly absurd to ask such a question, but all this suspicion is draining me of energy and hope. He sighs deeply, and it's only now that I notice the crease between his eyebrows from frowning too much. It isn't easy to be a warrior, to spend your life in the shadows fighting, protecting a pack from all types of threats. He walks around as if he is bearing the world on his shoulders, he probably is.

said Old Hughes in response. “…I see. Well… what’s so special about the Fishgut Sword?” asked Gerald, finally giving in as he curiously looked at the sword within the stone pillar… Upon hearing that question, Old Hughes then looked seriously at the youth before replying, “The Fishgut Sword is an ancient longsword, said to grant its wielder waterbending skills. Since you’re the person depicted in the map, I’m sure you’re the only one qualified to wield it in the first place!”